#or for ruining his plan to avoid going to war

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

Diomedes: Odysseus, come on! How badly do you want this revenge? Think about the consequences, is this really worth it!?

Odysseus: Wow, when you say it that way... it's clear what I have to do.

Diomedes: Good for you!

Odysseus: See this through, so that I at least get something out of it.

Diomedes: ...That's not what I'm saying, I'm saying you have to do the right thing-

Odysseus: And kill Palamedes, got it!

Diomedes: ... That's... not what I'm... saying-

Odysseus: Is it not what you're saying or not what you're "saying"?

Diomedes: I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!

Odysseus: Exactly. *wink*

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Maedhros built up a high pain resistance from Angband; particularly to the burning sensation. Considering how low he thinks of himself, it’s likely he expected the Silmaril to burn him. He didn’t think he was redemptive, he thought I can take it.

Part of why Maedhros acts so viciously is because that’s how life treated him. I can take it if my brothers die. I can take it if I’m damned for eternity. I can take it if everybody thinks I’m a monster.

He’s proud, and he’s suffering. He won’t back down, he will succeed or be martyred.

[captainpriceslilwife]

little thing with John Price that goes from angst to smut to angst again and then fluff and back to smut....pretty much checked all the boxes here i think. okay yay <3 also ill be honest...idk if i like how this turned out, but.....here it is *serves up half-eaten charcuterie board made from lunchables*

Basically Price is using your daddy kink as a trojan horse to rewrite your neural pathways <3 but like...with love Shoutout @coco-killed-the-angels for implanting these worms (insecure girl x price) into my brain <333 CW: deep insecurities (bc i'm the one writing it, so...it's a given), daddy kink, crying, praise kink (?) - does it count if he's just praising you in a sexual setting and its not necessarily a kink idk, if you're allergic to true, deep love and you just want smut this is not the work for you, not DDLG but like...the cousin of it. Or sibling. DDLG adjacent.

Your day had started off rough.

Well, the whole week, really. With deadlines and headaches looming over your head, it's no wonder that you ended up in such a state this morning.

You were just barely fighting the childish urge to just whack the brush over your head, so you tried to move on to putting your makeup. Which only ended in you crying in frustration when it started to cake up, and then you began crying even harder when your tears started making the rest of it slide off of your face.

"So fucking stupid." You had whispered under your breath as your shaky hands wiped at your face in a sorry attempt to fix everything - only to make it worse.

That's how John found you in the bathroom, furiously scrubbing at your face with a towel to wipe everything off as you sobbed quietly to yourself.

"Woah, woah, woah...sweetheart." His hands are quick to wrap around yours to halt your movements, and you try to bow your head to avoid his gaze, but he tilts his head right alongside you. "What's all this, huh? What's wrong, sweet girl?"

And he tries his hardest to comfort you, he really does, but you're just so lost in your anguish that you blow up in his face the moment he suggests you be gentle with yourself.

"No! I have to wear makeup today because my face is breaking out and I look ugly, b-but I keep ruining it because I'm crying! God, I can't do anything without ruining it!"

Maybe you were just hormonal or about to get your period, but it didn't matter. Your insecurities sound the same no matter what chemical is bouncing around in your brain to cause it.

Which is how you ended up here - on your hands and knees on the bed, facing the mirror on the dresser with John's cock nestled deep inside of you.

He had already been working you up for hours, teasing and licking and fingering you until you could barely hold yourself up - which explains why he's got one hand curled at the base of your skull to hold your head up by your hair to force you to watch as he fucks you.

But he's not even fucking you. He's just...sitting inside of you. Not moving. Making you whine and whimper as he stares at you through the smudged reflection of the mirror. You plead with him quietly, fresh tears blooming to wash away the dried tracks from your earlier malaise, but he just shakes his head and pulls your hair back a bit more.

"I already told you what to do, sweetheart. Go on." But you just blink at him dumbly with those teary eyes, too far gone to remember how you got here, let alone what he just said five seconds ago. But that's alright - if war taught him anything, it was how to be patient. Especially with a soft thing like you.

"Daddy's not moving until you say something you like about yourself."

Oh, right. That.

You had kind of been hoping he would just fuck your brains out so you could ignore your little meltdown earlier and forget it ever happened - but clearly John had different plans.

"I don't want to."

Brat.

Even when you were trembling beneath him and begging him to fuck you, you still had the nerve to talk back to him. But John knows you well enough to know that you aren't acting out just for the fun of it. So, he isn't going to punish you now. You're upset, and insecure, and you just want him to take it all away so you don't have to think about it.

Which is exactly what he's doing - even if you can't see it from where you are mentally. He's just playing the long game.

"One thing, baby." He murmurs in your ear, locking eyes with you in the mirror as he curls himself over your back to press his hairy chest into you, making you mewl softly. "Just say one little thing you like about yourself, and Daddy will fuck you, just like you want. I promise."

And you poor thing - you're just so desperate. You're cunt is leaking around his cock and no matter how much you try to rock your hips back to get some kind of friction, he's holding you too tight to make any real progress.

So you give up. Or give in. Either way, you decide to just let go and think of something - if only just to get him to pound you into the mattress the way you wanted.

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror - all puffy eyes, splotchy cheeks, and tangled hair - all you could see is what you didn't like.

Every bump, every scar, every part that's too much, and every part that's not enough. Suddenly every mean voice in your head has a stage - telling you about all the times you failed and how you aren't worthy of anything good in this world. Ugly, stupid, worthless, annoying-

There's nothing you can think of, even to just throw out meaninglessly to get him to hop off your case. Nothing.

And all you can do is choke out a pathetic sob - lower lip trembling violently as you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the mean voices circling around in your head. "Daddy, I can't...I c-can't think of anything."

He had expected a bit of resistance from you, but the way your face crumpled so sadly at the prospect of complimenting yourself made his heart ache in his chest. Clearly your insecurities were running deeper than surface-level, and he'd have his fair share of work cut out for him if he wanted to make you feel better.

"Shh, hey, hey, hey. It's okay." He coos softly, removing his hand from your hair to curl it around you to rest it against your sternum. He sits back against the bed and takes you right along with him, planting you on his lap with your back pressed against his chest - with his cock still inside of you. You're grateful for it, since you know you'd just spiral even more if he took it out and left you feeling empty and cold while you were already on the verge of a complete breakdown. "Daddy can help. I'll help you out, sweetheart."

"We can think of things together, my love. It's okay." He murmurs quietly as he wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth slightly as he gently hushes your tears. His thumb comes up to wipe away the fresh tears that slip down your cheeks, and he can feel his heart cracking in two at every little heartbroken whimper and sob that manages to escape your lips.

"What about your pretty eyes, hm? The ones that help you read all of those books, even when it's a little dark? The same eyes Daddy loves to wake up to every morning?"

You blink owlishly through your tears, your hiccups coming to a halt for just a second as you begin to process his words. He's not talking about the color of your eyes or what shape they are, but what they can do. You've been so caught up on how every part of you looked...not what they were actually meant for.

Your eyes aren't supposed to be the prettiest color or the 'perfect' shape. They're job is to help you see. And you can read, and admire the sunset, and cry, and watch TV - and none of it has to do with how your eyes look. They're the same eyes that lock onto John's from across the room and tell him 'it's too much. can we go home?' without ever having to say a word. And he always knows how you're feeling, just from taking one look at your eyes.

"And what about your hair? Don't you like braiding it and putting it up in all those pretty hairstyles? Don't you like how Daddy can play with it when you get all sleepy?" You turn your head around to look at him through your tears, and you take in a shaky breath as you nod your head silently in agreement. "Yeah...I know I like it, sweet girl."

You let out a restrained whimper as his words settle over you, your heart cracking in a way that it never has before - like its rearranging itself to fit the beautiful image of his perception of you. You can feel his hand gently squeeze your arm to silently urge you to continue on your own, and it takes you a minute to think of something before you let out a trembling whisper.

"M-My nose..." You sound uncertain, blinking up at him for validation only to be met with a loving smile and an encouraging nod. "I like my nose."

Your nose was never meant to look like everyone else's. It's just there to help you breathe. To bring oxygen to your blood to keep you alive and healthy. And it helps you smell everything - the bread at the farmers market, John's cologne bottle whenever you missed him too much in his missions, even the gross candles at the store that you force John to smell too just so you can both suffer together. It even crinkles up whenever John presses a kiss to it when you aren't expecting it, which always makes him laugh and makes him press just one more to it to get you to giggle and swat him away.

"Yes...good girl." He praises softly as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder, reverent in both his touch and stare as he tilts your chin back towards the mirror. "Keep looking at yourself, darling."

"And Daddy loves your beautiful smile...you know, that's the first thing I miss when I go away. I keep a little picture of you in my vest just so I can see it even when I'm on my missions. I love seeing my gorgeous girl look so happy." His words coax another watery sob from you, which he quickly soothes by running his hands gently up and down your arms. Eventually he trails them down and circles his hands around yours, using his thumbs to massage gentle circles into your palms as you cast your gaze down to watch. "And your hands...didn't you bake me those cookies last week with these hands?"

"Yes, Daddy." You nod once again, and he brings both of your hands up to wipe at the tears that are dripping off of your cheeks and down to your torso.

Your body let you express your love for him in all the ways you wanted - hugging, kissing, cuddling, crying, laughing, talking, listening, touching - you could go on forever now that you're really thinking about it.

Your body was a vessel for love - a home that could fit all the adoration and affection that John could possibly give you and you could give him - and instead you were using it to house all of the shame everyone else had burdened you with over the years. But John had all the patience in the world, and if he had to pick that shame out piece-by-piece in order to burrow his love inside of you, then that's what he'd do. Happily.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty...such a pretty little girl you are." He punctuates every one of his words with a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your hair...all until he reaches your ear when he finally whispers, "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."

And you poor thing - now your blubbering in his lap as your brain tries to comprehend the sheer amount of love he's pouring into you, and he just continues to hold you patiently as you work through it. It's only when you finally calm down a bit that he speaks up.

"I think you're so beautiful, my love. Inside and out. But if you look in the mirror and you don't like what you're seeing, for whatever silly reason, I want you to remember that your worth comes from a lot more than how you look. Do you understand, baby?" He waits until you nod your head before he plants a kiss right to the crown of your hair. You can feel his hand settle on your thigh, thumbing the sensitive inner skin as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

"Do you want to keep going?" And then you see it - settled underneath his love and admiration for you is a spark of concern. He doesn't want to push you too hard, especially in a delicate setting like this. His cock is still hard and nestled deep inside of you, but you know if you said the word right now he'd end this all in a heartbeat to make sure you were comfortable and taken care of.

But you don't want him to stop. It feels different this time around - like it's not just sex. It's something more ritualistic than that. So you nod your head once more, making sure to keep your eyes on him in the mirror so he can see how earnest you are.

And slowly, carefully, he readjusts you back into the position you were in before - on your hands and knees facing the mirror. And you can see him watching you closely for any sign of discomfort or regret, but all he's met with is trust in those teary eyes of yours.

"Keep telling me what you like, sweetheart."

And so you do. Clumsy compliments stumbling out of your mouth as he finally starts to rock his hips, granting you the relief you've been craving from him for what feels like forever now. And the more you praise yourself, the more intense his thrusts get - but he never turns rough. Not even for a second. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he whispers his own devotions into your ears, pushing himself as deep as he can as if he's trying to plant the words directly inside of you.

You're so overwhelmed by the love and the pleasure he's giving you that you barely even realize how fast your orgasm is sneaking up on you, but he notices. He can feel you clenching around him as your thighs begin to shake, and he doesn't waste a second in gently guiding your gaze to look at yourself in the mirror once more.

"Are you a pretty girl, baby?" He grunts softly, barely staving off his own release long enough to drive his message home. You begin to nod your head frantically, too caught up in your impending climax to form any coherent sentences as you begin to flutter around him - but he's not having any of it.

"Yeah? Go on, then. Daddy wants to hear you say it."

"I-I'm a..." Your stuttered words are cut off by a deep moan, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly as you clamp down around him. "I'm a p-pretty girl!"

And then you're sent into the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had in your life. You can feel yourself gush around him and you hear his restrained curses as you collapse into the bed, but even your own voice sounds muffled as you call out his name with a quivering cry. He fucks you right through it, leaving you trembling and crying from the intensity as he finally spills inside of you with a few tears of his own.

He just barely catches himself before he collapses on top of you, and it takes him a minute to catch his breath before he readjusts to, very carefully, pull himself out of your squelching cunt. He coos gently as you whine at the loss of contact, and he scoops you up like you're a porcelain doll that'll shatter if he's not careful.

You're still so fuzzy from the intensity of it all, but he places you in his lap to let you bury your face in his neck, and his arms quickly wrap around you the second that your trembling form curls up to him like a kitten in a storm.

"There she is." He whispers softly as he kisses your forehead, one hand trailing up and down your back as the other one circles tightly around your shoulders to ground you with his presence. "There you go, sweet girl. Take a deep breath, my love."

He can feel the little puffs of air hitting his neck as he continues to hold you, and it brings him back down to earth as well as he works you through your comedown. Soft whispers of praise graze your ear as he moves to clean you up, keeping his movements soft and careful when he sees your eyes begin to flutter shut.

And you look up at him with so much love and trust when he finally pulls you down to lay back against the pillows, he can't stop himself from taking a moment to brush at the soft skin of your cheek before he presses his lips against yours. It's not hungry or lustful - just pure love being poured into you as he pulls the covers up to cover your bare form.

He pulls back just enough to murmur quietly against your lips, eyes looking down at you with so much reverance it makes your head spin.

"I love you so much, baby."

And you can't help the little wobble in your lips or the glassiness in your eyes as you rest your head against the pillow, pulling him closer with your shaky hands as you plant a little kiss on his lips.

"I love you, too, Daddy."

[yoru-exe]

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . promise in vain

back then, you didn't understand why seers should maintain a neutral position, absolutely avoid from directly contributing to battle planning, are forbiddened to form strong connects with their associates and use their gift for personal gain. how you wished you've taken your master's teaching more seriously as you gazed into the near future of the war's outcome. your heart crumbled like amphoreus destined to fall to ruin, helpless to the sight of the man who you've been war counseled to laying lifeless on the ground, the light in his eyes extinguished.

you broke all the rules a seer should abide to at any circumstances. now, it's time to pay the price.

phainon walked across the strategic meeting room, inspecting the last of the details before the battle begun. you stood silently by his side, watching in longingness your silhouettes that seemed to dance on the wall. no harm could come to them, at least before the light goes out.

"now that we have all the support that we requested for, we can ensure the safety of the people should the enemy decided to break in from the west wall. if this happen, then i trust you to-".

"can you not go?".

the question spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it. the silence that followed was deafening.

"i'm afraid i don't understand what you're trying to say".

when you spoke again, your glassy eyes met his, tear threatened to spill, "can you not go to the war?".

the two of you rarely had any physical contact for as long as you've been associated with each other. perhaps it was just the unspoken rules you set; i help you, you help me, nothing else. but the instant he saw your heartbroken face, a sight he's not used to, his body moved instinctly to hold you in his arm, as he caressed your cheeks, wiping the fallen tears away, "you know i have to. but we've planned for this. i'll be fine".

"but what if you don't survive this?"

a hint of doubt crossed his face, but it's gone as fast as it came, replaced with a determined expression that you know he practised a million times to lie to even himself, "i'll make sure i will and come home to you".

if your thoughts and emotion weren't in such a messy state, you would have been more appreciative towards his confession. instead, you burst with the fear that you could no longer surpress, "but i saw you-".

you didn't get to finish your sentence as phainon pressed his lips on yours, sealing away whatever fate of his that he's aware you're not supposed to reveal. it didn't matter.

it didn't matter that he live or not.

what mattered is he made sure you know he meant it when he said he'll come home to you.

he continued to hold you firmly in his embrace after he pulled away. his expression was one of sincerity and calmness, like a hero ready to sacrifise himself knowing that he know it was a sacrifice that worth making.

"just wait for me, okay?"

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

nameless faces left me in SHAMBLE i need to cope, therefore this piece was born yea i think phainon is up for one heck of a nasty fate you know how greek myths love giving their heroes brutal death or whatever. if the story ended up on a completely different route than what i thought it would, please dont at me sob

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Part One

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+! Strictly. Dark-ish ??? Aemond! Bad language, reader is implied to be from a certain family but not really, rushed & unedited. Sexual tension, allusions to sex, mentions of death and killing, Aemond gets angry handsy, hair pulling, mention of the noose bc Aemond would never tell just anyone how he feels. This is mainly a word vomit - I am once again incapable of limiting my writing to one part.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: aaand I’m back with a rewrite of an old fic I started last year! hopefully this is somewhat decent to follow along with - I wrote this while severely sleep deprived, stressed about procrastinating my uni work and knackered from work. Let me know if we are even interested in a part 2 or if I’ve missed any warnings!

It is a debt to be paid and an alliance to be made, that is all it is. 

Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the dangers of King’s Landing with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks. 

Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intend to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence. 

Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It was not meant to come to this.”

“But it did. Are you really going to barter me to–”

“We are not bartering you. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “All you will have to do is take the title as his wife and give him children. It cannot be that bad.”

The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you as his wife - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of selling you so easily to a cruel man like Aemond Targaryen caused a dull ache in your chest. 

It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, your chest heavy with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have run away and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family lands. 

“What Prince Aemond has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “I do not expect you to understand the complex relationships between our Houses but consider this, dear sister. Would you rather him have the Vale burned to ashes? Have us hung from the walls of the Red Keep? I made a mistake. I know this, and I am sorry but this is the only choice we have.”

There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with little chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew how the Crown punished Rhaenyra’s sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening is wrong - war is never worth the price it takes. You wholeheartedly agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a raven with a conditional offer of a bent knee. 

You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I do not understand.”

“Aemond Targaryen is Prince Regent but I was once his only friend,” Jericho said. You knew he used the word friend strategically. “He extended an olive branch. Repent our House’s treachery through our last daughter and a pin for the Vale on King Aegon’s map. You could not understand how generous that is. Refusing would have been a sentence of death.”

Friend? Generous?  You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered how Jericho had managed to barter with the Prince Regent before they had taken his head. Alas, it would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to. The men of these walls underestimated the capabilities of a woman’s mind and a woman’s strength. 

“All he gains is something to hold over your head, brother. Paying off your mistakes with my life? You have heard the stories - he has become a cruel man. Warming his bed when he sees fit and making his heirs will not fix what you did. Many have been executed for far less.”

Your father cleared his throat. “It is our only option. We have nothing more to offer in place and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without what little power we have left, your brother and I would lose the Vale. It is a miracle we have not already.”

“The Prince wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that is what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time you had seen him as anything other than gentle to you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed. 

There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and your titles, and despite the situation that they’ve forced you into, at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have run away instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride and fear of life as a princess?

So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree.

Aemond wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he would have had them hung without a second thought. But you and your brother were different. 

It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to have spared Jericho’s treason because he remembered you and to have further justified his actions by claiming the Vale through your betrothal. While it was his first and foremost motivation and Aemond was bound by duty to take advantage of the opportunity, it was not the only reason he had suggested the idea at the Small Council.

There was hardly a person in Aemond’s life whom he could call a friend. There was not a soul in this world that Aemond could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the first parts of his childhood. 

Nor you, who had at once shown him kindness in his youth despite the mockery that was often made of him. You had only accompanied your brother and father to King’s Landing on three occasions, and what started as your soft conversation and willing smiles for him had left his memory entirely until he heard word of Jericho’s treacherous message. 

Aemond, despite your attempts at friendship, had never returned your kindness. In truth, he didn’t know how to. And quickly, your smiles had turned to frowns and your attempts at friendly talk had become sarcastic remarks and quiet scoffs.

It was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who had peaked his curious desire more than you and the two of you had spent the brief occasions together bickering and pestering one another. Regardless of your initial efforts, Aemond was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving nonchalance and forced manners. 

The indifference that you had for each other had no cause to fade. Even less so with the recent murderous, vile stories of Aemond the Kinslayer who killed his nephew and (while most wouldn’t dare utter the words beyond certain walls) who may have crippled his own brother with Vaghar’s fire. You had almost fallen to your knees upon hearing of your betrothal to such a man.

Aemond was now twenty and three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. You were the perfect leverage - perhaps a pawn yourself. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over your House to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted politics while he has the power to do so, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand, in his control and eventually beneath his body was exciting. 

He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?

It was a formality. Being presented at King’s Landing for the first time to your future husband, his family and to those whom he currently ruled over as the woman to be his wife. 

You had changed since the last time Aemond had seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering young girl he remembered you to be when you were just ten and four. 

He had rushed through the formalities of greeting you and your family, welcoming you into what would come to be your home. The lunch was painfully awkward as little was said between anyone. The Dowager Queen spoke formally yet kindly with your mother and shared a few words with you but you could barely engage with her conversation under the burning gaze of the Prince Regent who sat across from you.

It was over quickly, before anyone could start bickering about the traitorous reasons behind your presence. Aemond shortly convinced his mother that no escort would be needed, so long as Ser Criston Cole was there when you both were left to acquaint yourselves in private. You gulped as you were lead shamelessly into the Prince’s chambers. 

Aemond only set a glance upon Ser Criston and the raven haired man took his place outside the closed doors.

You were sure that the Prince’s chambers were as large as an entire wing of your own home yet you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eye was hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.

In your eyes, Aemond had always been torturously beautiful. But here, as his gaze fell upon you and you shared the silence of his personal space, he was ethereal. It caused your breath to catch as you waited for him to address you first.

Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, my Prince?”

“You are to be my wife,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the desk that he lazily dragged his hand along. What a stupid question. “That is why you are here.”

“I believe you know that is not what I ask, my Prince.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is Prince Regent, after all. A memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind. 

His expression deceivingly calm, Aemond considered putting you in your place. He may be behaving in a way he does not recognise of himself but he would not tolerate your disrespect. 

Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “We will be married so that your brother’s treason shall be forgiven and your House will be sworn to the King. You will stay here, in my chambers. Do whatever the seven hells you please, it does not matter.”

In any other instance, Aemond would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words stupidly as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him like he ruled the realms, so submissive yet so full of fire. So tempting. 

He’d condemn himself to the noose before ever admitting to his thoughts. 

“What?” you almost gasped. There was no chance that you could stay in his chambers like this. You were sure the whispers of the Keep were already running amok with Aemond’s insistence on isolating the two of you behind the doors to his private chambers.

Aemond took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I will not make it so easy for you to return to scheming with your treasonous family.”

You could hit him. If he weren’t a Prince, you would have. “You are keeping me prisoner? For something I have had no such hand in?”

“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell the woody oils he bathed in mixing with the smell of his musk and the leather of his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe I am. Call it what you like. You can do as you please, eat as you please, wear whatever you please, you can explore these halls as you wish. I do not care. But you will listen to me and it will all be as per my will.”

Before you could respond, Aemond continued. “For all they know, I’ve made it clear to everyone that you will stay in the chambers that I have chosen for you, on the other side of that wall.”

Aemond’s eye was a violet-blue inferno as it held yours. He was closer now and you let your eyes drag across every part of his devastating face, swallowing at his beauty and wondering what lay under the leather of his eye patch. 

Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean in to touch him and feel him, you held your head high and turned your back to him. “Fuck you.”

A gasp fell from your lips as Aemond’s hand found the back of your head in an instant, slender fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back slowly so that you were forced to look up at the roof, the back of your head resting against his chest. His other hand wrapped around your waist, holding you back firmly against him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, an unfamiliar longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour had you holding back a pathetic whine. 

Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath grazing your hair when he spoke. He was scorching you through the leather of his tunic, your dress doing little to shield you from the heat of his body.

More than his anger, Aemond’s amusement made the air heavy. The way he unashamedly let his stare fall upon your lips, tucked between your teeth as you struggled to hold your glare, had your breath snatched from your lungs. 

Aemond dropped his head enough so that his lips lingered just under your ear, close enough that you could hear him draw in a breath, dragging his nose across the dip where your jaw met your neck. Your face burned at how shamelessly he had inhaled your soft scent.

“Is that how you talk to your Prince?” Aemond’s voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. Placing his free hand on your left shoulder, he slowly turned you to face him, making sure to keep you tightly pressed against him.

Aemond was disastrously beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the way his scar painted the top of his cheek, the soft fall of his pin straight hair and the soft shine of his lips which you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing as his low voice broke you out of your distraction. “This is my home. Right now, all of Westeros is mine. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You would do well to remember your place while you are here, pretty thing.”

The fire in your blood was rage. You had never felt such desire that had your body craving another. It was anger driving you mad, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”

His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Aemond was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. It made him all the more desirable. 

Aemond was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly. 

By the gods, you couldn’t even think. What was happening? 

“My Pr-”

“Quiet,” Aemond commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “What a mouth on you, my Lady. Fuck me, is that so?”

You muttered incoherently under your breath, the desire and the fear making your eyes flutter shut as you trembled against the Prince who held you so roughly.

“Hm,” Aemond chuckled when you let out a short whimper. He squeezed you tightly, his voice low and dark. “I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. You best careful, ñuha dāria, because I can ruin you.”

Another gasp fell from your lips and Aemond took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. He hummed, you were so reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His gaze never left you, his resolve solid as iron. 

Your mouth watered at the thought of the things that Aemond could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined yourself capable of harbouring, especially not for a man like Aemond Targaryen. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you. 

But all you had to do was glance at the map that was splayed over his table and the weaponry he had discarded at the foot of it before you were trying to shove him away from you. Aemond stepped away from you upon noticing the panic in your movements. You barely noticed the flash of worry that passed through his features before he so skilfully replaced his mask. 

The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Aemond’s face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to him, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then despite all the consequences that would rain down upon you. 

“I will not stay in here,” You closed your eyes to avoid his stare, chest heaving as you caught your breath and reminded yourself of the formalities of Aemond’s title. And of the possible repercussions for denying him so stubbornly. “My Prince, it is not appropriate.”

You hadn’t heard him make his way across the room until you heard the door open. Aemond hesitated, his resolve was not as strong as he had thought given the way his heart was beating as if he had run a mile. The strain at his pelvis was almost painful and his hands urged to be tangled in your hair again, squeezing your hips, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath your clothing. Perhaps you weren’t wrong and Aemond returned to his hardened self at the thought of being unable to control his desires. 

“Hm,” he drawled, stoic as ever and standing tall at the doorway and gazing down at you over his shoulder with a red hot spark in his eye. Aemond’s mind raced with a million words, many in the alluring language he knew you could not understand and they all tasted dangerous on his tongue. “You are not wrong. It is not appropriate until we are wed, ñuha dāria.”

[occasionalsnippets]

Hello! I have an ask for your family dissonance au. It’s a scenario I’m curious about that you mentioned in one of your writings. What would happen if reader needed up in an alternate au that doesn’t have her in it dressed as Robin because she was filling in? (In like a Yandere way btw). Would she be able to hide, would she reveal herself? What would the Batfam she was originally with do when they notice she is gone??? And for drama sake what if Tim in the other au she falls into was in the time period he was banned from being Robin for his safety due to Redhood just appearing? What would Redhood do about another Robin?

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations

---

When you aren't acting as Robin, everything is fair game.

If you don't land near a bat, you're not likely to reveal yourself or go to the manor until you do some information gathering. You play it careful, avoid getting caught on any cameras and head to a safe house. Disabling all the hidden mics and trackers is child's play and the safe house is stocked enough for you to get your bearings.

First things first, the internet. Doing a quick search reveals the current state of Gotham, its vigilantes and rogues. Pretty standard stuff. Your plan is mainly to just bunker down until you're found. There's nothing stopping you from doing so and sooner or later, your family will find you.

Those plans are ruined deep into the night by someone else breaking into the safe house.

Red Hood stumbles in, trailing blood all over the place. You're already categorizing his injuries by the time he drags himself over to the couch. Several bullets. Dislocated shoulder. Some kind of fear toxin. All things you can fix if you choose to get involved.

You might as well. Jason will live whether you do or don't but you would feel bad about leaving him. He's not all that there while you're treating him but he's definitely more lucid after getting the antidote.

"So," you hum as you dig bullets out of his flesh, "do you specifically want Batman to kill the Joker or do you want to kill him yourself or are you okay if anyone kills him."

He mutters something you can't hear. The blood loss is probably getting to him. By the time you're finished wrapping him up, his breathing has slowed and become steady. You pat his smooth helmet. Even if it's part of his brand, it kinda makes him look bald.

"Sleep tight, Hood."

By the time he wakes, you are gone and the Joker is dead.

I'm not really sure how to spin the rest of it in a yandere type of way since you don't stay long enough in the universe to really trigger anything.

Jason's helmet probably has some kind of recording thing though so there's evidence of you in the universe before you disappear. Plus in your quest to commit murder, you run into a couple other bats too. The bats in that universe might end up spiralling trying to find you though since a. you killed the Joker, b. you patched Jason up, c. you look like Tim, and d. you broke into a safe house too easily.

Maybe they'll find where you came from, maybe they won't, but regardless, they're sure to have questions.

---

On the other side of the coin, what is going on with your batfam?

They notice within probably 10 ish minutes or less that your trackers are down. In less than half an hour, their facts are confirmed. You’ve gone missing. Like any good detectives, information gathering comes first and conclusions drawn from evidence last. Despite that, they’re actually pretty frantic in their search for you.

Most resources are diverted solely to finding you, everything else is dealt with quickly and efficiently so they aren’t wasting time. Once they narrow things down to magic, fixing everything is actually quite easy. Thank goodness you’re not difficult to find. If it took any longer, you probably wouldn’t want to know the lengths they’d go to for you to be back home and safe.

—

There are three Robins in Titan’s Tower. One current Robin, one former Robin and one not-Robin. It is, in summary, a Spider-Man pointing meme situation.

There’s a lot of yelling and fighting and “you’re ruining my plan” and “well I wasn’t trying to” but it doesn’t end with any major injuries.

Tim and Jason definitely think it’s a time travel thing where future Tim came back to the past to fix something. You don’t have enough energy to correct them. Either way, you stall long enough for the big Bat and Nightwing to come crashing into Titan’s Tower for an early reveal.

You’re gone by the time they get back to the topic of your presence. Hidden away, waiting to return home.

[eriace]

wife me up, reo ; reo mikage

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which after her sister steals her fiancé, y/n is determined to walk into that engagement party with her head held high—and her best friend, reo mikage fake-married at her side, looking like a billion-dollar. ↷ reo mikage ; blue lock

↳ an order of cappuccino + frappuccino from @sailorstar9 in the comeback cafe event !

Y/N HADN'T CRIED. Not when she caught her sister lip-locked with her fiancé. Not when her mother said, “Well, maybe he just fell in love with the prettier daughter.” Not even when her ex sent her a “hope we can still be friends” text with a smiley face emoji.

No. Y/n didn’t cry.

She plotted.

She plotted with a vengeance, and snacks. Which is why Reo Mikage found himself sitting across from her in her living room, eating revenge-themed popcorn and listening to her dramatic villain monologue.

“I want to crash the engagement party. I want to show up glowing. Like post-breakup, revenge-body, thriving-glow. I want to make her look like a backup dancer in my story.”

Reo, halfway through a bite, blinked.

“You want me to fight her?”

“What—no! I want you to pretend to be my rich, loyal, devastatingly attractive husband and make them feel like trash.”

Reo stared.

Then smirked.

“Oh. So you want me to be me.”

The plan? Chaotic.

The execution? Somehow worse.

Because Reo, dramatic little chaos prince that he was, didn’t just fake-date her. He fake married her.

He brought rings. He made matching outfits. He sent handwritten invitations to his personal glam team for “operation: rub salt into the gaping wound of betrayal.”

By the time the party arrived, Y/n was in a silky champagne dress that cost more than her rent, hair done by someone with an accent, and heels tall enough to make her rethink her life choices.

Reo wore a smug grin and a tuxedo like it was war armor.

“Ready to ruin lives?” he whispered as they pulled up in a sleek black car that screamed I moved on and I’m thriving, thanks.

Y/n grabbed his hand and smiled sweetly.

“Let’s go make them cry.”

The moment they walked in, jaws dropped.

Her sister—dripping in glitter and guilt—froze mid-toast.

Her ex turned a shade of white that was almost impressive.

Reo, never one to waste an entrance, kissed Y/n’s hand and loudly declared:

“I’d like to toast to my stunning wife. And thank her ex for being dumb enough to let her go.”

Y/n cackled internally. Externally, she batted her lashes and held up her champagne glass.

“And to my little sister, for showing me what rock bottom looks like—so I knew what to avoid in the future.”

Silence.

Then—

“You married Reo Mikage?!” her sister squeaked, horror in her voice.

“He proposed the day after you two got engaged,” y/n said sweetly. “Some men know what they have before someone else steals it.”

Reo slipped his arm around her waist like he’d done it a thousand times. (He had. But only during Mario Kart marathons and late-night snack runs.)

“She’s a catch,” he said, voice smooth. “I wasn’t about to fumble like some idiots.”

Y/n tried very hard not to die laughing. The rest of the night was a fever dream.

People asked for their “love story.” Reo claimed they met when she threw a donut at his head for skipping her birthday. (True.)

Her ex tried to pull her aside to “talk.” Reo fake-swooned and said, “Sorry, man, my wife only cries over K-dramas now.”

Her sister tried to start a scene. Y/n fake-yawned and said, “Still stealing things that don’t belong to you?”

They left that party legends.

Back in the car, Reo finally relaxed, pulling off his tie and loosening his shirt.

Y/n sighed, tossing her heels aside.

“That was fun. Almost makes up for the trauma.”

“We should fake marry more often.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d marry you even in fiction.”

He smirked.

“Bold of you to assume it was fake.”

She paused.

Stared at him.

He didn’t look away.

Her stomach did something. Probably betrayal trauma flashbacks. Probably not.

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“Try me.”

Y/n swallowed.

“…Did we just enemies-to-lovers speedrun ourselves?”

“Technically, it was friends-to-fake-marriage-to-oh-no-we’re-in-love.”

Silence.

Then she laughed. Loud and ridiculous and real.

“God, I can’t believe I fake married my best friend.”

Reo grinned, eyes sparkling.

“Then let’s make it real.”

“What—like a real marriage?”

“Or at least a real date.” He leaned in, brushing his shoulder against hers. “I promise I don’t come with a cheating sibling.”

Y/n flushed, heart thudding.

“You do come with expensive champagne and good hair, though.”

“So that’s a yes?”

She smiled, reaching for his hand.

“It’s a hell yes.”

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 26

Warnings: 18+, angst, alcohol consumption, weed, mentions of vomiting, mentions of sex, mentions of cunnilingus, clueless reader, jealousy

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: During a spontaneous birthday 'party', you find some things out, things that maybe should've been left unsaid.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: So, this chapter took a whole turn while I was writing it. It was supposed to head into a whole different direction but my angsty heart, had to say no to the fluffy route. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me, you're amazingggg

series masterlist

-

Steve lied. 

He lied again. 

It’s something he hasn’t done in a while. 

He promised himself to never do it again, knowing how much damage it had caused in the past, in both relationships that he had. 

This lie is harmless, though. At least, he thinks that it is. 

He spent the day with Robin and Dustin, they had surprised him with a homemade birthday cake that Robin had made with Chrissy’s help, it would’ve been a cute one, had Dustin not ruined it with his Star Wars decorations. Lucas and Max showed up as well, ‘surprising’ him by throwing a bunch of balloons and confetti at him. 

They made him blow out the candles, before forcing him to open all the presents. Dustin’s present was not surprising, at all. A Star Wars movie collection. Lucas had given him a keychain, with a little basketball pendant. Max acted all careless as always, shrugging it off when he gave her a kind smile and a ‘thank you’, yet, she gave him one of the best presents, a collection of polaroids of him with the teens, with Robin and even you, along with new records, claiming that he needs to expand his music taste. He has yet to unwrap Robin’s presents. 

They ate cake, went to the movies and the diner. And afterwards, Steve drove everyone home. Robin didn’t believe him when he said that he made plans with his parents for the evening, that they’d come home to spend his birthday with him. She was suspicious, not buying the lies he was feeding her with, Steve could tell but she had no choice but to say goodbye when he dropped her off at home, he really didn’t want her to stay longer than she had to, he wanted to be alone, by himself. So, when she begrudgingly got out of the car and gave him a sad smile, he gave her a cheerful one back, pretending to be happy when he was feeling anything but it. 

He didn’t go home. He knew that his parents wouldn’t come and he couldn’t stand the thought of staying in that big house, all by himself, tonight. He drove past your street, as well, fighting the urge to go and see you. 

There is only one place he knew he would find peace at. The Hideout. 

Now, he is sitting here, in the corner of the bar, with a drink that he had bought with his fake ID, soon he won’t have to use it anymore. With his head hung low, he lets his mind go to places that he had avoided all day. Dark thoughts that hold nothing but heartbreak and loneliness. He doesn’t feel miserable, just really fucking sad. He has people who care about him, friends who love him, people he now considers family. And yet, he still feels lonelier than ever. 

He looks around the bar, it’s not very crowded, it never is. Maybe on weekends, but never during the week. Rock music plays in the back, he hears the chatter of a group of young men by the bar, they’re laughing, throwing back drinks – they are clearly having a great time. For a while, Steve watches them. How they laugh with each other, how they all look so carefree and happy. He doesn’t even know what it feels like to feel that way anymore, to have fun and be happy without ruining everything with his actions in the matter of just a few minutes. 

He sighs, leaning back in the chair, he looks down at his drink, that lately he started to find more and more comfort in. 

The door opens but he doesn’t bother to look up, not caring about whoever it is that walked through the door. He is so focused on the miserable feeling inside his chest, the tearing, the longing, the yearning, the hurt. 

Before his mind can react, his heart is already fluttering when he hears your voice. He raises his head, eyes finding you immediately. You’re here. You’re here with Eddie. And you look more beautiful than ever. You’re wearing a black dress and the dark denim jacket that he was cursing at, last year when he had yet to find out who it belonged to. Your hair is falling softly in waves, your lips are glowing a soft pink beneath the dim light, you’re giggling, slapping Eddie’s arm playfully when he whispers something in your ear.

His eyes soften, despite you being here with him, giggling at him, he can’t help but smile when he finally sees you again. It’s only been a few weeks since he had properly seen you, yet, it seems like forever.

When your eyes find him and your giggles die down, your smile falls and your eyes widen. He freezes. Not knowing how to react or what to do. Not only have you caught him staring, you have also caught him lying. Again. You were the first person he lied to about his birthday plans. He looks away with a blush on his cheeks, his hand grip the glass tighter, he inwardly curses himself out for coming here, tonight. 

“It’s his birthday, right?” Eddie mumbles behind you. 

“Yeah,” you whisper in confusion. “He told me that he would spend his birthday with his parents..” 

Eddie looks away from you and back at Steve. He sits there, looking crestfallen. His shoulders are slumped, his face etched with sadness, he can see it, even from a distance. The sight of him sitting there so lonely and sad is pitiful. Eddie knows what he feels like, at this moment. His dad never cared about him, not even on his birthdays, he never even bothered to give him a call from wherever he was currently living or staying at. 

But, Eddie has Wayne, he always had Wayne. Steve doesn’t. He doesn’t have anyone who looks after him. He is all by himself. 

“I guess they didn’t come,” you mumble with sadness and a hint of disappointment in your voice. “They never do.”

“Robin told me that he was acting weird when he dropped her off earlier.” 

Despite his dislike for him, he can’t help but feel bad for Steve. The people he wants the most, aren’t in his life. 

His parents are gone. 

You are gone. 

Steve had changed. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Eddie can see that he has changed for the better. That he isn’t the guy who hurt you, who left you standing on your birthday, who broke your heart and left you for someone else. He isn’t that guy anymore. Had he still been that guy, Eddie wouldn’t even bother to look at him twice and feel any ounce of pity for him but now, things are different. He is different. In a way, it scares Eddie, because he knows that he now has a chance for a second try, with you. 

“Do you think he’s here by himself?”

You shrug, looking away from Steve, you turn towards Eddie, “yeah.” 

You feel the little item in your pocket, the one that suddenly feels too heavy, the one you itch to reach for and give it to the one you got it for.

Eddie looks down at you, at the sadness in your eyes. For once, it doesn’t make him feel frustrated or annoyed to see you be so sad for someone who hurt you. 

“No one should be alone on their birthday,” Eddie mumbles.  

“Yeah,” you sigh, looking down at your hands. “But, I-I guess it’s what he wanted, he could’ve spent time with Robin.”

“He was with her before, wasn’t he?” 

“Yeah.”

Eddie sighs. There is hesitation in your voice and in your eyes.

“Do you want to spend time with him?” He asks, already feeling the dread tugging in his chest, knowing that the night won’t go the way he wanted it to.

For a moment, you stare into Eddie’s brown eyes, there’s a kindness in them, kindness for him. That is something so rare. 

“Uh, I’m sure he wants to be alone.”

Eddie knows you. Eddie knows what you want, right now. But, you are hesitating out of fear of upsetting him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, placing his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. “I won’t get angry. If you want to spend time with him tonight, we can cancel our plans and you can go be with him.” He nudges his chin into Steve’s directions. “I don’t like him but, shit, even I can’t stand the fucking kicked puppy look that he’s sporting, right now.” 

You eye his face. Even through the sadness for Steve, the smile for you, you can see the slight fear in his eyes. The fear that any moment with you, will be his last one before you find your way back to Steve, before you say goodbye to a friendship that might’ve saved your life. But even through the fear, he still wants the best for you, he still wants what you want. 

“I think he wants to be alone,” you repeat.

Eddie looks over your shoulder to see him staring at you. 

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“What if we all hang out together?” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that Steve would be happy to spend time with me–”

“Please, Eddie,” you whisper, mustering up the best puppy eyes and a pout that he can never say no to. “We can just have fun together, you’ve never met drunk Steve before, he can be funny – unless he decides to break your heart but, that won’t happen to you, don’t worry,” you giggle. 

He raises his brows at you, surprised that you are making a joke about that. 

“You go buy us drinks and I’ll go convince him to spend time with us. We can just all get drunk together, maybe you’ll finally get along,” you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile, you place your hands on his chest, pushing him towards the bar, not taking no for an answer. 

“I don’t think it’ll take much convincing,” he snorts. As though you would ever have to convince Steve to spend time with you. Eddie is certain that all it takes is a glance from you and that man is already by your side, you got Steve wrapped around your finger, just like him, and you don’t even know it. 

You turn on your heel, not waiting for a response from Eddie. You make your way over to Steve, whose head is still hung low. Your heart thumps a little faster in your chest when you inch closer and closer to him. You push your hand into your pocket, reaching for the tiny bag that you had taken with you earlier when you considered dropping by his house. 

You stop in front of him, taking a shaky breath as you place the small bag on the table, sliding it towards him. 

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you whisper.

His wide eyes stare at the bag, the tiny jewelry pouch that clearly holds a present inside for him. His eyes soften, staring at your ringed fingers that linger next to his hand for a moment. 

He looks up, slowly. Hazel eyes flashing with softness when they meet yours. You stare at him with a shy smile, sadness lingering in your pretty eyes. His heart flutters so strongly, he longs to touch you. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, giving you a smile. “W-What’s that?” He asks, pointing to his present without tearing his eyes from you. 

“I got you a little present. I-It’s nothing special just, I just wanted to get you something. You don’t have to open it now, just uh–”

“Y/n,” he smiles, interrupting your rambling, “you didn’t even have to get me anything but I appreciate it, I will love it.” 

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Yeah but it’s from you, so, I will love it, dolly.” 

A smile appears on your face, you nod slowly, whispering a small ‘okay’. You know that Steve always loved to keep certain presents for last, so you’re not surprised to see him tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Your parents didn’t come?” 

He looks down, holding the glass tighter, he shakes his head, unable to bear the pitiful look on your face. 

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers before you can say ‘I'm sorry, steve.’ He doesn’t want you to pity him. 

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“I-I wasn’t alone, I was with Robin all day and the kids–”

“But, now you are.”

He raises his head to look at you. And, before he can even say anything, his words get caught in his throat when he looks at you. Your eyes are glistening, not with tears and sadness, but with something else, something he cannot read. You look at him differently than you did weeks ago, not in a way that scares him or breaks him but, in a way, that only leaves him with one too many questions. He struggles to read you, to understand you. It’s like he can no longer see through you the way he could before. Nonetheless, he feels so calm and safe in your presence and he wants this moment to last forever. 

“Right now, I’m not, though. You’re here.”

You smile at his words. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

When Eddie appears by your side, Steve tries not to let his smile fall. 

Right. He is here too. 

“Happy Birthday, man.”

To Steve’s surprise, he sees Eddie not with two but three shots in his hands, he places them all on the table. Grinning at him in a way he can’t tell whether it’s a kind one or a sarcastic one. 

“Thanks,” Steve nods at him. 

Eddie pulls the chair back for you, you smile at him, taking the seat across from Steve. Eddie sits down beside you, leaving Steve with a questioning look on his face as he looks between the two of you. 

“W-What?”

“You think we’re gonna let you spend the night alone, Harrington?” 

Steve looks at Eddie in confusion, hearing these words not from yours but from his mouth leaves him more puzzled than ever. Eddie spending time with him willingly? He purses his lips, squinting his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, shrugging. You slide one of the shots towards him. 

“I mean, I thought that we could spend this night together,” you say, smiling with hope in your eyes. “Or we can leave if that’s what you–”

“No, I-I want to.”

He looks between you two, giving Eddie an awkward smile. 

“Cool! Let’s drink, then.” 

“Yeah, let’s drink,” he chuckles as he ditches his glass of whiskey for the shot of whatever Eddie had ordered. 

“When’s the last time you got drunk?” You ask them both. 

“Oh man,” Eddie mumbles, leaning back in his seat, he puts his arm on the back of your chair. “I don’t even remember, it’s been a while. What about you, sweetheart?” 

“Uh, well, I had a cocktail night with the girls, a few weeks ago,” you say, giggling. “Oh, also at a party.”

You and Eddie look at each other, he instantly knows what party you are talking about when he sees the amused look on your face. He chuckles, though he instantly gets taken back that night. When you showed up with that stolen bat plushie, when you told him how much you missed him, when you told him that you wished you met him first. 

Steve looks between you two, a sinking feeling in his stomach takes place. There are things you share with Eddie, things that he will never know about because he isn’t in his place anymore. 

“I knew it! I knew you were lying to me, Dingus!” 

Startled by the voice, all three of you snap your heads towards the angry girl walking towards the three of you with a frown on her face, pointing her finger at Steve. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “I can explain.” 

Something about the anger on Robin’s face and the panic in Steve’s features makes you giggle.

Robin slaps the back of his head, lightly. 

“Ouch! Robin!”

“You are such a–”

“Dingus, yeah yeah, I know.” 

Eddie laughs at that, smirking at Steve who throws him a glare.

“You think that’s funny, Munson?” 

Eddie leans back with a satisfied grin, “actually yeah.”

Robin plops down in the seat next to Steve, still staring at him with a frown on her face. 

“Why did you lie to me? Why are you here?” 

Steve sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he gives her a sheepish smile. 

“And what are you two doing here?” She asks, turning to look at you and Eddie. 

“Came here for a couple of drinks and then we found this sad puppy,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at Steve. 

Steve rolls his eyes, mumbling a few incoherent words under his breath. 

“We just asked him to spend the night with us.” 

Robin gives you a surprised look before her eyes move back to Eddie, who, doesn’t look as enthusiastic about this whole thing as you do. 

“How did you even know I was here?” 

Robin leans her elbow on the table, tilting her head at Steve, “well, I was craving some burgers and my favorite driver was apparently at a birthday dinner so I couldn’t ask him to drive me, so I walked, imagine my surprise when I saw a certain BMW standing in front of The Hideout.”

“Robin–”

“No! Don’t Robin me! Why’d you lie?” 

Steve didn’t want her to feel like it’something she had to do, hang out with him, spend his birthday with him because there’s no one else for him other than her. He doesn’t want her to do anything out of pity for him. 

He doesn’t feel comfortable to talk about it in front of Eddie or even you, knowing that you pity him the most. You always did and he hated it. A part of him always thought that that’s why you were with him, because you pitied him, the sad boy who was always abandoned by his own parents, because you knew he had no one else that cared about him, that loved him. So you stayed, you stayed even when you shouldn’t have.

Even now, you look at him with those big sad eyes with that look of pity in them. 

“Robin,” you warn when you notice how uncomfortable he looks, how he clenches his jaw and bites his lip.

Eddie senses the tension, the looks you are giving Robin, the way she is ignoring you because she desperately wants an explanation from Steve. 

“Lay off, Robin. Maybe he just wanted to get a few drinks and not deal with your annoying ass,” he says to her with a grin. 

She flips him off, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Just relax, here, take my shot and drink it, you need it, Robin,” you say, sliding the shot glass towards her. 

She turns towards the two of you, shaking her head with squinted eyes, “you’re both pretty rude.” 

“So are you, Robby.”

“Ew,” she scrunches her face up at Eddie, “don’t fucking call me Robby.”

“I’m gonna keep calling you that, if you don’t stop being so rude to sad birthday boy over there.” 

Steve sighs, running his hand down his face. 

“Can you just call me Steve, dude?” 

You giggle at the annoyed look on his face. 

Eddie grins, “okay, Steve.” 

“Not like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re mocking me!” Steve exclaims. 

“How am I mocking you, Steve?” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head, “see, you’re doing it again!”

“Oh my god, shut the hell up!” Robin slams her hands against the table, truly, shutting them both up. “Eddie, get me a drink.” 

Both Steve and Eddie look at her as though she had grown two heads, while you giggle at her little outburst. 

“That was an order.” 

“Damn girl,” Eddie whistles, getting up from his chair, “you need more than one drink,” he mumbles as he walks off. 

“You are both two immature idiots,” she groans, burying her hands in her hair. 

“You are so mean to me,” Steve mumbles, looking at her in disbelief, “and that on my birthday!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, you look between them, chuckling at the way she rolls her eyes at him. 

“You know what, I really need a few drinks.” 

“Wait, are we actually doing this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the shots on the table. 

“What, getting drunk?” 

He nods at you. 

“Yeah. Just like old times, right?” You smile at him in a way you always used to. 

“Just like old times.” 

His eyes suddenly flash with amusement, he snorts, “do you remember my fifteenth birthday?” 

Your eyes widen as a giggle falls from your lips. 

“Of course I remember!”

Robin’s eyes flash with curiosity. There’s things she doesn’t know about yours and his friendship, things neither you or Steve had talked about yet. 

“Wait, what happened on your fifteenth birthday?” 

Your eyes light up with excitement, you lean closer to the table, looking at Steve, waiting for him to tell the story. 

He chuckles at the look on your face before he turns his body towards Robin. 

“We stole my dad’s super expensive wine, he was supposed to take it to some event – I got in so much trouble for that, by the way,” he says to you. 

“I know, I know. Keep going, Steve.”

“Alright, so, we stole that wine bottle. We played a drinking game, kept passing that bottle back and forth until we were fucking hammered,” he says, chuckling as he thinks back to that day in his backyard. The way you giggled at anything he said, the way you danced and ran around barefoot on the grass, the way you jumped in his pool, fully clothed, the way he hugged you when you were both in the water.

“This crazy girl over there started to cannon ball into my pool–” 

You giggle at the memory. 

“She did it over and over again and it looked so fun so I joined her. Honestly, it was pretty fun but I had half a bottle of wine and ate a whole pizza before that.” 

“Oh,” Robin scrunches her face up, already seeing where this is going. 

Steve can’t even fight the smile off his lips, his eyes crinkle, his cheeks flush and he giggles, “we’re in the pool, having the best time of our lives, right? And, fifteen year old me apparently thought that it was a good idea to kiss my best friend, but I totally missed her lips and kissed her nose and she fucking laughed at me, but I wanted to try again. I lean in when I suddenly feel the urge to throw up.” 

“Oh, ew! Stop!” 

“He threw up in the pool, Robin!”

“That’s so disgusting!” She whines, trying to get the image of Steve puking into the pool out of her head, “you don’t have any better stories to tell?” 

You and Steve can’t help but laugh harder at her reaction. 

“I mean the kiss on the nose is fucking embarrassing, Steve. But throwing up in front of her afterwards?” 

“I thought it was funny,” you giggle. 

“What is funny?” Eddie asks when he comes back with two drinks for Robin, placing them on the table and sliding them towards her before he sits down beside you again. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Robin says with a look of disgust on her face. 

“I don’t?” He asks, glancing at you and how amused you look. 

“No, you really don’t.”

“Okay,” he snorts. 

He glances at Steve, grinning at him, “hey dude, I got a birthday present for you.” 

All three of you turn to look at Eddie in surprise, watching him in curiosity when he raises his hand, reaching for something in the pocket of his dark flannel. He picks out a joint, tossing it at Steve who catches it with one hand. 

He laughs at that, raising one brow, giving Eddie a smile, “I do appreciate this, it’s kind of expensive nowadays.” 

“Is it expensive?” You ask, turning to Eddie, “you always give me some for free.” 

Eddie’s lips curl into a smile, he lifts his hand towards your face, tapping your nose with his finger, “well, you’re my best friend.” 

Steve keeps his eyes down, not wanting to look between you and Eddie. 

You smile at the way Eddie looks at you, the way his eyes glisten, the way his cheeks are always a little red, the way–

“Do you guys wanna smoke this?” Steve asks, cutting the voice in your head. 

“Here?” 

He chuckles at Robin, “of course not. We could go back to my place, my parents aren’t home, anyways.”

To Eddie’s surprise, he not only directs these words at you and Robin, he also directs them at him. 

“Uh, I’d love to!” Robin grins. 

Steve gives you a hopeful smile, one that makes it impossible to say no to him. 

“Me too.” 

At that, his eyes light up and his smile grows bigger. 

“Sure, let’s do it.”

“We’ll have to walk though,” Robin gestures to the drink Steve already had, “cause you can’t drive and I don’t have a license.”

He shrugs, “we can take Eddie’s van and I’ll get my car tomorrow morning.” 

“Uh, no,” Eddie mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “my uncle took my van cause his car is at the shop, we walked here.” 

Steve sighs, “shit.” 

“But you could let me drive, I didn’t have anything yet,” Eddie smirks, pointing to the untouched shots. 

Steve snorts at him with a deep glare, “uh, yeah, keep dreaming, Munson,” he mumbles as he leans back, reaching for the keys in his pockets, you all watch him curiously. “The only one who’s allowed to drive my car is dolly.” 

Robin raises her brows in surprise when Steve chucks his keys at you that you quickly catch, looking down at them with a dumbfounded expression before your eyes light up and you look up, beaming at Steve. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you smile, excitedly as you play with the car keys. You scoot back, getting up from the chair. Robin knocks back one shot before she gets up as well. Steve and Eddie glance at the four untouched shots on the table and then, their eyes meet, they both shrug at each other and reach for two shots, each. 

Robin pats Steve’s shoulder, chuckling when he knocks one back and then the other, grimacing at the strong taste. 

You giggle at Eddie, who looks unfazed by the bitter taste. 

“Let’s go, ladies and.. Steve,” he grins. 

“Dude.”

“Don’t start this again,” Robin warns, pointing at them both before she rushes over to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, she grins, “us ladies, ride in the front, and you two can cuddle in the back,” she winks at them, pulling you away with a giggle. 

-

After an eventful ride to Steve’s house and a few shots of tequila, you all settled in his backyard, each of you occupying one of the many loungers around the pool. Passing around the joint that Eddie had given Steve as a ‘birthday gift’. You are sipping on a drink that Steve has made for you, coke mixed with his dad’s expensive whiskey. You are pretty sure that you will regret the amount of alcohol and weed you are having tonight, when you wake up tomorrow morning. But the floaty and giddy feeling you are experiencing right now, will have to make up for it. 

Steve is sitting on the lounger beside you, a can of beer in his hand, his lips wrapped around the joint that is already stained with your lipstick. A spitcurl is hanging in front of his eyes, he doesn’t bother to push it away. He shakes his head at something Robin had said to him, something you didn’t even hear because you were too busy letting your eyes skip back and forth between him and the curly haired metalhead who now left his lounger to be closer to you. 

Eddie wraps his hands around your calves, stroking your skin softly with his ringed fingers as he places your feet on his lap. He does it all without breaking his conversation with Robin. Though he feels the goosebumps on your skin, he hears the breath that hitched in your throat when he touched you. He hides his smirk behind his drink as he takes a sip of the cold beer.

Steve clenches his jaw as he looks between you and Eddie. The way he continues to stroke your calf, the way he smirks at your reaction, the way you are blushing, biting your lip as you look down at the hand touching your skin. 

He forces himself to look away, turning back to Robin, he offers her the joint. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, giggling when she almost doubles over as she reaches for the joint. 

“Already hammered and we haven’t even played a drinking game yet, tsk,” Eddie shakes his head, giving her a playful grin. 

With an eye roll, she gets up, placing the joint between her lips as she sits down next to Steve. 

“A drinking game, huh? What kind? ‘Never have I ever’? Okay,” She grins at him without giving him a chance to reply. “Never have I ever had a girlfriend,” she smirks, teasing him. 

Steve licks his lips, chuckling at Eddie, who nods at her with an annoyed look on his face. 

You raise your eyebrows, “why are you teasing him, I never had a girlfriend, either,” you shrug. 

“Yeah but you had a boyfriend,” she mumbles, nudging Steve’s shoulder. 

Eddie tilts his head at you, looking you up and down with a smirk, “do you want one?” 

“A girlfriend?” You ask as you raise the glass to your lips, shrugging, “I don’t know, I never thought about it but kissing girls is fun, so.. I suppose doing anything else with a girl is fun too.” 

Eddie’s lips part, his brown eyes widen, darkening as they do so. He swallows as he continues to stare at you. Millions of questions run through his mind. There are things he doesn’t know about you, yet? 

Robin and Steve look at you in surprise. 

“Wait, w-what?” He mumbles, laughing nervously. 

Robin’s lips curl into a smirk, “you kissed a girl before? Who?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart, do tell us your dirty little secrets.” 

“Hmm, no,” you smirk, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Was that before or after me?” Steve asks, cheeks flushed red as he tries to fight the images out of his mind. 

“Before you,” you giggle. 

“Shit, I wanna know who it was.”

“Me too, Eddie,” Robin says. “I know that it wasn’t Chrissy, she’d tell me.” 

“Huh, was it another girl from the cheer squad?” 

You shake your head at Eddie, biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing. 

“Were you close?” 

You shrug, nodding your head.

Steve squints his eyes, tilting his head at you. 

Robin’s jaw drops a little when she figures it out. There is only one girl that you’re close with that wasn’t in the cheer squad – well, besides her. 

“Holy shit,” she mouths at you, grinning.

Steve and Eddie glance at each other in confusion. 

It’s amusing how obvious the answer is, yet, neither of them are close to figuring it out. 

“If you think kissing a girl is fun, you should try eating one out,” Robin mumbles before she takes a drag from the joint, “it’s the best thing ever.” She blows out the smoke, not noticing the confused frown on your face. 

“For once, I have to agree with you, Robin,” Eddie chuckles. 

Steve freezes, closing his eyes as he looks down. 

“Huh?” 

Noticing the look on your face, Robin suddenly regrets opening her mouth about that. Your lips are parted, your eyes filled with confusion and curiosity, your brows are pinched together as you stare at her with a questioning look on your face. She straightens her back, muttering a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breath when she looks at Steve’s embarrassed face. 

“What’s that?” 

Eddie freezes. The smirk falls from his face, he glances at you, at the clueless, lost look on your face. Oh. Steve had never – fuck. How? If you were his, he’d spend day and night on his knees, worshiping you. 

“Huh?” This time, it’s him, whose confused. 

You look at him with big and curious eyes. 

“What is that, I don’t watch porn.” 

“Damn, I guess it’s time to,” Robin mutters through gritted teeth. 

“Licking someone’s pussy, sweetheart. And well, fucking one with your tongue.” 

Your jaw drops, your cheeks heat up and you stare at him in shock. You look cute like this and he could stare at you forever but, in his state of shock, he slowly turns his head towards Steve, eyes filled with concern, confusion and disbelief, “dude, what is wrong with you?” 

Steve, whose face is beet red, glares at him. 

“I’m very self conscious of not doing a good job, so–”

“You learn!” Eddie throws his hands up. 

“What, Munson, are you the pussy expert or something?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at him. 

You look back and forth between them. Taking in the sight of Eddie’s slightly angered face and Steve’s embarrassed one. 

“I have eaten my share of pussy, thank you very much.”

The scoff falls from your lips before you can even stop it. Neither of them acknowledge you though, until you open your mouth. “What, like three?” You scoff, again. “You only fucked three girls, that’s what you told me, unless you lied about that.” 

Eddie swallows, glancing at you, he fails to notice just how intense the look in your eyes is. 

“There’s a difference between sex and foreplay, sweetheart.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue as you look into his eyes. Not once, had you spent a single second wondering if Eddie was seeing someone, if he was fooling around with girls when he wasn’t with you. But now that you think about it, now that you imagine him with other girls, you suddenly feel the bile rising in your throat. The sickening feeling makes you want to drop to your knees and puke out the waffles you had eaten this morning.

“So, when was the last time you did that then, Eddie?” Robin asks, both curious to know and to see your reaction. 

He shrugs, “I don’t know, Buckley. I don’t keep count of how many days–”

“Yes, you do! Men always do!” 

He doesn’t feel comfortable sharing that in front of you, but he knows that Robin won’t drop it until she gets an answer she’s satisfied with. Besides, you probably won’t even care. Despite Dmitri’s encouraging words, he still refuses to believe that there are any feelings other than the platonic ones that you feel for him. This won’t hurt you, right? 

“Fine! Two or three months ago, happy? Now, Harrington, I think I should teach you some basics.” 

You feel as though a cold bucket of water has been dropped on you. Your heart leaps to your throat as your stomach drops. Another wave of sickness floods through you. You stare at him, not noticing Steve’s or Robin’s eyes on you. 

When was that? Was it the weekend you couldn’t spend time with him? The night you couldn’t come to his gig? Was it before or after he had gotten angry at you for kissing Steve? 

It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, it shouldn’t make you feel this sick, this jealous. You barely figured out your feelings for him. But the longer you stare at him, listen to his words, you can’t help but feel anger rather than jealousy. 

You didn’t have feelings for him back then, or at least, you weren’t aware of them. He’s single and free to do whatever he wants but so are you – so were you when you kissed Steve and yet, he was so angry at you when he found out about it. He treated you so coldly, all because he hated the thought of you kissing Steve. Yet, he was out there fooling around with other girls.

“You have never actually eaten pussy before, dude?” Robin mumbles.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, nervously, “I mean, yeah. Just not–” he pauses with a look of shame in his eyes as he briefly glances at you. 

You roll your eyes. 

You’re not surprised to hear that, you’re not even hurt. After everything that happened between you and him, his sex life with Nancy is the last thing you had ever worried about. You always knew that he treated her better than he ever treated you. 

And, that he tried new things with her isn’t anything shocking to you, anyways. 

You open your mouth but before you can say something that might ruin the night, you press your lips together again. Sighing, you look down at your drink. You take a deep breath before you raise the glass to your lips, gulping down the rest of it.

You plaster a smile on your face. Ignoring the concerned looks that Robin is giving you. She thankfully changes the topic. Eddie and Steve, surprisingly fall into yet another conversation. 

Their distraction allows you to slip away for a moment, you pass by Robin without meeting her eyes and make a quick escape to the bathroom. Locking yourself into the small room for a moment to collect yourself. 

Despite the anger you are feeling, you don’t want to ruin the night for Steve. 

You splash some cold water and run your fingers through your hair. 

With tears in your eyes, you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

Whether it’s tears of anger or tears of sadness. You are sick of it. You are sick of yourself. You are sick of crying. You are sick of the pining, of the jealousy, of the sadness.

Steve had given Nancy everything. He tried new things with her while you were grieving your relationship, crying yourself to sleep and thinking about him like a goddamn fool while he was having the time of his life with a different girl. 

And Eddie, you try not to think about it, you try not to let the jealousy in. But you can’t push out the anger that you are feeling for him, right now. 

Or the anger that you are feeling for yourself.

How you take everything to heart. How you let everything and everyone hurt you. 

You are done. 

You are so fucking done. 

-

next chapter

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @succubusmunson @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @chrissymjstan @somethingvicked @nemesis729

[nozomisumino]

Vi turns herself in, as an attempt to protect Powder and the others in Zaun by taking the blame and avoiding a breakout of war. She learns from, and took in Vander's lessons of violence, not being the answer. However, the way it is flipped on its head is genius.

Vander, wrecked with guilt, realises what Vi did when he notices Powder depressed playing with Vi's rabbit. He rushes to where she planned to hand herself over to Grayson. This, in turn, is like a reversal of the usual character arc the protagonist of a story goes through.

Vi's attempt to leave things off for the better for those around her backfired. Vander got taken by Silco. Grayson was killed, and Zaun lit its fuse of war against Piltover. Everything was going wrong despite the protagonist's noble decision being pushed aside.

Due to this, Vi began to blame herself. She has a desperate desire to save Vander for his sacrifice over something she did. However, this spread to Powder too, who feels even more left out and is worried she is a burden to those she loves. Vi, out of stress, says she isn't ready.

This is the start of the downfall spiral in Vi and Powder's lives. At the heart of the situation, it began with an honest desire to help those around them. The tragedy is that their good intentions were undermined by awful timing, leading to utter ruin.

[wickerwax]

Down in the Mud (Codywan First Kiss Bingo 3)

The rainforest was both raining and foresting diligently. The slope they needed to climb was more of a complete vertical, and slick with wet leaf litter, ferny deadfall, and mud. It had been a long, stupid day, and was shaping up to be a longer, stupider night, and Cody was so tired.

First, the Chancellor’s “recommended” strategy - the one that General Kenobi had politely objected to, and been met with an uncomfortably smiling hostility that hadn’t been worth the pressing - had been almost comically short-sighted. The local inhabitants of this small tree-heavy moon in the back-end of nowhere-combat-significant were apparently on the fence about the Republic. Despite that lack of significance to the war-front (“Master Kenobi, are you suggesting that some members of the Republic are more important than others?”, ”...As Marshal Commander Cody correctly pointed out, there does need to be a strategic element to planning time-sensitive -”), demands had been made regarding a closed and private meeting that required the two of them (and only the two of them) to hike into the jungle to a remote location to negotiate. (Cody wasn’t prone to paranoia as such, but neither was he a stupid man, and even a stupid man would have considered something A Bit Odd by now.) Said locals had not showed at the meeting place.

Frankly, Cody had some doubts the locals existed at all.

Then the storm rolled in, petty with lightning, downright harassing with downpour, and just kind of an asshole with enough interference to knock out their comms.

And then the narrow little path rapidly turning to sludge had decided to take umbrage with being walked upon and sent both of them to the bottom of this ridiculous muddy slope where the stream was already looking as nastily-engorged as a Rodian leech.

Ruined his karking helmet against a tree on the way down. He’d refused the offer of his General’s robe, yanked the hood up over his head himself when the infuriating man seemed content to be rained on. They’d had a short, mostly non-verbal argument about who was most prepared to handle the current weather conditions and been left at an impasse to fume (Cody) and peer distractedly at the surroundings (Kenobi, somewhat uncharitably).

He sighed.

His comm hissed faintly with static.

General Kenobi turned from where he was studying the wet mass of mud and moss and slimy leaves, like there was any path less hazardous if only he frowned hard enough.

He had water dripping onto his nose from his hood. Cody wished he was miserable enough not to appreciate it. The last thing he needed to cap this day off was forgetting himself and where he stood with his superior officer - who even now was smiling ruefully at Cody. “It’s not looking good, I’m afraid, my friend. I hope you’ve a water ration saved, I don’t believe the sonics are going to prevail after this affair.”

“I feel reasonably confident that you’d share yours if I didn’t, sir.” he replied without thinking. Despite his flat voice, his General’s brows rose. Even with the hood shadowing his face, and the crap visibility, Cody could see his eyes twinkling. It was insufferable.

“Of course, Cody.” It shouldn’t have been possible for his voice to be both comfort and caress like that. “What’s mine is yours, you’re always welcome.”

Cody frowned harder.

“In any case, I think our best bet is this angle here – We should be able to step against the base of those root systems where they’re acting as stabilisers, and avoid the worst slips.” Kenobi pointed out his planned route and it – well, it didn’t look good. Good had been left behind on The Negotiator before they accepted this meeting. But it looked doable.

Halfway up, one boot lost to the sucking mud beneath the slimy dead-leaf carpet, Cody didn’t disagree with his previous assessment so much as add an asterisk amendment; It will be more miserable than you could have prepared for. He was missing at least two of his smaller plates, clawed off by aggressive vegetation, and his blacks had ripped somewhere around the small of his back. The thermostatic function had coughed out a pathetic little death rattle with it. Higher up the wind screamed, but down here it ripped past like the current of a river and brought the rain worming with it. He was starting to shiver.

General Kenobi wasn’t doing so much better. He had lost his robe to a nasty tangle of under-brush they couldn’t avoid, and had only barely escaped losing any further layers to the stars-be-damned combination of weather, visibility, and botany by what Cody assumed was some pinpoint – and, he gathered from the low, vicious stream of curses, difficult – application of his Force. Concentrating, his boots had slid on a mud-slick root, and Cody’s hair-trigger reflexes had caught him – but had knocked both of them several steps off of the not-track they were attempting to follow.

Cody squinted up at the dripping canopy, wishing for the night-filter on his helmet. He was all too aware of the warm hand steadying him, could all but feel the touch burning against the outside of his bicep.

“Cody, my dear – you’re shaking.”

Ah, well, maybe the infatuation wasn’t entirely to blame for once. “It’s a bit chilly, sir. Tiny hole in my blacks – it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He nearly swayed when that warm hand was removed. Kenobi made a concerned noise and Cody had to grab for him before he could start pulling at his tunics. They stumbled back into the wet foliage-wall behind him – shaking hands having tugged too hard and tripped Kenobi into him. His hands were still circling his wrists when the greenery gave way.

Yelping, they fell through and hit moss and mud with an unpleasant squelch.

His head filled with noise as thunder cracked and rolled far above, and water crept into his hair and soaked into his blacks. His General was sprawled over his chest, silhouetted against the murky grey hole they’d fallen through. Cody’s fingers twitched around his wrists.

Kenobi lifted his head carefully and looked at him through the minimal light. “Commander, I can’t shift my weight properly without access to my hands.” he said, light and concerned.

Dim and distant lightning flashed. It flit through the layers of murk and tree and sheeting rain and lit Kenobi’s eyes silver at the backs. Perhaps a lesser man would find that unsettling. Cody, despite the ice making a home in his bones, tightened his grip instead of releasing it.

“Cody,” he sounded properly worried now. “You’re going to get colder lying on the ground like this.”

“I’ll move,” Cody said, “I just- In a moment.” His bootless foot felt like he’d replaced his toes with slush – regulation socks not built for this. His back was a creeping sheet of miserable damp.

“If you want to huddle for warmth, my dear, that’s very doable. But not with you in the mud like this, come now.” The Jedi sounded patient in the way that meant his eyes were all tight at the edges with stress. Cody loosed his fingers immediately.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to apologise for, my dear Commander. I am merely concerned for your well-being.” He levered himself off of Cody with a tidy sort of swiftness. Held his hand back out to assist. “Out of the mud now, there’s a lad.”

One hand gripping his General’s as he laboured upright, he scrabbled at his belt. Past his comm – hissing stopped entirely, ready light gone dim – and dug for one of his emergency glow-sticks. Cracked it against his thigh and let the pale green light seep into the – not a cave, not quite.

They were in a sort of root-bound nook – it looked like the soil had been especially rocky and the multitude of plant species had gone completely wild with their root systems to duracrete things in place – only some boulder or other had been dislodged, leaving a gap to fill up with the early-adaptor sort of growths.

It was almost tall enough to stand in. It was only about three arm lengths deep and irregular with it, which wasn’t huge but was perfectly able to fit the two of them huddled together - if they ducked heads, or crouched.

It was better than being face out in the rain. “Should we take shelter here?”

“Fantastic,” Obi-Wan replied, “Squatting in a muddy hole. This really is the mission that keeps on giving.” He went quiet, the green-glow shadow of him focused on the ground. “Ah, no, my mistake. It's quite moss-heavy, actually. There must be some sunlight in here regularly, Force knows how.” He dragged a hand over his face, then stared at it, looking dismayed. “Blast it all,” he hissed, “I’ve just gone and rubbed mud all through my beard, haven’t I.”

“In all fairness, General, we were already pretty much all mud already from that climb.” It was difficult not to do as the Jedi had mentioned earlier, and huddle into his warmth. Trying to control that urge, he instead was hit with a gut-rolling, full body shudder and began shivering in earnest. Kenobi’s attention was immediate and intense.

“Right. We can’t be standing all night long, that won’t do either of us any good. This moss is completely soaked, Cody, I don’t want you touching it any more than necessary-”

“I’ll just squat then, shall I?” Cody broke in sarcastically, narrowing avoiding bloodying his lip with the way his teeth were chattering. “I know the men call me thunder thighs, sir, but be reasonable.”

“In what world would I think that was an appropriate course of action, Commander," he said flatly. “No, I’m going to be your seat - my layers are still intact.”

Cody gaped at him. Thunder rolled again, just as distant, and the faint flash of lightning followed it. The green fell away in the face of it.

Rimed in silver, eyes gleaming, the Jedi's expression was set and determined.”"You’re the one with the ripped blacks, Cody, it’s a vulnerability - and besides, I have the Force to aide me. I will be the seat.” he repeated.

“I- Sir, that’s not-” Cody’s heart was thundering as much as the storm above was. It did not help with the shaking. “General.”

“There’s no use arguing, Commander, it’s just good resource allocation.”

“Resource-” Cody rasped, reeling. “Sir, you aren’t a resource.”

“Thank you, Cody, but I very much am, and you only have one boot. Neither of us want to keep walking in that mess until we have better light – and, with any luck, less active flooding occurring. So: sitting.”He wasn’t even looking at Cody anymore, was studying the uneven floor for the most strategic space to have Cody in his lap. For survival. While himself getting more and more wet because the moss in here was like a karking sponge.

“I’m going to at least take off my back plates then.” Cody fought the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose. With the shivering, he’d probably just stab himself in the eye. He was about to be suffering enough. “It’ll be too uncomfortable otherwise, and you can put them down as some kind of layer between you and the ground.”

Kenobi was smiling audibly- now that he had his way, he thought grumpily. Like he’d let the man sit in an ice bath of moss just to keep Cody’s ass warmer - literally. “Just so, Commander. Thank you.” He paused, and Cody busied himself with his armour. “Do you need... assistance? With your back plates?”

It was possible. Shaking hands and all. “No, I have it.”

Semi-hunched in the enclosed space, it only took a few seconds to discover that Cody didn’t ‘have it’ as much as he’d like. His belt was manageable but the clasps slipped away from him. He bravely refrained from swearing, and shuffled around so his back was to the Jedi. Who, without making him ask, gently began unclasping it.

The immediate result was further chill – wet material no longer hidden by the armour and exposed to the air. Kenobi moved fast and neat, setting the main back plate down as a base, leaving him to remove the less awkward front bits on his own and stacking them tidily. He seemed entirely unperturbed as he folded himself down against the wall and motioned for Cody to sit.

He was all out of arguing. He’d take the mortification on this one. At least no-one was around to see it, and his- Kenobi wouldn’t be able to see his face.

Cody sank carefully into the cradle of his General’s crossed legs with his back pressed up against the Jedi’s front. He could feel his tunics and part of the smooth leather of his belt through his torn blacks, far warmer than his skin already. He tried not to squirm about it. It was not helped by the Jedi shifting to properly distribute his weight, his thighs flexing distractingly beneath Cody. “Ah,” he muttered against Cody’s shoulder, “One moment, this should help.”

He twisted and moved about while Cody tried to stay upright instead of leaning into him. Was this the worst possible way in which one of his fantasies could have come true? Yes, yes it was.

There was a satisfied “Got you,” behind him that made the shivering different, and worse. Next thing, the front of Kenobi’s tabards were being deftly arranged over his shoulders and down his chest – a damp, body-warm blanket tucking them close together. “Better?” came a murmur by his ear.

He made a low affirmative noise in his throat rather than speak. Nothing good could come of him opening his mouth right now.

Kenobi’s arms settled around his waist beneath the tabards and held without pressure. Warmth seeped back into him through his back and, despite his better judgement, Cody started to slump into him. The shivering lessened, and with it, his strength to avoid indulging. He snuggled back against his- the Jedi. His Jedi’s arms tightened.

“Better?” he asked again, quiet under the rush and roar of the weather outside. The emergency glow-stick had nearly faded out, a dull green touchstone near his feet.

“Better,” Cody agreed. “Sorry for - earlier assumptions. Not even assumptions, I guess, just. Snapping.”

“You have a temper very rarely, darling, and today has been a true comedy of errors. I can handle a little snapping. I know your experience of natborns hasn’t been one of whole-hearted support.”

He found his arms had naturally gravitated to covering Kenobi’s, fingers sliding together. “I know you though, sir. It wasn’t fair of me.”

He felt the huff of breath, warm on his neck. “Must we, Cody? Right now?”

“General?” he asked, prodding. His spine seemed to be in the process of moulding to his Jedi’s sternum. He adjusted his position slightly, getting a tiny, involuntary pant as his weight pressed back and down.

“Obi-Wan,” he replied, sounding vaguely frustrated. “Cody, a little -ah – care, if you please.”

Cody shifted fractionally again, and finally let his head drop back onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “If you insist,” he said. “I suppose the regs didn’t cover this one.”

“I don’t suppose they did.” His arms had tightened a bit while Cody was moving. It was becoming pleasantly warm where they were plastered together, even if Obi-Wan’s belt was too-hard in places. His toes were still thermally-challenged, so he tucked his socked-foot under his other knee.

The angle shifted him back again and Obi-Wan oof-ed. Cody turned his head and found himself face-first in his beard. “Sorry, si- Obi-Wan. Getting comfortable.”

Obi-Wan twitched. “No need to apologise, my dear. Just – please, stop moving.”

The green glow-stick had died out. There was the greyer shadow of where they had fallen through the vine-wall, the occasional glimmer of white from ever-more-distant lightning. For Cody, it was the darkness of Obi-Wan’s throat, the imagined sight of how red-gold threaded with silver would look from this close. He felt it bob with a swallow.

“Is the storm quieting, or am I imagining things?” Obi-Wan said, very quiet, so quiet he sounded like he was afraid to disturb Cody – like Cody’s weight pressing him into an armour plate and a muddy wall was fine, actually. Like Cody’s cheek pressed to the collar of his damp tunics was something he would choose.

Outside, the wind had dropped to a whimper. Trees rustled rather than crashed – the pit-pat dripping of water-logged plants instead of the active pattering of rain. A slightly too-fast heartbeat thrummed under his ear. “We might actually get to walk out of here.”

“I imagine we’ll meet search parties. Waxer wouldn’t wait any longer than overnight.” he didn’t raise his voice any but he tilted his head very slightly. Cody nuzzled in greedily. He felt Obi-Wan’s throat bob again.

“Waxer will rise to the occasion – he always does, that’s why I like him,” Cody answered, just as quiet. A tremor ran through Obi-Wan and Cody nestled further back immediately. Found that his belt wasn’t the only hard line pressing there anymore. He gripped Obi-Wan’s hands more firmly beneath the cover of the tabards and dared the tiniest roll of his hips.

Obi-Wan choked. “C-Cody-” His fingers flexed, twisting with his into his blacks.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, gentle, and thrilled at the second, more intense shudder. “Is this okay?” He waited for a moment, aware of the thudding pulse of the man behind him, the shallow too-quick breaths. “I’m all warmed up,” he continued, getting a thin wheeze, “I can move now, if you’d like.”

“Clarity.” Obi-Wan hissed. “Is that an offer, a suggestion, a threat? I can’t quite tell, Cody, given the grinding.”

“Exaggeration, sir – Obi-Wan. One little roll? Hardly counts as grinding. I could demonstra-” Cody tucked his face further in his neck, grinning, when Obi-Wan made a quietly furious noise to cut him off.

“Threats! Here I am, being at least a passing-grade sort of chair, and you-”

“The sort of chair, is exactly my point – are you the sort of chair that is okay with me like this?” Cody let a little of his insecurity into his voice, familiar with Obi-Wan’s style of derailment.

He deflated, and wiggled awkwardly against his back. Cody’s bulk didn’t allow him space to retreat, only pressed him harder against Cody. Both of them stifled groans. “It’s- Cody, I don’t wish to overstep.”

Cody sighed. Obi-Wan bit off a curse and dropped his head back against the wall. “Obi-Wan, if anyone is overstepping, it’s pretty obviously me.”

Obi-Wan clutched him around the middle and loudly breathed out. “No. No, you’re not. I’m just – surprised.”

“...so, I can keep going?”

“You may continue to wreak havoc on my self-control if you feel so inclined, my dear,” he chuckled, but he didn’t lift his head off the wall, nor manage to hide the strain in his voice. “I shall endure with enthusiasm.”

He considered his options. Rubbed his thumbs along Obi-Wan’s thoughtfully. “If I turned around, could you endure?”

“Depending on what you did next, likely not,” he replied dryly. “Am I to walk out of here with filthy leggings, Cody?”

“Your leggings are already filthy, what’s a bit more?” Cody said, pretending at reason.

“Other than the considerably more awkward placement? Nothing, I suppose. Do you want me to endure, Cody?” The hardness against his lower back was close enough to the tear in his blacks, he was tempted to slide down. But not more tempted than he was to turn around, and make both of them suffer. Still, it would be a long walk back.

“I want you to try.” He released one of Obi-Wan’s hands to reach back and weave his fingers into that thick copper hair. Nudged him into dropping his head forwards, and used the improved angle to trace a kiss over his cheekbone. Dried dirt flaked away under his lips. He shifted his grip, arched his neck, and brought their mouths together in a chaste, teasing kiss.

Obi-Wan’s lips parted against his, and his tongue flicked against Cody’s lip. He froze, then broke the kiss laughing. “Force, Cody, we’re filthy. Is that from my face?”

“It might be,” Cody said, grinning. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“It should be,” Obi-Wan told him, bringing his free hand up to frame Cody’s face in the dimness. “It really should be. But no, it’s not.”

“Good,” he said, and tugged him close again. “That wasn’t nearly enough of a taste.” He swallowed the next laugh, and the moan that followed. Let out his own gasp when Obi-Wan got his clever mouth on the line of his neck and made every nerve dance.

“Definitely demanding half your water ration,”Cody said breathlessly, twisting to give him more room.

“As I said, Cody,” Obi-Wan told him, doing something brilliant to the curve of his ear. “You’re always welcome.”

@codywanfirstkissbingo kiss three is dirty kiss, which unfortunately my little gremlin brain thought would be hilarious to take literally xD

[neonlight2]

Jaehaera (oc) x Daemon Targaryen

War alongside Daemon

Because you asked so nicely… @bluecloudsworld.

Masterlist

“Where the hell is he?”

“Be patient uncle—,” Laenor all but pleaded, his eyes flickering from place to place, searching for a sign, a flutter in the clouds, a piercing squeal, the glimpse of red.

“I knew this was a mistake, no right fool would go into the pits in these conditions, and the fact we are now trusting a madman—,”

“Daemon will help us—,”

“He will ruin us!” Lord Vaemond scream, rage of defeat boiling through his throat. “And Driftmark will be left in shambles because of the King’s neglect and his brothers temperament.”

Laenor could feel the words weighing on his tongue, you’re the reason we lost the first half of this war. But he dare not say it.

While his uncle spoke of temper as if he was not throwing a tantrum this very moment, Laenor knew better than to test it farther. Vaemond got rash when angry, both in mouth and hands.

And the last thing Laenor needed was more inner conflict within his family due to an avoidable squabble.

“Father trusts him,” Laenor reasoned, his hands held out, meant to mend the tension, “and Daemon promised not to do anything foolish.”

Vaemond scoffed at the thought, the rogue prince not causing trouble? What a thought.

“I can’t believe the king is allowing this.”

“Uncle—,”

“It’s bad enough that we have let his fool of a brother lead, let only have to coddle a child.”

“Uncle, be—,” Laenor eyes grew desperate to stop his uncle, eyes straying to behind the ranting lord, whom had no concern for his surroundings.

“A princess no less, who’ll no doubt need coddling—,”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll be fine Lord Vaemond, but it’s nice to hear that you care so much for my well being.”

Laenor’s uncle stilled, arms tense with the outrage he could no longer express. It would seem that he needed practice when reviewing his surroundings.

Turning with a placated smile, the prideful Lord laughed as if everything he said were a mere jest, and those not laughing were too stiff.

“Princess!” He announced, acting down his surprise with mocking joy. “Lovely to see you once again. My god how much you’ve grown! You were at my belt the last time we met, now you’re nearly as tall—perhaps even taller than me.” He realized her true size as she approached him further, stalking up so smoothly one would think she were slithering.

Humming in agreement, Jaehaera passed by Vaemond without a second thought in order to glance at the battle plans scattered about the makeshift table. “Daemon is off surveilling the territory for us, so I’m here to help lead you in his stead,” glancing up, having seen enough to know that there truly was no plan, Jaehaera gave Laenor a playful wink to acknowledge her dear friend, “I hope that does not disappoint you too much.”

“No,” Vaemond quickly lied corrected. “I’m just saddened Daemon did not keep his word as he said. He’s rather…”

“Chaotic?” Jaehaera threw out, moving the map as she pleased, “Dishonest? Undependable?”

Allowing himself to laugh, Vaemond nodded furiously. “Exactly, I’m overjoyed at least you agree with me princess—,”

“I think you should lead the west troops, closer to the coast.” Jaehaera interrupts, tapping against the wood to show where she meant. “You are better suited for the sea, if anything should go wrong you can take your troops to the water and attack from there.”

There was a new tension in the air, and Laenor could since the band about to break.

“Jaehaera, maybe I should take the west, and my uncle should help you—,”

“Laenor, with all of your skill on land, you lack what is needed for sea warfare. Besides,” she glances from her willing, soon to be brother in law, to his uncle, “ a victory on water is as great as any on land. It should be a wonderful opportunity to fully show the power of your house Lord Vaemond, the infamous ‘sea snakes’.”

She’s baiting him, Laenor thought.

She would make him a coward if not mediocre.

“And where do you and Daemon play into this,” Vaemond grits, “the hero’s in the middle of the battle? Wont it be hard to share the spotlight with a showman like Daemon?”

Smiling, Jaehaera leans back, resting her arms on her sword. “On the contrary, Daemon is rather docile when it comes to those he respects. He’s already agreed to play whatever part I have for him.”

She shrugs slightly, “It would seem he’s only dependable to those he’s loyal too. And as for the limelight… Laenor will be the one to lead the siege.”

All went still at her decree.

“What?” Laenor asked, honest in his surprise. “Jaehaera, I am honored by your trust in my abilities but I—,”

Tilting her head, Jaehaera chuckles at the wrinkles building on the young man’s forehead. Clapping his shoulder with encouragement she said, “You’ll be fine. Daemon and I will be at the front, to take some of the brute force off the troops, and you are well versed in strategy. I have no doubt you will lead the troops to see another day.”

Without leaving room for anymore discussion, Jaehaera walked away from the table and held her face toward the sky— eyes closed with searching ears. “Daemon will be landing soon,” she stated with no hesitation. “Get your men ready before he gets here and thinks too highly of himself.”

Laenor laughs this time, shaking his head as he points and waves to his close guards. “Prepare the men and make sure they’re steady in their station.”

“See?” Jaehaera quips as soldiers scurry about her, waiting for the stomping of Vaemond’s furious feet to stop. “You’re a natural.”

“Do you want there to be quarrel between my uncle and I?” Laenor asks in a forced whisper.

“Come now Norry, you know I’d never put you in such an awkward predicament.” Jaehaera teases with fake seriousness. “I want to have a quarrel with your uncle.”

“You’re still using me as a middle man—,”

“Fine, I’m sorry—,”

“No you’re not.” Laenor retorts with a smirk, poking her side.

Caving, the Princess conceded. “Fine, I’m not, but I promise not to use you like that again.”

“Oh?” Laenor inquired. “Than whoever will be your middle man.”

Straightening her posture, Jaehaera smiles widely as her eyes open. “Who else?”

The screech of Caraxes would be familiar to anyone in the realm. It was only shocking to the people of Westeros when too much time had passed without hearing the sound, somewhere in the distance. Farmers would pray to the gods for their livestock to be spared, whilst noblemen clutched their hearts with fear. Jaehaera, however, found the sound sweet like music.

“He really is a showman isn’t he?” Laenor jested, watching the Rogue Prince land dramatically before their very eyes. Leaning closer to the other dragon beside him, he whispered, “You dressed like that to provoke him.”

Scoffing, Jaehaera tilted her head as she watched Daemon dismount his trusted companion. Both almost mimicking the other as they shook off the winds kiss.

“I don’t like being tied down by the weight of armor.”

“You don’t like being tied down at all,” Laenor teased. “So the leather you’re wearing is only for your benefit?”

“For all of us,” Jaehaera mused in a hushed voice as Daemon got closer.

Laenor whispered directly into her ear before rushing off like a child. “I bet you a hour of guard duty that he’ll want to mount you not even three minutes into battle.”

Mocking a shocked expression, Jaehaera’s head swung to the side, staring as Laenor ran away. “Bold of you to assume it will take that long!”

“Assume what Issa jaesa?”

*My goddess

A light shiver ran down the princess’s spine, feeling his lips trail down her neck.

“Behave Daemon.” Jaehaera warned, grabbing the underside of chin to push him away. “You can’t have the spoils until after the war.”

Daemon twisted around to look at her directly, a wicked grin across his face. “Are you saying you’ll reward me today?”

“If you—,”

“You know behavings not in my nature,” he said with a devious glint in his eyes, “give me something easier.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a reward if you didn’t have to work for it,” Jaehaera quipped, deciding it would be best to direct her attention to the fire puppy in front of her. “Why can’t you be more like Caraxes Dae?”

Kissing the dragon’s scaled snout, she embraced the heat of his breathing with a relieved sigh. “He’s always so well behaved.”

“Well maybe I would be too if I got a kiss every time we met.” Daemon stated indignantly, pulling her back into him by her waist.

“You’re so needy,” she whines mockingly. “We have a war to win.”

“So lead the way my little dragon,” he whispered, his nose brushing lightly along the skin peaking out around her shoulders.

“I’m not little.” Jaehaera said in an irritated tone before hissing from a harsh sting.

He bit her.

Properly enough to leave canine marks in her skin.

“Daemon, I swear on Viserys’ crown—,”

Licking the spot as an apology, Daemon steps away, arms in the air. “Just a promise issa jaesa.”

“Of maiming me?” She asked sarcastically, trailing her fingers along the mark to find the puncture.

Daemon’s eyes darkened as he stepped further away, watching her intently. “That I will be the only one to draw blood from you today.”

Jaehaera laughed. “And what if I accidentally nick myself today?”

Squinting at her, Daemon’s mouth forms a strict line. “You wouldn’t.”

“We’ll see,” she remarked, quick to race her way towards the army standing ready, “now hurry along, we have a battle to begin!”

***

The ways of war had always come easy for Jaehaera. She thought that the balance of war was always fair. Death and life. Evil and innocence. She loved that everyone on a field could become equals no matter what station, anyone could kill or be killed. She loved that they would all dance together, close but far, sweating with grief and ambition. It was so incredibly human to her, and more intimate than almost any encounter she had with people.

But even with everything she loved, she hated war with the same ferocity. Jaehaera hated casualties above all else, thinking it the most dishonorable trait.

So she fought with rage. A burning spirit fueled by the cries she imagined ripped from the innocent. The tears they spilled oozing from her skin as she tore through another soldiers muscles, and she watched as their blood painted her red and saw only retribution.

Her blade slid against many throats, giving a fast death to those she admired for fighting well. Others who relied on their opponents bad fortune, waiting until they fall to the ground to pierce their hearts— they met more excruciating ends.

Her arms ached deliciously as she stood back, looking at some of her work— bodies on top of bodies—

“You are breath taking in red.”

Fluttering her eyes closed with slight, blissful exhaustion, Jaehaera replied, “You always said I’d be deadly.”

Their breathing mingled, filling the thick silence with heaving air and raised chests. Jaehaera’s eyes had shut tight basking in the sun that peaked out through the fog.

“The people will crown you for this,” Daemon stated, sheathing Dark Sister to his side once more, allowing her to rest. Jaehaera could hear his footstep but didn’t bother to move. “Would you let me serve you, my queen.”

If anyone else had placed a blade to Daemon Targaryen’s neck, they’d be dead within a second. But his words were treason, something no person in the realm could escape punishment for, he would revel in whatever she felt fit for him.

“Must you always seek a rise out of me?”

“It gives me your undivided attention.”

“You are a mess,” Jaehaera scoffed, her sword still steady as she twisted to face him properly.

“So are you, maybe we should bathe together.”

In any other scene Jaehaera would have laughed in his face, made a crude remark back, and leave him with a problem to fix himself. However, she could not look away from him, transfixed by the contrast of the rogue prince before her. His white hair stained with red, his eyes purple with blood magic, yet more black now than ever.

“You lost the bet,” Jaehaera whispered, easing closer to him and resting her head against his chest. Flicking braided hair to the side, she bared the back of her neck to him where a gash laid thick with dried blood. “He was a fine swords man.”

She could feel his heart start to pound, more fervently than ever. Than she felt his fingers, rough and calloused, delicately tracing the wound.

“How will you punish me?” His voice thin and disappointed.

Not for treason against the crown, but for breaking a promise to a woman standing alive before him.

“You’re growing soft Dae,” she said while letting her hand fall, easing the blade from his throat. “We will give our crowns to our King.”

“He would have you keep it—,”

“And I would have myself hanged,” she quipped. Looking up at him, finally, she could see his furrowed brows. “There is a balance to keep,” Jaehaera swept her fingers across his face, relieving the tension, trailing until she met his hair— the hair she was so fond of.

Gripping it tightly, she let her hand swing, and with a brief hiss from Daemon and the shing of her sword— he had lost his mane.

He could barely believe it. Eyes wide with shock as she slid her fingers through the new length, her nails grazing his scalp effortlessly. Years or growth cut off without a notice. His punishment.

A smile grew on his face as he watched he slip back, her own eyes in a daze. “You and your Dothraki customs.”

Shaking his head he braved her tightly, lifting her in the air despite her squeals, Daemon beamed like the sun. “Will you let me serve you now?”

“After failing your mission—,”

“You’ve already punished me for not keeping my promise, now reward me for my efforts,” he all but begged. “Let me clean you at least.”

She rested herself comfortably against him, allowing her arms to brace his shoulders and legs his waist. Jaehaera stared at him blankly before grabbing his jaw and whispering into his lips, “Fine, but cleaning only.”

.

.

.

There will be a follow up in: Came back a king… and queen

@bluecloudsworld @kyuupidwrites

[genz420]

How they Confuse their Feelings 🩵 🕯️

Masterlist | Rules

Content: How they Confuse their feelings Headcanons

Warning: None

Pairing(s): Character x Gn!reader

Character(s): Percy, Jason, Frank, Leo

Percy Jackson

Is super casual about it all

You’re telling me that Percy Jackson, Mister “Hero of Olympus” himself, doesn’t have a line outside his cabin for people who just want a second of his attention 

So if you say no

Okay

Bye

But the two of you will be in a conversation, and he will just be like: “You’re really beautiful,” 

Which isn’t unlike Percy to say 

Then he would hit you with the: “I think we should be more than friends,”

And then he would just go back to the conversation that you were having before, like he didn’t say anything 

Jason Grace

Once he realizes that he likes you more as a friend then will take his sweet line

Seriously 

Like a year at least before he will say anything 

I just feel like you’d have to say something if you want the relationship to go forward 

But let’s say you don’t say anything for a long time

Then Jason would go all out

Candle-lit dinner in New Rome 

Your favourite foods and drinks 

The son of Juprite did not inherit his father's lack of charisma or disrespect towards women

Would start off by saying that no matter he wants to remain friends and whatever you decide will be okay

But deep down he is scared 

Because he is baring his heart to you

Frank Zhang 

He would be a blushing mess 

Says it at the most inconvenient time 

Probably during a war game/capture the flag

He would just be in such awe of you

Blurts  it right out

Doesn’t leave you to respond to him before he is walking away

Fearing that he has ruined whatever the two of you had

Would avoid  you at all cost

But it is really easy to track down a 6’8 man

But mans is fast

Will bolt at the first sight of you

Cue the fake crying, and he is an apologizing 

Then you can either confess back or turn him down

But for the love that is all holy, don’t hurt his feelings 

Leo Valdez

Has a whole ass plan

For how he is going to confess 

For how you respond 

But it all goes out the window when it comes time

He chickens out 

Then ends up telling you when he knows you won’t be able to respond right away 

Like when you have your mouth full of food/water

Will watch your facial expression 

And if he sees the smallest amount of rejection, then you can bet that he will find a way to set himself on fire

[sitp-recs]

Hello good morning afternoons or evenings, I hope you are having a wonderful day! I'm looking for fic Drarry where they both become a safe place for each other or have a strange connection with each other because only they can understand each other.

Hello anon! Oh I love this concept so much, I’m all for comfort fics like that. Here are some stories that came to mind:

A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone by @tackytigerfic (E, 4k)

Harry's getting good at slipping through the Veil. He's determined to win the war, even if means he has to raise the dead to do it. Draco just wants a stiff drink and a good night's sleep.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Glowing by @cavendishbutterfly (T, 10k)

Harry's lived alone and vampiric in his cottage for ages, until a long-lived Draco Malfoy suddenly shows up to answer an advertisement Harry had practically forgotten he'd put in the Prophet. Cue soft blood drinking, quiet nights of reading and crocheting, and Harry thinking that maybe--just maybe--he might not be so alone anymore.

Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power. With nowhere to go and a Life-Debt to his mother that Potter insists on repaying, Draco puts himself into the hands of the reclusive Boy Who Lived. Will the bleak corner of Yorkshire where Potter makes his home be another dead end or an unexpected refuge?

Strange Bedfellows by orphan_account, ravenclawsquill (E, 30k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Holly and Hawthorn, Thistle and Thyme by bryoneybrynn (T, 31k)

After the war, Harry can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong with him and he has a terrible feeling he knows what that “something” might be. He has a terrible feeling Malfoy might know, too.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too. When Harry and Draco return for their eighth year, they think they’ll see very little of each other. Then McGonagall assigns them to room together. And the castle starts breaking. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

Running on Air by eleventy7 (T, 75k)

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (T, 109k)

In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E, WIP)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal. The world has fallen, and death is hungry.

[dalliancekay]

Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts

Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa. -

I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine, than we could imagine. Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Blue Planet is about to be cut off.

One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether anything is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only and/or collect victims who've already proven they belong there.

The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our', the 'good' side will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them here too. And here is a vast, empty place, overly lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone. So, we meet the demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale. Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives where he can, following orders he receives as far as he must and when he runs into his archenemy the demon Crowley, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker. They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)

When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end.  How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter... He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he is angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns. So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing to save his face.

And, now. Here's the funny bit. Our angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home. You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy. He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that that's the Plan. It was The Plan since before Earth was even formed and humans were just a design concept. Once this bit is over, an even better one will come along etc.

What is my point?

That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not. Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.

Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell are real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.

You can't call Aziraphale an idiot for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change, don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them and so in their zealousness, they want to kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett.. Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, clever, anxious and in love. With humanity and with one particular demon. And in the millennia he holds his post, he changes. He slowly learns to trust himself more. Trust his judgment. Find 'technicalities to do what he prefers, not what he is told. It started with the sword and his giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses.

Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share.

So. Things happen. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it. Both Aziraphale and Crowley learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust someone. The angel how to trust himself. So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.

In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss. Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after perhaps. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.

Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and their help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.

And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death. Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.

This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.

Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense to me, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can. He's not going to Heaven to be a good little angel.

This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc. Please be kind.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

How about 17 and 46 with Rex??? Only if u want to!!!

Hello gorgeous @skyofnostars,

You're so sweet. Of course, I want to.

I hope you'll enjoy this one. I was debating on which way I wanted this to go, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Also the story got away from me, so enjoy the 1400 words.

Love oo,

The Kiss

Warnings: Angst, kissing, drunken state, loss of life, Krell era, comfort, misunderstanding, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Rex sat in his office going over several datapads reviewing the reports from several Majors, Lieutenants and Sergeants, each discussing from their own point of view how the battle progressed. Technically, some of this should’ve been handled by the General, but right now … they had to deal with General Krell, and he wasn’t going to let his man have to put up with anymore of his tyrannical way of thinking. 

His eyes looked over the list of soldiers that had been lost from Krell’s last battle plan, his heart tightening with each name, each brother now gone. Simply because that Jedi … no, he’s no Jedi. He’s a monster. A vile excuse for a man who was currently in charge, at least until General Skywalker came back. 

The Captain rolled his neck side to side, closing his eyes, trying to silence the anger and frustration that had grown within him. Why did General Skywalker have to be called away now? No, why did they have to be stuck with a General that clearly didn’t care about his troops. 

You slowly made your way to Rex’s office, you were dreading having to face Rex, not only did you have to turn in your own report, but on top of all the other issues between you and Rex right now, you were going to have to apologize for your actions on the field. Krell pushed your buttons and you lashed out at him, well not just Krell, but also at Rex, it wasn’t Rex’s fault, you knew that; but it was all too much. Then to make matters worse he was the one who saved you, when you were getting ready to punch Krell.

He stood in front of you, dressing you down in front of the General. Telling you to learn your place. You knew he did it, so the General wouldn’t have an excuse to step in; it was embarrassing and awful, but he did save you; saved you from a court martial or worse, at least. 

Maker, why was it so hard to be around him, now? 

For a long time Rex and you were friends. It was an almost instantaneous friendship from the moment you two met. Then one night, one stupid drunken night at 79s you accidentally kissed him, which simultaneously sobered you up and ruined the friendship you both had. 

After that night Rex kept his distance, the first real conversation you had with him was when you were yelling at him and General Krell, and he yelled back at you. Which wasn’t even a conversation, really.

Yet, now there were no more options left, as much as he wanted to avoid you, he’d have no option but to talk to you. Especially, since you had concerns about Krell. 

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

“Come in.”

A moment was all you needed as you steadied your breath, before walking in. You stood at attention, waiting for Rex to acknowledge your presence. 

He took a second to calm his nerves, his eyes refusing to meet yours. 

“Lieutenant.”

“Captain, I’m here to give you my report.” 

You held out the datapad to him, your heart aching, missing the camaraderie you both had once enjoyed. You missed it all, the joking, the laughing, the subtle flirting from your end, it had all stopped after that kiss. 

He drew a clear line between you two and that was all there was to it. 

“You can just leave it on the desk,” he focused his attention back on the report in front of him. 

He wanted to look at you, he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t deserve that. Especially, since when you drunkenly kissed him, it had been the most perfect kiss he ever imagined he could’ve had with you. He enjoyed the feel of your lips on his, the warmth from your breath gently washing over his skin, the weight of you in his arms, the way you made him feel, it was everything he could’ve possibly wanted. It was then he realized how much he cared for you. How much he wanted something more with you, but that wasn’t possible. 

He felt as though he’d abused your kindness, your friendship. He felt ashamed to be near you.

You let out a sigh as you looked at him, “Will you ever look me in the eyes again?”

Rex didn’t have it within himself to answer you, much less to look at you.

You’d done this, you’d ruined your friendship. If you hadn’t been so drunk that night, if you hadn’t pushed the limits of your friendship none of this would be happening. 

“I’m sorry.” You started, “I’m sorry for overstepping that night and kissing you,” Rex lifted his eyes to look at you, his heart tightened when he heard you regretted kissing him. His eyes took in all your features, studying each section of your face. Maker, how he missed your face, missed you. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me with Krell. I know I really put my foot in it and if it wasn’t for you stepping in and covering over what I said or was about to do …”

“Well you always manage to make my life interesting,” he smirked as he looked at you, “I’m just glad I stopped you off before you actually hit him. Truthfully, I didn’t want him to demote you or kick you out of the GAR, so I went a bit extra.”

“It’s fine, and you know, even if he didn’t react at that moment, I have a feeling he’s going to get back at me, one way or another. He may be a Jedi, but I think even he would think twice before going against someone related to one of the Republic Senators.”

“I highly doubt that would’ve phased him.”

“Probably not.” You smiled as you looked at him, “I am sorry about everything. I’m sorry I ruined our friendship that night and … I know you don’t feel comfortable around me …”

“Wait,” Rex held up his hand, “Do you think I’m avoiding you because … I’m mad at you or something?”

“Aren’t you?”

Rex closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face, “No.” He stood from his seat and walked over to you. As he looked into your eyes, he felt his heart start to beat faster, he slowly reached up his hand gently caressing your cheek. “Cyar’ika, the reason I was avoiding you was because … if I didn’t I would’ve overstepped. The moment you kissed me, I realized I was in love with you. I’ve been in love with you this whole time. This entire time, I’d been taking advantage of your kindness and sincerity, just so I could get close to you. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same way, if you regret kissing me, but I want you to know, I love you.”

“You love me?”

“I have. I do. For a long time.”

You closed your eyes, your smile reaching all the way to your ears as you leaned into his hand, holding his hand against your cheek. “Look at you, showing some actual good taste. I’m almost impressed.” You laughed, as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him, “Rex, I’ve loved you from the moment we met. Maybe I didn’t realize it was love at first, but now looking back … it’s the only thing that makes sense. I love you, and truthfully, I don’t regret kissing you. I regretted the fact it pushed us apart.”

His lips gently pressed against your forehead, his other hand moved to the back of your head holding you close, “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I should’ve talked to you instead of making decisions on both of our behalf.”

“It’s okay” your hands went to his waist and pulled him closer. “You’re here now.” You opened your eyes, pulling away slightly to look at him, “What are we going to do about Krell? I don’t trust him. If this continues you won’t have any brothers left, and not to mention …”

“Shhhh” he pressed another kiss to your forehead, cutting you off, “I know, cyar’ika. I know.” Rex pulled you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Right now, though. I just want to hold you in my arms and not worry about him. At least for a little bit.”

You didn’t fight him on it, you simply nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso as you pulled him in closer. There was time to deal with Krell, at least that’s what you hoped. 

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

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[blacksheep28]

Phoenix Song 3

The news of the imposter haunted Shen Xue. He had planned to make a clean cut for himself with this new life. He was no longer suited to living among cultivators, and the only true tie he had to Cang Qiong had long since worn thin. Shen Xue would not be welcome to return, even if he had still been human. He would have been content on the borderlands, if it hadn't been for Liu Qingge.

The smart choice would have been to let it go. His pride unfortunately wouldn't let him. He may not be Shen Qingqiu anymore, but he wasn't going to let someone else claim that life from him.

Shen Xue glided through Lufeng. It had been a long time since he had been in the small town. A part of him ached to head to the Warm Red Pavilion, but he knew he couldn't. There was too much risk if he did so. Thankfully he didn't have the same difficulties sleeping as he had had as a human. He had found it simple enough to sleep as long as he was in his phoenix form. The peak lords had paid little attention to what else he was doing in the town as well, so the brothel was the only location he truly needed to avoid. 

Shen Xue settled down at one of the teahouses. It was expensive, but he had just enough for a single cup. That was enough to give him an excuse to sit and listen to the various rumors about Cang Qiong that would be gossiped about eagerly here.

The milling patrons seemed eager to chat about Shen Qingqiu. Apparently the fake had been busy, fending off a demonic attack and being wounded in the process of saving his disciple. That Binghe was now gaining some special treatment from his master, being treated better than even Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple. A small argument spurred from that, another patron butting in to point out that Binghe acted more like a servant than a disciple.

Shen Xue's rage had slowly been mounting the longer the rumors went on. It was good that he was good at covering up his emotions. He sat there occasionally fanning himself and sipping his tea and suppressed the need to go and fix this mess. What on earth was the thing using his corpse doing? He was ruining Shen Qingqiu's reputation! Granted it had already been quite terrible, but at least no one had thought he would be grooming one of his disciples!

The door opened and the gossip immediately hushed as Liu Qingge stalked inside. No one wanted to be seen talking bad about Shen Qingqiu with the War God around. That’s a great way to be punched. 

“I thought it was you.” He sat beside Shen Xue without bothering to ask permission. “You left the borderlands,” he commented bluntly, “I thought you didn’t like Cang Qiong.” The pair quickly drew the gazes of nearly all the patrons. The Bai Zhan Peak Lord hardly ever sat down for tea and certainly not in a public teahouse.

Shen Xue looked up at Liu Qingge and frowned. How terrible was his luck? "I never said I dislike Cang Qiong," Shen Xue dismissed. "I'm surprised you're not in the borderlands hunting again."

“There was a peak lord meeting.” He grumbled his reply. “I do have actual work to do at the sect.” He narrowed his eyes at Shen Xue as he spoke. “Why did you come here? It can’t be just to drink tea.”

Shen Xue picked up his cup and sipped from it, deliberately locking eyes with Liu Qingge. "And if it was?" Who was he to demand Shen Xue account for his actions? Liu Qingge no longer had even the flimsy excuse of Shen Xue being a fellow Peak Lord to use.

“Did you walk all the way here? It’s a long journey and most carts don’t go to the borderlands. It's difficult to believe you would do so for tea.”

Shen Xue blinked slowly. That was right, Liu Qingge didn't fully know what Shen Xue was. Traveling here was simple for a cultivator, and Shen Xue hadn't needed to adjust how he thought of travel as an ice phoenix. There was however, despite how the brute may act, actual brains under there. Liu Qingge knew that mortals couldn't travel as simply as cultivators could. "There may be other business," he allowed.

"Care to share?" The brute looked mildly interested, clearly seeking for something to do that wasn't his work as peak lord.

"I doubt it's something a brute like you would be interested in," Shen Xue dismissed. He needed to learn about what had happened, and he couldn't do that with Liu Qingge following him around.

“I’m not a complete idiot,” Liu Qingge huffed back, rolling his eyes at him. “just tell me. I could find someone to help you with whatever you’re doing here.”

Shen Xue paused. That was an unexpected result. He looked at the Bai Zhan peak lord with more interest. He didn't know why Liu Qingge was so invested in an elemental spirit he met at the borderlands, enough to offer the resources of Cang Qiong to him.

"Hm." He considered it carefully. Things would be easier with such resources. As shameful as it was, Shen Xue had to admit that he was struggling among humans. He could not prove his credentials as a scholar, and he didn't have a sword to prove himself as a cultivator. He could only pickpocket to acquire money. It wasn't too wide a concern, as he had all his needs met as an ice phoenix, but it did make interacting with others much more difficult. 

Here was an opportunity he hadn't expected. Shen Xue had planned to work towards affording a cheap blade and relying on talismans to work as a rogue cultivator. Liu Qingge however, might be willing to help him do better than that. Even if there would certainly be questions as to why something like him would work as a rogue cultivator. It would at least be something he could ask for without interfering with his investigations into the imposter. "I am looking to acquire a blade."

“A sword?” he snorted a short laugh at the request, “that’s all you needed? Are you trying to become a cultivator?”

"Not all of us have coins falling out of our pockets Master Liu," he said poison sweet. "Acting as a cultivator is the fastest way for me to earn coins to use in the human realm."

“I can get you a sword.” Liu Qingge waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t seem like you’d want to join a sect so I can just buy one for you.”

He really was serious, wasn't he? Shen Xue found himself fumbling at the generosity being shown. Perhaps Liu Qingge thought little of it himself, but it would truly make a difference for Shen Xue. True, it wasn't the actual reason behind why he came here, but it was still something he truly needed. His plans would have to be rearranged to account for this sudden windfall. "I-thank you." Shen Xue quickly hid his face behind his fan. He didn't understand this at all, but he wouldn't turn away from such an advantage either. "You should order the lemon tea, they have a good blend here."

“You can repay me by going on a night hunt with me,” he replied simply. “I want to see you fight.” Taking Shen Xue’s suggestion, he turned and waved the closest person over, ordering the tea in a pot for both of them.

"Acceptable." It was a straightforward exchange, and easily something the brute would find as equal. He thought of little else besides fighting after all. He hummed softly as a fresh pot was brought over for both of them. Generously Shen Xue poured for both of them before taking his cup to slowly sip.

Liu Qingge waited a minute for the fresh tea to cool before slowly sipping it. A long silence passed before something struck him. He blinked, glancing over at Shen Xue. “Have you been to this teahouse before?” He questioned.

"No," Shen Xue said sharply. "I only just arrived, how could I have?"

“What tea were you drinking before?” he asked.

"I didn't think you had so much interest in tea." Shen Xue raised a brow at him. "If you must know, it was their chai brew."

“I normally don’t. I’m just wondering how you recommended any tea to me without having visited before.” He watched him over his tea cup. “Especially since you didn’t order this blend.”

Shen Xue thought furiously even as he took another calm sip of tea. "It was suggested to me by the shopkeeper. Unfortunately I could not afford it. Lucky for me that you arrived to allow me to try it."

“You don’t seem like the type to take other’s suggestions.” He replied. He watched him for a long moment before going back to sipping his tea. “Look. I don’t care what history you have with this place or Cang Qiong Sect as long as you don’t plan to hurt anyone. I just don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Shen Xue sneered into his cup. "I do not plan any harm on your sect." It rankled to be called out in such a manner. He should be able to outsmart a battle mad brute like Liu Qingge! "If you don't ask I won't lie."

“Then I won’t ask,” Liu Qingge replied simply. “Just tell me if it’s none of my business instead of coming up with ridiculous lies.”

Shen Xue sniffed. Liu Qingge had no business judging him. The man couldn't lie to save his life! "Where do you recommend we look for swords?"

“There are plenty of swordsmiths around looking to sell to cultivators. We can check if any suit you here and if none do, we can fly to the next town.”

"A very generous donation of your time." Shen Xue wanted to be suspicious of it, but spending time admiring weapons was exactly the kind of thing Liu Qingge would enjoy. The fact it would also benefit Shen Xue simply made it into something useful instead of a waste of the peak lord's time. He wished he could be suspicious of it, but Liu Qingge was too straightforward to hide his intentions in this.

“It’s either this or training my disciples,” he huffed back, “I prefer spending the day looking at swords than being disappointed by their progress.” He drained the last of his tea and set down the cup. “We can leave whenever you’re done with your tea.”

"Oh, you actually train your disciples?" Shen Xue sniped. Unfortunately he couldn't state his true opinion of the matter as that would reveal knowing far too much.

"Of course I do," Liu Qingge grumbled.

Shen Xue still took his time with his tea, lingering over it just to force Liu Qingge to wait a little longer. Was it petty? Undoubtedly, but Liu Qingge would have a hard time proving the extra couple minutes meant anything. He stood up and waved for Liu Qingge to take the lead. As familiar as he was with the town he in fact did not know the weaponsmiths here. He had come for relief from the pressure of being peak lord, not to continue in those duties.

The forge itself was hard to miss, heat and noise radiating from the large, open building. A smaller building branched off of the forge and faced the street. “Which style of sword would you prefer?” he questioned as they walked. “You could likely get by with a straight sword like Cheng Luan, unless you would prefer something specialized.” He touched the sword hanging from his belt.

"A simple clean blade is the best option." His Xiu Ya had been a beautifully crafted blade, but it had been at the end a straight sword that was wonderfully filigreed and perfect at channeling his spiritual energy. Shen Xue could use it, he was of course proficient in his peak's style, but he much preferred talismans and direct qi manipulation. 

Was the imposter using his Xiu Ya as its own? Did his spirit sword think he was still living, wielded by his corpse as it was? No, he couldn't think of that. He would never wield Xiu Ya again, he had to think of the future. He turned his attention to browsing through the various blades on display.

Liu Qingge acknowledged the shop owner quickly before taking the lead in perusing the swords. A straight sword shorter than his own would be best considering their heights. He has less muscle mass so a lighter blade would be preferable too. It wasn’t long before he found one that fit his conditions. He carefully unsheathed the blade, examined it, and sheathed it once more before handing it to Shen Xue. “Try this one,” he instructed.

Shen Xue tested the blade. The balance was good, and he could move with it. It cycled oddly with his qi however, likely due to it not being human. "Not this one."

Liu Qingge watched as he moved with the blade. “Qi?” He guessed, taking the blade back. “If these don’t work, we’ll move to the next town.”

"You are correct." Shen Xue carefully tested the next blade. "I suspect this may take more time than I expected." If Liu Qingge wasn't financing this Shen Xue would have settled for any sword and simply avoided using it entirely. The appearance of having one as a cultivator was more important than the use. A proper blade however was far more appealing, and he had the means to try for it. He shook his head and tested the last one with a frown. He didn't even bother channeling his qi into that one: it would snap under his ice.

“Finding a regular sword that fits you perfectly is nearly impossible. One could be custom made, but that would take longer.” With the swords rejected, he wasted no time in placing them back and leaving the shop. Once outside, he summoned Cheng Luan and stepped onto the blade. He beckoned for Shen Xue to join him. “We’ll fly to the next town, then.”

"I don't need perfect, I simply need serviceable." Shen Xue's lips curled in disdain at the offer to ride with Liu Qingge. On one hand, it would allow him to hide his phoenix form for a while longer. On the other, it required contact with another person. The inner battle didn't last long. The more secrets he held the more difficult it would be to pin him down. He stepped up onto the blade and did his best to not be too stiff under Liu Qingge's touch.

“I’m not going to be buying you a subpar sword.” Liu Qingge loosely wrapped his arms around Shen Xue’s waist, holding him close as they lifted into the air. He took his time getting to top speed, letting the spirit adjust to balancing on the sword before shooting through the air towards the next town.

Shen Xue was far too alert of every single point of contact Liu Qingge had with his body. It was still strange, to not feel the instant revulsion and crawl of his skin that used to accompany such contact. The contact was still unpleasant however, every part of him tensed and waiting for the contact to begin to be painful. He was deeply relieved when they reached the next town and could once more get distance. His fan snapped out instantly, a comfort and cover for his unease.

They landed near the weapon store and Liu Qingge sheathed his sword. His brows furrowed looking at the white haired man noting his discomfort. "This way," he grunted.

Shen Xue trailed after him pulling the dignity of a peak lord around him as a shield. No, he was not a peak lord any longer, but few would question someone who walked with the authority and confidence of one. Even if his robes were clearly far too shabby. He followed Liu Qingge's lead testing the blades. He found one that channeled his qi acceptably, and he carefully tested sending out a chilly blast. It held well, if still not perfectly fit.

Liu Qingge watched as he tested the blades, frowning as he used his qi. “Ice?” he questioned, placing the sword that didn’t work back in its place. “Does that sword work for you?”

"That is my nature," Shen Xue said smoothly. It felt strange after having a wood and metal alignment in his previous life, but it was what it was. He tested it with a couple more swings. "I believe it does." He passed the sword to Liu Qingge. He was no Wei Qingwei, but he had enough experience with weapons to check if channeling his qi in the blade had induced any faults into it.

“I’ll buy it for you then.” He turned to pay only to pause. “If you would like you could also come to Cang Qiong to have a sword forged for you. But the cost of that would be telling me who you really are. I’m not going to place a higher quality sword in the hands of someone I do not know.” He leveled him with a look.

Shen Xue had been prepared to beat Liu Qingge for the offer of having a sword forged for him in Cang Qiong. As much as he appreciated that, it was a ridiculously stupid offer to make to someone like him. Thankfully it seemed there was some sense in that nearly empty head of his. Liu Qingge tried to barter for his identity instead. He flicked his fan open. "I have told you. I am Shen Xue."

“Aside from your name,” he snapped back, “What are you really doing here, what are you trying to hide? If you decline, I’ll drop the questioning, but I have to know I can trust you if I keep assisting you.”

"I have asked you for nothing!" Shen Xue snapped back. "I require nothing from you! I do not need any of this!" He clenched his hand-*crack*. 

Shen Xue froze and looked down. His fan. He. He had known it was a cheap one. It was a stupid, ridiculous indulgence. The first thing he had bought after some properly fitted robes. He knew he shouldn't have, it was too much a luxury, but the cheap fan had been a comfort nonetheless. 

It was fine. It was fine. He didn't need it. He had always done fine on his own, hadn't he? He would keep being fine. He stuffed the broken fan into his sleeve. Liu Qingge frowned as he passed the purchased sword to Shen Xue. He abruptly turned and walked away.

Well. Well. Shen Xue should have expected that. Liu Qingge had no reason to linger. It was a surprise that the man had still bought him a sword at all instead of changing his mind entirely. He turned and walked in the opposite direction. He would look for a place to practice with his new sword, and tomorrow he would return to look for a way into Cang Qiong that wouldn't have him being watched.

Shen Xue found a place and began to practice. He needed to refamiliarize himself with the forms he had learned after so long without any practice. It would do well to help him bond with his new sword as well.

As soon as Shen Xue became aware of the presence nearing the field he brought things to a close. He wished he could trust his discipline, but being human again was still relatively new. There was plenty he would need to refresh his memory on before he could completely rely on himself to be in full control at all times. He turned and gazed at the Bai Zhan peak lord in some surprise.

"Liu Qingge," he greeted warily. "I thought you left." Why had he sought him out again? His grip tightened on his sword. If Liu Qingge tried to take it back he would not take it quietly. The sword had been bargained for, and Shen Xue would not release it simply because the other man was too nosy for his own good.

Liu Qingge marched forward and shoved a new fan into Shen Xue's chest. “You broke yours because of me. I’ll…stop bothering you now.”

Shen Xue accepted the fan in bafflement. What was going on in his head? His frustration with the man had certainly been why Shen Xue had cracked his fan, but it had been his own hands that had done it. Liu Qingge had taken no action besides being rude to cause his fan to break, and Shen Xue liked to pride himself on taking responsibility for his own actions.

"Hm." He examined the fan. It was a nice scene, snowbell flowers gracefully covering the fan. It was a much better quality than the one that had broke. He would have happily used it as Shen Qingqiu. "I still owe you a night hunt."

Liu Qingge paused at his words. “…you do,” he agreed slowly. “Just kill a monster for me. You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to.”

Shen Xue arched a delicate brow. "Wasn't the deal to allow you to watch me fight? I am sure you would prefer hunting yourself over me removing a chance for you to enjoy a fight."

“The deal was for you to join me on a night hunt. My reasoning was so I could watch you fight,” he shot back. He turned to face him properly. “You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to. I’m not going to pressure you to spend time around me any longer.”

"I fulfill my debts," Shen Xue said stubbornly. He frowned. "Come find me at the teahouse you picked me up from when you have a night hunt ready."

“We can go tonight. Find something to hunt. There’s always some beast or corpse in the stretch of woods on the backside of the mountains. We’ll hunt there.”

Shen Xue silently complained to himself how problems requiring cultivators insisted on existing even with a giant cultivation sect right there. Not even the existence of cultivators stopped human pettiness though, and that always opened the door for things to get in. "Very well. I plan to spend some time familiarizing myself with my blade before the evening. Is that alright?" He would have to hunt for food after the hunt, but that was fine.

“Fine. I’ll meet you at the teahouse when the sun starts to set.” With that decided, he drew Cheng Luan and hopped onto the blade, escaping into the sky before Shen Xue could say anything more.

Shen Xue stared at his retreat. He didn't understand the brute. Why was he caring so much for a random spirit that he encountered? He looked down at the fan once more running his hand gently over it.

He reminded himself they would be done with each other once the night hunt was finished. There were no ties to each other. Not anymore. He tucked the fan away with care and turned to his practice. He would be ready when night came.