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#the great war: i hurt you! how could i!
wavesoutbeingtossed · 7 months
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The Great War x Hoax would fucking kill us too btw
you said I had to trust more freely but what you did was just as dark
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packet-of-staples · 4 months
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FALLEN IDOL WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! THE BROTHERS ARE FIGHTING!!!
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#FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!#MY HEART#EVIL EVIL EVIL JAIL 100 YEARS#I always love an episode where Hawkeye crumbles under the pressure#me when the jokey coping mechanism facade falls away#me when its easy to be confident in your abilities when you’re operating on people you dont know#but as soon as its someone you love you’re reminded of the gravity of your work and what could happen if it goes wrong#PLUS knowing you’re the reason he was out there to get hurt in the first place#and even though everything goes well the guilt makes you act as badly as you feel you are#leading to my next point. I love when character’s perception of another also crumbles#Ah Radar sweet naïve starry eyes Radar#Hawk always has a joke a comment a remark. he laughs in the face of the war#even if he’s scared he doesn’t let it get to the steadiness of his hands. nothing could rattle him#and that makes it all easier to keep going to not be scared yourself#but thats a lot to put on someone’s shoulders to be fearless at all times#so its a cold shock when he snaps after you try to uphold him to your idealised view of him. showing hes just as scared as you are#maybe even more so#this whole episode was so thich as thieves brother’s first fight#God… GOD!!!!#Fallen idol….. hawkeye…. radar…..#literally head in hands#its all so human…. putting someone on a pedestal helps no one….#all because Radar has no rizz…#the way everyone went to yell at Hawk after he snapped at Radar was classic#Mulcahy really put his whole christussy into kicking that heater#Potter and Margret’s whole how dare you yell at your little brother like that dont you know he looks up to you?!’ shtick was great#urgh…#they’re brothers your honor#theyre so important to me#mash
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dbphantom · 10 months
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I can only dream of seeing a fraction of the discourse that happens on OP tumblr
#Maybe when punk records goes global#Seriously tho imagine all the Strawhat Luffy callout posts#'can't believe Luffy would become an emperor I thought he hated the WG like the rest of us#| please say sike'#'friendly reminder that u can support the revolutionaries without supporting M*nk*y D. L*ffy 🥰'#'Strawhat released thousands of bloodthirsty criminals from prison. If u support him u support their crimes. Fleet members dni 😒'#'he brought Jimbe a previous member of the sun pirates into his crew. U KNOW WHO ELSE WAS AN EX-MEMBER OF THE SUN PIRATES?#| AND LETS NOT FORGET JIMBE WAS A WARLORD. CROCODILE AND DOFLAMINGO WERE ALSO PART OF THAT SYSTEM#|| you guys are seriously saying Strawhat Luffy- the guy who declared war on the world government- supports the warlord system?#||| they're literally pirates who then aligned with the WG. Remember Kuma?? If Strawhat wanted he totally could#|||| they killed his brother?????????????#||||| also Jimbe left + got arrested when they decided to KILL ROGER'S SON#|||||| Roger's son is Luffy's brother? Great so he's also the son of the guy who caused all of these pirates?#||||||| holy shit dude.'#'see a lot of str*wh*t support on this site but they're also pirates. how many of you have been hurt by pirates? they're all scum#it's super hypocritical to support them and condemn the rest. ur either for pirates or against them you literally can't pick and choose.#marines should reblog this. pirates and pirate supporters DNI'#'alright guys I've done a lot of thinking and this is why I'm finally renouncing the Strawhat pirates... [readmore]#SIKE LOL EAT SHIT I LOVE THESE CRIMINALS AND THEIR WANTON VIOLENCE FUCK THE WORLD GOVERNMENT LONG LIVE THE FUTURE KING!!!!!!!'#cruddy rambles#I'm just having fun lol#Wait I could make one of those 'tumblr in the [blank] world' posts but for OP... I totally should XD
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contact-guy · 4 months
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Part 7, the final comic in my SIGN OF THE FOUR chapter. (Part one), (part two), (part three), (part four), (part five), (part six).
The context for this conversation is: Holmes has had no work from Scotland Yard due to rumors about his and Watson's relationship. He responded to this with excessive cocaine use and then working himself unhealthy on the one case that came along; Mary Morstan's. Meanwhile, Watson befriended Mary, who is also gay, and realized that a lavender marriage with her could make him and Holmes safe, as well as granting her more freedom. Watson has not yet told Holmes of his decision.
(This is part of the Watsons sketchbook series!)
canon scene under the cut, which is achingly poignant in its own right:
“Well, and there is the end of our little drama,” I remarked, after we had set some time smoking in silence. “I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss Morstan has done me the honour to accept me as a husband in prospective.”
He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much,” said he. “I really cannot congratulate you.”
I was a little hurt. “Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?” I asked.
“Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, and might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided genius that way: witness the way in which she preserved that Agra plan from all the other papers of her father. But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.”
“I trust,” said I, laughing, “that my judgment may survive the ordeal. But you look weary.”
“Yes, the reaction is already upon me. I shall be as limp as a rag for a week.”
“Strange,” said I, “how terms of what in another man I should call laziness alternate with your fits of splendid energy and vigour.”
“Yes,” he answered, “there are in me the makings of a very fine loafer and also of a pretty spry sort of fellow. I often think of those lines of old Goethe,—
Schade dass die Natur nur einen Mensch aus Dir schuf, Denn zum würdigen Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff.
“By the way, à propos of this Norwood business, you see that they had, as I surmised, a confederate in the house, who could be none other than Lal Rao, the butler: so Jones actually has the undivided honour of having caught one fish in his great haul.”
“The division seems rather unfair,” I remarked. “You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?”
“For me,” said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle.” And he stretched his long white hand up for it.
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vividxpages · 2 months
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₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ The Great War – Jacaerys Velaryon x f!Reader PART 1 ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
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PART 2 + PART 3
words: 1700
summary: Jace and you are lovers, but stand on opposite sides of the war, not allowed to see each other anymore. But love always finds a way. (inspired by “The Great War” by Taylor Swift)
warnings: angst, reader is Alicents's daughter, the Greens being a bad family, hurt/comfort!, kissing
a/n: help, I'm obsessed with this boy and every song starts to sound like a possible fic idea for him!!!
𓆩♡𓆪
All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War
Sometimes, you could only breathe above the clouds.
Up here on your dragon’s back, the trouble you left behind underneath you did not matter anymore. You thought of the castle that slowly poisoned you from the inside, the dark nights where you thought you were completely alone in the world with no comfort in reach but the memories you carried with yourself.
Once there had been laughter at the dinner table, the halls filled with the family you had not seen in months. Now, you only saw your brothers and your mother together in one room during council. You shuddered at the memory of today’s meeting, snuggling deeper into the saddle and closer to the dragon who kept you safe in the sky.
(“Maybe we should send our dear sister.” Your brother Aegon had proposed at some frustrating point of an endless council, taking a deep swig from the wine glass in front of him.
You had simply stared at him, silent. No one was really listening to you anyway and you were past the point of turning to your mother pleadingly. She was just as silent, always frowning, always doing nothing. “What do you mean, Aegon?”
“We can weaken them from the inside.” He had spoken to the others then, who at least looked so confused as you had felt. “Send them my little precious sister who a certain bastard son always had a weak spot for. I don’t see the problem if you kill him while you’re fuck-“
Your chair had screeched over the floor and fell down with a loud thud on the stone floor. You had clenched your hands into fists as you stood, fury in your eyes.
“Aegon, stop with such nonsense.” Alicent had said quietly, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You fled.)
You welcomed the tears on your cheeks like an old friend, letting them cool your skin as you stirred your dragon through the sky, opting to just turn right and never come back to Westeros.
But oh, how your heart still clung to them.
The family up north in the realm, the family you had lost forever in the middle of his conflict.
Suddenly, you felt your dragon tense and directed your attention to the west, where a shape of a big shadow flickered through the clouds. Your mind began to race with what you’d do if Aemond had followed you, always being damned to bring you back when you had strayed too far away from Kings Landing.
But this shadow was not big enough to be Vhagar.
And those dark curls did not belong to your brother.
You gasped as your dragon let out a recognizing screech, lunging forwards through the clouds until you and the other rider could almost touch at how close your beasts were.
Time seemed to slow down as they flew past each other, teasingly snapping at each other’s necks with the joy of being reunited, but there was no doubt. As you raced through the skies, you looked into your Jace’s eyes.
You let out a broken gasp and quickly looked over your shoulder, but he and Vermax were already out of reach, descending down beneath the clouds. And suddenly, you knew where he was going. You spurned your dragon on, the wind cutting into your skin as you raced after them, faster and faster until you let your dragon spread its wings for a quick landing by the beach Jacaerys had chosen.
Only the silver moonlight illuminated the shore by the cliffs, void of any other soul who could witness the forbidden reunion between the two of you. If you had been in company, Jacaerys would’ve already been dead or held captive.
But you were alone, for the first time in months.
You slid down your dragon’s back, nearly blind by the need to reach him, to throw yourself into his arms like you had dreamed so often.
When you had seen each other for the last time, there had not been a war yet.
And Luke had been still alive.
(You had cried for hours when Aemond had returned, blood still drying on Vhagar’s massive teeth. You had begged your mother to write a letter, just a simple letter to Jace, but everything at court had still been too fragile to do anything but be in shock over what had happened up there. It had nearly driven you mad, to know that somewhere Jace was suffering the loss of his little brother and there was nothing you could do to comfort him.)
Now, he was right there in front of you, leaving Vermax behind him and running towards you on the wet sand by the water. You broke out into a sprint as well, a disbelieving laugh that was anything but amused leaving your tight throat as his features became more and more clear to you.
You crashed together like two waves.
The embrace was nearly violent as his arms slung themselves around you, lifting you up and pressing you into him. There was no strength in your bones anymore and if Jace wouldn’t have held you so tightly, you would’ve crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
Only Jace was holding you together right now.
He was everything you had been missing in those terrible weeks. He smelled like sea and wind and smoke and your hands shook as you combed through his wet curls, your tear-streaked face securely hidden in his neck.
You never wanted to let go of him and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.
“Gods- my love…” He mumbled into your ear and you let out a choked sob as you held each other. It was like he could not decide where he wanted to touch you first. His hands drifted over you restlessly, up and down your spine, holding onto you as if you could disappear again at any moment.
“How did you find me?” You asked breathlessly, your bottom lip still trembling dangerously as you caressed his cheeks, needing to refamiliarize yourself with the feel of his skin on yours.
He swallowed thickly, unshed tears glistening in his beautiful years. “I remembered the route you liked to take when you needed to stop thinking. And it’s cloudy today. No one saw me coming. I’ve been waiting for a cloudy night like this for weeks-“
His voice broke and you pulled him closer again, shudders of pain and longing and relief to be with him going through you in an endless loop. How much had changed since the last time you had seen eye to eye: Your father had always said you’d make a good match back then and now Jace had one brother less and you were a captive in your own home.
“I missed you so much.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked out on the ocean. “I- oh Jace, I tried to write, I wanted to send you a letter, but- I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t help you and-“
“It’s okay.” He said, but it sounded lifeless, void. “It’s not your fault. I wished I could’ve been there for you too. I know how much you loved Luke.”
Gods, you wanted to cry and never stop again. Even now, Jace was trying to be strong for you, as he had always been.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I love you.” He told you and cupped your cheek, looking deeply and longingly into your eyes. “I missed you every second we’ve been apart. Have you been treated well? Have Aegon and Aemond-“
“I love you too. I want to come with you.” You interrupted him fiery and he shuddered at the insane idea of it, the consequences unimaginable and likely deadly for one of you. “Please, please, let me come with you, I can’t stay a single day there, my mother is not the same anymore and- my brothers have been horrible with the things they want to do to Rhaenyra and you.”
He shushed you gently, drawing his arms tighter around you and swaying you back and forth. “I’ll find a way. I’m not letting you stay there alone for much longer, my love. It makes me sick to think about you being alone in Kings Landing, believe me, but…mother says it’s not safe, not yet-“
“I won’t cause your family any trouble, I promise-“
“It’s not us we’re fearing for.” He smiled sadly at you. “It’s you. I won’t summon your brother’s anger on you. I’d rather take it on myself, but- we need to be a little more patient, okay?”
You could see how much effort those words cost him and you had no doubt if it was his choice to make, he’d take you with him to Dragonstone and never look back. You watched his throat bump with tension, his jaw set, his lips pressed together tightly.
A sudden small smile danced over your face. “So you only came to me tonight because you wanted to see me?”
His eyes were dark with longing, with wanton he could not give in to, not tonight. “My love...I needed to see you.” His thumb lovingly brushed over your cheek, the pad of it briefly touching your lips.
There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you needed to tell him and hear from him, but in this short moment you were only a girl and he was a boy. Your boy.
 He met you right in the middle, delicately holding your face between his hands as your lips met, desperately kissing you as his taste exploded in your mouth once again. He kissed you drunk, enveloping all your senses until all you felt was him. His lips were dry and salty from the long flight over the clouds and along the coast, your runny noses sliding against each other, but it was perfect.
Your heart was mended with every little sigh into your mouth, his long lashes brushing over your cheeks, your hands tangling in his hair…
You thought that maybe, in another lifetime, the two of you could’ve been able to stop the war.
Another part of you knew that you always had been damned, cursed.
You blinked into the starless grey sky above you as Jace began to ravish your neck with wet kisses and you thought of the old saying passed on from generation to generation.
Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.
On which side would yours land if you ever lost him?
On which would his land when it finally sank in that he could never have you?
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werecreature-addicted · 4 months
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Imagine an alliance between 2 tribes, the werewolves and the humans, lately there have been many disputes and grudges between the two tribes, so they planned an alliance, a marriage, the daughter of the leader of the humans should marry the leader of the opposing tribe, a young werewolf with the desire to start a beautiful family
He coughs trying to calm his heart as he imagines the great difference in size between the two and the good sex they would have COF COF
You were ready to do whatever it took to keep your people safe, and if marrying the Alpha of the werewolves to keep the peace, so be it. Really this was a good thing, it would double the land your people had access to, double the resources and riches, not to mention werewolves had proven to be formidable adversaries, and they were sure to make invaluable allies. so why were you shaking? why were you so scared? this was clearly the right thing to do for you and the people you served.
You supposed the fear was natural. you'd spent almost all of your adult life fighting these monsters. almost dying to their sharp claws and vicious teeth. it would probably be a while before you stopped seeing all werewolves as a monolithic enemy. Although, you already knew all werewolves weren't bad. When you were a child you would sneak away into the woods and play with a werewolf pup around your age. Now looking back you cringe thinking about how dangerous that was, no doubt one of you would have been killed if either of you had been caught. Still, he'd been sweet, if one werewolf child could be kind, couldn't they all be?
Your wedding was hardly even a ceremony. Guards on both sides lined the walls of the office, fully armed and tense, ready to strike if something should go wrong. you smiled tensely at your husband-to-be as you signed the paperwork officially making you a married couple, he did not smile back. The marriage license meant almost nothing to him, werewolves sealed their romantic ties in a different way.
Every human in the room goes stiff as the werewolf alpha tilts your head to the side, cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling the collar of your shirt to the side with the other. your heart races and you try to be pliant in his hands, but your mind is flooded with your memories from battle. how many times have you been bitten by a werewolf? how many times had you felt the searing pain of their bear trap-like jaws clamping down on you, crushing your armor, and tearing your skin? he bites you just as you start hyperventilating. You scream. he's killing you, he's going to rip your throat out this was all a trap, you're going to die.
He lets go of you and you collapse, your legs shaking too badly to keep you up, The werewolf pulls you back into your arms, licking at the wound he just left, you struggle, still panicked. "sorry, I know it hurt, humans are so weak," he murmurs still licking at your neck. it does soothe the pain, slowly you start to relax too. you hadn't died, he hadn't betrayed you. you were bound together now, Mated as they called it.
You put yourself together again in time for the celebratory banquette. you were a warrior and a leader, you had to be stronger than this, or at the very least look stronger than this. You stood statuesque next to your new husband at the head of the table, humans and werewolves alike cheered in joy, the war was over, the tribes united. People ate and talked merrily, although no one seemed brave enough to cross the invisible boundary line, werewolves ate with werewolves, humans with humans.
there was a lavish meal set in front of you but you didn't feel up to eating, instead, you examine your reflection in the back of a spoon, despite the wound only being a few hours old it's already scared over looking months old. You knew werewolves had some healing properties, you were surprised this magic could be transferred to humans.
"Does it hurt?" you jump at the rough voice, you'd almost forgotten your husband was right beside you.
"no. I'm just surprised that it doesn't," you admit. he reaches over and lays his clawed hand on top of yours comfortingly.
"I'm sorry it scared you," he says and you feel your face go hot you were embarrassed at your reaction. you knew he was going to bite you as a way to mark your union, you should have been better prepared. you look in his eyes, they're a strange yellow color, it's captivating, even if his expression is stoic his eyes are looking at you kindly. you remember again the werewolf boy you were friends with, and you wonder if he remembers you if he's even still alive. You hoped he was, you hoped you could see him again in this new life.
you blink, realizing you'd gotten lost in thought just staring at him. "I- It's alright I mean. I'll live," you stammer. He squeezes your hand reassuringly.
"Of course, you're so tough a single bite wouldn't be enough to take down my mate," he's teasing you you realize, it makes you smile a little. this wouldn't be so bad after all.
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inbarfink · 8 months
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So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.
‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 
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As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.
But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.
But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.
So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.
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And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.
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Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.
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So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 
But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.
And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 
But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.
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And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 
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Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 
But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.
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I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.
Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused
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It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.
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There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.
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And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...
After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake
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Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.
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It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...
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mischiefmanagers · 6 months
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Rhysand Fic Rec Library 🦇💜
"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord."
here's a list of one hundred Rhysand x Reader and Rhysand x OC fics to celebrate the most handsome High Lord ✨
🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut
by @sarawritestories
The Most Beautiful High Lady 🥀💞
You Looked Like You Could Use a Partner 💞
by @lalacliffthorne
starshine (series) 🥀💞
by @marvelsmylife
Not As It Seems 🥀💞
Protecting his high lady 🥀💞
I think I wanna marry you 💞
by @swansworth
The Handsome Stranger 🥀💞
My High Lady 🔥
by @writingsbychlo
how we survive 🥀 platonic Rhysand x Reader but it's AMAZING
Home To Us 💞🌼
How to Save a Life 💞
by @azrielsdove
The High Lords 🥀🔥
Til Death Do Us Part 🥀🔥
Money, Power, Glory 🥀
Beautiful Girl 🥀💞
by @historiaxvanserra
What Our Souls Are Made Of 🥀💞
by @honeybeefae
Pretty Little Tears 🔥
by @wishfulwithwine
The Great War 🥀
by @leafsandstarlight
Against Your Brother's Wishes 🥀💞
Easy Like Sunday Morning 💞🔥
Welcome Distraction 🔥
Little Reminders 💞
by @cherhys
Anything, Always 🥀💞
Colliding Visions 💞
by @k-daydreams
Touch in the Dark 🥀
by @azsazz
Dioxazine 💞
Lavender Haze
Hung Up 🔥
by @jeannineee
Pining 🥀
Daddy Kink 🔥
by @ughthatimagineblog
love and loathing 💞🔥
forever and a day 💞
by @fieldofdaisiies
I Never Mean to Hurt You 🥀
by @daydreaming-nerd
The Bonds That Break Us 💞🥀🔥
by @hellcat8908
Returning Home 🥀💞
by @thehighladywrites
This Isn't Goodbye, This Is Simply See You Later 💞🥀🔥
Just One More, I Know You Can Do It 💞🔥
by @lure-of-writing
Where my soul can rest 🥀
by @saphirered
The Ice Queen and the High Lord 🔥
May We Meet Again
by @bookish-whore
'Til Death 💞
Never Made A Difference 🥀
by @tadpolesonalgae
mine 🔥
Knocked up 🔥
by @itsphoenix0724
Promises 🥀
by @fanttasttica
I hate you more.. 🥀
Shy priestess 💞
Finding you 🔥
Your love healed me 🥀💞
Just love me 🥀
One plus one makes three 💞
by @illyrian-dreamer
Dance with the devil
Make a bargain with me 💞🥀
by @azrielbrainrot
My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours 🔥
by @b00kdiary
Dreamer
by @solbaby7
Lose Control 💞
Put On A Show 🔥
Testing the Waters 💞🔥🌼
by @luxsky
Kicking out 💞
by @themusingsofacurlyhairednerd
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Datura
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Black Rose 🥀
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With Me, Always 🥀💞
Shrinking Violet 🔥
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if you insist 💞
surprise reunions 🔥
by @azriels-shadowsinger
Reunited 💞🥀
by batboylover
secretly mated 🥀💞
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months
Note
Hi, I just found your blog, and I love your Simon's fics! I was wondering if i could please request something where Reader and Simon had broken up bc he thought he put her in danger. After a few months, he comes to her after a mission and they spend the night but he leaves before she wakes up thinking hes doing whats best (and all that angsty jazz 🥲🤭) . A few weeks after she finds out shes pregnant and decides to take on her own, as reader thinks simon wouldnt care. But maybe one of the guys see her heavy preggo and tell simon, and hes fuming and super protective mode is on.
Sorry if it is too specific and for the terrible english. I just have this idea, and i dont think i can picture it right. Anyway, thanks for reading this and for your good work on your fics 💗 hope you have a lovely day
—Digging Gaze
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞
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You knew it was the effects of a less-than-gentle breakup, but you should have at least cursed him out before you let him have his way with you on the living room couch. You’d woken up back in bed, alone, and had gotten dropped back to where you had been weeks earlier—stuck in the throws of confusion and hurt. 
Simon had left you, and he never gave you a reason. 
A part of you was heated; pissed off and feeling betrayed by the insult, yet, the rest of you knew that Simon needed to have his reasons—he always did. Even if you didn’t agree with them, and you knew he tended to look at life with a glass-half-empty type of glance. 
So that left you here. 
You were pregnant. 
You’d found out two weeks after you’d slept together for that last time, your cheeks still hot from the memory and your fingers clutching the plastic of a test. 
Pregnant.
It had been a shock, a deep panic. The both of you had been reckless. Stupid. And while you had stared at those two pink lines, you felt a sinking in your gut akin to a drowning ship. Should you tell him? It would be proper, of course. 
But you don’t think you can face him again after you’d awaken to an empty bed—as if your entire relationship had only been about sex and not the deep nights of confessions and soft brushes of skin. You knew Simon Riley better than he probably knew himself.
And you wouldn’t put this on him.
At seven months, you couldn’t walk as much as you could before—and you would huff for breath as you went up the stairs to change the sheets—but who else could do it but you? Shopping also fell to you, and so, you pushed a large cart around and packed the metal basket with cravings and necessities. That was when you fell to a familiar face. 
“Johnny?” You ask, blinking. 
The Scot pauses, turning. His brows furrowed for a moment before a kind smile peeled his lips back.
“Hen!” He comes closer, laughing. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a good minute, then. What have you been up to in all—” 
The man freezes at the sight of your stomach, jaw going slack as you fight an internal war with yourself to say pleasantries and leave. 
“Hell,” Johnny clears his throat. “I guess you’ve been doin’ a great deal.” 
You sigh, shaking your head softly. “Thanks, Johnny.”
“I’m just joking, Little Lady.” The man laughs and waves a hand. “Who’s the lucky man then? I’ll have to meet him one of these days.”
Your face blanks and your lips snap shut in an instant. 
Blue eyes wait for an answer as the silence laps over itself. Slowly but surely, the realization dawns on his face in a tight pull of horror.
“You can’t tell him,” you interrupt his tight gasp. “Not a peep, MacTavish, you hear?”
“What the fuck,” he breathes at you, hand coming up to his mouth as he glances down at your swelling bump. “Holy hell.”
“Johnny,” you snap, his eyes jerk back to you. 
“It’s bloody Ghost’s—”
“You can’t,” you growl, coming closer, “tell him.”
“What do you mean I can’t tell him,” Johnny hisses under his breath, looking at the people passing by and lowering his tone. “You’re pregnant and he doesn’t know!”
“That’s the point,” you ease out, exasperated and feeling drained already. Jesus, you needed to go lay down—your back was killing you. “Johnny,” you breathe, growing softer as you reach out a hand and put it to his arm. He grips it and holds on, looking incredibly concerned. “He doesn’t need to know, okay? That’s a lot of stress on him, and you know what he does for work. Even worrying about me was hard on him, what do you think a child would do?”
“You can’t think like that,” the Scot mutters. “He can help—what, you mean to tell me you plan to do this by yourself?” It isn’t malicious how he says it; Johnny’s worried about you. Incredibly. “Hen, no,” he shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“I can, Johnny,” you frown, dread filling your heart. “And I will.”
In the future, you really had to take into account Johnny’s flapping lips when under the spell of alcohol. Maybe you had enough faith in him to watch himself for the last little while of your pregnancy as he had into the latter half of the eighth month.
And then three firm knocks were at your door, and when you opened it, you were face to face with a painted balaclava and frazzled brown eyes.
Those eyes immediately snap down, and not even a word is uttered to your face until then.
The both of you are stone-still. Frozen. Dead to all else. 
You swear it was hours of this—standing in the doorway with Simon’s fingers stiff in his pockets and his chest not even moving in a pulse or flare of his lungs. He doesn’t even blink. 
“How far along?” His voice is monotone. A low drone in the ringing of your ears.
Damn that Scot.
“Eight and a half,” you say quietly. 
Brown eyes shift up to yours. Simon stares, and you see his jaw clench under his balaclava, his shoulders moving. Again a long pause. 
“When’s the next appointment—”
“It’s a girl.” You see his eyelids peel back and halt there, watching you. “In case you care to stick around and see her.”
Cruel perhaps, but it was nothing short of how he acted while leaving you. 
Simon’s hidden face is slack, stuttering silently for a moment as the light fades outside.
“Didn’t…didn’t know,” he grunts out, blinking quickly.
“I know you didn’t,” you utter. “That was the point, Simon.”
“Johnny told me ‘bout it, didn’t believe him.” His brown eyes swirl, breaking. “Thought you’d mention it if you were.” 
“You left,” you breathe. “Why would I reach out to someone that did that to me.”
“M’sorry, I-I don’t…” Simon clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are glossy, fingers moving out of his pockets so his twitching hands can splay out. “Could have explained, but I didn’t know how, Love. I’m not…this isn’t…���
Words fail him just like his ability to explain his emotions. Part of him was angry—angry that you’d gone all this time without reaching out when he could have helped.
A daughter. 
But he was afraid, as well. Terrified. You were in the right and he knew it. Simon didn’t know the first thing about being a father…but then again, you didn’t know how to be a mother, either. 
This was new territory.
“Marry me,” Simon pushes out with a quick force of breath. 
“Wh—,” you choke on air. “What?”
“Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Gloved hands move at his sides, eyes honest but still shiny. “Wasn’t thinking—my fault and I can’t go on if I don’t know you’re safe.” He licks at the corner of his mouth. “...Both of you. Thought leaving would make the best sense, but I was…fucking hell. M’sorry.”
“Simon, there are many more ways other than marriage.” Your anger wasn’t something that could be washed away that easily, even if your heart fluttered at the idea and his apology.
You had more self-respect than that.
“Let me fix this,” he whispers, leaning closer. 
Your hand rests over your stomach, staying there as the minutes draw. Simon waits, nervous and his fingers tap on his thigh. You know he’s afraid. You know he’s nervous about what he could bring home from work, even if those are only his paranoia talking in his ear like a demon. 
You frown. 
You huff.
And you open the door wider.
“The sheets need changing in my room. Get on it.”
The man says nothing before he enters the house and slips off his boots; disappearing into the linen closet.
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percyluvr · 7 months
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Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?
luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885
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Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.
When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.
You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.
You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.
"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.
"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.
The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.
On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.
As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.
You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.
Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.
He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.
Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.
"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.
You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.
"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.
At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.
"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."
"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.
You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.
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Text
Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery
Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3
tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood
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Bisuke: Gai's Back!
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Gai: GRAAH!
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Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,
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Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?
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Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.
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Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then
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Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!
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Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry
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Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.
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Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.
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Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners
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Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it
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Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...
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Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.
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Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"
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Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]
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Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?
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Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken
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Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that
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tossawary · 3 months
Text
Looking at Kakashi's age at the beginning of "Naruto", I kind of want to make a "He was only 26??? He should have been at the club!!!" type of joke. But my immediate response to that is "The CLUB??? This man should be at the RETIREMENT HOME!!!" and I'm only like half-joking about that.
I think Kakashi could potentially have a great time volunteering at / hanging out at the ninja retirement home. (Statistically, some of them have to make it and/or get injured out of service.) He could be killing it at the cards and dice tables, taking naps on the couch under a pile of his dogs, swapping sexy novels with horny retirees, and complaining with his fellow war veterans about how much his body hurts. You are not getting this man into therapy, but it probably wouldn't hurt him to hang out with a 96-year-old woman who's thrilled to have someone nod along to her rant about how her soap opera radio show isn't bloody enough anymore and the jelly desserts aren't as good as they used to be either, just to put some things into perspective for him. He's so young! And I bet that the retirees would love hearing about his troublesome genin team and LOVE giving him advice of varying quality.
Honestly, I like to imagine that this is what post-canon Kakashi spends some of his time doing. Rokudaime Hokage Kakashi visits some retirement homes as a village leadership duty or because Gai is teaching some physical fitness classes, and this is new for him because he's never really known anyone who made it to retirement before, and Kakashi is almost immediately like, "Oh, fuck yeah, there's an erotic book club here!!! Where has this place been all my life???" He's signing up for water aerobics and the photography club. He's going to gardening shows and painting exhibitions. He's been a soldier since he was, like, 5 or 6 years old, but now he's going to learn how to crochet silly hats for his dogs and he's the celebrity judge for the lawn bowling tournament later. Awesome.
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stubz · 9 months
Text
Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies
"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."
"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."
"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."
"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."
"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"
.
..
...
....
"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"
"Calis calm down! Your arm!"
"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"
"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."
"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."
"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."
"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."
"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."
.
..
...
....
"WE FOUND THEM!"
"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"
"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"
"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.
"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.
They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.
"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."
"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?
"MAPA!"
"PAPA!"
One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.
"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.
The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.
"See...I told you they would be waiting..."
last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.
"You...got everyone right?"
"Yes, human Max."
"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.
.
..
...
....
"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.
When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."
"But how did they get so injured?"
"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."
"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."
"You seem confused."
"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."
"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.
Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."
"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."
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harunayuuka2060 · 1 month
Text
Kid Lucas: I want to talk to the king of Arendelle right now! *in tattered clothes and barefooted*
The servants: *exchanged glances* *one of them approaches him*
Servant A: Did you come here by yourself? Where are your parents?
Kid Lucas: I demand an audience with the king!
The servants: ...
Servant B: The king is currently away, so, unfortunately, we won't be able to fulfill your request right now.
Kid Lucas: *becomes furious* How could he leave his subjects when we're barely managing to survive?!
The servants: ...
Servant C: Excuse me. Where are you from?
Kid Lucas: *mentions the name of his country*
Servant C: Oh, your country is not within Arendelle's jurisdiction.
Kid Lucas: H-Huh?
Servant A: It's a good thing the heir of the throne is here.
Kid Lucas: ...
Kid Lucas: *the servants gave him a warm bath, some food to eat, and clothes to change on*
Kid Lucas: ...
Kid Lucas: *glances at MC, who's sitting across the table*
Kid MC: *has marked Lucas's country with a blue marker*
Kid MC: So you traveled here, despite the harsh weather, just to confront my father? *smiles*
Kid Lucas: I-I only did that because I believed he was responsible for what’s happening to us...
Kid MC: Hmm... *giggles* This is nothing new.
Kid Lucas: Huh?
Kid MC: Don't mind me. By the way, are you familiar with the secret passages and routes in your country?
Kid Lucas: Of course I know. I live there.
Kid MC: Great! Arendelle will be invading your country first thing tomorrow.
Kid Lucas: Huh? ARE YOU CRAZY?!
Kid Lucas: I'm not here to start a war!
Kid MC: Well I am. *smiles*
Kid Lucas: !!!
Ace, Deuce, Epel, and Jack: *talking about the story they heard from Professor Trein*
Ace: That was crazy, bruh! A seven-year-old kid invaded a country?
Deuce: I was busy playing with my friends at that age...
Epel: Though it was quite interesting how everything was handled.
Jack: Instead of palace guards, they sent farmers.
Jack: They made it clear that their intention was not to hurt anybody.
Ace: I mean, their parents were away. So I think they tried to play safe?
Leona: You might be right with that.
Ace: Leona-senpai!
Leona: Has anyone seen MC?
Jack: MC-senpai? Oh, I think I've seen them with Jamil-senpai earlier.
Leona: Tch.
Ace and Deuce: ...
Ace: Leona-senpai, why are you looking for them? *amused smirk*
Leona: None of your business. *then walks away*
Ace: Hmph. I was just asking.
Epel: Why does Leona-senpai still act as their boyfriend?
Jack: MC-senpai is charming.
Jack: Don't tell him I said that.
Ace, Deuce, and Epel: ...
Ace, Deuce, and Epel: *thumbs up*
477 notes · View notes
Note
Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting. 
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself… 
Now that is pure hell. 
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good. 
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you." 
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?" 
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 
"I'm just…" 
Jesus, this is just humiliating. 
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–" 
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…" 
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know." 
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to. 
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok." 
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 
Whoa. 
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…" 
He sounds dazed. 
Relieved. 
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
4K notes · View notes
vividxpages · 2 months
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₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ The Great War – Jacaerys Velaryon x f!Reader PART 2₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
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PART 1 + PART 3
words: 2800
summary: after meeting Jace by the shore of the sea in secret, the Blacks do everything to reunite the two of you. But will you make it to him safely? And how much are you both willing to risk for each other?
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, arguments and tears, kissing, happy ending
a/n: Part 1 has gotten such love, I needed to write a little sequel. Hope you like it <3
𓆩♡𓆪
Always remember Uh-huh, tears on the letter I vowed not to cry anymore If we survived the Great War
It was like every cell of your being was fueled with fire when you returned to King’s Landing much later that night. Vignettes of the beach and Jace were replaying themselves in your mind, making you walk towards your chambers as if in a trance.
You had seen him again.
You had kissed him goodbye as if it was your last time, although he had whispered promises into your ear that it wouldn’t be. Be alert, stay safe, he had said to you between those last breathless kisses. Mother and I will figure out something.
You smiled to yourself, feeling as if the world suddenly looked just a little brighter, although the corridor in front of you was only lit by torches on the wall.
If had been any more concentrated, you would’ve seen him first.
A shadow slipped from the darkness and before you could scream out or even blink, your older brother had pushed you against the hard stone wall, caging you in and scanning your face with his one remaining eye.
“Taking a walk at midnight, sister?” Aemond rasped out and you wanted to squirm away from him, the sudden unpleasant encounter washing all those happy moments from before away. As you tried to slip past him, he caught your wrist so hard, it hurt.
“Let go of me, Aemond.” You gritted your teeth, struggling against his much stronger hold of you.
“What would mother say if she heard you were without a chaperone, hm?” He challenged you, a cruel smile on his face. “Or even worse…what will our great king say if he learns you’ve been with the enemy?”
Everything in you froze at his implication.
You stared at him with wide eyes, heavily breathing. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” You finally ripped your hand free and resisted the urge to caress the burn in your wrist. This would come later, in the safety of your chambers.
Suddenly, you became painfully aware of how you looked. The disheveled hair, rosy cheeks from the cold by the sea, plump lips bruised from kissing… At least, Jace had been careful enough not to leave purple blue flowers on your neck.
Aemond regarded you with an unreadable expression, crossing his hands behind his back. “I’m not saying anything, since you surely are reminded your place and have not crossed paths with our enemies, am I right, dear sister? But if I catch you riding your dragon to where Vhagar can’t have an eye on you, I’ll shoot you out of the sky myself.”
You stared at each other for a very long time. You hated how mute you were always becoming in your brother’s presence, how powerless they both made you feel, like every bravery Jacaerys had breathed into you had suddenly vanished. A flame blown out by ice cold wind.
“Sleep well.” Aemond whispered before he walked away from you.
With each of his leaving steps, you could breathe a little more freely.
ㅤ♡☁︎⋆。˚
The following weeks only continued to darken the clouds on your horizon.
A concerning new routine found its way into your days, sleeping in late and staying in bed as you watched the grey sky outside your window. Food you only accepted when you really needed to and although your mother gave you concerning and sometimes scolding looks, no one really cared about how you spent your meaningless days.
You had not attended council and you didn’t believe Aegon was going to let you again any time soon. Helaena sometimes visited you, but she spoke in riddles and could not comfort you. The only person who could haunted your dreams and was miles and miles away, across the Blackwater Bay and out of reach.
Jace had told you to be patient and alert, but it was getting harder to get out of bed every day.
“An afternoon refreshment, my princess.”
You looked away from your window, just as the servant turned away from you and left the room. On the table near your bed, a plate of small cakes and fruit waited for you and in the middle of it, was a small roll of parchment.
You furrowed your brows. No one in the castle sent messages to you.
You slowly unrolled it, your eyes reading over the words written, but not quite understanding them yet.
Tomorrow night. We’ll stage a distraction. North gate. We’ll meet you over the Gullet.
Your head snapped up and hope filled your chest once more.
♡☁︎⋆。˚
You squinted your eyes once more as you looked over your shoulder, the massive fire at the feet of the Red Keep painting the night red. The Blacks had outdone themselves; every eye of the city was looking towards the destruction the flames caused.
How poetic. You were leaving your home behind unseen, unheard, while it burned.
You focused on the way ahead of you, the dark sea underneath you and your dragon sparkling underneath the moonlight. You concentrated on the rhythmical wing swing and the prospect of arriving at Dragonstone soon, once again reunited with Jacaerys. Forever this time.
You were not coming back. The next time you’d face your family, you would stand on the other side of this war. And you were ready for it.
But so was Aemond.
A giant beast suddenly busted through the clouds beneath you, your scream being swallowed by Vhagar’s roar as Aemond stirred her towards you. You threw yourself to the right, barely slipping past her giant maw as it snapped shut only inches away from your dragon’s wing.
You heard Aemond screaming your name in fury.
“Naejot!“ You screamed, urging your dragon on to go faster, impossibly faster than the beast chasing you. Your heart was pounding all the way up into your throat as you heard Vhagar roaring behind you. One command from Aemond and you’d fall into the ocean like a burned star. You silently prayed the Gullet was almost under you, praying for just another day, just one more-
“Dracarys!”
You braced yourself, thinking of the dark eyes you had loved so much one more time.
But the dragon fire did not come.
Not for you, at least.
♡☁︎⋆。˚
You still had no idea how Rhaenys had reached you in time or why Aemond had decided to flee then.
Perhaps, you were not worth the fight.
You would’ve never thought to be so thankful at such an idea.
You barely had the time to thank Rhaenys before you had been led through the darkness around Dragonstone, still needing to stay invisible until you had reached the safety inside those walls.
And once you reached them, Jacaerys was there, pulling you tightly against his chest and holding you as if you could simply vanish with the wind every second. You had allowed him to look you over, still shaken and with your mind still on this disastrous flight before he had led you to the hall where his parents had been anxiously waiting.
When you had sat down and his hand had slipped out of yours, you already wanted it back.
But first, they needed to know what had happened out there.
You still couldn’t believe your brother had really wanted to kill you.
After you had finished, Daemon sympathetically pushed over his goblet with wine and you gratefully took it and resisted the urge to chug it back in one gulp.
“How could this have happened?” Jace had been thundering for a while now, walking up and down the room, tense and still out of his mind with worry for you. “Our sources have told us Vhagar has been away from King’s Landing earlier today.”
It seemed like not even the queen had an answer for it.
But you had. You sat up a little straighter, biting your lip before you looked into the flames next to you and spoke. “Aemond has been getting suspicious. He knew of our meeting by the sea and…he had warned me not to pursue it again.”
Rhaenyra and Daemon looked at you with surprise, but Jace was a whole different story.
“What?” He looked at you with wild disbelief. “So you are telling me you’ve went out tonight even though you knew Aemond could’ve caught you and done what not to you?”
“What do you think I should’ve done instead?” You asked him quietly, barely a whisper.
He fixed you with a wide-eyed stare, his fingers trembling as he raked them through his curls. “Perhaps not shown up to our invitation if you knew Aemond was suspicious?” He suggested shakingly. “We would’ve found another way without risking your life.”
“There is no other way, Jace!” You shot back, just as hot-headed as he was now. Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a look over the table, perhaps thinking of their own heated discussions in the past. You drew the blanket you had been given tighter around yourself, taming your tongue. “I would’ve died in that castle, one way or another. I might as well could’ve tried to reach you before my end.”
“Do not talk of such things.” Jace whispered, shaking his head. You saw his brown eyes getting teary at the mere thought of it. “Do not-“
“It doesn’t matter now-“
“It matters to me!” He exploded and you leaned back, shocked at his sudden outburst.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra said calmly, jaw tense. “I think this night has been eventful enough for the two of you. We will deal with everything in the morning, but now I believe you should retire. Jace’s room has been readied for the two of you. We are glad to have you with us here, my dear, we truly are.”
The tension could’ve been cut with a knife as you walked back to Jacaerys’ room.
You had started to shiver, the wet strands of your hair clinging to your neck, clothes ruined and dirty by the stormy weather between the clouds. When the door closed behind you and you took off the blanket, you hissed with pain.
“What is it?” Jace looked at you, alarmed. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head. “Not really, but…I think when I took a turn in the sky, one of the reigns came loose and cut me.” It would explain the burning pain in your shoulder. When you tried to raise your arm to take a look, a sudden whimper tore through you.
Jace was in front of you in an instant, steadying you as he intently looked at your face. “Don’t move too much. I’ll take a look at it, okay?”
“It’s fine…” You did not feel fine.
“Let me help.” Jace said, adding in a whisper: “Please.”
It was quiet once again between you as he slowly led you to the edge of his bed. It would’ve been romantic if you hadn’t been such a mess, but Jacaerys did not seem to care about your appearance. He walked around his room with a mission, collecting a warm washcloth from the basin and a bandage, just in case.
You watched him silently as he went on his knee in front of you and slowly started to peel away your rider’s jacket from your shoulder. You breathed through your teeth as the fabric came away bloody, the burn of the rope worse than you had expected. Now, with the adrenaline leaving your body, the pain came knocking at your door.
Jace grimaced at your pain, intertwining your hand with one of his own as the other gently began to dab at the cut, making you wince with every little motion. “Sorry.” He mumbled, his thumb brushing soothingly over your palm. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped some time ago. That’s good.”
You nodded, still mute and exhausted as you let him take care of you. You almost wanted to sink back into his sheets and simply disappear in them.
“I’m sorry for losing my temper like this.” He said quietly after a while as he wrung out the cloth into the small basin to his feet. “I should’ve stayed composed, especially after the night you had. You are braver than all of us, ñuha jorrāeliarzy. I just- I could never forgive myself if something happened to you. We were thoughtless with this idea and impulsive and-“
“And I am glad of it.” You interrupted him softly. You argued with yourself if you should tell him how you had slowly rotted away in King’s Landing, withering without his light and the love his family embraced you with.
“You’ve gotten hurt.” He interjected gravely.
“Which wasn’t your fault.”
“But-“
You raised a hand, wanting to cup his cheek, but quickly stopped when it burned.
Jace was still kneeling in front of you, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips so he could softly kiss your knuckles. You could almost smell how worried he was about you, how he was still battling with himself, making himself think this was his fault. He brushed back a lost curl from your face and smiled sadly. “I forget myself. You’ve had a long journey. I do not want you to suffer even more, I’ll go fetch a Maester.”
“It’s only a scratch.” You joked tiredly, which earned you a doubting look. “Please, Jace. I’ll be fine until morning. I just need you. I’ve longed to be with you like this again for so long.”
“I’ve missed you too.” He said hoarsely, slowly rising to his feet, adoration burning in his eyes. “I could barely stay calm all day. Perhaps I’ve dreamed up that you’re here now.  If so, I never want to wake up again.”
You smiled at him, a real smile this time. “Then I’ll be dreaming with you, Jace.”
And finally, you could see a smile on his face too. “I will get some clothes for you.”
Quietness came down on the room once more, the comfortable kind this time.
You watched from the bed as Jace rummaged through his closet and pulled out one of his longer tunics, all warm cotton and his scent coating it. He helped you with your shoes, insisting that you should not move a finger anymore tonight. He lovingly kissed your ankles and took the most care that you wouldn’t have to lift your injured arm too much as he slid the piece of clothing over your form.
“There.” He looked at you warmly as you shuffled back into the sheets. “Gods, I have missed seeing you in my clothes. My bed.”
The words sent a shiver down your spine, although you knew you did not have the strength anymore to do exactly what you wanted to do with him. Your muscles were sore and your bandaged shoulder only good for one night, but you knew Jace was going to wait a lifetime for you if he had to.
Perhaps a whole lifetime laid ahead for the two of you now.
You nestled yourself against his chest as he slipped beneath the covers with you, sighing happily as your head fit perfectly into the place where his neck met his strong shoulder. A dark curl was tickling your forehead and as he closed his arms around you, one leg shifting to fit between your thigh, you knew you were home.
You listened to the sound of him breathing, your bruised hearts slowly calming down until you were sure they were beating in sync. Only a few candles by the bed lit the room and you felt yourself slowly drift into a well-deserved sleep.
But there was one thing still tormenting your love’s mind.
“It’s just…” Jacaerys whispered into the darkness of his room. You could feel him swallow tightly, his fingers trying to calm himself by caressing your spine. “Tonight made me think of Luke. And knowing you’ve been up there, with Vhagar so close to you- I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t.”
You shuffled until you could look at him, chest aching at the unshed tears in his beautiful eyes.
“You won’t lose me.” You promised him, wiping away his tears. “You will never lose me, Jace, I promise you. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
He sniffled, but nodded fiercely. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You whispered and lifted his chin so you could kiss him.
The kiss by the beach had grown into a wildfire, untamed and fueled by the desperation of wanting each other for so long. This one made you dizzy for a different reason.
There was a final calmness to it as your lips softly moved against each other, tasting every second like the world only slowed down for you. It was slow and relishing, like the first breath of fresh air after a lifetime of holding your breath. Your nose brushed against his as your hand found its way into his curls and if your shoulder had been any healthier, he would’ve hoisted you into his lap.
But unlike the other times you had come together, you had all the time in the world now.
And tomorrow, the sun would rise and shine just a little brighter, because you had finally found each other.
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(I'm writing a third and final part 3, so let me know if anyone would like to be tagged when I post it 🥰🎀)
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