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1980shorrorfilm · 24 days

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sour times

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

btw to the requests in my inbox; i see u. i hear u. 🙏

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin.

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are.

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that.

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though.

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong.

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it.

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it.

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow.

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby.

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home.

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat.

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off.

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you.

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so.

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more?

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs.

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?”

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there.

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head.

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby.

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?”

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy.

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are.

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie.

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that.

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you.

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time.

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips.

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet.

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other.

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two.

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

#-🐈‍⬛#uhhhh *scratches back of neck*#this is heavily an abby fanfic but there is ellie x reader everywhere for those with the eyes to see #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby x reader #abby anderson x gn!reader #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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cryptidghostgirl · 8 months

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Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

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chosos-mascara · 2 months

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all my love, suguru

chapter 4

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

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A brown head of hair follows you from your car to the apartment. It's an uncomfortable journey knowing you're back in Tokyo again, so close to a life that feels so distant from you now.

There are many boxes to unpack, and when accompanied by a young child, the task feels insurmountable. To credit her, she does make an attempt to help, picking out a few toys from one of the containers with a smile, though just as quickly becomes distracted by the prospect of actually playing with them. This does make things easier for a short while; you're able to unpack some dinnerware into empty shelves, folding down just one cardboard box before she's back at your side. "Mama!" She toddles to you with tears brimmed at her lash line, a doll in one hand, it's arm in the other. "Help, please."

You offer a soft smile, crouching and accepting the broken toy. It's easy to slot the arm back into place with some jostling (a manuvre you've learned from experience with this particular toy), and she's smiling once more, a shriek of excitement when the doll is returned to her in one piece.

Her expression lightens your mood, how beautifully she wears her emotions. There's so much innocence to children you hadn't expected before meeting her, so much joy. Her brown eyes are locked onto her barbie as she babbles, some nonsense, though some actual words do crop up - mummy, love, play.

You'd spent your entire pregnancy wondering what she would look like, whether she would take after you or her father, and to little surprise when she was handed to you, she was the image of Suguru. Even more so with age. Brown hair and eyes, and she has his nose too, with a calm temperament and warmth that you also accredit to him.

Being a single mother is hard, and seeing so much of him within her is bittersweet. He's the man you fell in love with, but he's also the man you had to leave. There's so much you've wanted to share with him too; her first steps, words, her first birthday. Despite this, you know even if alone you've raised her well, and she is so loved. You've brought her this far without sorcery, but now a blue flame surrounds her. She's an early bloomer in the cursed sense, and just as you'd feared, inherits her father's technique meaning she'll likely be a special grade... something you'd wished so deeply to avoid.

There was change on the horizon, beginning only a few days ago when you'd been told to pack these very boxes, and push your daughter into a future you hadn't willed. You feel sick when recounting the memory.

"No." The sight of his face brings a burning to your throat, a sinking feeling as if a bowling ball had been forced into your chest, dropping to weigh within your stomach. Two years in hiding, to end involuntarily by no one other than Gojo Satoru. White hair draped over his forehead, blue eyes meeting your own. They look tired, aged somehow, though you can't seem to care when that weathering is accompanied by remorse, lips downturned.

"Invite me inside." His voice is quiet, low. It's late, and you're sure he's exhausted, yet he's at your door instead of his own. There's a small spark of hope that perhaps he simply needs a place to stay, though this is snuffed out when you look back to his face. He knows. "Satoru, why are you here?" Your voice trembles on the verge of tears, but he doesn't comfort you, instead remaining silent as you try to steady your breaths, eventually regulating them enough to step to one side. There's some hesitance as he walks past you.

You lead him to the livingroom, and as he trails behind his gaze wonders the painted walls of your entryway, pictures decorating an otherwise bland white. Most of which appear to star a small child from the ages of infancy to two; the same dark hair and brown eyes that he recognised within his close friend. There's dimples in each cheek when she smiles with her mother's lips.

"You had a girl." He means it to echo a question despite already knowing, though it sounds to be a statement. Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his, and you nod.

"Keiko." Usually her name on your lips brings you joy, but telling Satoru only makes your heart ache.

"Satoru, please tell me why you're here." You swallow thickly, afraid of the news you're about to be privvy to. He offers little reprieve with his reluctance, and you expect the worse. "You have to come back, to Tokyo."

There's a numbness that begins at your throat, and slowly, like mould spore growing through a piece of fruit, you find yourself rotting before him. You're plagued with dread as you picture your daughter, only two years of age, opened up to a world you wished to shield her from. "Why would I need to do that?" You act as if you're unaware, yet you understand clearly. She's gifted, even if you hadn't wanted to give her this strength.

"She has Cursed Spirit Manipulation." When those words leave his lips, you realise you truly have lost this case. This is it, this is what she will be forced to use. Your jaw tightens as you form a response, though you're unable to begin when Satoru elaborates. "Two weeks ago, a small girl was seen chasing a grade four, and upon capturing it, the curse was ingested."

You frown. "Who reported this?" Satoru hears the panic in your voice, no matter how strong you try to be. Just like when you were teenagers, you feign confidence against him, yet in equal power, Satoru can see right through you.

"A grade three sorcerer working within this district reported it to the higher ups. They've decided her potential is too strong to ignore." You're staring at him wide eyed, and he feels guilt as he watches you grieve this life. Satoru wouldn't tell you how he'd practically pleaded with them to let her be a child before introducing her to the horrors of this world, because he didn't want you to know he'd failed you.

"What if I refuse?" "You know the answer, do I really have to spell it out to you? There is no other choice." His words imbue a hopelessness into you, and you finally give up, walking past him to take a seat on the couch. The cushions sink under you, and your hands rest upon each leg. There's one question you have left.

"Does he know?" Monotone, dead. Your tone sends a chill over Satoru's spine; he's never seen you so genuinely defeated. Even when he'd found out about your pregnancy, you held yourself together better than this. But even with all of Satoru's experience, his strength, he still couldn't empathise with that of parenthood. Megumi was the closest thing he had to that, though he understands that the relationship the pair share is nothing close to the love you would have for your own blood.

"You left with no word as to where you'd gone. If I told him it was to have his child, what would he have done?" There's some bitterness to his words, and you cringe. "Didn't he question the fact there's a child with his technique?"

Satoru moves from one foot to the other, crossing his arms as he watches your meek state. You're slouched and sweating, and your eyes haven't lifted from the same patch of carpet for the past two minutes. Though with his quietness, your gaze lifts, stopping at his lips.

"He doesn't know."

You nod once, taking your teeth between your lips. This is worse than being lectured, you think, enduring the judgement of a person you value highly, feeling their revulsion of a decision you made long ago. "Don't you think he had a right to know before all of this?" You stay silent, your arms closing in closer to your body as if to hug yourself. "It's only right he hears it from you, before this goes any further."

Only, you still haven't made that call, and told him the truth. You watch your daughter walk toward the school, her hand in yours, while Suguru is none the wiser. It's a secret you knew would be revealed within the next few hours, unrevealed as long as you'd been able.

Shoko's leaving the lab when you enter the halls. You don't notice her at first, instead preoccupied by the small girl beside you, though when your eyes lift from the little fingers wrapped around yours, you stop dead in your tracks.

Not many things shock Shoko. She likes to think she's seen all, and likely knows most of what goes on even if only surface level, but when she sees you in Jujutsu High with a child clutching at your hand, she comes to a standstill, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Keiko takes a few steps, her little feet tapping on the hard floors, though soon notices her mother's halted action. "Mama, come on."

Shoko's brow raises, a sharp gasp on her lips as she pieces things together. The child looks to be around two, and not long before that you'd left - this must've been the result of that pregnancy test you'd requested long ago. And as she stares at her a little longer, taking in at the warm toned brown eyes, she realises why you'd left. This child had to be Suguru's, her features were far too akin to his to be coincidental.

She says your name, though it sounds foreign to her now. She wonders when the last time she'd called out to you was, and when you peer anxiously to her expression, she realises how you've matured, mellowed almost. There's a protectiveness she can sense, you're definitely more closed off, but that's understandable considering the fact you've been gone and likely without much social contact.

"Hi." Part of you had hoped for a better reunion, but with how things went it was only understandable that Shoko wouldn't be running to hug you anytime soon. "You’re a mother, huh?" There's little goosebumps over your skin as you swallow, nodding slowly. Of course, she'd remember your offish self asking her for tests, and she'd be able to piece things together. "What's her name?"

You knew Shoko wouldn't bring harm to you both, and if she's worked out your daughter's father, she wouldn't press you on it. "It's Keiko." You look down to your daughter, who's holding your hand a little tighter in the presence of a stranger. Funny, growing up you'd thought these people would be your children's family, yet here your baby is, backing up at the sight of a woman she'd never met.

"Keiko," Shoko crouches to her eye level. "That's a beautiful name." Shoko offers her a smile, and Keiko's hand loosens up a little, though it's still clammy on your palm. "Thanks." It's spoken quietly, and the 'th' sounds more like an 'f', but it's coherent enough.

"What are you both doing here?" Shoko's looking back to you now, standing up to meet your level once again. Mouth opening, your free hand comes to your arm to fiddle with your jacket. "The higher-ups found out about her technique." "Manipulation?" You pause. So, she's figured it out. "Yeah. They want him to show her the way, I guess." "But he doesn't know." "No, he doesn't." You offer her a half smile in hopes she would forgive you. "I was kind of hoping he'd find out before i got here, but he hasn't."

Shoko wants to tell you it's your job to tell him and that you need to face your fears, but she keeps her mouth closed in order to save your feelings. Instead, she nods quietly, arms crossed. When the air is too stale to bare any longer, you breathe it in, deciding to take you leave before you would combust on the spot. "I've got to find Yaga, we have a meeting." Your words are rushed and you almost stumble as you walk past her.

"Who was that?" Keiko questions in her own muddled words, and you force a happy expression when meeting her gaze. "Mama's old friend, from school."

Suguru sits back in the beat up couch, bitter instant coffee still swirling as he places it on the low table. The staffroom has definitely seen better days, he was sure this furniture would've been used back when he'd attended Jujutsu High, with stains and scratches over old wood, rings from mugs of coffee much like his own. Budget cuts had meant money was syphoned into other things, much less into staff.

"A meeting, with Yaga?" He repeats Satoru's words carefully, brow creased. He watches as the brown liquid begins to settle, a few bubbles at the surface meeting in the middle. "Yeah, something about a new student." The explanation makes much less sense to Suguru, because this year he's supposed to be taking on more missions, and offering a supporting role rather than holding his own classes. "And why would that concern me?" His voice is tired, he's tired. The school is working them all into an early grave, he thinks. What was supposed to be more of a career break had somehow turned into more work than he's ever had, and he realises the only way out of this is to leave Jujutsu society for good - much like you did.

Suguru can't deny he feels responsible for your sudden leaving. As if a phone call would've fixed anything between you after he'd not only slept with you, but left you to fend for yourself afterward too. He thinks about you a lot, much to his own distaste. It's his fault you're not here, after all.

"You'll be teaching them part time." Suguru outwardly sighs, a hand flying up to massage his temples. "Of course." It was drenched in acidity, and Satoru shifts. He's still standing, muscles tense as he watches his friend stress himself further. It's been a difficult few years, and he is sure Suguru is at the end of his tether. Satoru worries that your return might just be the thing that breaks him entirely.

"What do you know, Satoru?" When he zones back into the room, glancing away from the disgustingly beige walls to peer into his friend's brown eyes, he realises he'd worn his concerns too evidently. "Not much," He lies, something he's found himself doing consistently as of recent. "She's young, though. A child." He tries to soften the blow by letting on that piece of information now, because he knows Suguru will be disgusted to find out they're having him begin training with a child who cannot yet read, let alone understand what a curse is.

"How young?" Suguru's intuition tells him that something is awry here, but he can't place his finger on what exactly it is. Satoru is definitely withholding something important, and he understands that he's not going to find out what until he's in Yaga's office. "Fine, don't tell me."

With a sigh, he pushes himself up from the couch, all the while Satoru is stood in silence, that pitying look he hates being bestowed unto him. The coffee on the table is going cold, not that Suguru has much of a stomach for it anyway.

a/n: soooo yes, reader ran from her problems (sorrrry) but it looks like suguru is about to find out everything...

tags - @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zeunys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @chilicopsticks @khoochie @hojoslutoru @karazorel @idkuluka @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp @kaeyakaikai

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soraphic · 10 months

Text

some soft angst with plug!connie x black!fem reader + some light nipple sucking at the end🙈

"you'on get it con,my family would never—"

"yea,yea..mommy would never approve of you messin' wit' a 'thug'"

"that's not—"

he cut in rather harshly,running an inked hand down his face. "lo que sea.." his voice fading as you continued to rant over him.

"you wouldn't get it,connie,it's—"

"oh,i wouldn't get it?" he scoffed,head snapping to you in immediate reaction to the words you hadn't meant to tumble so carelessly out of your mouth.

feeling you had opened a dam that couldn't be closed now,you continued- "yeah,you wouldn't get it!"

he took a few strides closer to you,now glaring daggers down at you as if he were waiting for you to say the words,challenging you,provoking it. "say the words,chiquita."

"you've never had a family!" you finished,throwing your arms from your sides as you gawked at him,as if to ask 'is that what you wanted'.

"fuck you." he spat,turning sharply to the kitchen. you watched,feeling somewhat helpless,with a wanton expression on your face from the kitchen door,as he began collecting the small littering of his presence within your home. a worn down t shirt - that had been previously drying - he had left after spending strings of nights in your bed,one he knew you liked as it hung from your smaller frame,as comfortable comparison to the tight,busty clothing you always adorned. his phone and keys laying against the humble,little table that sat within the east corner of your run-down kitchen. and his dark tech he had swung over the edge of a chair the moment he came bombarding into your home earlier that evening,talkin' bout some 'business he handled for his princesa' in the hopes of being rewarded with something a little more than just strings of complaints about his 'lifestyle'.

he then barged back through the house,completely disregarding you as he charged for the door.

"so you just gon' leave,then? like that?"

you raised your brows,questioning him,arms folded tightly against as your chest with an edge of attitude he didn't like.

"go run to 'yo lil' family 'bout it. got me fucked up." he muttered the last part underneath the sound of your cutting in,

"you know i ain't mean it like that! you stay starting shit,connie!"

"there ain't no other fuckin' meaning!" the harshness of his voice and his raise in volume made you wince,the boom of it from deep within his throat rattled you.

"i know that things were tough wit' you and your mom,i would never use that to hurt you!" you wanted to show him that your intention wasn't to hurl insults at him,or think of the nastiest possible thing you could say,but to give him reasoning on why he simply couldn't understand your devotion to abide by your family's wishes.

"don't fuckin' talk about my ma,that's nothin' to do wit' you." his voice suddenly dropped an octave,his tone piercing and cold as he threateningly held a finger up at you.

whatever happened with his family,which you had only heard pieces of,compiling small bits of information over many months,you knew affected him greatly. it took a tole on the way he held himself around you,sometimes letting little cracks of himself shine through the 'big,bad' exterior he put up. he was afraid,afraid of you getting sick of his dirty work,sick of his attitude,sick of the danger,throwing him out the way his ma had.

you also knew that his dad had never really been in the picture. he talked very little of anything to do with his life before he met you,brushing you off by telling you 'we here now,ain't we? so don't worry about it.' but the minuscule times he had mentioned the scum bag,you gathered he certainly had no respect for him.

"it has everything to do with you." you jabbed at his chest,levelling up to him with hard eyes,"and that means it has everything to do with me."

"don't fuckin' play wit' me." he growled,chest bumping with yours,eyes narrowed.

you couldn't help but feel the way he had responded to being asked to open up with fearful aggression was proving everything your family had drilled into you. you were from a much wealthier side of town,the effects of it showing in the way you held yourself. you prized your appearance,fancy cars,big money and the idea of getting anything you wanted,when you wanted it. it was what had drawn you to connie. he was mysterious,in a ridiculously sexy kind of way,but what attracted you most to him was the way he never chased you. he'd simply gaze at you through his brows,lit joint dangling between his lips,leant over a dingy coffee table passing stacks between his gaggle of 'homeboys' that tailed wherever he went,with this unreadable expression on his face. like he was watching your every move,yet completely unbothered by your lingering presence. you found him most often places he didn't belong,places he stuck out. you could spot him almost immediately through the clouded haze of a rich,suburban house party,unlike you he was there to work,not to shake ass in an inordinate kitchen to 'white people music' as he called it. you felt you had fallen in love the first time the two of you spoke,pushed together in a crowded corridor by grinding bodies as he tried his hardest to remain unbothered by you,but that look. you didn't even know him yet you were gazing up at him like he was the one who hung the stars in the sky. sure,he had his fair share of pussy,and he was more than aware of the effect he had on women. but they were all women from his side of town,the kind that were nothing like you. they weren't enthralled by him,by his lifestyle,the way you were. so he wasn't surprised when you told him your family had warned you to stay far away from him. he had been to highschool with your brothers and vaguely remembered a distaste they had for him,not that he ever really attended by junior year. he was already wrapped up in the way of life,the money,the drugs,the status. he knew he had grown greedy,but who could blame him? all these things on a plate handed to him while his poor ma had been working two jobs just to provide for him and his hermanos.

"my brother was right,connie. you ain't shit."

"yea? go ride his dick instead."

"you're fucking unbelievable."

"fuck you!"

"you keep sayin' you gon' leave,so do it!" you snapped. you hadn't meant it,you didn't want him to go,but he continued to push you in ways you weren't used to.

no more words were spoken between the two of you,just an angry puff of air through his nostrils as he swallowed thickly at you. he waited for maybe 2 seconds,waiting to see if maybe you'd take it back. but you were done. you had no more left to say to him.

he slammed the door angrily behind him as he left,the gust of air and the deafening emptiness of your home suddenly making the corridor you were standing in feel cold.

you curled in on yourself as you cried,tears of pure anger and a hint of regret.

you were awoken by some federal ass knocks on your door,groggily checking your phone to see no messages left and the digital time glaring at you: 2.05am.

you were too hopeful to be irritated,racing down the stairs as you nearly tripped,missing the bottom step.

you hadn't bothered to tug on a shirt,almost knowing who could be knocking on your door with such force so late. his jaw nearly dropped at the sight of you when the door was swung open,revealing your figure lazily hung against the door,big brown eyes batting up at him. you were in a comfortable bra and a pair of his grey boxers hung loosely around your waist,almost deepening the smooth carob of your skin. he hadn't realised how much his time away from you had effected him,slinging his arms loosely around your frame as he pulled you up into his embrace,muttering strings of apologies into your hair.

"you came all the way out here to apologise?" your surprise irked him,a mean scowl immediately resurfacing on his face as he kissed at the valley of your breasts. your long acrylics scratching at his buzzed head soothed him enough to push you further inside,kicking the door shut with a soft bang,mumbling - 'so what? i can't come see my lady?'

you began to apologise for what you had said earlier,how you had no right to bring up his past the way you had,but to your utmost surprised he shushed you again with a kiss to your lips.

"'ion wanna hear it,mami,we in the present now."

you mumbled a soft 'ok',scratching down his back the way you knew he liked as some other form of apology. his lips came to close around your nipple,suckling gently as he gazed up at you,eyes full of boyish adoration that made your heart thump with love for him.

maybe introducing him to your family wasn't such a bad idea,after all.

soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

#𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#plug!connie #attack on titan #connie springer #plug!connie smut #anime and manga #anime

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writingsofwesteros · 2 months

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Hello, I have read your Jaime Lannister x servant reader story. Would you be able to write a second part to it, please? I would like it to have a happy ending and for Cersei to be reprimanded by Tywin. Thank you for your time.

The reader is quite upset with Jaime for being silent, and so are their children. Please and thank you

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

“Please - my love.” Jaime whispered; the candlelight flickering as the knight stepped closer. His soft locks framing his face whilst locking eyes with you, finally finding such bravery to look you in the eye, you thought to yourself. Still, you ignored him like you had been doing for the past two days after the situation with the Crown Prince. Your three children followed your example; an act you knew broke Jaime’s heart at every moment ignored by them. “I will fix this.” Jaime continued as he fought against reaching for you. He knew you would only leave his hold and the knight was unsure if he could stand such an action again. “How can you possibly do such a thing?”

The annoyance rising inside you only came out now as you not so gracefully removed yourself from the bed, putting physical distance between the two of you now. “I will, my love, please - believe me.” Jaime began to beg now; his hands reaching for you once more. His voice broke, the weight of his remorse and the fear of losing you evident in every word. You wish the trust would return but the damage had seemingly been done, you thought whilst ducking your head. Those ruby rings he had gifted to you with each child you birthed sparkled in the light as you nervously began to play with them. “I do not know if this can be fixed. Cersei will want her revenge.” You whispered out.

Jaime’s face paled at the mention of his sister. “I swear to you, I will protect you and our children. No matter the cost.” He whispered his promise desperately. You looked up at him, searching his eyes for the truth. You wanted to believe him, but the fear and hurt ran deep. “And how do you propose to do that? How can you stand against her?” Jaime took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I will do whatever it takes. If it means facing her fury, so be it.” He thought of his father; the old lion held love for his bastard grandchildren; it was his last string of hope. The knight stepped forward now and he thanked the Gods you reached for his hands before he rested his head on yours.

Jaime felt the warmth and softness that had always brought him comfort. The tension in the room seemed to ease slightly. For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe him, to find solace in his presence. The warmth of his kiss and the familiar scent of him stirred something within you—a flicker of the love and trust you once shared. “I’ll start by speaking to my father. He will help us. He has to.” You nodded, knowing that if there was anyone who could stand against Cersei and protect your family, it was Tywin Lannister.

“Cersei, listen to reason,” Jaime implored. “You have to not seek revenge. I have to protect my family—our family.” Cersei laughed bitterly. “Our family? You mean the bastards you’ve sired with that woman? They are a stain on our name.” The viciousness in her tone caused him to flinch even as he fought to hide it. “Enough, Cersei,” Tywin’s voice cut through the room, authoritative and commanding. “This bickering will solve nothing.” Cersei turned to their father, her anger simmering still but she allowed herself to listen to her father. “And what do you propose, Father? That I simply forgive and forget?”

Tywin stood, moving around the desk to face his children. “No. But we will find a way to ensure the safety and integrity of this family. Jaime has made mistakes, but his children are still Lannisters. We will protect them, and we will find a way to placate the Crown Prince without further tarnishing our name.” Cersei’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly, recognizing the wisdom in her father’s words. “Very well. But know this, Jaime—any misstep, and I will not be so forgiving.”

“Do remember, daughter..who began to choose to have bastards.” Tywin allowed his words to hang in the room.

~ He slipped into bed beside you, feeling the warmth of your presence, a comfort he had sorely missed. The day’s events had brought him to near exhaustion; the mental battles with his sister were hard enough without the fear of her son’s reactions to it all. Too much power for a boy like that, Jaime thought to himself. As he settled next to you, he reached out, gently intertwined his fingers with yours. “Today was a step forward,” he whispered, his voice tinged with hope. “My father will help us. Cersei has agreed to a truce, for now.” Still, the fear filled you with ease. You knew such truce could not last forever, but it would help for the time being.

Gently, you reached into his golden locks. “Thank you.” You sweetly whispered whilst pressing a soft kiss to cheek. Jaime could not help but lean into the touch he had missed so very much. For the first time in days, the tension between you seemed to ease, and you allowed yourself to relax in his embrace. As you drifted off to sleep, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear, you felt a glimmer of hope. The next morning, you were awakened by the sound of hurried footsteps and excited whispers. Before you could fully rouse yourself, the door burst open, and your three children came tumbling into the room. Their faces lit up with joy at the sight of both their parents in bed together. Your oldest boy had worried without pause since the event and you hated the idea of your love being filled with worry.

“Mother! Father!” The twins called out, climbing onto the bed and nestling between you. Jaime laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room with warmth. “Good morning, my little lions,” he greeted them, wrapping his arms around the two youngest while the eldest stayed at your side of the bed; as if reading your face. His coldness still existed with his father but was beginning to melt. “Are you staying with us today?” Your little girl asked, her eyes wide with hope. Jaime glanced at you, his heart swelling with love for his family. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “Today, I’m all yours.” With those words, you wrapped your arms around your oldest boy who melted in your embrace. The laughter of the youngest babes echoing in the chambers.

#jaime lannister x reader #request #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic

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melodic-haze · 4 months

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... Arlecchino with a reader taller than her? Would that change anything? I'm so curious 😇

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has a cock/strap referred to as such

☆ — NOTES: Can I say I tried to make this sfw first and then failed when I realised the potential

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2

This is so fucking funny to me bc when you think ab it Arlecchino's acc REALLY fucking short without heels compared to her height ON heels

Don't laugh at her face ab it though unless you want death 🤷‍♀️

I'm like 5'5 I wish I was tall enough for Arle to have to look up at me :/

In all seriousness though I do think that she uses heels both as a weapon with those fuckass blades, but also as a way to seem taller and more intimidating—the cold, unfeeling Father that she wanted to present herself as, completely untouchable

When you're taller than her though?? God, without heels it gets her feeling things she hadn't thought she'd ever feel, let alone being taller than her WHILE she has heels on 🫶

She actually feels powerless, a feeling that is usually most unpleasant, and yet.......she actually finds herself liking the height difference as she looks up at you to actually look you in the eye

It'd wake up the undiscovered size kink she didn't even KNOW she had bc nobody else reaally made her feel sooo I mean yes ❗️ Something very much changes in her ☺️☺️☺️☺️

"Ah.. mn..!"

Long nails, practically talons at this point, threatened to break your skin as you pounded her insides relentlessly. Arlecchino was always such a good girl for you, taking whatever you gave her without a single complaint.

You couldn't help but deem yourself lucky, to witness such a docile, subservient side to her, considering the ever-so-stoic persona she dons. Not as if it stopped with you simply witnessing her majesty, no—you were the entire reason why she was pliant like this, a powerful figure practically turning herself into an obedient ragdoll for you to use for your own satisfaction.

Not as if you were selfish though. No, if anything, from the way she had often looked at you and the fact that she would much rather let her own actions speak in her stead, she enjoyed being used like this.

..Enjoyed it a little too much, actually.

There were times when you've seen her look up at you woth a dazed look in her eyes—the crimson crosses often scanned you up and down before looking away with a tint in her cheeks. Of course, it had confused you to no end; was there something she saw?

You only figured it out when she had decided to idly comment on your height one time when you had helped her with taking a book from the uppermost shelves, her heels gone in favour for comfort within the safety of your own home.

"You.. are rather tall," that's all she said, the same coat of rare pink on her cheeks before staring at you—at your hands—before shaking her head and walking away swiftly.

...

Actually, this might be the best time to test your hypothesis.

You sat up, putting your pace into an abrupt stop, as you placed your hands on the curve of her ass and kept her close.

As knee-deep in pleasure as she was, one could never take away the sudden instinct of alert observation, "Is.. mm.. Is there something wrong, my beloved?"

You shook her head, "No, no, just.. brace yourself."

"Why would-- ..!"

Her breath hitched as you lifted her into the air, her hands crossed onto your shoulders as she held onto you in shock. Not as if you gave her room for a reaction, anyway, since you had easily slammed back into her the next second.

The new upward angle paired with the closeness between the two of you had her practically seeing stars as you hit spots that she hadn't realised existed within her. Every time your cock plunged inside her pussy, the tip hit the deepest spots—ones you had only grazed when you really went rough with the Harbinger.

Not to mention her feet weren't touching the floor.

You had lifted her up, and with the height difference between you two, she was exactly she couldn't allow herself to be.

Powerless.

Considering the way she rolled her eyes with a groan before putting her head on your shoulder and biting your skin as you pounded her into the air, she actually fucking enjoyed it.

She'll have to assess.. everything later, but for now she didn't care. Not when you're having your way with her.

Moment you have her up in the air is the moment her mind goes I fear

Like you mean to tell her that she's?? Up in the air without her fucking power??? Because you're tall enough for you to just. Lift her up?????? Her feet aren't touching the ground and the realisation has her juices GUSHING out ohhhhmy god

Not just the fact that she feels so powerless with you, but the way that her feeling small in your arms = her feeling safe as well???? Like you're her barrier from the world that's done her wrong time and time again, the world that's taken the most important things—people—away from her. Being fucked like this in your arms helps her forget all those for a while and feel safe and small, like she's the one being taken care of this time instead of the other way around

She wouldn't be asking you to do this again though, mind you..........but she does look at you and sizes you up and really that's all you need as a notice of what she wants 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

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imastrangeone98 · 26 days

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Wishes Best Left Unanswered

(A/N: ITS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR 😉😏😏 HAPPY BDAY OF BDAYS TO MY BESTIE @philistiniphagottini !!!!!!!! I present to you this short and (bitter)sweet fluff with your ever beloved gege Bladie)

No warnings, maybe just a tad bittersweet but overall fluffy like a cloud ☁️

Blade sometimes wonders whether or not you truly are aware of the sins that mark his very being. Or whether you do know and are simply that ignorant.

Because while he is nothing more than a sharp blade, you are but a soft cloud that floats in the sky, a wisp of a warm breeze echoing through a meadow of days long past. You are softness, and he is anything but.

You have no reason being so close to him, not when his edges are so sharp that they could cut into your pretty skin. But you still cling onto his arm and nuzzle against his side, as though he is harmless, and you smile up at him to ask him what he wants to eat.

Nothing, he wants to say. He is not becoming of such human needs; he is not worthy of your attention, or your affection.

Yet you give it to him freely, without restraint, as though you have an endless spring of love dwelling within your soul, a fountain that will never dry up, or an oasis in the barest desert.

So he simply points at some random snack at the stall you both stopped in front of, and with a sunny smile, you reach into your backpack to pull out your wallet. But you splutter when he swiftly steps in front of you, placing a large wad of credits before the baffled stall-owner and grabbing your drink (that's no doubt as sweet as you) to put it in your hand.

You smile so brightly, it hurts his eyes. And when you stretch on your tiptoes to give a swift peck to his lips, the taste of sugar and peaches lingers on his tongue, so strong that a small part of him desires a swig of strong, black coffee- especially since the snack he randomly chose was also just as sweet.

But the rest of him seeks out your warmth, your softness, your sweetness, and he is willing to risk his life and limb if it means you will embrace him in your arms once more, scolding him on his carelessness while you dab healing salve on wounds that he knows will already heal.

"Why do you stay with me?" he asks you one night, as the two of you lay together on the overly plush mattress in the hotel room Kafka managed to secure for the night. "You are a small, soft thing. With one wrong whisper of the mara, I could destroy you."

You hum, nuzzling your face further into his chest. "But you won't. I guess I just trust you that much."

"...You shouldn't."

"Probably...? But I do." You lean over him and gently cup his cheek in your palm. "Even when I know you carry the strength to rip me in half, I know you'd do anything but."

And when you kiss him, he knows, deep down in his soul, that you speak the truth.

Blade knows that he must seek death, now more swiftly than ever. But when you lay in his arms, he cannot help but wonder if eternity would be so bad if you were there by his side, making the pain just the slightest bit sweeter.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: once again NAGA HAPPY BDAYYYY!!!! YOURE GETTING ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE GRAAAVE 🥳🥳🥳

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #blade x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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istoleyoursk1n · 8 months

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Hi can you do halsin Gale and Astarion with a very explicit and flirty paladin s/o who looks super stoic and serious please?

Like they’re there standing stoic and menacing and then whispers in their ear the dirtiest pick up line ever?

Like I think they’d have a funny reaction!

Feel free to refuse ofc! Thanks anyways!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would Halsin, Gale, and Astarion react to a paladin who looks stoic/strict only for them to be an explicit and flirty?

(Damn, reminds me of my PaladinLMAO)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh, darling, and just when I thought you were as dense as a brick wall. I never could have guessed that beneath all that was a cheeky little flirt. All that dirt coming out of such a filthy mouth, you ought to have someone clean it out for you, my sweet.”

He was the one being the flirty ass at first, hitting on you in every teasing way he could think of with the hopes that perhaps someday he’d get a reaction out of you for his own amusement.

You never seemed to comment on his “advances” at first, you remained as stern as usual with little but a side glance to offer.

Probably got personally offended each time his usual charms failed but he was persistent. More so because he wanted to prove that he could truly seduce even the most stoic of hearts.

He made it his personal mission to make you crack, but along the way, he may or may not have fallen for you. Regardless, the realization absolutely horrified him.

Perhaps he just has the worst luck ever or you finally started to begin your master plan of turning the tables against him but nevertheless, he wasn't prepared at all for what you had in store for him.

He was already taking quite the liking to you, so the moment you began whispering such depraved yet smooth words into his ear, he was shocked and speechless for the first time in years.

His mind was practically breaking apart as you laid out every filthy thing you had in mind. He truly couldn't tell if this was utterly fucked or if he was somehow into it.

You would be the sole reason a tint of color finally appears in his otherwise undead skin. The tint being a bright shade of red of course.

He goes from being startled, angry, confused, flustered and then eventually hitting you right back with a little pick up line of his own once he’s finally calmed down.

Now both of you end up teasing and flirting with each other as sneakily as possible, both of you trying to outdo the other in terms of who could fluster whom the most.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“I…oh gods, love, you truly don't understand the things you do to this heart of mine. Of all the weaknesses I could have possibly gotten, you are one I’d welcome with open arms. I have stood proud amongst a Goddess but for you? I’d fall to my knees.”

He was slightly intimated by you at first by how stoic you appeared to be. You seemed like a person who’d prioritize business and work above all else, repelling anyone with nothing more than a glare.

He wasn't even sure how to approach you, he was already admiring you from afar but he feared that you would have never felt the same. Not when it felt as if your heart was locked within walls of stone.

He tried to shoot his shot once or twice, but they were always met with a few words of acknowledgment or even worse, a mere nod.

As much as he wished to simply move on from his utter fixation on you, he can't help but pine. You’re something he's grown to truly desire in ways he could hardly express.

However, one way or another, every little attraction he’s felt for you thus far is revealed by him. Completely exposing just how smitten he truly is by you and perhaps that single moment of true vulnerability is what finally made you snap.

Pull him close and abruptly whisper every depraved fantasy and dirty pickup line you've thought of just for him and he’d die. I mean, melting right then and there into a puddle of shame.

For a man who talks too much, he suddenly becomes oddly quiet, his eyes wide with a certain gleam of helplessness that makes him look all the more exposed to you.

For once in his life he’s stuttering his words, barely even able to hang onto a sentence without having to take a moment to breathe or silently whimper out in a mix of embarrassment, confusion, and frustration.

Dropping one of your pickup lines would be just enough to have this man in a chokehold. Truly. It’s one of the only ways to actually silence him.

He’s not one for pickup lines but he’d try his damn best to voice out his admiration for you similar to how a poet would describe their one and only muse. Through each sweet whisper, you dare utter, he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“My heart, I beg of you. Each word, each whisper, even the soft tingle of your breath against my skin- you are a walking temptation that I so longingly wish to taste. My blood runs wild when you are near and I fear what I may do to you if you if you continue on.”

He was hardly bothered by the fact that you seemed a tad bit uptight. He has met far too many people similar to you and he’s learned better than to judge someone based on appearances alone.

Doesn't change the fact that he was in fact attracted to you.

The thing is, he respects you too much to ever make a move. At least, not for a while. Most conversations you’d have with Halsin were of the friendly sort at first, prioritizing the mission at hand before anything else.

However, in truth, the way his eyes practically brightened and his breath ever so subtly quivered when you approached was something you could have slowly picked up on.

He eventually slides very discrete hints about his attraction toward you, simply testing the waters to see if you would reciprocate. However, he truly never expected you to actually take the bait.

Before he could even properly make a move on you, you were already whispering every one of your sweetly depraved desires into his ear, catching him completely off guard.

He knew that there must have been more beneath your hardened exterior but he would have never suspected this. But is he complaining? Absolutely not.

But do be careful when and where you decide to whisper such things to him because you may or may not be seconds away from being utterly ravished by one bear of a man against the nearest surface.

Do so in public spaces where it's safe to tease him, giving you the freedom to watch as his breath heaves and his voice breaks just by the smoothened words coming out of your dirty mouth.

Nevertheless, he’s absolutely obsessed with your little flirty remarks, said remarks being enough to fluster him instantaneously. All the lovers he had taken in his life and yet he had never met one who could madden him as much as you do.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #astarion #gale #halsin

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nakedbibi333 · 2 years

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐓𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞

Realizing the importance of your internal reality - a comprehensive guide to the law of assumption...

Link to document version

✧˖° 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Receiving a gift does not mean that we are going to use it wisely, but we have the gift. Everyone has the gift; and the world simply reflects the use of that gift. (Control Your Inner Conversations Neville Goddard)

Welcome to my comprehensive guide on the law of assumption!

This document is highly focused on understanding, changing, and properly utilizing your internal reality. It will also be mainly focused on self-concept. I understand that most people simply want to know how to manifest material things, however in order to truly give yourself the life you deserve, you must first change self.

If you are still wary about changing your self-concept, think of it like this: You have lived your whole life believing your life is left to chance or some unknown fate. You have always believed that achieving your dream life was impossible, or at the very least extremely unlikely. However, now you’ve found the law of assumption. You know now that you can give yourself absolutely anything you want (and yes, I mean anything), but the reluctance to change your self-concept is all that is holding you back.

You found out that the only thing you need to do in order to give yourself the life of your dreams is to change your assumptions about yourself, but you overcomplicate it, so you shut down.

I promise that changing your internal reality, living from the 4D, and improving your self-concept are not as difficult as they seem. I hope that this document can help you guys realize that all the power is within you, not methods or any outside sources. It’s all you.

So, please enjoy and I look forward to hearing what you guys think!

✧˖° 𝐎𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠? ✧˖°

If you are reading this right now, chances are that you are not currently satisfied with the current state of your life. Maybe you’d like to become rich, famous, successful, etc. People usually discover manifestation because they want to change aspects of their lives. You may have begun by searching how to manifest an sp or how to manifest more money, and while these things are great, using the law of assumption as a means to get things is counterintuitive to the way the law functions.

First and foremost, the law of assumption is all about changing your internal reality in order to change your outer circumstances. However, most people hyperfixate on the physical aspect of this equation. You must be able to be completely satisfied with achieving your desires in imagination, without ever relying on the physical world.

You fed and kept alive the things you did not wish to express within this world. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Now, because of the way the world works, you have made it a habit to take what you see and experience in the 3D as an unchangeable fact. You have unknowingly perpetuated and “kept alive” that which you deem undesirable. Because of this, your current conception of self is most likely not as fine-tuned as you would want it to be. Maybe you falter, maybe you often react negatively to things that happen around you, or maybe you’re insecure. These are all a result of your current state of consciousness or your self-concept.

For when someone would come into my world and describe their world to me, they revealed the being that they really are. When I ask the simple question, “What do you want?” and they named it and they told me they really want it with all their heart, and then I asked them how would they see the same world had they realized their objective? Looking at the same world they began to describe it differently. I said, “Now, that is the description you must make of the world. You must weave that into your mind, for in so doing you move into the state where that world becomes real relative to that state.” (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Ask yourself by looking inward and attempting to be as honest with yourself as possible, what am I embodying right now? What are the assumptions you have about yourself? Is it that you’re a responsible or irresponsible person? Capable or incapable? Attractive or unattractive? Limitless or limited? All of this relates to your self-concept. Your current state of consciousness dictates the circumstances that await you in your 3D reality.

Are the assumptions you have about yourself benefiting or harming you?

You can either be attentive to the limitations and feed these and make them mountains, or you can be attentive to your desires; but to become attentive you must assume you are already that which you wanted to be. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Only you have the power to change your internal reality and assumptions. You have the choice to focus on the limitations or to free yourself from them. Now that you are currently aware of what you are conscious of being, you can change them. You are not stuck where you are. You always have the ability to change what you are embodying and believe about yourself. You are ever-changing.

All through my life I have always accepted the limitations of my senses, I have always looked upon them as fact (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

If there is one thing you should immediately incorporate into your self-concept it is this: You are limitless. There is absolutely no one and nothing that can hold you back or be above you. In your reality, in your life, you are the operant power. The real you is never limited by the physical reality.

So, what are you conscious of being? And, are you prepared to leave it all behind?

✧˖° 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭? ✧˖°

To the natural mind, reality is confined to the instant called now; this very moment seems to contain the whole of reality, everything else is unreal. To the natural mind, the past and the future are purely imaginary. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are now consciously aware of your current story. The assumptions you perpetuate, which are usually just habitual from the past, are now out in the open. This is now your old self. You can now let go of all the assumptions that are not beneficial to you. Whatever it is, you can let it go. I don’t care what it is, you can let it go. The past is the past. It is never set in stone.

If you truly want to change who you are and your life, you must leave the undesirable behind. It must be as though it never existed in the first place. You cannot take any part of your old self into your new self. It must completely die in the past to never return again. You must make this decision yourself and commit to it. If you’re not committed to the law and to changing yourself, then it will always be an uphill battle. You must fall in love with your desired self to the point that you cannot live with yourself unless you are satisfied by being them.

At this very point in time, you can make the decision to leave the old story in the past. By removing your attention from something, you deprive it of what it needs. To make anything real, all you need is attention and belief, so to remove it from your reality, you simply must deprive it of its needs and redirect your attention to the new story.

It’s time to give yourself the life that you deserve. It’s time to stop victimizing yourself in the face of your 3D circumstances. It’s time to take back your power.

You are never stuck where you are. No matter what is happening for you in the 3D, your internal reality is always able to change. Nothing is ever unchangeable. Nothing is ever lost.

You simply revise, and as you revise the day you repeal the day, for the day is not slipping into the past, it does not recede as people think, it is always advancing into the future to confront you, either pruned or in some strange weed-like state. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

If it is difficult for you to let go, you can always revise, so that your past experiences never have to be present in your life ever again. You can change the past to be as you desired it to be simply by focusing on the desired outcome instead. Pay no mind to what you have experienced. Only give life and attention to the experience you wanted to have. That is all you have to do to revise.

I understand that some people find revision to be more difficult than manifestation, but remember it’s all the same. The only reason you find it harder is because you are giving your memories and 3D circumstances too much weight. Imagination is reality in itself. Consciousness is the only reality. Therefore, your imagination of the future is just as real as the experience you remember having from the past. Revise, forgive, and let go.

Time is simply a construct of the human mind. In reality, time is happening all at once, but our human brains are only able to comprehend the present moment. Time moves linearly because that is how our human minds understand the universe. However, the past, present, and future are all already in existence right now.

This is what we mean by “creation is finished.” You are not creating anything, simply tapping into the reality in which you have what you desire. While the 3D man is only able to access the present moment, the 4D man is able to access all dimensions of time. It is why you have deja-vu, or even how some people can access future events through “psychic visions.” Really, they are just manifesting the outcome they have access to. Your imagination has the ability to access any point in time that you can possibly experience. There are infinite possibilities for each of these moments in time.

This is why you are able to revise and change your past and also manifest to change your future. You are deciding that another outcome happened instead and staying loyal to it so that it really was the version of the past that occurred. And yes, the people around you will remember the event as you revised. Revision is only a manifestation of the past.

Because consciousness is the only reality I must assume that I am already that which I desire to be. If I do not believe that I am already what I want to be, then I remain as I am and die in this limitation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 ✧˖°

You are absolutely responsible for every being you meet in this world; that’s your responsibility. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

I know this may be a sensitive topic to many people, so I will try to explain it the best way I can.

First of all, no one is at fault for what manifests in their world unconsciously. Your experiences and your traumas are still valid, and they are never your fault.

However, saying that we are only responsible for the good things we manifest is impossible. We can only be the cause for everything in our experience, or none of it. Otherwise, we would be giving our power away to an external source, even if that source is the 3D. You are the sole reason for every single thing you experience in your life. There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, that you experience that is separate from you. It all stems from you. You are the cause, but you are also the solution.

There is nothing you cannot bring into your experience because if you can imagine it, you can experience it. Absolutely nothing is impossible.

Does this concern you? Does this make you feel worried or scared? It’s a common feeling. The idea that you would be the reason for all the bad things that have happened in your life seems almost impossible. You’re probably thinking that you would never have wanted that to happen to you. Well, that’s the thing. What manifests isn’t what we want to happen, it’s what we accept as true, what we expect to happen, and the state that we remain in most often. Underlying and subconscious assumptions are also a factor.

Remember that nothing that has happened to you, especially if it was unconsciously manifested, is ever your fault. We are not at fault for what occurred while we were asleep. Now, however, you have the chance to take control of your life.

Man is always looking for some prop on which to lean. He is always looking for some excuse to justify failure. This revelation gives man no excuse for failure. His concept of himself is the cause of all the circumstances of his life. All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within. But man does not like to feel that he is solely responsible for the conditions of his life. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Thus, we must take responsibility for the life around us and decide with conviction to change it. Once you take responsibility, you will have a newfound confidence in which you know that you have the power, as the cause of the 3D, to change it however you desire. However, remember that you can only change it if you fall in love with your desired state. Otherwise, you will find yourself in a cycle in which you fall back into the old story again and again.

You must leave behind the old story and fully embody the new story.

You cannot find a cause outside of your own consciousness. Your world is a grand mirror constantly telling you who you are. As you meet people, they tell you by their behavior who you are. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

It is easy to want to place blame on something outside of you for the undesirable circumstances of your life. I mean, it makes sense. Why would you want to manifest any of the things that have hurt you in the past? So, you look for other reasons. This is why some people are so averse to learning about the law.

The truth is, everything you experience is your doing. I am not saying that you deliberately did anything, neither am I saying that you deserved it, nor that you are not a victim when it comes to your traumatic experiences. I am saying that you are the cause of everything you have experienced and will experience in your reality.

While many find this discouraging, I only wish that you find it empowering. Now you know that you have the power to change absolutely every aspect of your life.

Now every man in the world is rooted in you who look out and see that world. Every man is rooted in me; he ends in me as I AM rooted in and end in God. Because he is rooted in me he cannot bear other than the nature the root allows. So he is in me and any changes desired in the outer world can be brought about only if I change the source of the thing I see growing in my world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Everyone (and everything) is you pushed out. Everyone around you reflects your internal reality back to you. If you experience anything undesirable, then know that which you have entertained in your imagination was the cause.

The only universal truth about your identity is this: I AM. It is the fact that you are conscious right now. You have an internal reality, an imagination, that is capable of creating the world around you. The great news about this is that if you are the cause, then you can be the solution. Actually, you must be the solution, because no one else is going to do it for you. Remember, you are the sole power in your life. No one else can do the work for you

All that we meet is our Word made visible (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

Your inner conversations and what you entertain in imagination are the root of what you experience in your reality. If you are imagining inner conversations with others that often involve disagreements, arguments, or perpetuating undesirable 3D circumstances, then you are manifesting that into your reality. Be conscious of what you are entertaining in imagination.

This is where a mental diet comes into play.

Mental diets are not about policing or flipping or being afraid of your thoughts. Your individual thoughts don’t manifest. Also, intrusive thoughts are just thoughts, although you give them more weight by giving them attention and fearing them. Allow them to pass and not affect you. Since they are not part of your state, and they are not a true assumption you have about yourself or your life, they will never manifest.

In reality, to effectively retain a mental diet, you need to discipline your mind. It takes practice and you may have setbacks, but persisting in that desire to change is the most important thing. Continue returning to your desired state, while also stopping engaging in undesirable states immediately, and cutting off negative inner conversations. Notice when you are entertaining something undesirable in your imagination and stop it in its tracks. If you do this consistently and effectively, you will find yourself struggling much less with your internal reality and circumstances, and also you will not be afraid of intrusive thoughts any longer. You will know that thoughts are just thoughts unless you give them the power to control you and decide your state.

If I am hurt, I am self hurt. If there is darkness in my world, I created the darkness and the gloom and the depression. If there is light and joy, I created the light and the joy. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

You are functioning three-dimensionally and you cannot seem to reach the fourth-dimensional world where your present desire is already a concrete objective reality. You cannot seem to reach it because your senses bar you from it. Reason tells you it is impossible, all things round about you tell you it is not true. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

The 3D world has limitations. There are blockages, disagreements, conflicts, and setbacks at every turn. There are also privileges and systemic issues that hold people back from their true potential. If you base your inner reality on the outer reality, you will be perpetuating undesirable cycles and therefore limiting yourself. The wonderful thing is that we are not confined to the 3D reality. This is because we have our imagination and that in turn is truly limitless.

Notice your imagination right now. Even if you are unable to visualize, simply be aware of your internal world. Notice how there are no restrictions. There are no obstacles. There is no money, no power, and no people. It’s only you.

There is something that Edward Art mentions often about being all-powerful in imagination. In your mind, you are the only one in control. There are no limitations in imagination. There is no hunger in imagination. If you are hungry in imagination, you can simply imagine that you are full and then it is done. Anything can be brought into your mind with a simple thought or intention. You can imagine yourself at the top of Mount Everest without ever making the trek. You can have anything instantly in imagination. There is no need to fear in your inner world because you are completely in control. You are safe and satisfied in imagination. By experiencing your desires in this safe space, you are cultivating the state of already having and experiencing your desires. Therefore, you are manifesting. Experiencing and having what you desire in imagination is as simple as a thought. This is why you can manifest absolutely anything into your 3D reality. The 3D is a mirror. Whatever you entertain and experience in imagination will be reflected onto your physical reality.

You will never lose the ability to give unto yourself what you are bold enough to appropriate as true of self (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

I realize that some people are afraid of manifesting because they are worried that they will manifest something they don’t want, or that they will change their mind and decide that they want something else. The thing is, you will always have the ability to manifest. You don’t manifest once and then you’re done. You have infinite power at your disposal. Nothing is ever set in stone. You will always have the ability to manifest. You will always able to change your life. Even if you manifest your dream life and realize you want something else, you will always have the power to change your circumstances.

Your consciousness is God. It is creation itself. It is the reason you are alive and conscious and experiencing the world around you. Your imagination is an extension of consciousness that you, the 3D man, has access to. By using your imagination with discipline and practice, you can express anything you desire into your life.

As I stand here, having discovered that my consciousness is God, and that I can by simply feeling that I AM what I want to be transform myself into the likeness of that which I am assuming I am; I know now that I am all that it takes to scale this mountain. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ✧˖°

As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are only able to change the external by changing the internal. The 3D, the physical world is simply a reflection of the 4D, the imaginal world. The inner man is your infinite consciousness. This is what you are referring to when you say that you are god/the god of your reality/the operant power. It is all-knowing and all-powerful.

There is nothing your inner man cannot do. The outer man is limited by the physical world. It has rules and limitations that the inner man does not have. However, the outer man has the ability to influence the inner man to take control of the infinite power he has available to him. By changing your assumptions consciously, and also by changing your state, you will be able to use the inner man’s power to change your outer world.

People consider imagination to be a world of fantasy or not even a world in itself. However, it is the basis of everything you experience in your life. What you experience, you have once before entertained in imagination. Once you realize that this world is real and tangible and that it truly affects your life, you will know how important it is to take what you entertain internally very seriously.

Men call imagination a plaything, the “dream faculty.” But actually it is the very gateway of Reality. (Mental Diets Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐝 ✧˖°

The whole story is all about you (Control Your Inner Conversations)

Think about this phrase: I AM. It seems so simple. You use it all the time to refer to yourself, whether that be internally or to others. However, it is more than just a phrase. It is this idea that you are. You exist, you are conscious, and you are experiencing life. This is the one truth that you know. That you are here and you are alive.

No one can be before you when you alone possess the power to say I AM. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

You are the only person that can declare the phrase I AM. You are only able to confirm that you are conscious in your reality since you do not have access to the minds of those around you. This means that you are the sole power in your reality. No one else has any power over you.

Think about it, in your mind, you don’t have anyone else who is able to tell you what to think, what to imagine, what to desire, what to feel, etc. It is only you. Therefore, only you have the power to manifest anything into your 3D world. No one else has the ability to manifest for you. No one can be above you because you are the operant power in your reality. You cannot lose because you are the only source of power.

Do you know that no two in this room live in the same world. We are going home to different worlds tonight. We close our doors on entirely different worlds. We rise tomorrow and go to work, where we meet each other and meet others, but we live in different mental worlds, different physical worlds. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Being the god of your reality means that there is no one and nothing above you. There is no other source than you. Your reality is your own. The reason you can manifest anything into your life is because you live in your own reality where you are the operant power. No one can manifest for you, no one can manifest harm unto you, and you cannot manifest for anyone else. You are the sole power in your reality.

We look upon the world as, I would say, a manifestation of consciousness; and the whole vast conditions of men but revelations of individual states of consciousness. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

This also means that any external power is obsolete. The 3D, other people, astrology, numerology, tarot, etc. have no power in your reality. Everything is based on your assumptions, your expectations, everyone is you pushed out, and your conception of self.

You believe in astrology? You’ve got to sell it. You believe in numerology, in teacup leaves, in numerology and all these things? No matter what you believe in as a power to control you, you’ve got to sell it. It takes all these beliefs and you’ve got to sell them. No one will buy them from you, but you give them up as valueless. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

In order to fully take control and responsibility for your power over your reality, you must give up any and all external sources of power in exchange for your own. Once you have the pearl, you realize that nothing outside of you has any power and that you are the sole source and sole cause of everything that happens in your life. You cannot be the operant power, the god of your reality, by having anything outside of you be more powerful than you are.

If you think for one moment you can hold on to one little thing in the event this doesn’t work, you can’t buy the pearl. And so when I buy the pearl, I go all out and live by it. And there is no other being in this world, just this pearl, and I live by it. (The Pearl of Great Price Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐈 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ✧˖°

There is nothing to change but our concept of self. As soon as we succeed in transforming self, our world will dissolve and reshape itself in harmony with that which our change affirms. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Now, you can use all of this to cultivate a new self-concept. All you need to do is leave your old self behind (all the undesirable aspects of yourself you wish to change) and fully embody your new self in the process.

This can look like anything. Your ideal self-concept can include you focusing on confidence in manifestation, or even confidence in your everyday life. You need to decide who it is you want to be and how you want your life to look as a result. Everything you want to change externally will be changed only if you change internally. Remember that there is no one to change but self. You are the sole person that can change the world around you. You are the cause and you are the solution.

Remember this: Self-concept is not necessary to manifest. You can manifest without a perfect self-concept. However, if you truly desire to have a life of ease, and to have the life of your dreams, I would greatly encourage you to prioritize your self-concept above anything.

Everything we do, unaccompanied by a change of consciousness, is but futile readjustment of surfaces. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

You cannot easily change your entire life, including everyday occurrences, without working on your self-concept. Here’s what I mean by that: you never stop manifesting. Even when you are not consciously and deliberately trying to manifest something into your life, you’re still manifesting unconsciously. If you work on your self-concept, most things in your life manifest the way you desire unconsciously. You are getting ahead of the game and proactively creating favorable circumstances for yourself. Without this, you will have to be consciously manifesting every little thing you want to change. Working on your self-concept simply makes it easier for you to live a wonderful life filled with your desires and favorable circumstances.

The most important thing in this world to you is your concept of self. When you dislike your environment, the circumstances of life and the behavior of men, ask yourself, " Who am I?" It is your answer to this question that is the cause of your dislikes. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

Your circumstances are a reflection of your concept of self. Everything, including the way that people treat you and interact with you, is all based on your self-concept. Nothing is separate from you. Everything is coming from you. Therefore, in order to change your life and circumstances, it is imperative to change your self-concept.

Change your I AM and you will change the world around you.

We can use our powerful imagination in order to drop the old conception of self and assume the desired self. Since the world is directly a reflection of your self-concept, we must be consciously aware of what concept of self we are currently assuming. Turn to your internal consciousness, your I AM, and dare to assume a new concept of self.

As soon as we succeed in transforming ourselves, the world will melt magically before our eyes and reshape itself in harmony with that which our transformation affirms. (The Search Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 ✧˖°

But now having assumed that I AM what formerly I desired to be, I cannot continue desiring what I AM conscious of being. So I do not discuss it. I talk to no one concerning what I AM. It is so obvious to me that I AM what I wanted to be that I walk as though I were. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

Changing your I AM is your power and your path to total freedom.

Incorporating new assumptions is imperative to changing and improving your self-concept. How do you assume? It’s simple. You decide that whatever you desire is true in your world. Then, what is an assumption? It is a belief you have, despite having no physical evidence of its truth. Therefore, you are believing before you are seeing.

I suspend the limited reason of the natural man and walk in this bold assertion that I am what my senses deny. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

I want you to think of all the times you have assumed negatively with little to no evidence. That was easy, right? So why, when it’s beneficial to you, is it so hard, or even impossible for you to assume something positive about yourself or your life?

If you cannot instantly believe it, keep trying. Keep pushing. Some people may need practice, yes, but once you have practiced enough, you will be easily able to cultivate new assumptions, especially if you work on your self-concept.

When I feel that I AM what I want to be I cannot suppress the joy that comes with that feeling. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐓𝐨 𝐝𝐞��𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

That this wonderful consciousness of yours is the ultimate reality, and you are free to choose the state into which you will go. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

What is a state? When I talk about states, I mean states of consciousness. They are mindsets that you can consciously access and manipulate by experiencing how you would feel if you already had all your desires manifested.

Man is incapable of passing over from one state of consciousness into another unless he releases from consciousness that which he now entertains, for it anchors him where he is. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

In order to fully embody a new state, you must leave behind the undesirable state. You must not bring any little piece of your previous state into your new desired state. It must be completely released in order to appropriate the new state.

It is not a complicated idea because you are always occupying a state. That is, unless you are in the I AM state, which is when you detach from everything physical, everything changeable, and focus on the one truth about you, that you are. That you exist and you are conscious. That is the one true and unchangeable thing about your reality and your life. Therefore, you don’t have to try so hard to achieve your desired state.

He can pass now from this present state into any desired state in the world, for no power can stop you from dwelling in imagination where you desire to dwell. So, placing yourself there, you begin to think from it, and not constantly starve yourself by thinking of it. So I will go and prepare it, and preparing it I will dwell in it, and begin to think from it. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

The state you desire to occupy is always within arm’s reach. Experience what you desire in imagination, feel the wish fulfilled, and persist in that state. Don’t constantly worry whether or not you achieved the state. If you felt the wish fulfilled and experienced your desire in imagination, then you are in the desired state. If you know that your desires are yours, then you are in the desired state. Don’t overcomplicate, simplify.

In my imagination, I go and prepare the state. I actually go into the state and fill that state with my own being, and view the world from that state. I don’t think of it; I think from it. When I think from it, I’m actually preparing that state. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 ✧˖°

For dwelling in the state long enough clothes the state in flesh. (The Power of Awareness Neville Goddard)

Persistence is one of the most important aspects of manifestation. You persist, meaning that you remain faithful, to your desires, so that they will manifest into your physical reality. You are consistently returning to the desired state, and feeling it real.

Once you have felt the wish fulfilled, your desire is promised to you. It must come. It has no other choice but to manifest physically into your world.

That is the secret: thinking from what I want, instead of thinking of what I want. (Catch the Mood Neville Goddard)

While you are persisting it is important that you stay consistent in thinking from your desire, rather than just thinking of it. What does it mean to think from your desire? It means that you are in the state of already having it and allowing yourself to think from that state of mind. So, instead of thinking of your desire (as something separate from you), you are thinking from your desire (from the perspective of someone who already has it).

By thinking from your desire, you are showing your inner man that you are fully embodying the state of someone who has what you desire.

✧˖° 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧˖°

Therefore that which you seek you already are, it can never be so far off as even to be near, for nearness implies separation. (No One to Change but Self Neville Goddard)

What does it mean when we say nearness implies separation? It means that you cannot think of your desire as separate from you in any capacity. This means that there is no such thing as a time crunch. Focusing on time and how long it will take implies you do not have your desire already, which is counterintuitive to the law. To successfully manifest with the law of assumption, you must assume that you already are fulfilled with your desire. Then, you persist in that state of fulfillment. That is all you need to do. Methods are not necessary. Nothing else is necessary but assuming and persisting in the state of the wish fulfilled. Therefore, if you are focused on it being separate from you (such as separated by time), then you are not in the state of the wish fulfilled. You are still in the state of desire. Fulfill your desire in imagination and you will never have to worry about time.

For to desire is to confess that you do not now possess what you desire, and because all things are yours, you rob yourself by living in the state of desire (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✧˖°

You don’t accept one thing in the world as final unless it conforms to the ideal you want to realize in the world. (The Pruning Shears of Revision Neville Goddard)

Now, I know there are times when it feels like the physical world is still not changing the way you want it to be. In those instances, it may feel like the world is telling you “no.” Even in this case, you must persist. There is no failure. You can only fail if you are not faithful to your desire.

There is no limit to the power of belief or to the possibilities of prayer, but you must be brazenly impudent and not take No for an answer. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard)

You must never take no for an answer. You must remain stubbornly faithful to your desires. Never compromise when it comes to your desires. Never accept “half-manifestations.”

Only allow yourself to be satisfied once everything you desired has materialized exactly the way you wanted it to. Only then can you move on.

The Sabbath is the day of stillness wherein there is no working. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

The sabbath is this time period in which you no longer feel the need to do anything else to achieve your desire. You do not want because you know that what you have once desired is now yours. This means that you have fully accepted the reality of your desire in imagination. You are satisfied with having it in the 4D, therefore you know that it is yours in the 3D, no matter what you see or experience in the physical world.

You must remain faithful to your desires no matter what. Only you can stand in your own way.

Do not compromise. Decide exactly what you want and assume you have it. If your world would change, determine what it would look like; then construct a scene which would imply you are there. (Brazen Impudence Neville Goddard)

✧˖° 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 ✧˖°

Denying the evidence of the senses and appropriating the feeling of the wish fulfilled is the way to the realization of your desire. (The Feeling is the Secret - Law and its Operation Neville Goddard)

Now, this entire document has been mainly focused on changing your internal reality and your self-concept, and that was deliberate. While I know manifestation’s entire purpose is to get things in the 3D and change your physical reality, I think it’s more important to focus on the internal change before anything. Once you introduce any kind of change into your internal reality, the external reality must express this change. After you realize that changing your internal reality is all you need to do in order to give yourself your dream life, you will have all the knowledge you need to manifest anything into your physical reality.

That state has its own unique way of becoming embodied in this world, of becoming flesh that the whole world may touch it. (Assumptions Harden Into Fact Neville Goddard)

Now I will briefly discuss physical manifestation. Here is how it works: Remaining in the state of your wish fulfilled internally with persistence will allow it to be manifested upon the physical reality. You never need to act as if in the physical. You can still remain faithful to your obligations and responsibilities in the 3D. That will not affect your manifestation. You can be working a 9-5 and still manifest being financially free. You can be living in difficult circumstances and still manifest your dream life. It’s not about ignoring the 3D, it’s about remaining faithful to the 4D.

You cannot take thought as to the how, when you know that you are already. (Consciousness is the Only Reality Neville Goddard)

I also wish to remind you that you do not need to concern yourself with how your assumptions will be made manifest. If you’d prefer to detail how your dream life will manifest, then that is your choice. However, it is not necessary, since your infinite consciousness already knows exactly how to give it to you in the absolute best way possible.

We say that you should not think about the how because it can get overwhelming. Sometimes there is a fear that it will not manifest the way you desire, or maybe the idea of it coming to fruition is the scary part. This is why you should remain in the end. Focus on the end result you desire and remain faithful to that and you will never need to concern yourself with the details.

Do not let anyone tell you that you must struggle and suffer. You need not struggle for the realization of your desire. (Remain Faithful To Your Idea Neville Goddard)

Finally, manifestation does not take effort or struggle. There is no struggle. You do not have to force anything to happen. No physical action is needed to manifest. All there is to do is change self. Once you take the necessary steps and do the only thing required of you, then everything else will be taken care of for you.

You need not be concerned with the affairs of the inner man. Simply have faith and the rest will be done.

The condition which I desired and assumed that I had, becomes objectified within my world and bears witness to the power of my assumption. (Thinking Fourth Dimensionally Neville Goddard)

#loa #loassumption #loablr #neville goddard #edward art #law of assumption #manifestation #states #shifting #reality shifting #self concept #inner man #consciousness #internal reality

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sotwk · 7 months

Text

Taken (Eomer x unnamed OC) - Part 3 of 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Summary: After having his proposals and professions rejected by the woman he loves, Éomer still refuses to be dissuaded. He vows to continue fighting for a future with her--even if that means having to let go for the time being.

Word count: 6.7k

Dedicated to anyone who has ever known the pain of loving someone you could not have. <3

Content: Boromir lives (!), angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, Éomer King, Rohirrim OCs, post-RotK, non-canon pairing

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Sensuality gets steamy, but nothing explicit. Mentions of old battle injuries.

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken

PART THREE

Third Age 3019 May 6

Minas Tirith, Gondor

“If you would allow me to propose something your Grace, I--”

“Éomer.” The King of Rohan growled the ungentle correction with an irritated shake of his head. “If I have leave from your king to continue calling him Elessar, then I will not abide frivolous formalities from you…Captain. And speak freely! It is your candor that I came here for, as much as your counsel."

Boromir chuckled faintly. “Very well.” He downed the last of the wine in his goblet before picking up the jug to refill it, then reaching across the table to serve his guest as well.

While Éomer took a hearty swig, Boromir used the extra seconds of silence to weigh his next words. The noble horse-lord had done most of the talking since his arrival at the house not an hour ago, rambling on with barely contained agitation that would have frightened or offended anyone unfamiliar with his character. But Boromir had known Théodred’s cousin since he was a child, and while he was not nearly as close to Éomer as he had been with the late Prince of Rohan, their friendship had deepened enough--especially over the past few months--to familiarize Boromir with the trigger points of his temper.

And Boromir had never before seen him more sensitive about a topic than the matter they had at hand.

Love certainly wields such terrible power over a man, the Captain-General of Gondor mused, before clearing his throat.

“I will gladly fulfill your request of watching over her in your absence, making sure she is well-treated and wants for nothing,” he began. “But a soldier can quickly grow restless without sufficient martial exercise.”

“I agree.” Éomer leaned forward to fold his arms across the table. “Has she not been here long enough for your men to grow accustomed to seeing her at the training grounds? None of them need spar against her or even alongside her if they do not wish to. She would be content to practice drills on her own. In fact, she may even prefer it.”

“My men will tolerate her presence just fine. The valor she showed on Pelennor was well-witnessed, and stories of it have circulated around our garrison,” Boromir said. “I admit she may inevitably overhear crass remarks from some passing boor among the citizenry. A woman warrior still remains an oddity in these parts. But I am sure she did not come to her status without learning how to weather such criticisms.”

“Yes.” Éomer stared at the empty goblet he rotated slowly between his hands. “She has had to bear with a lot of ignorant talk over the years.”

“Which is why I propose taking her as a member of my company while you are away. Just temporarily,” Boromir added quickly, noting the immediate change in the horse-lord's demeanor. “It will help her feel more at ease while here, separated from you and her countrymen, if she had a group to belong to.”

“She has already taken a strong liking to your Aerdis. Which, I must confess, took me by surprise.”

Boromir smiled at this, his fool heart ready to burst with joy at every casual mention of his betrothed. “My lady is an easy one to love,” he said simply. “And indeed, the two seem to enjoy each other's company. I am certain Aerdis would be happy to continue acquainting her with all of her treasured haunts within the city and even beyond its walls. But…”

He rubbed his jaw slowly, ever the unconscious tell of his discomfort with the situation at hand. But it was no use dancing around the real counsel he wished to present to Éomer King. “When it comes to daily labors, a shield-maiden will likely be happier with work better suited to her talents.”

Éomer cocked an eyebrow, clearly undeceived by Boromir’s attempts at off-handedness. “What sort of work? I sense you have something specific in mind.”

“I do,” Boromir admitted. “And I shall explain it to you plainly, although I will first say that it is both a suggestion and a request for a favor.” At this point he considered offering Éomer another refill of his drink, but the deepening scowl on the man’s face made him think better of it. “As you may have heard, I have been charged by King Elessar to lead the delegation that will treat with the Southrons. Sadhar has already come forward with an offer to parley, as soon as next month.”

Éomer’s eyes widened; he caught on even faster than Boromir had expected him to. “And you wish to include her in your delegation?”

“With your approval, yes.”

“You do not have it!” Éomer exclaimed. “And how could you propose such a thing?! Have you forgotten how she was so nearly dragged off by those animals to be taken who knows where for purposes I dare not even think of?”

“Are you really asking that of the man who came to her aid?”

It was a risky move to prod at that wound, but Éomer looked properly chastised by it. “You rescued her,” he conceded. “And for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But I cannot pretend to understand why you wish to involve her in any dealings with Harad.”

“You must see why I thought of her,” Boromir insisted. “You, who can personally attest to what she is capable of.” But Éomer continued to look too distraught to think, so he laid the rest out. “I can count on the fingers of one hand every person I know who can speak a Haradric dialect with reliable accuracy. Half of them died in the war.”

Éomer rose abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his state. Muttering indistinctly, he turned his back to Boromir to glare out the nearest window and brood at the rain lashing against the glass panes.

“When Théodred used to boast to me about her, I dismissed it as a mentor's pride in his fanciful protégé,” Boromir continued. “I suppose I too allowed myself to be distracted by her sex. But she really is a hidden gem in your Éored, is she not? Your cousin invested in her training with great thoughtfulness, and it has borne fruit marvelously. He really believed--”

Éomer slammed the heel of his hand on the window frame. “Théodred was not the one hopelessly in love with her for so many years! There lies the difference!” he snapped. “So when you ask for my consent to take her to meet with our enemies, consider that you are asking me to risk the life of the woman I absolutely refuse to live my own life without!”

And while Boromir reacted with silence, he stood there, breathing hard, one fist on his hip and the other hand pressed over his forehead. “Forgive me,” he mumbled. “The wine, I…and I have scarcely slept since--”

Boromir waved off the apology. “I understand your agony well. It was not long ago that I lived through the same, and just mercifully survived to a happy end. I am on your side, Éomer. I know politics and duty might make the lines difficult to discern, but I hope you can believe that.”

“I believe it.” Éomer made another weary swipe of his hand across his face. “At least I think I do. Too many things are changing too quickly, and I fear a failure to keep in step shall result in my simply being dragged along behind everyone else like an unhorsed sot.”

“Then maybe there is wisdom in her request to stay behind and out of your way. The time apart may provide you the focus you need to regain your footing.”

The tired lines on Éomer’s face tightened again. “And why must time apart involve setting her on a perilous road?”

“The mission carries little chance of peril. Peace talks, even with Harad, are nothing compared to everything she has survived to get this far. You know this.” Éomer brushed past Boromir to return to the table, but the captain’s frank reproach pursued him. “Separation from her is what you dread, not the Southrons.”

So furiously did Éomer scowl at the table surface that for a moment Boromir thought he might turn the heavy shelf over in a fit of rage. Instead he seized the wine jug, poured himself a gobletful, and drank it in two forceful gulps.

“I had hoped you could give me counsel on how I might change her mind, and convince her to simply come home,” he finally said. “Perhaps even quell her doubts in the future she can have with me.”

Underneath the anger and frustration, Éomer’s raw misery lay bare to Boromir, and suddenly he felt a swell of compassion for the young king. Would that he could offer a swift resolution to his predicament, instead of mere commiseration for the challenges that still lay ahead.

“However hard it is to hear, separation is the soundest advice I can give you today,” Boromir said. “Time and distance are most effective at calming the storm in one's mind, so that the heart may have its chance to be properly heard. Many have learned this from experience, myself included. I believe it shall be the same for your lady.”

Éomer's shoulders heaved in a ponderous sigh. “If only it did not feel like such a gamble.”

Boromir could not help a chuckle. “Then I regret I must tell his majesty, that you cast your first of many dice the moment you let her take your heart. But in the end, you shall be the one to decide how much you are willing to risk, and you alone decide when you are done.”

The anguish that resurged on Éomer's face was almost a relief to Boromir. The King of Rohan was wise enough to already know the graver half of the truth: that his new throne was in many ways a cage, and there was very little a good ruler could afford to risk in pursuit of his own desires.

* * *

“Take the names of any fools who might give you trouble,” Léodor said, unhooking the reins of his horse to start leading it across the muddy yard. “I can sort them all out on our return.”

You laughed as you followed him to the edge of the farmland property, marked by the scorched ruins of what had once been a granary. “Do you really think I could wait that long without sorting such fools out myself?”

“Anyone with the gall to harass a rider of the king’s Éored deserves a second dose of thrashing, or a third or fourth.” Your friend turned to grasp your forearm and give it a firm squeeze. “Although I sincerely hope these men of Gondor would know better, for their own sakes.”

“They are our allies, now more than ever before,” you reminded him. “And I have every confidence in their courtesy and hospitality.”

“Perhaps if you were less of a recluse and better at making friends, I would not worry so.”

Your knuckles barely grazed his sleeve as he darted away and promptly swung up to the safety of his saddle, chortling and calling, “You are only proving my point, sister!”

“Waste not a thought or care on me, and focus them all on your family!” you retorted, and stepped back as he spurred his horse forward. “Westu Léodor hál!”

You watched him gallop off across the plains of Pelennor, back to the distant towers of the White City. Tomorrow, he and the rest of the Éored would finalize preparations for the greatly anticipated journey home. But as soon as he heard that you had been tasked with staying behind, to remain with the body of Théoden King, Léodor alone took the time to come looking for you.

Whatever his suspicions regarding Éomer's selection of you as the one to leave in Gondor, Léodor spoke nothing of them. He was content to spend his entire visit sharing the cask of ale he brought, and talking your ears off about all the things he planned to do with his wife and son and infant daughter upon their reunion.

How far your relationship had come, you mused, as you watched the shrinking speck finally melt into the shadows of the deepening twilight. With him and with the rest of the men in your company, when you had once sworn, in tears hidden, that they would never accept you. Now their departure would sting as though you had been orphaned for the third time.

It is only for several weeks, you told yourself, to ease the weight of doubt that sat upon your chest. As you turned to walk back toward the cottage, a fierce wind rose and ripped off the cloak that was loosely draped over your shoulders. With a startled cry you grabbed for it, but not quickly enough to save it from landing in a large puddle.

You retrieved the soaked fabric from the mud with a sigh. A fat raindrop landed squarely on the top of your uncovered head, and was immediately followed by another and another. Spontaneous rain had been pouring on and off over Gondor since the King’s coronation, and you heard the locals welcome and praise this tumultuous weather as a blessing, a sign of war’s filth being washed away to cleanse the lands for rebirth.

Shielding your eyes from the sudden deluge, you looked up at the roiling clouds overhead, further entranced by the sight of jagged lightning flashing over the White Mountains. But when your gaze dropped back down to the horizon, you were alarmed to notice a horsed figure crossing the fields through the storm, approaching fast, in your direction.

It was him. Without proof of his face or voice, or even the support of logic, you just knew. It was him.

The very thought of that froze you, mind and body, in place. Pale and immobile and increasingly drenched, you stood like a deeply rooted tree while the rider drew closer and closer, on a horse powerful enough to sustain its determined gait over the sodden ground and lashing winds. Dumbfounded and dazed, you remained, until at last he came to a stop just several yards away. He dismounted Firefoot, his heavy boots squelching in the muck, and that sound snapped you to your senses.

“My lord,” you rushed forward with the soiled cloak twisted uselessly between your hands. “The stables are around the back. Let me take Firefoot there while you get out of this rain.”

“I shall stable him,” Éomer said sternly, but not unkindly, to warn you against arguing. “Go and wait for me inside the house.”

Without speaking another word or sparing a backward glance, you obeyed your king. You shut the cottage door behind you to keep out the ill weather, hung your wet cloak on a peg, and crouched by the warmth of the fireplace to dry off as best as you could. You kept your jittery hands busy feeding the flames with more wood, but your mind refused to be calmed as easily.

What is he doing here?! The agreement had been for you to report to him the following day, to receive in full detail your last set of orders before the entire Rohan contingent departed. Éomer had granted your request to stay behind quickly enough, and with so little argument that you had hoped perhaps the issue between you was settled, at least for the time being.

If he was not prepared to completely abandon his fatuous notion of asking you to marry him, then time apart would surely set his mind back to good sense. The Éomer you knew could always be trusted to do the right thing. You clung firmly to this thought while you waited the agonizing minutes for him to return from the stables.

As soon as he entered, you offered him the last clean towel you could find to dry himself with. He raised his eyebrows at your attempt to give him royal treatment, but graciously swiped the cloth several times over his face, neck, and hair, before tossing it over the back of a chair.

“So this is the place.” He peeled off his riding cloak to reveal clothing underneath that was just as soaked as yours; he may as well not have bothered with the outer garment at all. “You said it belonged to Lady Aerdis’s late…uncle?”

“A relative of sorts,” you said. When you confided in your new friend your wistful desire to be housed outside the city, where you could have more quiet and solitude, she had been quick to offer the empty cottage in near Pelennor that was recently willed to her by deceased relations. “There are things I can work on to help restore it while I am here. Even my meager skills will serve a farm better than sitting on my hands in the city barracks watching everyone else in their labors. I wish to remain useful, and do my part in the rebuilding.”

“I understand. You have explained all that, and well,” Éomer said slowly. “But regretfully, I must rescind the permission I granted for you to live outside Minas Tirith. You can stay here for the remainder of this week, to rest and do as you please. But afterward, I would like for you to go back to the city and remain there until my return.”

You bit back a protest, determined, now more than ever, to reaffirm your position as his servant. “May I ask what I am to do there, then?”

“Lord Boromir petitioned me to loan you to his company, and I granted it. He shall assign your duties, and you will take your orders from him while I am gone.”

Although it surprised you to hear this, it was a welcome prospect. Of all the men in Gondor you liked and trusted Lord Boromir the most, having known him since you were just a girl, albeit not intimately. This would provide an opportunity to improve on the connection. “Lord Boromir honors me with his request. And as always, it shall please me to do as my king commands.”

Éomer responded to your formal pledge with a weary sigh. He braced his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, and the way his knuckles whitened in the tightness of his grip, while he searched for his next words, did not escape your notice.

“Make no mistake, this command does not align with what I desire,” he said thickly. “Leaving without you violates every instinct in my body, but if that is what must be done to make you see reason, then I shall bear it.”

“Reason?” you repeated stiffly. “What conclusion are you hoping I might come to?”

Éomer raised his eyes from the floor to meet yours across the room. “I know you believe that putting distance between us may somehow alter how I feel about you. But I in turn believe the time apart will help you accept how deeply in love you are with me.”

The heat that flooded your face burned through your mask of composure. “I am not--”

“Enough.” The sadness that bled into that single word made it a plea instead of an order. “I did not come to reopen discussions on the matter. Especially not if denials are all you have left to say to me.”

“Then pray tell, what has my lord come for?” you challenged him behind your icy courtesy. “How else may I serve you, Éomer King?”

The hurt that crossed his face came on so suddenly, looked so profound and real, it was as though you had physically struck him. He stared at you in a dead silence, and you forced yourself to hold his gaze while you held your breath, guilt sinking into your gut from the knowledge that you were the wretch who had gone too far.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Clearly there is nothing more to say, other than farewell.”

He picked up his cloak, turned, and left, leaving you utterly dumbfounded, staring at the door that slammed shut behind him.

The longest seconds of your life passed before your shock and indecision were overcome by a wild hysteria that made your entire body grow cold.

You leapt for the door and wrenched it open, and stepped into the downpour in time to see him vanish around the corner of the house, heading back to the stables.

The loss of him from your sight smashed through your bravado, and you cried out into the storm.

“Éomer!!”

Before you could grasp your reasoning for why you did it, or what you planned to do next, he reappeared, every footstep leaving puddles as his approach backed you up into the cottage. His eyes bore down at you, his expression now guarded and inscrutable and expectant. Gusting wind drove in sprinkles of rain through the door left open and ignored.

I am sorry. The whisper sitting on the tip of your tongue was smothered by a hostile inner voice.

Let him go. It is your duty. It is what’s right.

But your stolid face collapsed under the weight of your anguish. A grimace squeezed out the tears that blinded your eyes, finally betraying your shameful truth. I do love you, Éomer.

Gentle fingers settled lightly over your lips, stilling their feeble quivering. A voice even warmer and more tender than this touch eased your struggle.

“I do not need words. This is enough.”

As the hardened pads of those fingers brushed across the plane of your cheek, you closed your eyes and at once forgot all else that existed. Such was the power of his touch that for years you so vigilantly avoided, until that fateful moment of weakness after the coronation exposed your secret. That moment could never be undone, no matter how hard you tried to bury the truth now.

Éomer murmured your name, his breath warm on your temple, and then his hands stilled where they lightly cupped your face. In that pause lay a question, and the last time you answered it, you had hurt him. Foolish liar that you were.

“Yes.” The whisper passed from your lips to his as his mouth wasted no time seeking yours. You clasped your hands around the back of his neck, urging him closer as your own hunger surged. You felt the tremor that ran through his shoulders when you slipped your tongue against his. How could you have ever chosen to cause him pain, when you could have given him this instead?

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, but nuzzled your chin upward to gain access to your neck, so his lips could continue their quest to the hollow of your throat. You gasped at the scrape of his teeth on your collarbone, then moaned when he remedied his offense with reverent strokes of his tongue. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, pulling you greedily against him, fingers threading and tugging at your hair as he moved his worship to your shoulders.

But it was your touch, the scrabble of your hands over his hips and stomach as you held on to him for balance, that elicited a low growl. In just a few hurried steps, he backed you to the furthest corner of the cottage, until the side of the bed hit the back of your legs.

Your name was still the only thing he could utter, muffled in between the kisses he could not stop lavishing on every bit of your skin he could reach. Your hands found their way to his hips again, this time sneaking underneath the wet fabric that clung to his torso, then brazenly gliding upward, past his belly to the taut muscles of his chest, high enough for your thumb to circle his nipple.

An ungentlemanly word suddenly rumbled from Éomer King's throat, so startled was he by the sensual touch. Within moments his shirt lay discarded on the floor, your back made contact with the mattress, and there he was, leaning over you, bare from the waist up to your hungry eyes. You gave yourself an extra second to appreciate the sight before hooking a hand over his nape to yank him back into a kiss. The fervor in his response left you writhing and whimpering and completely vulnerable in your weakness.

A deep haze settled over you as you began to lose yourself to the pleasure of his ministrations. With every inch of you, you wanted this, and the way your body reacted to his every action, shaking in desperation for more, would surely tell him that. And yet… yet as you felt his fingers grope for the fastenings of your dress, felt his palm brush the back of your knee to your thigh, felt his hardness press against your hip… something inside of you jerked in reawakened panic.

“Éomer. W-wait.”

So soft was the protest, you were not even sure you had said the words aloud. But almost immediately, Éomer stopped and pulled back. He took one look at you, your disheveled state, and whatever expression lay on your face, and he sat up fully, turning away, dragging your heart out of your chest with him.

“Éomer, please. I am… I just…”

“No, I understand and I agree. To carry on would be unwise.”

He rubbed both hands roughly over his face, shaking away the stupor induced by his desire.

“All these years I have ordered the men to give you the respect you are due. I cannot risk your virtue or reputation now, however long I have wanted this. Wanted you.”

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You are my King, and it is my duty to protect you and your reputation. We must behave prudently.”

He nodded, but still looked so pained you could not help but lift your hand to try to soothe the scowl from his face. He angled his head to kiss the inside of your wrist.

“I will have you,” he muttered, his diverted gaze making it seem more a promise to himself than to you. But when he turned his eyes back on you, the wanton lust pooling in them stirred the heat in your belly. “I will wait for the right circumstances, however long it may take, but I will have you.”

He rose and walked a few steps across the room, perhaps in need of distance from you. As he stood closer to the fireplace, the light illuminated a view so rarely seen by anyone, many people in Rohan had come to believe that Éomer was simply hale and hard of body beyond the limits of mortal men.

The numerous scars that decorated his body testified to both his fragility and his strength. Many of his wounds had been tended to by you on the battlefield, carrying terrible memories that were now also moments of pride and achievement that you shared with him.

Éomer seemed to feel your intent gaze upon him, and he stretched out a hand to you, beckoning you to rejoin him. As soon as you were within reach, he wrapped his arms around you again, drawing you against him, sighing contently as your touch drifted over the bare skin of his chest and shoulders.

Your hand moved with intention, skimming down to his lower abdomen, probing carefully for the large scar you knew sat just below his ribcage. That injury was less than two years old. It still amazed you how it had managed to heal with little issue, under the constant strain of the many violent battles Éomer fought in since.

So close. A chill ran through you as the memory rose unbidden: you pressing down hard to staunch the bleeding, screaming for someone to help carry the barely conscious Marshal to the nearest shelter, where you could safely attempt to clean and suture the wound. If the orc blade had sunk in only a fraction of an inch deeper, it would have been beyond anyone's power to save him. You came too close to losing him that day.

Eomer's lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he interrupted your reminiscence with a whisper. “How can you still doubt that we belong together, when already you are part of me?”

Your fingers passed over several other scars from injuries you had tended to over the years, and came to rest over the tattoo on his upper right arm. The black dragon curled around the edge of his shoulder was identical in design and location to the mark borne by every rider in your Éored. Your possession of that dragon mark bound you to Éomer intimately, but also defined your role in his life. Sharing his bed, or even being with him just once, was not your place.

“None of these give me any right to claim you,” you said softly. “You must still marry. And it is your duty to marry well.”

He caught your elbow as you started to move your hand away, and guided it back to slide over his waist, to rest over the scar once more, willing you to hold fast to the memory it carried, and hold fast to him.

“What does it mean to marry? Is it not just the giving of one's entire self--mind and body, heart and soul--to another?”

He hooked a finger underneath your chin, urging your downcast gaze to rise and meet his.

“How am I to dispose of things that are no longer in my possession? I have long been taken, solely and utterly, by you.”

And with that gaze he set upon you, you wondered: how many glances must have he given you in secret all these years, with eyes that burned with something more than the devotion of one comrade-in-arms to another? What willful blindness had you clung to for years, for you not to have noticed it?

“I must fulfill my duties to Rohan, this is true. But not even a king can be asked to do the impossible.”

“But to wed a great king to a lowly servant--” You shook your head. “Many would argue that is the real impossibility.”

A new expression akin to anger flashed across Éomer’s face. Before you could wonder what you might have done wrong, he dropped to his knees before you, both knees, his hands wrapped tightly around yours.

“My lord!” you cried, aghast that he would debase himself, even in private. You tried to force him back up, but he would not budge.

“Never speak of yourself as lowly again,” he admonished. “King or peasant, there is nothing more lowly or humbled than a man so wretchedly in love, as I am with you.”

“Éomer…” You sank to the floor with him. “If only things were so simple. I wish it could all happen as you say, but I just do not see how. I do not know what can be done.”

“Let me hold your love for a while longer, and wait for me,” he said gently. “That is all I ask. The rest is mine to accomplish. As long as your heart is mine, and I know you have given it to me freely, I will fight for my right to keep it.”

You felt his grip around your fingers grow tense in the long seconds of silence that followed. At last, you brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing the hands you adored with such devotion.

“When you leave, you shall take my heart with you,” you whispered into his palm. “But I fear it will be a greater challenge than you believe, to keep others from wresting such an unsuitable offering from your hands.”

“They may certainly try, if they wish to test me.” The ice in his tone unsettled you, even though that veiled threat was certainly not for you, while the warm caress on your cheek was. “Not for a moment will I appear unclear or undecided when it comes to my intentions towards you. I will never make that mistake again.”

“B-but the Council of Eorl. The lords…”

“They answer to the King,” Éomer interrupted. “Do not privileges, as well as duties, come with this crown? Trust me. Please.” He bowed to rest his forehead against yours. “While we are parted, I will prove to you that it can be done, that I will do whatever I must to marry you, and to honor and protect you thereafter.”

“Marry?” you murmured. The idea still seemed no more than a ludicrous fantasy. But then Éomer kissed you again, deeply, as though determined to memorize the taste of your lips, urging you to focus on the present moment.

Because he was yours, even if just for that night. Even if by dawn, it could all crumble under the pressures of the world outside these walls. Éomer loved you, and held you in such high regard to want you as his wife and queen. You would swear to anyone that this knowledge alone was already a dream fulfilled.

And yet. If you were brave enough to hope, maybe…just maybe, this would not be the last impossibility to come true for you.

* * *

They do not know. Hundreds of Gondor’s citizens bearing streamers and flowers lined the streets of Minas Tirith that morning to join King Elessar in sending off the departing Eorlingas. But it occurred to Éomer how strange it felt that none of them had any awareness of a matter that was not only monumental for him personally, but carried significant consequences for all of Rohan.

Soon that will change, the young king vowed to himself. Soon his Council will hear the truth, and afterward all of Rohan, and then the rest of their allies. But for the moment, discretion--no matter how bitter the pretense tasted.

No one except for Lord Boromir and his betrothed, the lovely Lady Aerdis, who both stood next to her, understood what truly lay underneath the courteous gestures exchanged between the King of Rohan and his shield-maiden. A simple bow, an exchange of a few words, and a locking of gazes that was all too brief. Had they not spent that one evening together, Éomer would have remained trapped in the false belief of her indifference towards him. The memory of her kisses would have to suffice for a while, and he could only hope he had given her enough to remember him by, as well.

He brushed the edge of his hand over his lips just as he turned away, and forced his feet to carry him down the line of assembled well-wishers.

A noticeable hush descended on the crowd of onlookers as Éomer came to the end of the road where, closest to the ruins of the Great Gate, the King of Gondor himself met him, flanked by none other than Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and his only daughter.

“Lady Lothíriel.” As Éomer took the hand she courteously offered him and brushed a kiss on her fingers, he became aware of the wan smiles that surrounded them, and the unsubtle tittering of a few ladies watching. “Your presence this morning is an unexpected and most delightful gift.”

Lothíriel was astonishingly beautiful indeed, with such radiant grace and sweet smiles, that it would not have surprised Éomer if many citizens of the White City came out just to catch a glimpse of her. “I wish you, Lady Éowyn, and all your men a safe journey, your Grace,” she said. “And may you have great success in your labors, so that we can soon celebrate your speedy return.”

“You are kind, my lady. I certainly hope for the same,” replied Éomer. “We leave behind treasure beyond price here and shall be eager to return for our own.”

Two Rohan lords had already swooped in to engage Imrahil in quiet conversation, and only stepped aside when Éomer himself approached to exchange farewells. Éomer’s admiration for the Prince only grew the more he learned about him and spent time with him, but the unabashed thirst of his counselors for Dol Amroth’s friendship irritated him. Yet another issue he intended to settle in the ordering of his House’s affairs.

Finally, Éomer came before Elessar, who embraced him tightly and honored him with a bow, from one king to another. “Worry not, my brother,” the man once called Aragorn said quietly to him. “I shall see to it that they are cared for, these ones whom you so dearly love.”

He smiled at the look of mixed wonder and apprehension on Éomer’s face, and dipped his head in another show of reassurance and of farewell.

With that, the Rohirrim set off on the North-way in a procession over a mile long, accompanied by the fanfare from the people that continued to line the road stretching across Pelennor. Countless flags in a multitude of colors and sigils from the different regions of Gondor fluttered in the air, and from every direction, enthusiastic cheering and waving followed the Riders across the fields.

At the head of the procession, behind his standard bearer and with Éowyn at his side, Éomer quickly fell into a brooding silence that did not escape his sister’s notice.

“I truly did not think I would ever see the day when the two of you would be willingly separated,” she said lightly. When Éomer looked at her with raised eyebrows, she shrugged. “I am sure you have good reasons for choosing her to stay behind with our uncle.”

“Many reasons,” Éomer grunted.

Éowyn regarded him thoughtfully. “Has the time finally come when you would allow yourself to be open with me about these reasons? And the other concerns weighing on your mind and heart? It is just you and I now, Éomer,” she said softly, stretching out her hand to him. “I may not have uncle’s experience or Théodred’s cunning, but I love you beyond words, and would do anything to see you happy. Let me help you.”

Éomer smiled at this, and reached over to take her hand and squeeze it. “Perhaps I can aspire to the happiness you have found with Lord Faramir.”

“Having my affections stolen by a High Man was not what I aspired to,” said Éowyn, trying to look annoyed but unable to hide the blush on her cheeks. “But love, it seems, is the wildest beast of all. It will not be tamed, or bridled, or even reasoned with. It goes where it wills. Éomer…” Éowyn’s sweet face turned stern. “You have suffered enough, and have been forced to carry so many burdens, not least of all our uncle’s crown, which I know you never wanted.”

“It is my honor to take the throne in Uncle and Théodred’s stead,” Éomer said firmly. “And why do you make assumptions about the things I want?”

“I know who it is you have wanted, for a long time now,” Éowyn said with a stout confidence that took Éomer aback. “You are discreet, brother. But I have watched you and looked out for you, more closely than you realize.”

Éomer shook his head. “I am still learning the many ways I have been underestimating you, Éowyn. Soon I shall believe myself unworthy of your care or help.”

“Someone has to care for you, during the frequent times you would not.” Éowyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still out of hearing range of the rest of his Éored. “Especially now that you have left her behind.”

Éomer pressed his lips in a tight line and returned his gaze to the road ahead. “I will be back,” he said. “There is much to do in Rohan before then, but with Uncle waiting in the Hallows, I can hardly afford to dawdle or delay.”

And she is waiting. Éomer caught a glimpse of his sister’s suppressed smile that told him she had already thought the same thing. Another person with strong opinions to contend with.

Éomer spurred Firefoot forward to signal the standard bearer, who promptly blew one quick blast on his horn. As the King took off in a steady gallop, the thunder of hooves rose behind him as nearly a thousand other Rohirrim picked up their pace to match his, drowning out the excited shouts of the Gondorians that started them off at last to their journey home.

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