#where you go to hell and… found a kingdom

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part VI

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope come full circle. Word Count: 5.6k Content Warning: angst; uncomfortable conversations; typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: you guys have been so amazingly kind about this series. if I could give you each a lil forehead kiss in thanks, I would. just know that I'm reading every comment, reblog, tag, and message you guys post and I'm giggling kicking my feet and twirling my hair. I appreciate every single one of you who have been a long for the ride so far, and to everyone who is just hopping on the Pope x Hawk train. please comment & reblog :)

Hawk’s head pounded as she woke up the next morning. The increasingly familiar hangover was nothing new for her, not recently, and she figured it would be a close companion if things continued the way they were going. The smell of coffee wafting through the air made her eyes snap open and sit up like the living dead. Hawk’s stomach rolled as she stood on wobbly legs. She didn’t give herself a single second to acclimatize herself before trudging down the hall and out to the kitchen. 

“Hey.” Pope greeted stoically as he leaned against the counter, sipping from a coffee mug.

“Hey? Ten days of absolutely no contact from you and hey is the best you’ve got? Give me a fucking break, Pope.” Hawk moved around him, grabbing her own mug and filling it with what was left in the pot before taking it back to her bedroom so she could nurse the headache from Hell that was approaching. 

“We need to talk,” He called out to her, but the only response he got back was the slam of her door that shook the whole back end of the house. 

The sound of Hawk’s cell phone ringing made her head spin. She had fallen back asleep after downing her cup of coffee and the disorientation was making her feel like she needed to puke. Hawk’s hand sloppily hit around the bedside table blindly until her fingers reached the offending tech. Her dry eyes cracked open and squinted at the name on the screen. Sighing, she hit decline before she let her face fall back onto her pillow. Another thirty seconds later, it rang again. 

“I’ve heard enough from you to last a lifetime, Baz.” Hawk’s voice was dry and rough as she spoke. “Someone better be dead.” 

“Have you, uh, talked to Cath at all, Hawk? In the last day or two?” Not to alarm you, Hawk, but we haven’t been able to contact Catherine in nearly two days. Hawk’s stomach sank and bile made its way up the back of her throat. “Hawk?”

“No, I haven’t talked to her, Baz. Is everything alright? Is Lena okay?”

“Yeah,” He paused. “Lena’s here with me. Just haven’t been able to get a hold of Cath. Can you do me a favor and reach out to her? Maybe she’ll answer your calls. She’s probably just pissed at me and I want to make sure she’s alright.” Catherine wouldn’t leave Lena. Never. Hawk wasn’t close to the woman, but she knew how fiercely she protected her daughter and would never leave her behind for anything.

“I’ll give her a call now, alright? I’ll let you know if I hear from her.” Hawk had a horrible feeling that she’d never get a hold of Catherine, not after what the police told her. If Smurf somehow found out about it…Hawk let the thought die where it began. 

“Thanks, Hawk. I appreciate it.” He hung up, not waiting to hear anything else from Hawk and she was grateful. She shakily brought a pillow up to her face and screamed until her lungs burned. 

Hawk knew Pope was watching her. He had been watching her every move since she resurfaced after Baz’s call and he attempted to approach her three more times before she got in the shower, and all times he was unsuccessful. 

Pope stood in the doorway of her bathroom, and unlike the first time he watched her in the shower, there was nothing inherently sexual about it. He needed her to say something, to look at him, to acknowledge him. He’d take anything at this point because being ignored by her was starting to do his head in. 

Hawk took her time, listening to the music she had playing from the speaker she kept in the bathroom while she exfoliated and shaved. She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed, and Pope knew she was doing it to drag this out as long as she could. 

The shame Pope used to feel when he upset Smurf, and occasionally still felt, was nothing compared to what he was feeling currently. Now, it was amplified to a degree that made his fingers twitch at his sides and made his jaw tick. He’d look away when she turned in his direction because Hawk looking through Pope was worse than not looking at him at all. 

After the third time she brushed Pope off, he gave Hawk her space, but still moved from room to room with her as she went about her day. It was a Monday and the shop was closed, so she had nowhere to go and only had time to kill. 

Pope haunted every room Hawk inhabited and it killed her when he looked at her like a wet cat. When Hawk sat on the sofa, Pope sat on the armchair, both in silence as she flicked through the channels on the tv. When she made herself lunch, he stood in the entry to the kitchen and watched as she moved around the kitchen. After a while, he started straightening things out in every room they occupied because it was the only thing his brain could control in the situation. 

Every tidy. 

Everything in order. 

Everything in its place.  

The shower turned off and Pope continued to watch as Hawk grabbed a towel to wrap around herself before stepping out of the shower and around Pope like he was an obstacle. He followed her, as he had all afternoon, and sat on the edge of her bed facing the closet while she got dressed. Pope’s fingers continued their nervous tapping against his thigh, jaw clenched, and he looked ready to puke if this went on for much longer. 

Hawk was still slightly damp when she bypassed Pope to grab her sunglasses on the nightstand. He swallowed thickly when the scent of her body wash enveloped him, teasing his senses in the worst way. Hawk slid the door open to her private area on the deck and stepped outside. She heard him sigh from inside as she lowered herself to sit on the top step. 

“Please just talk to me.” Pope broke as he came to sit next to Hawk, his knee boldly resting against hers, searching for any form of physical contact he could get with her. 

“I haven’t heard from you in over a week, Pope. You did that, not me. I tried to fix this and you wouldn’t let me so as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing that needs to be said.” The warmth of the sun was relaxing in an otherwise tense setting. 

“There’s plenty that needs to be said.” Pope’s eyes squinted, brows pinched together, as he looked out to the horizon. “I know it wasn’t you. I confronted Smurf about the pills.”

“I heard.” He glanced over at Hawk quizzically. “Baz stopped by a few days ago. I’d say I was disappointed you didn’t actually strangle her, but I’d never want to put that on you. Not when I could do it myself.” Hawk mumbled the last bit under her breath, but Pope still heard it. 

“We had a job-” He started to explain, but was swiftly cut off.

“-Yeah, Pendleton.” Hawk chuckled sardonically. “How’d that go, by the way? Considering you haven’t landed yourself back in lock up, I’m going to assume things either went fine or you haven’t done it yet.” 

“You really want to know?” Hawk shrugged, looking to the flowerbed she missed a few weeds in. “How do you know about Pendleton?”

“It doesn’t matter. Is that why you iced me out? So you could focus on the job?” Hawk picked at her nails, doing everything she could to not look at him. 

“No.” Pope admitted, “Not completely, anyway.” Hawk scoffed, turning her head in the opposite direction of where he was sitting so he couldn’t see her face at all. “I had some shit I needed to figure out, Hawk.” Vin, Cath, Smurf, Lena, the job. 

“And you couldn’t have just said that? Jesus Christ, Pope, I didn’t deserve that.” Hawk shook her head, turning back to Pope. “Ten days, Pope. Ten fucking days of silence. In what world does what I did require that kind of punishment?”

“I wasn’t punishing you.”

“That’s exactly what it was.” She snapped. “You were punishing me because you couldn’t punish Smurf.” Baz’s explanation regurgitated through Hawks’s mouth and the words, although true, felt acidic like bile. “You were punishing me because you knew I’d care that you did, and that it would hurt me if you did it because I hurt you -and that gave you control over the situation.” He didn’t deny it. 

“That’s part of it.”

“Well that doesn’t work for me, Pope.” Hawk’s voice was firm, reprimanding, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep her spine about her when he looked at her like that. Like he knew he disappointed her. It was scarily similar to the look J gave her the night before -a Cody trait shared with J’s mom’s twin. “And that’s not even the biggest problem we have right now.” Hawk turned to face Pope fully and he could feel a tug in his chest at how goddamn defeated she looked. 

Hawk sat for a moment, contemplating her next words as she let out a sigh. 

“You have been purposefully lying to me since you stepped foot in my house.” She removed the sunglasses from her face to reveal her bloodshot eyes. Pope blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for something to say. “From day fucking one, you’ve lied to me.” 

Pope’s heart raced. The only thing that crossed his mind was Catherine, but the timeline didn’t line up and there was no way Hawk could’ve learned about what he did. He and Smurf were the only two people alive on the planet who knew about what Pope did, and Smurf wouldn’t rat him out to Hawk of all people. Not about this, even at her maddest. Still, it felt like his stomach was trying to escape through his throat the longer she held his eyes with hers. 

“I was so unbelievably angry with you. I wanted to scream and yell and take all of my anger and frustration out on you when you finally decided to grace me with your goddamn presence, but now the fight’s left me, Pope. Now I’m hurt more than anything because you of all people know what it’s like to be deceived by someone you cares about you.” It wasn’t even the latest pill incident she was referencing. A lifetime of deceit from his own mother and Baz had its hooks dug deep into Pope. He carried that weight with him, unable to release it because there was nowhere to release it. That feeling stuck around like an old friend and he never wanted Hawk to feel that, not intentionally. Pope knew he fucked up something, he just didn’t know what it was or when it happened. It’s hard to keep track of the skeletons in your closet when it’s filled to the brim, even when you’re as meticulous as Pope Cody.

“What are you talking about?” Pope’s voice was low, genuinely confused at the direction Hawk had taken this conversation. This couldn’t just be about the time he fell off the face of Hawk’s Earth. 

“J, Pope.” There it was. Everything lined up and Pope finally understood. Somehow, probably from the kid himself, Hawk found out about J’s little field trips. “I’m talking about J and the shit you’ve pulled him into after telling me, promising me, that he wasn’t involved in any of it.” Hawk glared at him. “I don’t know why you did it, but you kept it from me and you lied about it when I asked you point blank.” She broke eye contact with him, looking back out into the yard. “I understand that I hurt you in my own way, Pope. I’m not minimizing that, but these are two very different situations.” Pope released a breath of relief, as fucked up as that was. With everything else going on around him, this was one of the smaller problems he could deal with -and he would deal with it. 

“I know. ” Pope squinted again as he looked over the backyard with her. He needed to fix this rift that he let split between them, and Pope wasn’t the type to lay his feelings and emotions out in the open, but he had to let Hawk know that he understood. “I saw Julia in him, Hawk, and I hated it. I hated how close you were to him and I guess…if I could bring him in, destroy some piece of him so I could let go of her, but I realized that yeah, he looked like Julia, but everything else?” He turned to Hawk, “That was all you and by the time I figured that out, he already got a taste of it.” Hawk rested her elbows on her thighs and she let her face fall into her hands. 

“You don’t understand the lengths I went to, Pope, to keep this from happening.” Pope squatted in front of her, forearms resting on his thighs. “Josh is supposed to go to college, have a life, maybe have a family one day. He was supposed to exist in a world where this shit didn’t touch him and you helped decimate that. All I’ve thought about was him either ending up in prison, or worse -dead. I can’t lose him too. I won’t come back from that.” Pope didn’t have the heart to tell her that Prison was the worst option of the two. If J was lucky, he’d end up in a casket before it ever got to that, but looking at Hawk, he silently vowed to himself to look after the kid. As much as he could without being obvious about it, anyway. 

“I told you before that everything I touched...” Turns to ash. “J was no exception.” Hawk picked her head back up and leveled Pope with a look. 

“Just because it’s been that way, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.” He nodded, standing back up. Pope turned his back to Hawk so he could face the ocean and cut that line of vulnerability so he could take a breath. His hair was a brighter red under the direct sunlight, Hawk noticed as she watched Pope. 

“J is a part of my life, a very big part, and he always will be.” Hawk left no room for speculation. “If this is going to be a continuous problem, then you need to say something now because I will never leave him behind. For anyone. You understand that, right?” The slightest of nods was given to her, though he didn’t turn around. “J is with me for life, Pope. We’re a package deal. You don’t get one without the other.” Hawk hoisted herself up and walked over to Pope to stand next to him. “But that doesn’t mean I give anything less to you, Pope. They’re different parts, each one a different type of love. One is just as important as the other. Are you okay with that?” Pope turned to fully face Hawk, initiating touch with her once more by bringing his hand up to cup the side of her neck, just under her jaw. Her eyes closed at the contact and she took a step closer to Pope.

Hawk missed him, even as pissed off as she was, she truly missed his presence in the house -in her bed at night. He was quiet, observant, but dutifully by her side when he was home. She missed his touch, his presence, his cologne -him. She missed the space he took up, even though he didn’t try to take up any of it. From being alone for so long with J coming and going as he got older, to having Pope fall back in and out of her life, the whiplash Hawk was experiencing was hard to manage.

“I get that now, believe me.” Pope bit his lip before letting it go. “I don’t have any more problems with J. He’s not a bad kid,” His shoulder raised in a half shrug, “-especially to have around you. He’s smart, loyal.”

“Not nearly smart enough and loyal to the wrong people apparently.” Hawk scoffed, thinking back to the fight she had with J the night before. Hawk tried to give J some leeway, she really did, but it was hard. She experienced what he did, albeit just slightly different. It was easier for her to say no to the temptation because the people she was saying no to were her age at the time. J, on the other hand, was dealing with four grown men who were at least twice his age and had decades of experience being who they were. They were pushy, aggressive, even downright mean at times. She was in denial, Hawk realized. As long as J was in that house, he was never coming out unscathed. 

You left me, Hawk winced, shaking the thought out of her head as she pulled away from Pope.  

“He cares about you.” His eyes followed Hawk as she stepped around the yard. “He loves you. He’d die for you. That alone makes him okay in my book.” Hawk turned to walk back towards Pope, determination filling her.

“And you?” Hawk put Pope on the spot. His face hardened, but not in anger. Pope matched Hawk’s seriousness as she stopped directly in front of him. 

“You know I do, and I would.” Pope said without hesitation, as if his admission wasn’t absolutely earth shattering to Hawk. Pope’s eyes stared into her soul as he reached his hand out to take hers. Hawk let him pull her hand up to his lips, both of them yearning to feel any part of each other that they could before bridging that gap. He gently pulled her closer, coaxing her in just close enough to lean down to press his forehead to hers.

Pope let his confession settle for a moment before continuing, his voice lowering even further as he spoke. It was intimate in a way Hawk had never heard Pope speak before. “My time locked up -I don’t need to tell you how bad it was.” The feeling of his lips moving against her temple was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more she craved him at a molecular level. 

“The day you showed up, I felt like I could breathe again, you know? You’re all I thought about for three years, Hawk. This,” he held up their conjoined hands, “is all I thought about -what I imagined you felt like, the way you smelled, your warmth. Everything. And every time I closed my eyes, it was you. Every call and every visit kept me going and made me feel like I was dying a slow agonizing death all at the same time because I was stuck there…” He trailed off, letting the impact of his words hit her. His hands, both of them this time, returned to her jaw. 

“I’m sorry for pulling J into this.” He nodded with his words, “I did it for selfish reasons, plain and simple. My head wasn’t screwed on right.” He swallowed thickly, “I was just released, I finally got to be around you without any kind of barrier and that was overwhelming. Julia was dead, and then here comes this kid -her kid, who knew every single thing about you. He lived in your house. He spent time with you. He existed alongside you for years. He loved you and you loved him back so fiercely in a way I didn’t think anyone could love their kid. He’s not even blood and you’ve done everything to give him the best life he could have because you loved Julia.” There was something underlying there, and Hawk knew exactly what it was. Pope resented Baz for how Smurf treated Baz as opposed to himself -her actual son. This didn’t excuse what Pope did, but it was starting to make a little bit of sense to Hawk. 

“Smurf gave him my room like I was never coming back -they sold my house. J had you, he had Smurf, he had my things. And it was like I was obsolete and replaced with something new and untainted. I was territorial, unadjusted, and backed into a corner, but he was still a kid who didn’t ask for any of this. None of us did.” Finally, Hawk wrapped her arms timidly around Pope’s waist. He allowed her head to drop to his chest and let his eyes close after finally truly feeling her against him. 

“We can’t do this, Pope.” Hawk mumbled against his shirt. “Not if this is how this relationship is going to function. I can’t live like this -I won’t.” 

“It won’t be.” He promised. “I can’t lose this, Hawk.” Pope’s hands ran up and down between her shoulders as he held her. Pope was very obviously uncomfortable with the conversation, but he was willing to be vulnerable with her -for her. “There is no one else and there never will be after you.” Hawk pulled back just enough to create a little bit of space between them without actually letting go.

“I’m not ending this, Pope, but this” Hawk pointed between them, “is a partnership, and we are supposed to act as a unit. I’m too old to be doing this. I’m not asking for the world, just you. Not Smurf, not the bullshit. Just you.” 

“Okay.” Hawk’s palm held Pope’s cheek so his attention stayed on her as she spoke. 

“Then all of that ends now. The lies and the scheming -all of it. Do your jobs, but you don’t bring any of that shit home. If you need to talk about it, that’s one thing, but anything physical stays out.” He nodded. “We do this our way. If something is bothering you, if something happens, you need to talk to me about it. You don’t disappear and then reappear when you’re ready because I won’t be here waiting again. The same goes for me. We talk and work things out, but we always stay honest with each other.” Hawk thought for a moment. “And we don’t go to bed angry. I’ve had too many of those nights as of recent and I’m done with it. Those are my stipulations for this.” Pope nodded again. “I mean it, Pope. No more lies. I need to hear you say it.” 

“We talk things out. Stay honest. Never go to bed angry.” His eyes were earnest and Hawk genuinely believed him as he said it, but that little bit of doubt that stuck around -like a gnat flying in her face- kept itself nice and cozy in the darkest recesses of her mind.  

“Okay,” Hawk whispered, closing the distance between them for the first time in ten days. 

It’s fixed. Can we talk?

That’s the text Hawk receives from J while she’s working at the shop a few days later. She stared down at her phone for a moment, typing and then deleting what she wrote, then typing it out again. 

When I’m ready. Was Hawk’s response. She wasn’t mad at J -not anymore, but the hurt still lingered and she needed time to work through everything that had come to light between him and Pope. She’d invite him over for dinner soon and they’d hash out what they needed to so they could move forward. Hawk meant every word she said to Pope about J -she’d always be there for him. In no way was she okay with what he was doing, nor did she know just how deep he was into it, but they would make it out of this. 

“Still no word on Cath?” Hawk asked as she got comfortable in the bed. Two months had passed since Pope essentially vowed his heart and soul to Hawk. Things had moved slowly between them, both reacclimating with the other. Pope tiptoed around Hawk, needing to be reassured that he was fine and that his presence was wanted.

“No,” Pope answered as walked out of the bathroom fresh from a shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hawk wiggled her eyebrows at him and checked him out very obviously, causing a furious blush to travel from his chest, up to his neck, then flushing his cheeks. Pope rolled his eyes knowing that was the reaction Hawk was going for, but she still saw the tilt of the corner of his mouth nonetheless. 

Pope did not inherently seek attention. He avoided it at all cost, but he did secretly love it when Hawk threw it at him in the intimate confines of the house. Just to be a tease, he dropped the towel coyly as he stepped into the closet, giving her a show of his perfectly sculpted ass and muscular back.

“Watch it or I’m liable to start howling at the moon.” Hawk called out to him as she flipped the comforter over her legs. She heard Pope laugh, ever so lightly, from inside the closet as he fumbled around for a pair of pajama pants. He was typically a nude sleeper, but when Lena was in the house he made sure he was appropriately clothed at all times. Both of them did after Lena tried to climb into their bed after she had a nightmare.  

It had been over two months since Catherine left, or went missing. Hawk leaned on missing considering the fact Pope said Lena was left alone in the house the night that Cath disappeared, but he also mentioned that she stole cash from Smurf -ten grand. That wasn’t chump change, but it also wasn’t enough to just disappear without a trace. The thought of disappearing was one of the scariest things Hawk could think of. 

Lena was the light of Cath’s life. She lived for her daughter  and even Hawk knew she would’ve never left without Lena. Something didn’t add up with any of it, and Hawk spent more time than she’d like to admit dwelling on it. On the other side of things, Baz wasn’t equipped to be an actual father to a child (ironically). Cath did all the nurturing -school drop offs, doctors appointments, feeding, and all around caring for Lena with minimal help from Baz, so that left the young girl in the hands of Smurf when this whole catastrophe started.  

The interesting turn of events for Hawk was when Pope casually asked her one morning over breakfast if it was alright to bring Lena over occasionally. “Just to get her out of Smurf’s.” He said, like he needed to convince Hawk. He still considered himself a guest in the house they both essentially shared, and he wasn’t the type of person to assume anything under someone else’s roof. Pope had taken to his niece like a house on fire and it was genuinely endearing to see him interact with Lena. They were kindred spirits of a sort, an unlikely pair, but they connected with each other when the remainder of the family neglected them. 

Of course, Hawk was perfectly fine with Lena coming over and so “occasionally” turned into “most of the time”. Taking care of Lena brought a spark to Pope that Hawk didn’t know he had and it was refreshing to see someone who lived such a tortured existence let go.

Hawk’s heart hurt for Lena. The first couple of weeks without her mother were trying on everyone at Smurf’s, according to Pope. Hawk wasn’t around the house during that time for obvious reasons, but Pope made sure to tell her what was going on between the family. 

Lena had a lot of questions, as a young child who was attached at the hip to her mother would, and she didn’t get many -if any- answers back. Baz was short with her, Pope said when he brought up the idea of Lena initially coming over. Baz’s annoyance and short temper at having to actually parent was actually baffling to Hawk. Lena was well mannered, quiet, and liked to express herself in ways that mostly involved some kind of coloring utensil and a coloring book. She was a dream kid if Hawk ever saw one, considering who her father was as a child. Smurf, on the other end of the spectrum, let the kid run amok eating whatever she wanted, staying up as late as she wanted, without a single rule in the house. Not that Lena was bad by any means, but structure, even a little bit, was needed for any kid as they grew up. Hawk learned that very early on with J. 

After a couple weeks of Pope bringing Lena around, she became attached to Hawk. Hawk was maternal in a way her grandmother wasn’t and she latched onto any kind of comfort she could -and that happened to be Hawk. Lena didn’t smile often anymore, reserving herself after being told to stay quiet by her father time and time again, but with Pope and Hawk, she was as happy as she could be in the absence of her mother. Pope also told her about how Baz would yell at the little girl and how Lena would act out in ways that weren’t destructive, but just annoying enough to get a reaction out of her father. She needed attention, nurturing, and love - things that children were owed, and Lena wasn’t getting any of that from Baz. Hawk almost blew a gasket when Pope mentioned Lucy’s presence in all of this. She told herself that if she ever saw Baz in the street, she’d hit him with her car first and ask questions later.

In her own way, Hawk also became attached to Lena. It was a familiar feeling she remembered having when J was little. J and Lena were similar when J was her age. Both were kids with easy temperaments who just wanted to matter to the people who brought them into the world, and both had been let down spectacularly. 

Lena was kind, smart, polite and as cute as a button. She had an adventurous streak to her and she also had a very peculiar sense of humor when she wanted to come out of her shell. Pope, out of everyone, seemed to be one of the only people to be able to get her comfortable enough to do that. 

The spare bedroom that Pope had occupied when he first moved in was turned into a bedroom for Lena so she could have her own space. Sage walls made way for a pastel lavender that Lena picked out herself one weekend when Hawk and Pope took her shopping for some things to call her own, and the queen sized bed was swapped for a twin canopy bed that Pope was all too happy to put together the same afternoon they bought it. Pope paid for it, all of it, even when Hawk argued to just split. He insisted that Lena was his responsibility and that letting her stay in the house was more than he could’ve ever asked of Hawk. 

Childrens clothes, shoes, toys, and books slowly started to fill up the pastel room. Dress up costumes had their own rack that Pope mounted to the wall. Then came a little desk so Lena could color and draw in the comfort of her own space. Hawk’s mind imagined what it would’ve been like to have Pope here while she was raising J and she wondered if he could’ve ever loved J as he very openly loved Lena. How different things could’ve been for all three of them.  

Before Hawk knew it, she couldn’t imagine Lena and Pope not occupying the house with her. Pope, in turn, had moved into Hawk’s bedroom -now their bedroom. Lena spent nights over frequently, more frequently than Smurf would’ve liked. At one point, about a month after Hawk and Pope made up, the hatchet between Smurf and Hawk was finally buried. Hawk still kept Smurf at arm's length, but Smurf was all too happy to have her back in the circle.

Pope padded back into the bedroom after finally finding his chosen pair of pajamas for the night. They were blue with little birds on them and they hung dangerously low on his hips -low enough to show off the v-cut of his lower abdomen that disappeared beneath the waistband. It was distracting, and as Pope got more and more comfortable in his own skin around Hawk, the saucier he’d get around her. This was one of the things he knew drove her crazy.

“My eyes are up here.” Hawk barked out a laugh of surprise at Pope’s deadpanned joke. 

“Your eyes may be up there, but mine are down there.” She motioned with her eyes to where she was looking before, then rolled them back up to meet his. Pope crawled up the length of the bed until he reached her. His hand immediately attached itself to her waist as Hawk pulled him up to meet her kiss and toyed with the waistband of his pajamas with a single finger, letting it slide just under the hem to get his blood pumping. 

“Not while Lena’s here,” Pope mumbled against her lips, knowing she was teasing him. 

“I know, but who’s to say we can’t make out like a couple of horny teenagers?” Hawk challenged with a grin that told Pope she was up to absolutely no good. She wiggled her eyebrows once more for good measure and that was it for him. “Make up for lost time.”

“Can’t say no to that.” His mouth captured hers once more, both of them pawing at each other.

please comment & reblog :)

and just like that, we've transitioned to season two. there's plenty more to come for hawk and pope.

[thylionheart]

Your 20s are like the Iliad, an endless, seemingly pointless war you were reluctantly forced into

Your 30s are like the Odyssey, every single thing is going to go wrong, but you are actively fighting towards the place you want to be

[literaticat]

If an author writes a book not knowing the genre, will the book fit into a genre when it’s finished—or is it possible for a book to be completely genre-less?

I'm about to GO OFF, so if you just want the short answer:

I presume that if an author is writing a novel and they don't have a specific genre in mind when they are doing it, they are just writing fiction. You can get more specific after you finish the book and figure out where it belongs in the bookstore and how to describe it.

It's not really possible for a book to be "completely genre-less" because that implies that it CAN'T be categorized in a bookstore -- I bet your book can be. (I should hope so, anyway, otherwise how will it sell???) -- but also, uh -- it doesn't really matter? Everyone gets really hung up on these hyper-specific genre labels, but you don't really need to get THAT specific. If your book is just "general interest fiction" that's OK -- so call it a novel and describe what the tone is. (Funny? Realistic? Literary? Fast paced? Tearjerking? There has to be some way to describe it, no? )

Even if your book is just weird as hell rambling about things I would never read about in a hundred years -- guess what, that's a genre, Experimental Fiction. ;-)

--

Long Answer: Fun fact about the word "genre" -- it comes from the same root as genus, like what you probably heard back in school when learning about the taxonomy of animals and whatnot.

Because I am extra, I decided to do a little taxonomy of books. It's still a work in progress, I might decide to change it a bit, but this is the basic chart.

I'll assume that pretty much any book we're talking about here has the same domain, kingdom, phylum and class, and PROBABLY the same order, too, since most of you are likely writing Fiction.

Within the order FICTION, there are "families", which I here call Categories -- novels, graphic novels, plays, essay collections, short story anthologies, young adult novels, young adult anthologies, middle grade novels, middle grade graphic novels, chapter books, picture books, ETC. Categories in the order NONFICTION include Biography/Memoir, Cookbook, Reference, Religion, History, Science, etc.

Within each Category, there are different Genres -- that is, the type of [novel, or whatever] it is. Genres of novel include mystery, science fiction, horror, realistic, historical, romance, western, etc.

And within each Genre, you can get even more specific with species, which I am calling subgenre/tone. That's the type of the type, in other words. There are well-established subgenres (like Horror could be slasher, or gothic, or psychological. Romance could be historical, or realistic/contemporary, or whatever) -- but it's also acceptable to get more specific with tone or style -- "Comedic", "literary", "commercial" "upmarket" etc. (You can also have books that have both subgenre AND tone -- that's like species and sub-species)

Examples:

DRACULA: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Classic Novel > GENRE: Horror > SUBGENRE/TONE: Gothic

DON'T LET THE PIGEON DRIVE THE BUS: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Picture Book > GENRE: Meta-fiction > SUBGENRE/TONE: Comedic

LINCOLN IN THE BARDO: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Magical Realism > SUBGENRE: Experimental > TONE: Literary

JAMES: ORDER: Fiction > CATEGORY: Novel > GENRE: Historical Fiction > SUBGRENRE: Retelling > TONE: Literary

You get it?

OK SO, in the bookstore, the books are first divided by CATEGORY. All the Cookbooks are together, because that's the Category, but if there are a lot of them, they will be broken up into categories-within-the-category ("genre" if you will). Perhaps they would be grouped by region or style (Mexican cuisine, Middle Eastern cuisine, European cuisine; Health Food; Baking; etc). Mastering the Art of French Cooking would be in Cookbooks, of course -- but in a larger bookstore with many cookbooks, it would likely be found in its region, either French or European Cuisine -- and in a store with a HUGE French cooking section, those books might even be further divided into "French > classic techniques" "French > desserts" "French > postmodern cuisine", etc. So:

MASTERING THE ART OF FRENCH COOKING: Order: Nonfiction > Category: Cookbook > Genre: French > Subgenre: Classic Technique

And so it goes with Fiction as well; the sections are divided by Category. So all the Middle Grade Novels are probably together. All the Picture Books are probably together. Etc. But for very large categories (like Fiction > Novel), there are enough books that it becomes easier to browse if they give the biggest genres their own shelving. Hence there are probably sections for Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Romance, etc.

MIND YOU: There are PLENTY of books that fall under "Fiction" and DON'T get separated out into one of those other genres. They are just categorized as fiction. The fiction section is probably the largest section in most bookstores -- it's not weird to write a book that gets filed in the "fiction" section! Those books still have a genre. That genre just might be "realistic" or "historical" or "western" or magical realism" or "postmodern/experimental" or something that doesn't neatly fall into the Mystery or Science Fiction (or whatever) genre categories.

For example: At my bookstore, we ONLY separate out Mystery, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror, Romance, Classics. So within the regular Fiction section you'll find a huge variety of books -- they all DO have a "genre" -- it just isn't one of those genres that gets shelved separately!

So, no, I don't believe there are books that just *don't have* a category or genre. ALL books have them. We might disagree a little about what they should be -- we might use slightly different words -- new species might pop up here and there -- we might be able to categorize some of them into even more minute niches -- but all books CAN be categorized in some fashion.

[sunseed-fandump]

Jailhouse Rock

The kids make a new (and very questionable) friend.

AU: Bad Batch Word Count: 3,281

Well, it was official, this was the most awkward moment of Gingerbrave’s life.

The jail cell was a cramped little thing, definitely not something built with the idea of containing more than one prisoner, just like the jailhouse itself didn’t seem to be built with that many criminals in mind, as there was only one cell. He supposed it made sense that a small town in the middle of the desert wouldn’t expect too many criminals stopping by, let alone having the misfortune of all of them being caught at the same time. Yet here they were.

It wasn’t like they had wanted to get caught. This was actually one of the few times they had bothered to keep a low profile. They had stopped into town for supplies on their trip down the Pilgrim’s Path, and figured it would be best for their long journey to conserve their energy. Just get in, grab the stuff, toss the money on the counter, get out. Simple.

Then things got decidedly less simple when a couple of bounty hunters recognized the kids from their wanted posters. (When did those get printed? They looked so cool! Gingerbrave hoped he got to take one home to put up on his bedroom wall.) The scuffle resulted in a lot of property damage, Wizard getting a minor concussion, and all three kids getting hit with tranquilizer darts. Who the hell carries those around? Well, those guys, apparently.

An hour later found the trio waking up disoriented, disarmed, and awaiting transfer to the nearest Kingdom for processing. Oh, and they had a cellmate. A cellmate who seemingly hated their guts if the way she scowled at them from the other side of the tiny cell was any indication.

Resulting in the awkward stare-down that was currently happening. On his right, Wild Strawberry seemingly lost interest and started fidgeting with the drawstrings on her hood. Meanwhile to his left, Wizard had begun muttering something to himself. (A quick glance to the clock on the wall beyond the bars told Gingerbrave they probably had about an hour or two before Wizard started going off the deep-end due to withdrawal from his stupid staff. Gingerbrave couldn’t stand that parasite…)

Luckily, since he was undead, Gingerbrave didn’t have to blink, which meant he could literally stare at this weird angry lady all day if he wanted. He didn’t want to, though, so instead he tried to strike up a conversation.

“So, uh…” He scratched at the stitches on his neck. “What are you in for?”

The cookie’s scowl deepened. She was a spicy cookie if the red hair and strong scent was any indication. Her hair was done up in a ponytail and she had a scar on her forehead. She was dressed in the traditional black-and-white striped outfit one typically associated with criminals. Gingerbrave wondered, when the sheriff came back, if they would be expected to get changed into something similar.

At the cookie’s lack of a response and neither of his friends lending him a hand, Gingerbrave decided to keep talking.

“Right. Anyway, I’m Gingerbrave, and these are my friends Wizard and Wild Strawberry—“ He was cut off by the other cookie’s very clipped response.

“I know who you are.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. It seemed that was all she felt like saying though as any attempt to talk to her earned the boy the cold shoulder.

Gingerbrave eventually figured she was a lost cause, and judging by Wizard starting to rock back and forth from where he was seated, he was beginning to head into the first stages. So it was time to get going.

“Alright, we’re gonna leave now.” Gingerbrave said with a shrug before getting up from his seat and heading over to the front of the cell. He pressed his face up against the bars to get a better view of the hallway. He could just barely make out the sheriff’s office at the end of the hall. No doubt, that’s probably where their stuff was. Judging by how quiet it was, the sheriff was still out doing whatever it was that sheriffs did, which meant Gingerbrave had to be quick.

The boy tested the bars. Solid as a rock and he had neglected to bring any of his stronger arms with him. Unfortunate, but he’d have to work with it.

“Hey, Wizard,” Gingerbrave looked over to the shorter boy, who seemed to briefly snap out of whatever daze he had slipped into. “If I can get you your staff, could you get us out of here?”

“Yes!” He replied way too quickly, before shaking his head and rubbing at his temples. The migraine must have been setting in. “Yes, get me my staff and I can teleport us.”

“Sounds like a plan!” And without any hesitation Gingerbrave grabbed at his forearm just under the stitches on his left elbow, and snapped it off.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” The spicy cookie jumped back, clearly startled; all the color had drained from her face in an instant. All the kids laughed a little at her expense. (Even Strawberry, with a barely restrained ‘pfft!’)

“It’s fine! See?” The severed hand waved at her like nothing was wrong. “Watch this!” He gently set it down to the floor where, with a bit of awkward finagling he got it balanced on its fingers like a spider. He walked his hand out of the cell, slipping it between the bars, and all the cookies watched as it scuttled down the hall towards the office. Gingerbrave scrunched up his face in concentration, leaning the stub of his left arm out of the cell as far as it could go to help keep his hand within range. His spirit could stretch pretty far, but not forever, and he wanted to make sure he had full reign of the office.

Okay, that felt like the office chair. There’s the desk. He poked around a little to the right and hit a wall so maybe if he…

“Does that hurt…?” The spicy cookie’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts briefly and the boy looked over his shoulder at her. Huh, that usually wasn’t the first reaction he got when severing his parts in front of new cookies. Usually it was fear, panic, and accusations of being a dough-eating monster, but this cookie’s initial surprise had melted into an emotion Gingerbrave wasn’t quite familiar with.

“Nah, they were made to come off.” Gingerbrave said with a shrug before turning his attention back to feeling around the distant room. What was that? A bookshelf? Maybe he should try a few paces to the left.

The spicy cookie gave him an assessing look before turning her attention to the other two, specifically Wizard who was looking a little more harrowed than usual. “Yo, shortstack, you good?”

Gingerbrave snorted at the nickname. Oh! That felt like a chest! Maybe their stuff was in there but… it was locked. Rats. Then again, maybe the staff couldn’t fit? Probably best to be thorough.

“I’ll be fine once Gingerbrave gets my staff back.” Wizard said with a harrumph and a mutter of “I’m not short…”

“What’s the hold up? Any longer and Wizard is gonna start getting all freaky.” Strawberry asked, to which Gingerbrave huffed.

“I’m trying!! This would’ve been a lot easier if I was awake when we were brought in. Wizard, tell your stupid staff to be less stupid—!”

‘BANG!’

A screech ripped itself out of Gingerbrave when pain shot through his hand. He flung himself back from the bars, hitting the opposite wall and clutching at his stubby arm as if it would stop the pain. He heard a few exclamations of surprise from the cookies around him along with a horrified scream from down the hall followed by two more gunshots that (thankfully) missed their mark.

The sheriff was back and he just shot Gingerbrave in the hand.

His hand scuttled wildly around the office, blindly bumping into everything in an attempt to get to some kind of cover. Wild Strawberry had gotten up and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“He shot me…!” Gingerbrave bit out between clenched teeth just as a few more shots rang out, one of them glancing the boy’s dough.

“Screw this.” The spicy cookie flung herself at the cell door and after a few moments it popped open…

Wait, what?

“You could’ve done that this whole time?!” Strawberry voiced what Gingerbrave was in too much pain to say.

“Shut up and move!” Replied the other cookie who sprung out of the cell and down the hall. Wizard was right on her heels, no doubt seeing the opportunity to get his staff and not at all caring about the actively shooting lawman. Wild Strawberry called out to him, cursed under her breath when she was ignored, then grabbed Gingerbrave and hauled him out of the cell to give chase.

They arrived just in time to watch the spicy cookie deliver a round-house kick to the sheriff’s face, sending him flying back and hitting his head on the corner of the bookshelf, knocking him out cold.

“How could a cookie that moves so slow become sheriff? Can’t believe I let myself get caught by this moron…” she tsked and checked his pockets.

“There you are!” Wizard exclaimed happily before flinging himself at his staff that was propped up in an umbrella stand for some weird reason. He scooped it up into his hands, the tension practically melted from his body as he felt the staff’s familiar magic settle once more within his dough. “That fool didn’t shoot you, did he…? No?” He sighed in relief.

Gingerbrave looked at the scene with a small frown, but held his tongue. Instead he focused on trying to find his hand. He experimentally tapped his fingers against the nearest hard surface and cringed at the pain blossoming from his fresh wounds.

Wild Strawberry Cookie got down on her knees and checked under the desk when she heard tapping, sure enough, there was Gingerbrave’s hand with a bullet wound in it. “Got it.” She pulled it out and held it up for her friend to take, who cradled it close to his chest. “I’ll get the extra icing stitches from my backpack and we can stitch everything up.”

“No time.” Wild Strawberry jumped when her backpack and lollipop were shoved into her arms by the spicy cookie. She had picked the sheriff’s pockets clean, gotten the keys to the chest in the corner, and cleaned that out too. She strapped a belt around her waste and clipped two daggers to her side. “All that ruckus is gonna have the whole town coming down on top of us. Pointy hat, if you got magic I suggest you start using it!”

“My name is Wizard–!” The small boy’s correction was cut off by the glass of the window shattering in front of him.

“GET DOWN!” She grabbed Gingerbrave and Strawberry and pulled them behind the desk. Wizard, who had been a bit further away, joined them shortly after just as a hail of bullets poured in through both windows and the open front door. “Unless you wanna have more holes than swiss cheese then I suggest you get us out of here!!”

Wizard growled, but instead of snapping at her, he focused on the vocal components of a well-practiced spell. A magic circle appeared beneath the group of cookies and in a flash they were gone. One moment they were hiding under a desk, the next they were on top of a bluff overlooking the town. The gunshots, once deafening, were nothing but an echo on the rocks at this distance.

The spicy cookie stumbled, not used to the sensation of being teleported around, caught herself, and then let out a huge ‘WOO!’

“Wow! What a day!” She exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it…” Wild Strawberry muttered as she dug into her backpack and pulled out the icing stitches. “Yo, Gingerbrave, let’s get your arm back on.”

“Y-Yeah…” The other boy hissed, allowing himself to be guided over to a rock and took a seat.

“That was some nice quick-casting there, pointy hat!” The spicy cookie went to pat Wizard on the back, but paused. “Oh, right, I’m supposed to be mad at you guys…” She pondered this for a moment before shaking her head with a laugh and then patting him anyway. “Ah, but it’s hard to stay mad after such a fun jailbreak! Definitely one of my favorite ones yet!”

“Who even are you?” Wizard Cookie turned on her, giving her an absolutely baffled look as he adjusted his hat.

“And, uh, why are you mad at us?” Gingerbrave called over, trying to remain as still as possible while Strawberry worked. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to being scorned by most, if not all, of Crispia, but this strange cookie’s anger seemed rather out of left field. The spicy cookie reared back, as if offended by this line of questioning.

“You mean you guys don’t recognize me?! Seriously? And here I thought you were supposed to be big shots…” She reached into her pocket and produced a rolled up piece of paper which was quickly revealed to be a wanted poster that she unraveled with a proud flourish. “The name’s Chili Pepper Cookie and I’m the best thief in the world! There’s nothing on Earthbread I can’t steal.”

“Whoa! Look at that bounty!” Gingerbrave gasped at the sight of all the zeroes. “But… Uh… What does that have to do with being mad at us?”

“Because!” She rolled the paper back up and jabbed a finger at the trio. “Your collective bounties are higher than MINE! How am I supposed to go down in history if I’m being outclassed by a bunch of twerps?!”

Wizard Cookie sputtered indignantly at this revelation. Wild Strawberry stared at her, thoroughly unimpressed. Gingerbrave, however, burst into laughter.

“That’s what all of this was about!?” He cackled a few moments, clutching his aching gut, before settling down and saying breathily, “You’re a weird cookie. I like you!”

“If you want our bounties, you can have them! They’re what got us into trouble in the first place!” Wizard huffed.

Chili Pepper tilted her head, fixing them with a weird look. “Wait, you mean to tell me you aren’t in this for the infamy? Guess that’s why I haven’t seen you around the usual haunts rubbing your status in everyone's faces. You’re totally out of the loop!” She brightened, as if this revelation was both a massive relief and a big joke at the same time.

“Yeah we’re… not really interested in whatever weird crime competition this is.” Wild Strawberry Cookie shook her head as she finished up Gingerbrave’s stitches and stashed the spool into her bag. “If anything those bounties make reaching our goal harder…”

Chili Pepper Cookie looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “What could a group of kids like you want so badly you land bounties that put you in the criminal elite?”

“We’re going to steal the Soul Jam to free the world!” Gingerbrave proudly announced, jumping to his feet, he was already feeling a lot better now that his wounds were stitched up.

“A world without judgement!” Wizard added with a nod.

“And lawlessness…” Wild Strawberry muttered.

Chili Pepper Cookie gave the three children a thoughtful expression, putting a hand to her chin with a little ‘huh…’ before shooting a wide grin at the kids. “Well, I’m not sure about half of that, but I can definitely get behind the stealing and lawlessness parts! Are those Soul Jam things shiny?”

“They are incredibly powerful magical artifacts that have the capability of changing the world as we know it!” Wizard rattled off. When Chili Pepper gave him a blank look, he sighed and said, “And they’re shiny, yes.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Gingerbrave cut in with a wide smile. “Chili Pepper Cookie, why don’t you come with us?” He got a mixed reaction of surprise and confusion from the cookies around him. Wizard Cookie and Wild Strawberry Cookie knew that Gingerbrave didn’t just extend offers like this to just anyone. He might have been the more chipper and outgoing of their group, but he didn’t trust others so easily. He must have really liked something Chili Pepper did or said to even think about such a proposal.

“You want me to come with you? Why?” Chili Pepper was just as confused as Gingerbrave’s friends. She couldn’t imagine them wanting her around after she gave them the silent treatment back in the jail cell.

“You seem fun.” Was Gingerbrave’s simple reply. “You helped us get out of that jail cell when you really didn’t have to. Plus, if you travel with us, I’m sure your bounty will sky rocket! And we could use the world’s greatest thief on our team!”

Chili Pepper Cookie seriously considered his proposal for a minute. When she had first heard about them and their rapid climbing of the leaderboard, she had thought they were nothing but a bunch of punk kids who wanted to be rowdy and cause trouble. Now she could see though, they had bigger plans than just topping the charts of the Underworld. She could appreciate such a large ambition.

Besides they didn’t seem to be jamthirsty monsters like all the rumors said they were. They were just… weird. The criminal underworld had plenty of downright monstrous folks who Chili Pepper tried not to associate with, but she could tell, these kids didn’t seem heartless. Mischievous, yes. Troubled? Absolutely. But not heartless.

“You know what?” Chili Pepper grinned. “I’ll think about it. But for right now, I got a job I need to finish.”

“A job?” Wild Strawberry asked just as Chili Pepper turned to walk towards the cliff that overlooked the town.

“Yeah? Do you think the greatest thief in the world would screw up and get arrested in a nothing town like this?” She gestured to the settlement below. “I let myself get caught! The train they were gonna put us on has a massive safe full of gems. I was gonna bust out of my cuffs mid-transfer and clean it out! But now I guess I gotta do it the good old fashioned way…”

Gingerbrave once again laughed, giving Chili Pepper a sharp grin. “Well, if you decide you wanna join up, head to the Bear Jelly Village in the Land of Little Big Dreams! There’s a cookie there who’ll point you in the right direction.” With that he raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck, Chili Pepper Cookie!”

Chili Pepper gave the kids a mock salute. “See you around, stitches! Make sure you stay out of any more jail cells, punks!” With that she jumped over the side as nimble as an acrobat, and out of sight.

“Well, that was certainly… interesting.” Wizard sighed, before clutching his stomach. “But we failed to get any supplies, and teleporting us this far has made me famished…”

“Right… I forgot about that…” Gingerbrave’s brow furrowed. Should they try heading back into town and risking getting arrested again? Did they push forward and hoped they reach the next town before they starved? He didn’t really know much about hunting or foraging, but he doubted they’d be able to sustain themselves with much in this sugar-free wasteland.

“Hey, look!” Wild Strawberry pointed further up the main road where the kids could see a huge cloud of dust being kicked up. “I think that’s a caravan.”

All three kids stared at it for a long moment.

“Welp!” Gingerbrave clapped his hands together. “Fellas, it’s time to commit robbery!”

“YEAH!!” Strawberry and Wizard raised their respective weapons into the air, excited at the prospect of getting some food in their stomachs. With that, the trio ran off to intercept those travelers.

From the bottom of the cliff, Chili Pepper watched the kids disappear. She lingered for a moment, deep in thought…

‘CHOO CHOOOOOOO!’

The thief turned on her heel and raced towards the tracks. Their paths would cross again someday, but for now, she has a train to catch.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Adult!Danny x Sleep-deprived!Constantine: We seem to have a misunderstanding.

Warlock was willing to admit that the Phantom’s company was mostly useful and not unpleasant. Because of the specifics of his work they had to meet quite often. It was nice to be at least a little sure that you wouldn’t get stabbed in the back. The new ghost king seemed to be amused by the World of the Living and that was quite useful. In addition, the Infinite Realms had a history of endless conflicts with Hell, so when demons was messing with him, Phantom was happy to put sticks in their wheels.

However, the current enemy of the League was another alien. Both John and Phantom happened to be nearby. But it seems ghost had no reason to help Hellblazer now, as this fight had nothing to do with his kingdom. Given that Batman had explicitly instructed John to stay on the battlefield, it seemed that if John Constantine wanted to count on a weekend, he would have to use his trump card now.

Constantine: In view of the urgency of the situation, I would like to make a proposal. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. In the spirit of saving time..[holding up a ring] This is for you. You in?

Phantom: I..I don’t know, John. I mean i want to say yes but It’s all so sudden. Please gimme some time to think, okay? And let me help to deal with these invaders first and then we’ll talk about it.

John: ..Sure?

~~~~~

Tucker: Whoa crazy battle dude. John: Civilians are not allowed here. Danny: It's all right. We were going to meet at a cafe, but now, well, there is no cafe. I mean, he's with me and not so civilian, okay?Ehem..John, meet my best friend Tucker. Tucker, meet my..Em, this is John, and he's kinda my John. It's new for us.

Damn. He was in a hurry and offered more than he should have. It turns out the ghost had an interest in protecting the city. It is unlikely that he would allow the destruction of the place where one of his humans lives.

And worst of all, Phantom did not accept the ring (for which John had to hunt for several months) as payment. Constantine got it specially in case he needed a favor or a way to calm the anger of the spirit he was starting to get along with. Like, really, John spent a fair amount to own the artifact which would have neutralized the consequences of wearing a ring of rage. But Ghost didn’t want it? Why? And yet he helped. So John was in debt.

And how it's all at a bad time. The peace treaty and the treaty of cooperation between the States and the Infinite Realms was concluded only recently. Of course John didn't even have time to discuss the terms of their deal because the blushing ghost flew away to fight but to say that he won't pay for the service is like admitting that you want to start a new conflict. Constantine was starting to have a headache. He'll think about it when he gets at least a couple of hours of sleep. Whatever payment the ghost needs, it can wait a couple of hours.

~~~~~

But as it turned out, the ghost couldn’t make up his mind and decide what he wanted from him. He started showing up at John’s place and looking at him thoughtfully, also recently dragged him to pick out a suit. How he could be mistaken for a stylist John did not understand but preferred not to unnerve a potential ally.

Moreover, for some reason the chaotic creature decided that he had the right to condemn John for always forgetting to have dinner or take a bath. This scoundrel dared to lock him in a bathroom with strange scented candles and colored water. Whatever these bath bombs were, dumb spirit failed to poison him but now John smelled like peaches. Disgusting.

After breaking down the door he found the same mess with candles on the kitchen table. Phantom fought a fierce battle with the green goo in the pot that he brought to John's house, but eventually gave up and they ordered delivery. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. Of course John didn't admit it but for some reason Danny decided that he could make such a mess every Friday.

~~~~~

Danny: So..me and Morningstar are friends now. Do you mind? I know you don’t get along very well. John: Why should I care? Your friends are your business. Considering you’re crazy about the stars I’m surprised you’re not sleeping with their maker.

Danny: Hell no, Lightbringer is great. And I’m glad he’s sharing with me what I wouldn’t find in books but I would never cheat on my partner. John: Good to know. (Wow, who knew the Phantom has a lover.)

~~~~~

Morningstar: I have no idea what you see in this arrogant man, stardust.

Phantom: I don’t know. It’s interesting to be around him. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And his determination and sarcastic nature are really charming.

Morningstar: Well, I’ll get rid of some of his contracts for your wedding but only because I like you and not because I’m willing to deal with this liar.

Phantom: Thanks, Luci,  you’re the best.

Morningstar:That’s true. But it's not free. I need you as a babysitter to keep Spawn busy while, well, Detective and I are busy.

Phantom: No problem :)

[lucidfairies]

— m'lady [sevika]

synopsis: your sister was in need of something, anything to reel her in, and a handsome new knight was just the one for the job.

pairing: sister's!knight!sevika x queen!reader

warnings: forbidden/off limits, mentions of parental death, light angst, essentially an introduction to the rest of the series, lots of sexual tension, eventual smut (see: parts 4, 6, probably more)

wc: 3k

a/n: check out the @sevsgiirl cameo ;) so much love to them, she's helping me so much with this so go follow them and love on all their work!!!!

2 YEARS PRIOR

Your father's death came and went with haste.

He was a noble man, the King. After your mother's death, he took control of Piltover and led with proficiency. There was never a moment where he wasn't thinking of the people, rather than himself. Your mother was born of royal blood, and married your father against her parents will. And together, they lead beautifully.

You said that all in the obituary, before he was lowered into the ground to rest next to the Queen. It was one week prior that he was joking about your queenhood, and the following week he was dead, only bringing that joke into reality.

Everything moved too fast for you. Your father died, you hosted his funeral at the castle, and five days later you were being crowned. The coronation was a dull thing; the colors weren't as bright in your eyes, and the dress was simply another designed to make you look ready to assume the duty of Queen. You weren't.

You couldn't find joy in the occasion. While most girls dreamt of their sweet sixteen, you spent nights dreaming about your coronation. You've had the colors picked out since you were 12 - a gorgeous mix of yellows and pinks, and even some light blue. Spring colors. However, as a young girl, nobody told you what had to come before the coronation for it to happen.

As your eyes drilled holes into the floor and your knees splintered from the old wood of the church steps, the royal priest placed your crown atop your head, finishing the ceremony with the exchange of the sword of state. You rose, he blessed you, and it was over. You could retreat back to your quarters and simply not attend the party, stating to the townspeople that you had fallen ill, but they should enjoy the party in your absence.

And now, you were Queen.

What came after that might've even been worse. Upon taking over the entire kingdom and all duties, you also took over the responsibility of Sarah - your younger sister. At 13, she was a brilliant thing, but also a hell of a lot for you to handle. To you, she was a rebellious child who channelled her guilt into sneaking out of the castle and piercing her ears.

You wouldn't pretend like it wasn't a burden, all of it. Sometimes you spent hours thinking about what it would be like to go back to when you didn't have to fret over foreign relations and the Piltover school system, when both of your parents were alive. There were nine years before your sister existed, nine years that you clung onto like a crutch.

You remembered the day your parents found out about Sarah's existence clearly. Your mother told you in your bedroom, and you were excited. You had no idea what would happen five months later, when your mother had an emergency birth at 22 weeks. She died that day, and so did your excitement.

It took you years to stop resenting your sister. Like most kids did, you blamed her for the death of your mother, but you never told her. After years of therapy, you worked through your resentment, but her constant presence and reliance on you led to the feelings creeping back up your spine, and you knew then that you had to do anything in your power to stop them.

PRESENT

“Elora,” you yelled from your writing room, as you continued to glance over a law that is on track to pass. She arrived in front of you in a moment's time, hands behind her back with a small smile. “I need you to find a knight for my sister. Organize interviews for the coming day and make sure to run background checks.”

“Yes ma'am.” She nodded and turned on her heel, quickly leaving to begin researching and organizing. You required the knight quickly; in a few short weeks, Piltover would be hosting its annual creation ball, that you had to plan all of. You needed Sarah safe and off your plate, so that you could focus on passing legislation and planning the biggest event of your royal career.

After countless attempts at reigning Sarah in, you had finally given up. You had put her in therapy and in public school, given her a royal advisor, and even offered to pay her to act right, and nothing managed to get through to her. You hoped that, now that she was 15, she would've moved past this part of her life, but she has yet to.

This was the one thing that she was absolutely against. She insisted that she didn't need a person, especially a man, following her around all the time. She hated the idea of someone posted outside her door. But her wants were too late for your needs - she would be dead by 16 if she kept up the way she was acting.

You would need three of them - each taking eight hours shifts to cover all 24 hours of the day. You had three, and you hardly noticed them. Sarah's guards would be no different, and you wouldn't take her no as an answer.

The first interview was nothing less than abhorrent bland. It was a man, of course, who barely met the qualifications and basically had to talk Elora into letting him interview. He failed knight training because of drugs, and had to retake it at much too old. He wasn’t in shape, and he refused to refer to you as Queen, rather than princess. You asked him to leave quickly after.

Terribly, the rest of the interviews followed the first one steadily. You had two potential candidates lined up, neither of which you were particularly fond of, but it didn’t matter. They met the requirements, and that was what was important. But, with the rate that the interviews were going, you truly didn’t believe that you would ever find a third, and that was an issue. No knight would settle for twelve hour days, it was against kingdom policy anyway.

Your final interview of the day was late, and found you swiftly. You were tired, and damn close to simply asking Elora to do the interview for you. You feared that if this woman wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you would absolutely flip your shit at her. In between each meeting, plans crept up your neck and you scribbled as much as you could down before the contestant arrived, and you were desperate to hide in your chambers and sort through all of your notes. But you were far from that.

The woman that stood before you as Elora opened the door was nothing like you had expected. It wasn’t like you got pictures when you looked over the recruits’ files, simply just a handout from the knight academy that was hardly legible. She was extremely tall, towering over Elora and eating up the space in the room, and her muscle wasn’t that of anyone that you had seen before - man or woman. Elora looked over at you with rosy cheeks and a hinting smile before she shut the door and left you to your business.

It was almost sensual the way the woman bowed to your presence, but kept her dark gaze on your eyes. Even bent at the waist, she took up a grand amount of space, in the best way possible. It was as if you couldn’t look away, even if she was burning you. Your eyes begged for hers, prayed on hers. There wasn’t anything in the world other than you and the pair of eyes gazing back at you.

Her eyes were something of magic - a dark mix of steel greys that got darker as she scanned your face. They almost made you shiver, the way she was looking at you. Her eyes fit perfectly in respect to her face; the high cheekbones, sharp nose, broad lips, scar drawn across her cheek. It gave her the most perfect blend of masculine and feminine, put together in one. She was beautifully a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Queen,” she spoke low and smooth, taking your hand as she stood up. She left a kiss to your knuckle, something that none of the other recruits had even dreamt of doing. She had a sense of unrequited confidence to her that oozed, and it was drawing you in far more than you wished it was.

“The pleasure is mine,” you spoke before you could think, clearly your throat with haste to subdue the tension that she had created. “Please, sit,” you insisted, taking your seat as she took hers. You couldn’t help but watch as she sunk down in her chair and shifted her legs, letting them fall open wide. You swallowed, quickly averting your gaze to the paper in your hand with her work on it. “I must say, I did not have time in between applicants to look over your resume, but it is incredibly impressive,”

“That is the goal, after all.” She snickered, and you pursed your lips to restrict yourself from grinning. She had numerous highly selective and incredibly prestigious positions listed for her, and she passed at the top of her class at the academy, however, she graduated several years before any of the other applicants had.

“So, Sevika, I must ask what led you to leaving your post with the Kiramman’s? It appears as if you held the post for several years, and it's a highly competitive program, after all.” She sighed, shifting awkwardly and scratching the back of her neck.

“There was an incident that led me to become temporarily unable to provide them with the service that they needed. I chose to step down under the idea that I was not serving them to the extent that they needed.” You nodded slowly.

“May I ask what this ‘incident’ was?” You pressed. It could’ve been anything, with the vagueness of her speech. Slowly, with caution, she pulled back the partial cape that was covering the left half of her body. You had wondered why she was still wearing it when she appeared in your office, it was unusual and you were sure Elora had offered to take it.

Under it was a gorgeously mechanical prosthetic arm, one that looked as if it took years to build. “I can promise you, ma’am, that my injury doesn’t negate my ability to care for the princess. In fact, I believe that it makes me a stronger candidate-”

“Sevika, you aren’t ruled out of the competition simply because of a disability,” you insisted, softly. “It was the Kiramman bombing, I assume?” She nodded briskly. “I see. Well, moving past that, aside from the oath of Piltover, what does loyalty to the royal family mean to you?” You sat the paper down and clasped your hands on the oak table.

“Loyalty means everything to me, my Queen. There is nothing in the world that could make me turn my back on the post I’m assigned to. Nothing.” She insisted. You noticed the gap in her teeth as you spoke, and you almost forgot to listen to the words she was uttering.

“And if another realm were to offer you money or land in exchange for betrayal, what do you see yourself doing, honestly? I’ll kindly remind you that all of these answers are private and not shared.” She didn’t have to think before answering this one.

“Like I said, ma’am, I value loyalty above all else. Once I’m committed to a position, there is nothing that could draw me from it, especially something like money or land. My commitment to you means more than anything.” You couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your cheeks, even though you knew deep down that she was just trying to butter you up into hiring her.

“If you did not morally agree with an order given to you by the princess or myself, how would you respond?” She thought for a moment before answering this question. You couldn’t think of anything morally or ethically wrong that you would ever order her to do, but the questions were left by your father from when he hired knights, and you trusted his judgement over your own.

“In either situation, I would bring that up with you. If I don’t agree with somethin’, I won’t just blindly follow orders. And if it's something that I can’t do, I will resign from my duties.” You nodded, scribbling a few things down on the paper.

“If you would like a straight answer, I’m going to hire you undoubtedly. However, I need to warn you before you accept this position that my sister is quite a… handful. She can be difficult to deal with and she doesn’t often listen to directions. It may be difficult keeping her in check and protecting her to the best of your ability.” She laughed, and you couldn’t imagine why.

“If you think she’s bad, you clearly haven’t met a young Caitlyn Kiramman. Man, was that woman a lot to handle. You couldn’t help but join her laughs at that one. You had known the Kirammans for quite some time, and it was a well known fact that Caitlyn was quite the trickster in her developing years, much like Sarah. But Caitlyn’s was rooted in grief, like Sarah’s.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but Sarah hasn’t healed from the death of our parents, and it can be difficult for her to regain control sometimes. So, that being said, if you don’t think this is the position for you, it’s completely understood.”

“No, I think this is definitely the position for me. I’ve trained in both physical handling and mental handling. I’m sure that I can meet all of your sister’s needs within my station. I won’t let you down, m’lady.” The name rolled off her tongue unlike any other, even though thousands of other people had called you the exact same thing. “It can’t possibly be that difficult with a boss as pretty as you.” You couldn’t escape the blush that the woman gave you.

“You’ll start promptly tomorrow with two other soldiers. I’ll train you for a portion of the day and my general will spend the rest of the day with you. It was lovely meeting you Sevika, and thank you for your service to our kingdom. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elora will show you out.” She rose with you, bowing once again.

“Thank you for the opportunity, my Queen.” She shot you a smile as she made her way to the door, where Elora was already waiting. Once Elora had walked her out, you let out a breath that you had been holding. The woman was more than attractive. She made you forget about the gala and how taxing your day had been - if you hadn’t taken notes, you would have zero recollection of anything she said. She was entrancing, enchanting, and you knew that this was going to cause a problem.

Elora found her way back into your writing room steadily after she presumably walked Sevika to the door. “Miss,” she chirped with excitement. “Now, that has never been my particular taste, but I must say that that woman was very attractive.” Elora was never the outspoken type, so when she plopped down in the seat across from you and fanned herself, you were more than a little surprised.

“I must agree,” you said, quietly. It hardly mattered whether you found her attractive or not. In fact, it mattered not. She was to protect your sister, and that was that. “She worked for Kiramman House, I would’ve hired her on the spot if I knew that. She’ll start tomorrow with Loris and Steb, could you make sure the Generals are aware that this is happening?” Elora stood, wiping her hands on the apron covering her dress.

“Yes ma’am, right away.” She left you with a suggestive smile as she made her way out of the writing room and away, and you stopped to think about it for a moment. Think about everything. This was the first person you had found undeniably appealing since long before your father’s death, and it made you wonder. Why her? Why someone who was the definition of off limits? You couldn’t bear the thought of distracting someone as qualified as Sevika from her work, not that you would ever explore that option in the first place.

You had come to a point in your life where you believed that the castle and the kingdom and all the needs of others were more of substance than your own. As a queen, you couldn’t see yourself settling down or bringing someone into your life who sought to slow you down. You had no room in your brain or heart to focus on another human being to the extent that they needed, and that was okay with you, at least for now.

But gods, did the woman have pretty eyes.

taglist: @lovinglynny @ferxanda @sevsgiirl @lilithyys @ayooooohush lmk if you want a tag :)

[zorosangell]

I love your stories!! Maybe a Zoro x princess!reader would be interesting? She ran away and became a pirate of the crew, but she is still very formal and polite while Zoro is... Zoro 😂😂

⛥ﾟ・。 knight

synopsis: as a princess, you constantly have a bounty on your head, which means you are almost always under attack whenever the crew docks on an island. so, after zoro saves you from being kidnapped again, you both have a heart to heart... which ends in a little confession.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, reader talks very proper, reader's a little dense, zoro's a little emotionally constipated

"Get the princess!" the leader of the thugs shouted, swords drawn as the huge gang chased after you.

Hastily, Zoro attempted to cut a nearby corner, teetering to the side a little bit before he stabilized and continued to sprint down the street.

"What the hell were you thinking, huh?!" he panted, brows furrowed at he glanced at you, who was thrown over his shoulder. "I leave you alone for two seconds! And somehow you find a way to grab the attention of every damn criminal in town!"

"I was thirsty!" you exclaimed, defensively. "I thought I was going into a bar!"

"It was obviously a bounty hunter's nest!" he fired back.

"How was I supposed to know that?!"

"It was called the Killshot! And had a sign hanging outside with a picture of a gun!"

"I thought it was just a colorful theme!"

Zoro groaned, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he cursed whatever god that allowed this to happen yet again.

One of these days, he was gonna pretend he didn't see anything.

You were a princess, plain and simple, heir to the throne of some far off kingdom in the New World.

Ever since you were a little girl, you'd longed for adventure, not wanting your world to be confined to the walls of your castle, or the borders of your kingdom.

So, you promised yourself that the moment you turned eighteen, you'd run away.

And that's exactly what you did.

Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the best decision, as you had absolutely no idea how the outside world worked.

Still, somehow by fate or by fortune, your clueless self had managed to make it all the way to Loguetown, where the crew saved you from a few assassins.

Thus, you became the Strawhat's resident princess and diplomat.

And Zoro's resident pain in the ass.

Whenever the crew docked on a new island, you always insisted on exploring it yourself, excited to see the new sights and sounds.

And, like clockwork, you always found some way to call unwanted attention to yourself, the swordsman always finding himself in close proximity.

He had half the mind to think you did it on purpose.

Brows furrowed, his feet picked up speed, muttering intelligible things to himself.

'Princess be damned... no woman's worth this much trouble...'

Out the corner of his eye, Zoro peeped an alley not too far away, quickly running to duck inside it.

Dropping you to your feet, his strong hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you into the shadows and covering your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, eyes widening.

'Brute!'

You'd never been handled with such lack of care...

Back home, you were referred to as the Crowned Jewel of the Kingdom, known far and wide for your beauty and kindness.

Many often sang your praises, sending you buckets upon buckets of fan mail and writing songs about the prosperity your family had brought to the kingdom.

And the few that actually got to touch you did so with the utmost care, often reverently.

Meanwhile... this man talked to you as if you were an incompetent child, and tossed you around as if you were some sort of rag-doll.

Safe to say, it was quite the culture shock.

As the large group of men passed, Zoro tightened his grip on you, watching closely they examined the shops and stalls outside—some of them having split up to search quicker.

"Coulda sworn they were right here..." one of them grumbled under his breath, brows furrowed.

The dark-haired man paused, giving the space one more once over before turning to the others, sheathing his sword with an annoyed sigh.

"Looks like we lost 'em. Let's circle back to where we found 'em and see if that redhead knows anything."

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Nami!" you whimpered, forcing Zoro's calloused hand to press harder into your face to muffle the noise.

"Quiet," his deep, rough voice ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

Suspicious, the man glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as he looked directly at you—though he didn't know it.

Your heart stopped, your entire body freezing up as both you and Zoro stayed as still as statues, pressing firmer against the wall of the alley to avoid being revealed as he left.

And once he was completely one, you both let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping as the tension finally oozed out your back.

"Are you stupid or something?" Zoro spat, curtly, brows furrowed. "You could've gotten us both caught!"

"I already expressed my apologies! It was not on purpose!" you countered, throwing your hands up in the air. "I simply wanted something to drink, but then those thugs just grabbed me! And did so without asking!"

Zoro let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he hung his head.

You couldn't be serious...

"They're bounty hunters, (y/n)... they're not gonna ask permission to kidnap you."

"I'm afraid I just learned that firsthand," you huffed, a small pout gracing your lips and you leaned against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. "And after I was so generous... I even offered to negotiate the terms over lunch."

With a raised brow, Zoro leaned against the wall with you, confused.

"Terms?"

"A closed contract between me and all affiliates of the Killshot gang that would have guaranteed my continued residency with the Strawhat crew in exchange for a sum total of five-hundred million berries, paid monthly or in advance, depending on their preference."

The swordsman nearly choked on the air he was taking in, floored by the number you said so casually.

"Five-hundred million?!"

You nodded, plainly, confused by his surprise.

"Money is no object for my family. Especially pertaining to my safety," you shrugged. "I extend that offer to my friends, as well. Back at the auction house on Sabaody, I would have happily bought Camie to save her... but Sir Raleigh had already beat me to the punch."

Slowly, a small smile crept onto the swordsman's face, the rigidness in his stance slowly morphing into one more relaxed.

'Well, I'll be damned...'

It was moments like these that he enjoyed, as he was actually offered a glimpse at your true self.

The woman that an entire kingdom absolutely adored.

Princess (y/n).

Sure, you were hard-headed at times, and completely clueless when it came to social interactions outside of high society.

But you had heart, and generosity that quite literally knew no bounds.

Just... maybe some self defense lessons were needed.

"I gotta teach you some hand to hand if you're gonna keep goin' on these little expeditions," he sighed, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the ground.

"Combat?" you scrunched your nose. "What is the point of that when I have you?"

The gears in his head came to a screeching halt, his head snapping over to you so fast, you'd think he'd have whiplash.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You are a swordsman, are you not?" you raised a brow.

"Yes..."

"And you follow me around, yes?"

"I don't follow you around!"

The man flushed, face burning at your plainness.

"You are always there when I am in trouble."

"Yeah... well... that's 'cause I have shit luck..."

"But you care about me, right?"

Zoro froze, throat clamming up.

He had never been presented with questions like these before, and they were forcing him to think.

To read into why exactly he was always there whenever you called for help.

You were always within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

And although you were far from his responsibility, Zoro couldn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew million times over that the crew was capable of protecting you, and that if anything were to happen, Luffy or Sanji could more than adequately swoop in to your rescue.

But for some reason, reminding himself of that fact didn't subdue the concern that spiked in his chest when you left his line of sight, or the faint pang of panic in his breath.

'Dammit...'

Too many questions.

"I... yes," he answered, awkwardly.

Instantly, a warm smile broke out on your face, melting the swordsman's heart into a puddle on the floor.

"Then, that makes you my sworn sword!" you beamed, cheekily.

"Your sworn... what?"

"My sworn sword. My knight. My champion," you elaborated. "You stand by my side throughout my travels and keep me under your protection."

"I do WHAT?!"

"Is your hearing all right? You seem to be having a hard time processing what I am saying..."

"No, no... it's... it's not that..."

An uncomfortable silence suddenly settled over you both, the swordsman practically praying that the gang would come back so he could run you both back to the ship and escape the atmosphere.

You, on the other hand, had been feeling quite the opposite, wanting things to be settled right here and now.

Zoro had been your "crush"—lovingly dubbed by Nami—for over two years, and was the only person in the world that was consistently there for you, always rushing to your rescue without fail.

Despite his prickly exterior, and his sharp words, you could tell he was a kind, loyal, and compassionate man.

He just needed a little push.

Just then, the sound of running footsteps began to draw nearer to the mouth of the alley, your eyes shooting wide at the sound.

"Someone is coming!" you whispered, quickly turning to him .

Eyes doe wide, and breath quickened, you settled on something you'd read in a book once, hoping it would conceal your faces.

What possessed you to do it, you had no idea.

Pulling the man in by his robe, you smashed your lips into his, his eye shooting as wide as a saucer.

Everything had gone from zero to a hundred so fast.

Left was up.

Down was right.

But, in that moment, everything felt oddly right.

So, for the first time in his life, he caved, allowing his eye to flutter shut and his body to ease into the kiss.

Sliding your hands up, one of them cupped his face, while the other threw your arm around his neck, keeping him in place as he snaked his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was electric, and, while very uncoordinated and eager, felt like liquid fire was coursing through your veins, pushing you forward.

Smoothly, the two of you shifted, Zoro pushing you up against the wall and tilting his head in order to get a better angle, deepening the kiss even further.

His hands gripped you even tighter, suddenly fearful he would float away if you didn't keep him grounded.

With your touch burning his skin and your scent flooding his nostrils, he felt like he was higher than the clouds, like this was heaven on earth.

Your lips were so damn soft...

Hell, you were so damn soft...

You washed over him like a wave of calm, the rhythm of the kiss lulling his worry-filled mind until the only thing he could think about was why the hell he didn't do this sooner.

"Aw, jeez! This is what you guys were doing all this time?!" Luffy exclaimed from the mouth of the alley, completely ruining the moment.

'Thats why...'

The two of you quickly threw yourselves off each other, faces burning with embarrassment as you looked in opposite directions.

"At least do that inside. You're gonna catch somethin' out here..." he shrugged, turning to walk away.

Your eyes shot wide, and you snapped your head over to the boy.

"Wait, Luffy, what did you think we were—?" "Don't wanna talk about it!"

"You idiot, we weren't—!" "M'not listening!"

You turned to the swordsman, brow raised in confusion.

"What is he talking about?"

Zoro's eye widened, and it finally donned on him that you hadn't been taught about... the birds and the bees.

'Christ...'

"I'll tell you another time," he sighed, talking your hand and leading you toward the exit of the alley. "Let's go back to the ship."

"Yes, of course!" you playfully bellowed. "Lead the way, knight!"

"I'm not your knight!"

"Whatever you say... knight..."

[dreamdragonkadia]

Could you pleasee write something about Xaden Riorson cause I just love that men and I love your writing💕

I saw this and immediately said, “Okay—but what kind of drama can we stir up with it?” So here we are. Thank you so much for your support. I promise there’s plenty more Xaden where that came from. x.riorson x tauri!reader

Was it a secret that the Princess of Navarre was spoiled?

Gods, no. Everyone knew it. The kingdom whispered it like a warning and a prayer, that the youngest of the first-borns, the only current Crown Princess, had everything handed to her on a gilded plate. Silk gowns, jeweled hairpins, tutors flown in from the capital and beyond.

But Cam—Cam was the only one you really got along with. The only one who saw an older sister.

And he was the one who told you the news. Who—offhandedly, as if it was just some political footnote—mentioned that your father was trying to marry you off to the King of Deverelli. ‘In good faith’ apparently.

So yes, you ran. Slipped through the palace halls like a shadow, packed only what you could carry, cut your hair to your shoulders with the same blade that now rested on your thigh.

And no one stopped you. Because no one suspected a thing.

To the kingdom, the Crown Princess didn’t vanish into the night—she fell “gravely ill,” too weak to be seen. Bedridden. A tragic occurrence in the aftermath of Prince Alic’s death. Oh, the royal family was surely cursed. Poor Crown Prince Halden. First his twin slain, now his twin sister withering away behind silk-curtained windows. The gossip was delicious.

But the truth?

You had slipped into the Riders Quadrant under a false name, a year older than the rest of your year, blending in with a cohort of freshbloods too busy trying to survive to ask many questions.

The leathers chafed at first. The hair against your neck felt foreign without its silk ribbons. But the sword on your hip? The dagger tucked into your boot? Those felt right.

And when your Red Swordtail picked you—when she looked at you and chose you—you knew you’d never go back. Not willingly.

Especially not when Xaden Riorson started looking at you like he saw straight through every layer of disguise.

Not even when you started looking back.

Because if the kingdom ever found out that their precious Crown Princess wasn’t just alive and well but fraternizing with the great betrayer’s son?

It would be the kind of scandal that topples monarchies.

But no one knew. Not even Xaden. Not really.

You hadn’t told a soul your real name. Not the other riders. Not your squad. Not the boy whose shadows curled too close whenever you got too hurt.

Only your dragon knew. She’d seen it all—your grief, your fear, your fury. And she'd kept your secrets with a glint in her eye that promised she'd burn the whole kingdom down before she'd ever let them take you back.

And Xaden?

It really hadn’t been that hard to fall for him.

Not when he spent your first month pretending he didn’t care whether you lived or died—as long as you didn’t drag the rest of the squad down with you.

Not when he coldly pointed out your weaknesses in front of everyone like he was reading a report.

Not when he muttered corrections under his breath during sparring drills, like he couldn’t help himself.

Gods, he was infuriating. And he was right.

Because that’s the thing—Xaden Riorson never wasted time. Not on pleasantries, not on weakness.

So when he started pulling you aside after hours, correcting your stance, showing you how to angle your weight to drive a blade home—

When he didn’t stop you from collapsing on the training mats but crouched beside you afterward, voice low and shadow-laced, saying, “Get up. You’re not done yet.”

That was when you knew.

Because Xaden didn’t waste time on things he didn’t think would survive. And he sure as hell didn’t teach people how to win unless he wanted them alive.

Which meant he wanted you alive.

And for the longest time, you didn’t know why.

Not until you started catching his gaze every time you won a challenge. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long—not impressed, but watching, like he was cataloging every move you made. Like he was memorizing you. Every strength you tried to hide, every weakness you refused to let show.

He never said anything. Never praised you. But his silence wasn’t the kind that dismissed—it was the kind that noticed.

Not until you started seeking him out on purpose. Going out of your way to say good morning, even when he rarely answered. Just to see if you could make him crack the smallest smile. And maybe once or twice, when no one else was looking, you did.

Not until you stopped flinching at the marks inked across everyone’s skin. Stopped pretending you didn’t know what they meant.

Even though you never understood—never could understand—how killing their parents was supposed to prove anything.

Because somewhere in the middle of all that distance and danger, something shifted.

It was in the way his voice changed when he spoke to you—still pointed, but no longer cruel. In the way his shadows hovered just a little closer after you got tossed during sparring, flickering against your wrist like they were checking for broken bones.

It was in the quiet between drills, when he stood closer than necessary. When his gaze dropped—not to assess, but to see.

Not until you found yourself backed against the cold stone of a shadow-laced hallway, breath catching as the air thickened around you.

He wasn’t touching you. Not yet. But his eyes were molten and unreadable, like he was waging a war inside himself and losing fast.

Then his mouth was on yours—rough and desperate and so careful, like he wasn’t sure he deserved this, but needed it all the same.

He kissed you like he was trying to breathe. Like he’d been holding his breath for months. Like you were the first thing that ever felt real.

And you kissed him back like you’d been waiting your whole life to be chosen—not for your crown or your name, but for you. For the girl who’d carved herself out of ashes and made a new name fit like armor.

He didn’t know your secrets. Didn’t know your bloodline or your history.

But he saw you. All of you.

And wanted you all the same.

And for a while, it had been perfect.

Not easy. Not gentle. But real—raw in a way that left you breathless and aching and desperate for more.

It started small. Stolen glances across the sparring mats. A hand on your back that lingered half a second too long. Shadows curling like smoke around your ankles when you were too still, too silent, too far away.

But then came the other things. The quiet things.

Xaden Riorson loved chocolate.

Like—actually loved it. Not just tolerated it, but hoarded it. Would trade for it in secret. Smuggled pieces back to you like it was contraband. You’d caught him once, sitting on the edge of your bed with a napkin-wrapped square of dark chocolate and a completely unbothered expression.

“What?” he said, when you stared. “I’m a grown man with stress. Let me have this.”

You learned that he slept with one arm thrown over his face, like he hated being vulnerable even in dreams. That he wasn’t a fan of the cold but would always give you his jacket without comment. That he preferred old books with cracked spines and spent hours sketching things he never let anyone else see—battle formations, dragons in flight, once even you when he thought you weren’t looking.

And gods, the way he touched you—always with control, always with intent. As if he didn’t want to want you, but couldn’t help it anymore.

He never pushed. Never took. Always asked.

But once you gave—once you pulled him in and whispered yes—He was devastating.

All rough hands and low groans, reverent kisses pressed to the hollow of your throat, like he couldn’t believe you were his. Like he needed to prove it with every touch.

And afterward, when you curled beneath the sheets and felt his shadows wrap around the both of you like smoke and silk, he would rest his forehead against yours and whisper things he’d never admit in daylight. Things like you scare the shit out of me and you make me forget I’m supposed to be careful.

Your dragons adjusted without a word. Red and Blue falling into step like they’d always flown together. As if they understood something binding had tethered their riders together.

And it was binding. Because he let you in. Let you see the boy beneath the shadows, the one who still mourned his father, who still carried the weight of a rebellion like it was stitched into his bones. And you—gods, you let yourself be seen. Fully. For the first time.

You weren’t a crown. You weren’t a name. You were just a girl, and he was just a boy who kissed you like you were his last chance at peace.

You should’ve known it couldn’t last.

Should’ve known the world would come clawing for you eventually.

It nearly unraveled when General Lilith’s daughter entered the quadrant. You hadn’t seen her in years—not since she was shoving Halden at court functions when no one was watching. Not since she caught you sneaking pastries and promised to keep your secret if you shared.

Her eyes landed on you like she was trying to solve a riddle she didn’t remember writing. But she never said anything. Just blinked.

Told herself the Crown Princess of Navarre was still bedridden. Still fading.

And your secret stayed safe.

For one more year.

Until Cam crossed the bridge and stepped into your room like the ghost of your past had come to life.

You didn’t even have time to speak before he was pulling you into his arms—arms that had grown stronger, taller, older while you’d been gone—and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Oh my gods,” he whispered, over and over again. “You’re not dead. You’re not dead.”

Your throat burned. “I tried to write,” you said, your voice cracking. “I couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry—I had to disappear. They were going to sell me off like a treaty, Cam. I had to go.”

“I thought I lost you too,” he choked out. “I thought I was alone.”

You buried your face into his shoulder then, shaking. Because even after everything—after all the lies, all the nights you cried yourself to sleep trying to remember how your real name sounded—this still felt like home.

But peace never lasted long.

Not in your life.

When Xaden arrived that weekend—under the pretense of Sgaeyl and Tairn needing a mandatory reunification flight—there was something about a book. Something about needing Cam’s help getting part of it. Something that should’ve been normal.

But then Cam’s eyes flicked to where Xaden stood beside you—where his hand had casually settled on your back, familiar, comfortable, intimate.

And something in Cam snapped.

His whole body went still. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

Cam’s voice was low, rough. “That’s him?”

You turned, your stomach lurching.

“That’s your little lover?” he hissed. “He’s the reason Alic is dead.”

The words hit like a blade between the ribs.

You froze.

And then Xaden—calm, cold, and unaware of the landmine he’d just stepped on—said, “Your brother was a craven, murderous prick.”

The air left your lungs.

Even if a part of you knew it was true—even if you’d known, in the quiet places of your mind, what Alic had become in the end—he was still your brother. And the truth still hurt.

“You…” The word stuck in your throat. “You killed my brother?”

Xaden blinked.

And that was when everything broke.

Violet watching you both like she was watching puzzle pieces slot into place, suddenly inhaled like she’d been struck.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, wide-eyed. “You’re the crown princess.”

It felt like the entire hallway tilted.

The silence that followed wasn’t silent at all—it rang.

You didn’t wait.

Didn’t think.

You just ran.

Stormed down the corridor, every step echoing like a scream, barely holding yourself together. Your vision blurred with tears you refused to let fall. Your breath hitched as you reached out with everything—

“Please, come get me,” you whispered through your bond. To your dragon. Your constant. The only one who could carry you far enough away from this moment. “Please, I need you.”

But before you could reach the doors, footsteps thundered behind you. And then his hand—familiar, warm, calloused—closed around your arm.

“Wait—” Xaden’s voice cracked.

You turned.

And gods, he looked as wrecked as you felt.

Like someone had carved him open. Like he didn’t know whether to pull you close or fall apart entirely.

“You never told me,” he said, like it physically hurt. “You—gods, you never told me.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I know.”

His grip loosened, like he couldn’t bear to hold you if you didn’t want him to—but couldn’t let go, either.

You shook your head, blinking fast. “I can’t. Not right now.”

His eyes searched yours, desperate. “Just—tell me why. Tell me it wasn’t all a lie.”

And you almost broke then. Almost told him everything—about your father, the arranged marriage, the masks and how hard it had been to breathe before you met him.

But your heart was already splintering.

“I can’t talk about this,” you said, voice raw. “About Alic. About you killing him, and why, or what your reasoning was. I can’t do this now.”

He flinched. But he nodded.

And you—gods, you swallowed the sob threatening to rise as you stepped back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you said, barely audible. “I just—I need to breathe.”

Because at the end of the day, even after all of it—

You still loved him.

Were in love with him.

And that made everything hurt so much worse.

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ By Sword or By Love

Prince!Sylus x Warrior Princess!fem reader 100 followers special. 1.89k words.

Prince LADS Masterlist

Prince!Sylus, who’s feared by everyone—soldiers, commoners and even the royal family. The Warrior Prince, once a small boy holding a sword too heavy for his blistered hands, was molded into the cold and ruthless General by going through hell and back.

Prince!Sylus, who spends nights inside meeting halls, formulating strategies, and days outside in training grounds, sharpening both his own skills and those of his soldiers. Although his looks and achievements could make a grown man cower, the prince doesn’t lack compassion. He watches over his soldiers, ensuring they rest when they’ve pushed too far and offering both guidance and understanding. 

Prince!Sylus, who is almost always riding out to battle. Mounted on his black stallion, he leads a trail of soldiers beyond the safety of the capital’s walls. As they pass, the common folk watch—some with admiration, others with quiet criticism.

Prince!Sylus, who makes an effort to engage in royal public affairs but almost always fails. It’s not exactly his fault if an emergency at the border demands his attention or if a riot in the crowd forces him to intervene. More often than not, these events end in the townspeople divided—some casting wary glances and murmured disapproval, while others raise him onto an impossibly high pedestal.

Prince!Sylus, who finds himself on yet another abrupt mission—riding his black stallion to the kingdom’s border to quell a serious rebellion attempt, all while in the middle of yet another failed attempt at royal public affairs. Having spent more years on the battlefield than he can count, the prince has seen many things—but a woman from the neighboring kingdom fighting their rebels is enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

The familiar crest of the neighboring kingdom was the first thing that caught Sylus's eyes after he had cut down the rampaging rebels. Confusion washed over him next but he quickly pushed it aside as he ordered his soldiers to tend to your wounds. 

And that’s where you found yourself, waking up to a sore body and the white haired man who was sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room. Instincts kick in and you immediately search your surroundings—nothing but a normal looking inn. Four walls, two windows, a door, a bed, a chair and a table. Looking down, you find your side wrapped in bandages as well as your left arm. 

“Don’t move too much, I wouldn’t want the precious princess to be injured.” 

The first thing that caught your eyes was his crimson eyes, the second was that cocky smile of his that all you wanted to do was punch it right off his face. You knew who this was almost immediately. You recognized him instantly. The renowned Warrior Prince, ruthless and bloodthirsty. As a soldier, you always knew your paths would cross someday, but never did you expect it to happen like this.

Getting up to leave, that’s when you feel a tug on your right wrist and immediately realized you were chained. “What the heck? I demand to be released at once, unless you want our kingdoms to go to war.”

It wasn’t an empty threat. Sure your kingdom may have been smaller, but you had a team of elite forces that your father had cultivated for decades, even against Sylus's overwhelming numbers of troops and advanced technology, you were sure that victory would be assured.

Sylus smirks, leaning in slightly as he meets your glare head-on, “War? Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He tilts his head, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’re not a hostage—you're a key to peace. So, why don’t we talk?”

A scoff leaves your throat as your eyes roll. Who in their right mind would hold up a princess, chain her up and say that ‘she’s not a hostage’. The thought alone seems absurd and here the mad man sat, his muscular legs spread as he wore lavish clothing. 

“Are you not afraid? Holding a princess like this. What makes you so sure that as soon as I’m back I won’t wage war on you?”

His crimson eyes glinted under the dim inn lights, sending a wave of unease through you. He was too calm, too collected. The sheer audacity of his actions had to be backed by something—otherwise, he wouldn’t have done something this reckless. “I have my ways.”

Manipulation? Torture? Those were the first thoughts that raced through your mind. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for this. The Warrior Prince, feared across battlefields, was… harvesting fruit? Wearing a simple farmer’s hat, he plucked cherries from the trees with practiced care, ensuring the stems remained intact before placing them gently into the basket on his back.

The scene seemed unreal. What was even more unreal was that you were helping him. Turning your head to look behind you, you saw how your basket was half full with cherries and suddenly a plan brewed in your head, “If I collect more cherries then you’ll let me go home.” “And if not?” His deep, husky voice cut through the air as he didn’t stop—his attention was still on the cherry tree in front of him as he continued to pluck. 

“Then I might consider not waging war.” 

After an hour, it became painfully clear that this deal had never been in your favor. Your basket was full, yet Sylus had already filled two—and he was still going. Only after enduring a few snarky remarks from the prince did you finally, albeit reluctantly, admit defeat.

He took you to a restaurant. At first, you held your ground, refusing to eat as you watched him casually enjoy his meal, occasionally feeding nuts to the crow perched on his shoulder. But then, one particular dish arrived, and its scent hit you like a charging horse. That was the moment you gave in—and what a decision that was. The cuisine of Sylus's kingdom was rich in flavor and creativity, with unexpected ingredients complementing each other in ways that somehow worked out. 

You didn’t want to see it, but nonetheless the sigh of Sylus's smirk returns as he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, “For someone so stubborn, you sure caved pretty fast.” 

Ignoring his words, you continue to eat, thinking of a response. Any time wasted on him would be time wasted from eating and you sure as hell weren’t sure when you would be back to eat this. However, before you’re even about to retort, he speaks again, this time his voice lower,

“You don’t always have to put up a front. You can just… enjoy things. No one’s going to think less of you for it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. The way he says it—so casual, yet oddly sincere—makes your heart skip a beat and the gears in your brain malfunction. Sure, you were also a renowned warrior, but this was empathy shown by someone who’s name revolved around being cold and inhumane.

But before you could answer or dwell on it, his smirk returned, "That said, if you keep eating like that, I might start thinking you were starving before I found you."

The tone had shifted back. But that didn’t mean you had forgotten what he said. The whole day had revealed a side of the Warrior Prince that wasn’t so warrior-like. Those rumors were almost instantly shut down, and honestly, you were intrigued with what was more to come.

Prince!Sylus, who spends the next few days with you. Harvesting fruits, cooking and nightly walks were full of competition. Who could harvest the most? Who could cook the better food? Who could run to the other side faster? Who could find the most constellations? Each time Sylus would win, and even though it did sour your mood, it was refreshing to see what he did afterwards. He would never gloat, only being quiet and then asking you something about yourself and your kingdom. 

Prince!Sylus, who you finally see when he practices his swordsmanship when you woke up early one day. The sun hadn’t risen yet, yet you heard the sounds of grunts and swinging just outside of the inn. And that’s where the prince was, standing outside in the dark with only the moonlight being his light source as he practiced hundreds of techniques. 

Prince!Sylus, who the next day allowed you to win in a contest of who could guess the most ingredients in a dish. He had made it seem close, but you knew he had let you win by the soft smile he thought was discreet when the chef, trembling from Sylus's imposing presence, hesitantly declared you the winner. You surprised yourself when you, in return, asked something about him, instead of leaving. The moment the question left your lips did you realize how much more you were curious about the white haired man.

Prince!Sylus, who engaged in more competitions with you; who could shoot the farthest. Who could best each other at the spear. And finally, who would win in a swordfight. The training grounds grew a crowd as you two battled it out. The fight lasted for hours and only stopped because Sylus had urgent matters to attend to, one of his two faithful soldiers rushing over and nearly getting decapitated by your sword.

Prince!Sylus, who apologized to you and gave you a smug smile before saying how he hopes that you don’t wage war on him. He arranged a carriage for you and assigned soldiers to ensure your safe journey back. And just like that, you found yourself back in your kingdom, your mind swirling and trying to comprehend that the last two weeks weren't a dream.

Prince!Sylus, who swiftly sent a message to your kingdom, his loyal soldier racing to deliver the news to your father a mere 3 days after your return. The message conveyed Sylus's intent to form a peace treaty, and he hoped the king would graciously welcome his visit in a week's time.

Prince!Sylus, who kept stealing glances at you during the welcoming banquet. His eyes were practically glued to you, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Shame? He had none. The entire hall could see his intense focus, and even when you caught him, he refused to look away. It was like a silent staring contest, and when you finally broke the gaze, he couldn’t resist the small, satisfied smirk that tugged on his lips.

Prince!Sylus, who announced a marriage treaty. If you married him then both kingdoms would have peace for many more years to come. Peace that even if you betrayed him he still wouldn’t attack you or your kingdom. It was sudden and your father was reluctant, waiting for your answer. However, with your officials only supporting the idea and informing you of how much that would benefit your kingdom, you agreed.

Prince!Sylus, whose vows, even though the marriage was shallow in terms of relationship and deeper in functionality, touched your heart. He vowed to protect your kingdom as fiercely as his own. To cherish every quiet moment with you, even in the midst of chaos. He promised to be your refuge, your unwavering presence, no matter the storms that may come. And to, above all, ensure that you never had to fight alone—whether in battle or in life. 

A/N: IM SO SORRY ITS BEEN LIKE A WEEK- I HAVE NO EXCUSE EXCEPT FOR WRITERS BLOCK. I promise Caleb's one will be within 3 day this time T^T. THANK YOU GUYS FOR 192 FOLLOWERS HOLY- honestly I might need to also make this into a 200 followers special soon because of how fast you guys give me love :,). I love all of you guys so much aughh <3333 Dividers by @mikeykuns

Taglist: @seris-the-amious

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hey, I actually started watching HOTD just some days ago (thanks to tumblr constantly throwing fics at me with very promising summaries and gifs of very pretty men until I couldn't resist any more) and now I keep rereading everything you write about Aegon because it's just so good and just everything I need.

Could I maybe request some more about Aegon crying during sex, maybe he tries to hide it but he can't keep it quite so his wive notices anyways. I'm currently just really addicted to the idea of holding him and telling him he's doing fine

And thank you so much for everything you've written ❤️

Absolutely we can discuss all of this!!! I am always glad to welcome another into the crybaby!aegon agenda. I intended for this to be fully soft and smutty and well... there's a fair amount of angst too I am sorry in in advance but I promise it ends well!! Also this got so far away from me oh my god I thought I was writing a quick blurb and it turned into one of the longest pieces I've ever written.

Soft NSFW sub!aegon below the cut :))

So obviously as we all know, Aegon is not exactly a virgin. You knew this going into your marriage with him, hell just about every person in the entire seven kingdoms knew this. You were fine with it, well, as fine as you can be. You weren't expecting a marriage of love, or even of companionship. You knew you'd have to give him a few heirs, and then after that you doubted you'd even see much of him. That was fine, you wanted to be queen and you are queen. You can withstand a bit of Aegon's infidelity for that title.

What you don't expect, however, is how utterly shocked and taken with you your new husband seems to be the moment you show him any amount of human decency? It's like he expected you to actively try to kill him and the fact that you actually greet him in the mornings and ask him how his day went during dinner means he must now follow you around like some sort of sad puppy?

Meanwhile for Aegon, he was also certain he'd just make some heirs and then barely see you. I think his belief would mostly be because of Allicent actually? All Allicent ever told him from the moment he came of age was how much of a disappointment he was and how she would need to find a way to ensure that he doesn't completely fuck up the entire of the seven kingdoms. And when she tells him that she's found him a wife, he immediately knows she would have chosen someone who was with her agenda and would have already convinced the person that he would be useless.

But, nevertheless, he decided he would do his duty.

What he did not expect, however, was how... cordial you were with him? And not only that, you seemed to actually try to be nice to him?? He really doesn't know what to do with himself when he comes into your shared quarters after dinner to perform his required duties and instead of just rolling over and telling him to be done with it, you actually start by talking to him? And... and asking about his day??

And then when he answers, you respond? And you lament with him about how ridiculous and uptight most of the people in the castle are? He's so shocked that you even want to converse with him at all.

He doesn't even end up trying for an heir. He just... has an hour long conversation with you that ends with him nearly falling asleep against your shoulder and then when he realises the position he's in, he quickly bids you goodnight and leaves to his quarters.

It goes like that for a little while, except now you seem to be seeing Aegon everywhere? It's like he's actually trying to run into you as much as possible so that he can ask what you've been doing and have even the smallest conversation with you.

It reaches a point where you actually start to see his eyes light up every time he sees you, and well, you have no fucking idea what to do with that because your husband hasn't tried for an heir since your wedding night and has instead been scrambling for any ounce of your attention.

You consider going to Allicent about it, because she's starting to ask questions about whether you've bled for the month yet or not to figure out if you have an heir for them, but then you decided it against it because honest Aegon just looks so happy? You know if you speak to Allicent then she will set Aegon straight and it'll go back to how it was the first night. You don't want that. You don't want to see the weight back on Aegon's shoulders.

I actually think that as you get closer, and Aegon starts to realise he might have a real genuine confidant, he gets more and more nervous about actually having sex with you?

Aegon thinks he knows all there is to know about sex, and he's certainly has enough women in his bed to understand the mechanics if nothing else, but he doesnt want that with you. The women in the brothels he's been with... sure it felt good but deep down he knew it was fake and they knew it too. They'd put on a show for him, do whatever they thought would make him happy and while yes it most certainly did make him happy, it also made him... empty? Yeah, empty.

As he gets to know you and enjoy being with you, his heart starts to ache at the thought of you going into that mode that all the others seemed to where they just let him get his business over with and then promptly left the room. He knows that's what you're supposed to do, but he can't quite bring himself to do it because fuck he just, he really likes you and he's not sure where to go with this.

He's never had anyone actually make him feel safe before? And yeah you're extremely attractive but you also listen to him complain and make him laugh and genuinely care about him and he's just very lost.

He goes back to the brothel then, because he thinks he needs to just sleep with another woman and remind himself how good that feels and then he'll be able to bring himself to go do what he's supposed to do with you.

You don't know this of course.

Well, you don't know until about 2 hours after Aegon left for the brothel when he comes barging into your private chambers with tears in his eyes and promptly begs for forgiveness.

You obviously haven't a clue what's going on, but you pull him into a hug anyway and ask him what this is about.

Through many whines and sobs he eventually manages to explain that he went to a brothel, tried to fuck a whore and... couldnt? You try to get him to explain what he could mean by that and he kinda just buries his head in his hands and sobs even harder.

So at this point you've fully given up trying to figure out what's going on and you just pull him against your chest and press soft kisses into his hair. He melts against you, his body going slack as he nuzzles his nose against the exposed skin at your gown's neckline.

Once he's calmed down, he still doesn't move, but he does manage to whisper what happened.

He went to a brothel intent on fucking a whore to get himself back into the swing of things and then the following day to actually fulfil his duties as husband. Except, the moment the brothel worker kissed him he felt terrible and pushed her off. They brought in more women, and he couldnt do it. He... he felt like he was betraying you.

Eventually you just pull away to make him look at you and ask him, "What do you want? Genuinely, what do you want?"

He's silent for a moment, then he surges forward and kisses you. It's the first time you've kissed him since your wedding night, and this time it's like he's melting into your arms.

You kiss him back, and you have to tug at his hair to make him stop so you can breathe and repeat the question. He tries to kiss you again, but you tighten your grip on his hair to prevent him. The whine he lets out at being denied is fucking sinful, but you won't give in until he's actually told you want he wants.

"Wanna... wanna be good for you," he says eventually, "I don't want to be how I was before, I don't want all that emptiness I just... how do I be good?"

This time, you're the one that starts the kiss and he lets you just manhandle him so easily. He's so pliant under you, whining and whimpering and looking insanely gorgeous as he tries to touch you.

You ride him, and fuck the way tears just run down his eyes as he thanks you and grips your hips is life changing. He's so good like this, all worked up and squirmy and so so turned on. But he doesn't act, not at all. You started this, and he's not going to do a thing, he wants to your plaything, nothing more.

He turns his head to the side as you start to ride him properly, trying to hide how tears are just streaming down his cheeks but you take his chin in your hand and turn him to face you. You stop riding him for a second to wipe the tears away.

"You're so good," you promise him, "couldnt even get yourself off anymore, huh?" He whines and nods and cries, because you get it, you get it.

"I'll take care of you then," you say, smirking when he actually groans in relief, "but," you carry on, "then you're mine, yeah? Only mine, no more brothels or whores or servants."

And fuck if that isnt the easiest promise he's ever made.

(Just a quick sidenote to end off this novel: We should discuss himbo!aegon with his queen who does absolutely everything. Yes he's technically the king but in practice his only job is to look pretty and listen to wife and he is truly living his absolute best life)

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part II

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Part I | Part III

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and Pope make it back to Oceanside and J becomes involved with the Cody's. Slow Burn. Word Count: 5,266 (pls free me) Content Warning: Typical Animal Kingdom warnings. Pope is Pope in this bit. Would 100% call the police if it was anyone other than him. A/N: I'm screaming from the messages I've received about this fic. Thank you so much to everyone who has reached out. I'm glad to help pull people over from The Pitt and into Animal Kingdom hell. ****Also, I had an edible while I was editing this so if something is wonky that is your business, not mine lmao. Please comment & reblog :)

The ride the following morning was quiet. Pope didn’t say much of anything when he finally came out of the bathroom the night before and Hawk forced herself to fall asleep before she said something that would set him off. 

He was up and dressed before she even cracked her eyes open, and he was sitting on the side of his bed, watching her silently as she slept. 

“Jesus Christ, Pope.” Hawk said with a start when she did eventually open her eyes. Her voice broke him from whatever thoughts had him occupied and his eyes shifted to the floor. Hawk sat up, the blanket falling to her waist and the strap of her tank top slid from her shoulder. Pope swore the room got twenty degrees hotter. 

He stood and booked it out the door before Hawk could even ask where he was going. She looked at the time on her phone, groaned, then fell back into the comfort of the mattress. 

The radio played softly to break up the tense silence of the SUV. They were passing through Santa Clarita when Pope finally spoke.

“You should’ve told me.” He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t even look at her. His sunglasses-covered eyes just stared out of the passenger window to watch the scenery as it passed. 

“I made the decision based off of-”

“Based off of what?” He cut her off. “She was my sister-”

“-A sister you haven’t spoken to in fifteen years, Pope.” Hawk glanced at Pope, but he was already looking straight at her. “I was going to tell you whether you were still locked up or if you were released, but I wasn’t going to drop this on you when that hearing had so much riding on it. It wasn’t a nice decision to make, and I’m sorry I had to make it at all, but I don’t regret doing it.” Hawk let that settle in the car for a moment before Pope spoke again. 

“You keeping anything else from me?” The look she gave him told him he went too far, so he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the ride as she turned the music up louder.

“I’m not Smurf, Pope.”  

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Hawk breathed out as she found a place to park. The street was lined with cars and music could be heard leaching from the backyard of the Cody compound. She looked down to see Pope’s hands balled into fists before flexing his fingers out. “You good?” He nodded absentmindedly. “Then let’s get this over with.”

“Wish you would’ve told us you were getting out. We would’ve picked you up,” Smurf said as she lounged against Pope in the den. Craig, Baz, Cath, Deran, J, and Hawk were scattered around the room.

“With balloons and a homemade sign.” Pope responded sarcastically.

“A limo with two hookers in the back,” Deran suggested from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, and an 8-ball of speed.” Craig shook his head, making a bleh noise with his mouth hung open. J looked between them, then back at Hawk. 

“Why didn’t you say anything, Hawk?” Smurf’s question drew everyone’s eyes to the woman in question. She just shrugged, nodding to Pope.

“Wasn’t my business to tell.”  

“Speaking of your business,” Craig put the tray he was breaking up buds on to the side and gave Hawk his full attention. “You’ve been hangin’ around Julia and her kid this whole time and didn’t say shit to any of us?”

“Yup.”

“...Because…”

“Because that’s my business, Craig. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, much less you.”

“Don’t be defensive, baby. He’s just asking a question.” Smurf knew that would piss Hawk off. The gaslighting, the downplaying -it was all a part of the matriarch’s playbook.

“Just think it’s weird, is all. She was disowned for a reason and none of us were supposed to reach out to her. She-”

“-I did what I was supposed to. I did what I had to do so that I could look in the mirror and live with myself. The only reason you know about him now is because she’s gone.” Hawk crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. 

“You’ve strayed too far, Hawk. We need to do some bonding, you and me, to get back to how things were. You have a good heart, but you let it cloud your judgement. I won’t hold that against you this time around. You supported my grandson when his mother failed miserably and I’ll always be grateful to you for it.” J tried not to wince, but Hawk caught it. Baz felt the tension and decided to break it by bringing Pope back to the forefront of the conversation.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I visited you last week?” Why didn’t Pope mention that Baz had gone to see him? Was this something that happened often? Pope’s eyes caught Hawk’s before they went back to Baz.

“I figured I’d get rejected like the last two times,” He shrugged.

“Well, it’s about time that parole board came to its senses.” Smurf spoke up, pushing her hair back. “Six years for a bank robbery where no one gets hurt. The three you’ve done are crime enough, baby,” She leaned back and kissed Pope’s cheek. The way she was draped over Pope made Hawk sick to her stomach. In the last three years with Pope gone, she had forgotten just how uncomfortable Smurf’s displays of affection towards him were. Hawk’s eyes shot over to the other brothers and Baz was already looking at her. He was trying to read exactly what she was thinking, but she made it a point to school her expression into complete neutrality.

“Three years and nineteen days,” Pope breathed out, his arm propped up behind Smurf’s shoulders. 

“Oh, whatever it is, we are just very happy you’re home. Hawk, thank you for bringing Pope home to us.” All she could do was nod. “Just so sorry you had to come home to the news about Julia.”

“I’m gonna go out for a while,” J spoke up at the mention of his mom. Hawk’s eyes darted over to him as he stood awkwardly.

“Where you going?” Baz asked.

“Uh, just to my girlfriend’s place.” J shrugged, trying to inch his way out.

“Oh, I-I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Smurf spoke up, her interest piqued.

“You don’t know anything about him,” Hawk mumbled. Baz raised a brow and Cath had to bite her lip to not laugh. If there was one thing that Cath and Hawk bonded over, it was Smurf. 

“Oh, she’s…she’s more like this girl that’s my friend,” J tried to steer away once he saw Smurf’s interest. He had already given too much information out freely and it was like chum in the water. 

“You’ll have to bring her by some time.” J glanced to Hawk, who was picking at one of her fingernails as Smurf spoke. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” J tried to placate her so he could end the conversation, but Pope decided to interject himself.

“So, you’re living here, huh, J?” Hawk knew that tone, knew that Pope was fishing -for what exactly, she couldn’t be sure, but the look in his eyes was dangerous. “Part of it all now?” He asked the room. Over my dead body, Hawk wanted to say, but she knew Smurf would be all too happy to get rid of her if she caused any more issues. 

“He’s been here for one day, sweetie,” Smurf tried to placate Pope, but he wasn’t having it.

“Let me drive you over,” He offered J.

“That’s not necessary, Pope,” Hawk spoke up, pinning him with a look that said not to push it.

“We should catch up, right, J?” Pope was goading the teen, bullying him into consenting, but Hawk verbally stepped in before J folded under the pressure of Pope’s gaze. 

“J, go,” Hawk directed with a tilt of her head towards the door. He nodded at her and turned to leave. She waited for the door that led from the kitchen to the garage to close before she turned back to Pope and Smurf. “He is not involved in whatever bullshit you guys have going on. He’s seventeen, Smurf. It would be incredibly negligent of you to allow him to get involved with any of this. You’re a lot of things, but you aren’t stupid.” Pope’s eyes burned through Hawk, and inside he felt an all consuming rage at the way you protected this outsider -Julia’s kid. He felt betrayal, a similar burning he felt with Julia when she abandoned him for Baz, then ultimately altogether once she was excommunicated from the family. Hawk never once brought this kid up to him in the nearly three years she was calling and visiting him in prison and it irked him. It ate away at him bit by bit in a way he wasn't familiar with. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll be just fine,” Smurf patted Pope’s thigh as she stood up. “Mind helping me in the kitchen?” She looked down at you and Cath, who up until that point had gone unnoticed by Smurf. 

“Sure thing, Smurf.” 

Hawk was chopping veggies for a salad on the island while Baz and Pope spoke behind her. Smurf was a few feet to her right and Cath was near the sink. She could feel Pope’s eyes on her again, watching her every move as he sipped on a bottle of beer. Baz chuckled, seeing just how attached Pope had become to Hawk. 

Baz did warn her that this would happen, called it way back when she had first started visiting Pope at Folsom. She made her bed and now she was going to have to lay in it.

“So what are we planning next?” Baz heard a heavy sigh leave Hawk at Pope’s question. He was anxious, antsy, and ready to jump back into things as if he hadn’t been gone for over three years. Baz, Smurf, and Hawk exchanged glances. Pope scoffed, looking around the kitchen. “You’re not gonna tell me? I’m not a part of this anymore?” He shot at Smurf.

“Yes, you’re part of it, but in case it slipped your mind you’ve only been out of prison for a day, Pope. Now you’re just going to have to sit this one out.”

“Where should I sit, exactly, since J is in my room?” Pope’s eyes narrowed at Smurf as he slotted himself in the space between Hawk and Smurf at the island. 

“Sleep on the sofa a night or two,” Smurf suggested.

“A night or two. Wow.” Pope paced behind Hawk. 

“You cannot stay here, sweetie. We can’t have parole officers popping in all day and night to give you piss tests.” Hawk paused mid slice of a tomato when Smurf’s gaze was directed at her. “Why don’t you stay with Hawk a few days? You wouldn’t mind that, would you, sweetheart?” Hawk blinked, put on the spot in the worst way.

“You know what, screw it." Pope answered for her, "I’ll just crash at my place.” Hawk resumed slicing, knowing this was going to get uglier.

“Yeah...you can’t,” Baz spoke up from where he was sitting on a stool. Pope stopped dead in his tracks, waiting for Baz to continue. “We sold it.”

“You what?” There it was.

“Pope, we’re gonna get you a new place. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” There the downplaying was again. Hawk pushed down on the knife with more force than she meant to, causing the tomato to slip from her grip and the knife to clatter against the board. Everyone turned to look at her as she sorted herself out before noticing the eyes on her. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and leaned her hip against the island.   

“If it makes everyone more comfortable, I can take J and Pope can have his space back. Everyone wins.” Which was the logical suggestion in a room full of arguing adults, but Hawk could tell Smurf wanted to get her claws into J when she said it was best for him to stay. Parole needed a clean address for Pope and J was already given to Smurf by the state so he technically needed to stay. 

Pope had shifted behind Hawk when she turned back to busying her hands so she couldn’t see his expression, but she could tell his vibe had shifted as he moved up just behind her. He was so close Hawk could smell the body wash that lingered on his skin from his shower earlier that morning before they left the hotel. Warmth radiated from his body and she felt like she was on fire. 

“It shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Smurf had a smug look as she was working the marinade into the bowl of meat she was prepping. “You two seem to be cozy enough.” Smurf winked salaciously and it made Hawk’s skin crawl.

Peeking over her shoulder to look at him, Hawk said, “You’re always welcome at my place, Pope, until you can get back on your feet. I have more than enough space and I don’t mind. My only condition,” She looked at both Baz and Smurf, “-is that none of the shit you guys do crosses into my home, am I clear?” She wasn’t going to let Smurf have the satisfaction of knowing she took Hawk down a peg. She’d bow and submit just as she did every time Smurf pushed back on her. 

“She’s done more than enough, Smurf.” Pope spoke directly to Smurf. Smurf raised a manicured brow at her son, surprise evident that he’d push back on your behalf. It seemed that her suspicions were confirmed that Hawk had her talons in him -whether she knew it or not was another thing entirely. She shared a look with Baz, before returning it to Hawk and Pope. 

“We all need to make sacrifices, baby. J stays. We’ll get you a new house in no time. Just have to be patient.” That was that. A tense silence fell over the kitchen as Hawk finished putting the salad together so she could get the hell out of there. She didn’t plan on staying as long as she had, but what Smurf wanted, Smurf got.

“I’m uh, I'm gonna head out, Smurf,” Hawk announced as she rinsed her hands off. 

“You’re not staying for lunch?” 

“Nah, I have to run down to the shop to grab some paperwork I left behind and then finish up some work at home. I've got a packed schedule this week and I want to get on top of it.” The excuse was lame, but Hawk did not care at that moment. She just needed to get out of that house. Smurf disposed of her gloves, then came around to give Hawk a hug and a kiss to her temple. 

“I meant what I said, Hawk. I need to see more of you around here, am I understood?” The younger woman nodded, feeling like a child receiving a reprimand. 

“Sure thing, Smurf.” She said weakly, returning the hug before bringing her attention to Pope.    

“You staying?” She asked. He nodded, still sipping at his beer. “Spare key will be under the blue pot on the porch Keep it.” He wanted to say something, Hawk could see it, but there were too many eyes and too many ears so he just kept his lips sealed shut.

Pope showed up to Hawk’s around seven that night. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting the city in a peachy glow. She got up from her usual perch at the island with her laptop and met him at the front door. 

“Shoes off, please.” She instructed him to the rack by the door. “I like to keep the floors as clean as possible.” Pope toed off his boots and looked at Hawk expectantly. “I’ll show you to your room. This way,” She led him through the spacious kitchen, down through the living room, and down a hallway that was line with photographs and artwork. “Bathroom’s right here,” She pointed to the first door on the right. “This is J’s room. Please be respectful of his stuff.” Hawk said pointedly. She knew he’d go snooping -it was his nature. As long as he didn’t leave destruction in his wake, she didn’t care where he went looking. “My room is all the way at the end, and this is your room.” She pushed open the door and let Pope walk in first.

“Everything is clean -sheets, blankets, pillow cases. I left some towels for you on the dresser, and if you need anything else, the hall closet is next to the bathroom. Go ahead and set your bag down and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Pope had been inside before one singular time, and he happened to be with Baz so they didn’t get any further than Hawk’s entryway. It was sleek, clean, and modern, but with just enough live plants and color to make it lived in and approachable.

“We went through the living room, this is the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever you want. There’s beer and drinks in the fridge, wine in the wine chiller, snacks in the pantry.” She pointed as they walked through the house. “The garage is through here. I use it for a workshop mainly,” She opened the door and Pope immediately caught the purple glow of the grow light setup she had going on.

“Backyard is this way,” She directed him down a small hallway that led to a den with sliding doors to the back porch. “And this is it. Like I said, help yourself to whatever you want. The pool was just serviced last week, so feel free to indulge. It’s much more relaxing than Smurf’s, I promise.” Pope looked out at the view of the ocean from Hawk’s porch.

The sound of a cell phone ringing broke the bubble they were both in, and Hawk brought a hand to rest on Pope’s bicep. “I’m gonna go grab that. Make yourself comfortable.” He nodded as she disappeared through the slider. Pope felt like an intruder, and he technically was. The kid had his own room in her house for Christ’s sake.

Pope felt that sizzle again.

It was buried just far enough under the surface, but he felt it all the same. It couldn’t be jealousy. He wasn’t jealous of a kid. Just like he wasn’t jealous of Baz when it came to Julia when they were kids. He wasn’t. And even if he was, it didn’t matter. The kid was mostly out of the picture as far as Pope was concerned. Smurf had him and that meant he had Hawk all to himself -just as it should’ve been. 

The day of Julia’s funeral hung heavy over the house as Pope and Hawk got ready. Pope was buttoning his shirt when he heard it. He stopped in his tracks and listened, his ear pulling him out of his room and down the hall to Hawk’s bedroom. The door was cracked open and when he boldly pushed the door open further, the sound grew louder. 

“My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won’t ever come. It’s never over, a kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder,” Hawk’s soft voice carried through the bedroom with Jeff Buckley’s just over it. The sound of the shower mixed with the music had Pope in a trance that carried him over to the en-suite bathroom that was very much open.

Steam billowed around the room, fogging up the glass shower just enough to block Pope from seeing anything lower than Hawk's hips. He watched and he listened as she sang and hummed softly along to the song while she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Pope’s hands itched, craving to touch what was untouchable. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“It’s never over, she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.” Hawk turned, eyes still closed as she let the water roll down her back. The steam didn’t come quite high enough to block Pope from getting a full view of her glistening, soapy breasts as she swayed gently to the music. 

A trickle of sweat beaded down Pope's neck and a sharp twitch traveled down to his cock at the visual alone. His heart started to go into overdrive and he subconsciously reached down to adjust the black slacks he was wearing, but he didn’t leave -his feet were firmly planted to the carpet of her bedroom. Hawk could’ve opened her eyes at any point and saw him in the doorway, watching, saving every detail to his memory that he would keep under lock and key.

Hawk turned again, her back facing Pope once more, and continued to hum as she scrubbed her body. The scent of her body wash made him feel like he was going to pass out at any given second. The visual, audio, and olfactory overload was too much for him after being locked up for so long, and he finally started backing out of the room when he heard the shower turn off and the next song changed to something less moody. Pope shut Hawk’s bedroom door as it was when he found it and locked himself in his bedroom to handle himself. 

He felt like a feral animal. 

Hawk was Julia’s best friend growing up. Always off limits and out of reach, but Pope was always a little bit infatuated with her from day one. His eyes wandered occasionally, of course they did, but they always led back to her. She was kind. She was good. Hawk was everything Pope knew he couldn’t ruin with the darkness that lingered within himself. He was a dog trained to sic anyone Smurf pointed at, ready to rip them limb from limb because that's what he did, that was his role, and Hawk showed him compassion when she had no business doing so. Pope didn’t deserve it in the least bit, he’d be the first to admit that, but god…he knew if he turned Hawk away the first time she went to visit him it would’ve been one of the biggest regrets of his life. 

“Would anyone like to say anything?” Smurf’s voice broke the silence of the small funeral. Hawk was about to speak up when Julia’s neighbor, Dina, beat her to it.

“They don’t belong here, J.” Dina stepped forward, “Don’t stand there with them. Don’t.” She looked at Hawk, disappointment in her bloodshot eyes. A palm rested itself on Hawk’s lower back, supporting her. “Hawk-”

“Dina,” Hawk warned with a shake of her head. Her voice was raspy from crying, the loss of her friend didn’t get any easier to handle, especially not when saw the casket. The hand on her back, Pope’s hand, applied gentle pressure in a small circle that she naturally leaned back to -allowing it to soothe her. “Not now, Dina. Please.”

“Thank you, Dina, but I’m alright.” J spoke up. Dina looked hard at Hawk for a moment, then turned and left the service. Pope’s hand shifted to her waist, pulling her flush to his side. The warmth of his solid body against hers almost made her knees buckle. She could feel the tension in each muscle of his torso and his arm as it rested against her back. Touch-starved was the first thing that popped into Hawk's brain and her brain stuttered at the thought. Pope leaned over to reach Hawk’s ear.

“You good?” His voice held just the right amount of raspiness to it as he whispered. He could tell she had nothing left to give for the day and he was grateful she accepted a ride from him at the house when he offered it. 

“Yeah.” Hawk breathed out, eyes firmly on Juila’s casket as the last of the flowers dropped out of view. 

The doorbell ringing knocked Hawk out of her thoughts. She pulled her silk robe tighter around herself as she got up from the plush sofa and shuffled to the front door. She peeked through the side window and yanked the door open when she saw J standing on the porch.

“Where’s your key?” He never knocked -he never needed to. 

“Smurf.” He didn’t need to explain further as Hawk let him in. When he passed through out of the dark and into the light of the entryway, he did so quickly, but not quick enough for Hawk to miss the massive bruise on his cheek and the split lip that he was sporting. She grabbed J by the sleeve of his sweatshirt to pull him back into her view. Her hand gently gripped his chin, tilting his face towards the light to see the damage. Blood was crusted under his lip and she could see the bruise blooming over his cheekbone. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Her brain was on red alert as she continued to look him over.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tried to brush her off, to push her hand away, but she kept her grip on him. 

“Did one of them put their hands on you, J?” He weighed his options; he could tell Hawk the truth, that he was out getting his first taste of what the Cody boys did, or he could lie. “I’m serious, J. Was it Deran? Craig? Baz?” Nothing, “Pope?” His eyes shifted. Pope technically roughed him up, so it wasn’t an entire lie, and J didn’t want to deal with Hawk’s inevitable disappointment when she found out that he had only been there less than a week and he was already entangled in their way of life. J was a terrible liar because he never needed a reason to lie to Hawk. She knew his mannerisms, his little tells. He didn’t explicitly say it outright, but the shift of his eyes was all she needed to know that Pope was involved with whatever happened to his face.

“Let’s get this cleaned up. You can crash here tonight and I’ll take you to Smurf’s in the morning, alright? Just…relax. I’m gonna handle this.” J could see the storm brewing in her eyes and while he kind of felt bad for lying, whatever was coming Pope’s way would be payback for being an absolute psycho every time J interacted with him.  

J went to bed about an hour ago after Hawk reassured him that everything would be fine, that she didn’t need him to stay up with her for her safety. Pope wouldn’t lay a finger on her, much to J’s apprehension when she said this out loud. He wasn’t sure he’d put anything past Pope. 

So Hawk waited. And waited. And waited for Pope to show back up. If he knew what was good for him, he’d stay the whole night out there, but as luck would have it, he quietly tiptoed into the house at 3:47 AM. The house was dark save a small lamp in the living room, and a very pissed off Hawk accompanied it.

“Why are you up?” Pope’s voice broke the silence, eyes calculating as he looked around the room. Hawk was up in a flash. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hawk’s open palm pushed at Pope’s chest, taking him back by surprise. Was it the smartest thing to do to a recently released inmate? No, but Hawk had been stewing as she waited for Pope to finally show up and he was going to feel every bit of the anger she felt.  

“Shit! Take it easy!” He put his hands up to deflect Hawk’s second swing as he stumbled to the side. She grabbed his right hand, twisting it to show a split in his middle knuckle, and held it up, shaking his arm.

“I open my fucking house to you and you pull this shit, Pope?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He pulled his arm out of her grip, but knew she immediately clocked him. Hawk pulled him down by the chest of his t-shirt and pointed a finger centimeters away from his face. 

“The next time you decide to put your fucking hands on him I will not hesitate to put you in the ground next to her, Pope. I am dead serious.” Pope had seen Hawk angry before, but it was never directed at him and never to this degree. “After everything I’ve done for you, you think you can disrespect me by putting your hands on him? You’re gonna bite the hand of the only person who has been by your side when nobody fucking else gave two shits?”

“I had my reasons, Hawk. He is not your kid -he’s Julia’s, and I don’t trust him. Not yet.” Hawk let go of his shirt and pushed him without any real force to it. 

“He is my son, Pope.” Hawk spat in correction. “I fed him,” She poked her chest with her index finger, “I bought and changed his diapers,” Another poke, “I lost sleep when he cried through the night for weeks on end. He walked his first steps to me. His first word was my name. I was there when he lost his first baby tooth. I did his homework with him. I went to parent teacher conferences. I went to his little league games. I taught him how to ride a bike. I went through college applications with him, I did tours of schools with him. I did everything but give fucking birth to him, Pope. I was mom and dad without help from anyone other than my dead fucking father. And above all, I gave him somewhere safe to rest his fucking head at night and made sure he never went without, so don’t stand there and tell me that J is not my fucking kid when you should’ve been there to help her!” For the first time in his life, Pope was stunned. He blinked down at Hawk, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to put words together.

“I couldn’t-”

“-And I could?” She cut him off, not done with him just yet. “Christ, I was eighteen raising a fucking baby that I didn’t even give birth to, Pope! I was working two jobs to keep a fucking roof over my head on top of raising a goddamn kid while you assholes were out causing mayhem at every turn, so don’t tell me what you couldn’t do. I was all he had in the world to give him a fraction of a chance at life, and Julia begged me. She begged me, Pope, to not let him get caught up with you guys -with Smurf, and I did a hell of a job protecting him from this fucking family for as long as I did, but that doesn’t matter now because Smurf legally has him for the next ten months.” Pope's eyes narrowed. Hawk didn’t know where they went or what the kid did. 

She thinks I did this to him, Pope thought to himself. The kid had a chance to rat, to tell Hawk what they did and why he got the dogshit knocked out of him. Pope expected J to tell her, but he didn’t.

He lied to her.

Pope was so sure, after hearing how close the two of you were, that the kid would run to Hawk with his tail between his legs and World War III would commence, but it didn’t happen. 

The kid might have his use after all.  

“I mean it, Pope. Don’t you ever fucking cross me again when it comes to him. This is the one and only warning I’m doing you the courtesy of giving. The next time it’ll be a fucking kill shot.”

Please comment & reblog :)

[pineconepie]

Yan king???👀

I had a little fun with the worldbuilding because it gave me an excuse to use one of my old ideas.

I'll explain it briefly because I didn't do much explaining in the writing: there are five major kingdoms in the nation of Lepidoptra - Rosy Maple, Atlas, Luna, Death's Head, and the one where reader is from: Comet Kingdom. Everyone has wings that resemble a moth, along with antennae. (yes moths are a huge hyperfixation of mine)

Just thought I'd get that out of the way lol. Anyway, this is probably one of the most yandere characters I've written mwehehe.

TW: Attempted murder (kind of but not really), parental yandere, manipulation, implied gaslighting, infantilization

...

Ever since you could recall, your father had been very protective over you. He homeschooled you, didn't let you leave the house much, only allowed a few select friends, but those friends were also friends with your dad, and just getting paid to talk to you.

Your father would hold you as often as he could, making sure he was the first and last thing you'd see daily.

He had told you, ever since you were just a young mothling, your wings had been cut off by a robber who attempted to kidnap you, and thus, your father had to be extremely cautious in regards to keeping you safe at home.

You never left the house alone, and even if you did, you were monitored.

Sometimes, you'd get strange flashbacks. Almost like deja-vu, but these felt more vivid in your mind.

Once when you saw Castor, your father's, sword, you had a vision of yourself getting stabbed in the chest. Or when he'd look angry at you, you'd recall seeing that exact expression on his face before. But those thoughts went away as soon as they appeared.

Sometimes you'd get horrible nightmares of him. You dreamed he hurt you somehow. And yet, you'd always wake up feeling fine. Nothing hurt physically.

But mentally? Something just wasn't clicking right.

Recently you began sneaking out of the castle, not wanting to alert your father, and you began going to this little tavern at the edge of town to spend time with your village friends, ones you know for a fact your father would never dream of approving.

"Calliope, Osmond, hey," you greet warmly, walking over to their usual table in the corner, sitting down beside them.

"Hey," Calliope says, leaning her head against her hand. "How was escaping the palace? Almost got caught again?" Her bright golden wings flutter slightly as she grins.

"Nah, Dad doesn't suspect anything at all," you proudly state.

"Good, because he would have our heads," Osmond sighs. He shares an uneasy glance with Calliope, then glances back at you. "We wanted to speak to you about something unsettling we found. About your father."

You hesitate. "If this is about him and the Atlas Kingdom again, I told you already—"

"It's not about that," Calliope mutters. She pulls out a huge book from a satchel, one that barely even fits in it. "Okay, I'm about to warn you, this is weird as hell. Even Oz was weirded out."

"Well if he was unsettled by it, then I'm scared to see what it even is," you say with a breathless chuckle.

"We found it in the royal library," Osmond tells you quietly. "And well, this should explain it." He opens up the book and starts flipping through pages and pages until he lands on one in particular, pointing down at it for you to read.

It has your name and picture on it. Your full name, everything.

At first, you find it slightly strange, but think there may be some kind of explanation. Most of the pictures on the book show you when you were younger, being held on Castor's hip while he made speeches at ceremonies. He looks the same as he does now, except maybe with a bit longer hair.

Then you start seeing yourself getting older...

There's one of a memory you don't even recall, of a headline saying the "(Y/n), Child of King Castor of the Comet Kingdom, joins Arkema Mittrei, Academy" in which you're being handed over to the kingdom's most prestigious academy.

You were homeschooled, that never even happened!

Another one shows you using magic abilities, and you look older than you currently even are. And you have... wings?!

"That was our expression when we read it too," Calliope anxiously says. "We weren't supposed to be in the Royal Library since its always locked and guarded, but we managed to get in with Oz's magic. We were looking for more evidence to prove to you that your father is terrible, but instead we just stumbled upon this."

You don't know what to say. "This doesn't make any sense. I never went to any academy, and my wings..."

"And you look older in these photos," Osmond observes. "I don't know what is going on, but this is just further proof you can't trust him. I know he raised you and you love him, but he's controlling your life and clearly keeping things from you. I knew he caused a lot of meaningless wars and was incredibly paranoid about you, but this?"

"I'm at a loss for words, here," you murmur, shaking your head as you feel tears stinging in your eyes. "What the hell am I supposed to do?! Just confront my dad and hope for the best?"

Calliope puts a hand on your shoulder. "Run away with us," she proposes. "Oz's mom is in the Atlas Kingdom, we can find sanctuary there."

"No way am I just abandoning my dad with no warning," you argue. "Besides, he'd try burning down all of Atlas if he knew I was there! I'll just ask him for an explanation. I'm sure there is one."

"And risk letting him know you've been sneaking out of the kingdom?" Osmond scoffs. "Your death wish, not mine."

"Just give us at least a month or two," Calliope says. "Please. That way we can come up with a game plan."

You exhale quietly, your antennae twitching. "Okay. But no longer."

...

"Uhm, hey, Dad? I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Hm?" He peers his eyes away from the newspaper he's reading and smiles at you. "Of course! Come sit." You hesitate as he pats the seat next to him on the couch, and you reluctantly plop beside him. He hugs you closer to his chest. "So," he hums, kissing the side of your head, "what is it?"

"...have I ever went to Arkema Mittrei Academy?" You watch as his smile drops.

He glances off, contemplating a response before returning his gaze to you. "Oh, sweetheart, where did you hear that? Of course not! I think you'd remember something like that." His laugh sounds nervous. "Have you been having those scary dreams again?"

You bite your tongue. "No. I came across a book in the royal library. I know you don't like me going in there unsupervised, but I did. And I saw pictures of myself at the school, and another one where I'm older, and have my wings. Why do I have no recollection of those moments happening?"

His smile drops even more so, and now, his expression is unreadable. "Where did you get the book, baby?"

"I... uh, I got it in the royal library. I told you that," you stutter.

"How did you get in there unsupervised? There's always guards patrolling the library," Castor explains, narrowing his eyes. "Did someone help you sneak in?"

"What? No!" you lie. You start trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he holds you still.

"Baby," he soothes, almost condescendingly, "just tell Dad what he wants to know. I'm not mad."

He's lying. He's angry. You can't see the expression on his face because he's holding you so closely, but you can feel his rage boiling beneath his skin.

"No, I'm not lying. It was just left unlocked! But that's not my question, I wanna know what I saw in those! Why is there evidence of me doing and experiencing things I have zero memory of?!"

"I knew I should've burnt that damn book," he grumbles under his breath. "I thought you were doing so well this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?!" you nearly cry, flailing so hard out of his grasp you fall to the floor.

"Oops!" Castor chuckles, standing over you with a cold grin. "Gosh, it feels like yesterday when you could hardly walk without tripping over your feet. Always so wobbly and unstable." He stands up and contemplates on something. "Alrighty, kiddo, since I'm so nice, you have two options. Bedtime and we'll forget about this, or you keep pushing me and we'll see where this takes us."

"What does that mean?" you rasp. "What will you do?"

Castor's bright wings spread out widely, as a show to intimidate you and make you feel smaller. "I really would rather we both just go to bed."

He's never hurt you in the past... "I just want to know what's going on."

"Well, for starters, all that information you think you know is irrelevant, it's been rewritten now," Castor replies nonchalantly, looking down at you. "All those things you saw happened, but you didn't experience them because that wasn't you. Not this you. The original you was too disobedient, so I had to reset and start all over again."

"Reset?!" you repeat incredulously. "What are you talking about?!"

Castor runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Since you think an explanation is worth it. You can't die. You're immortal, just not in the same way I am. This is like..." He pauses. "...your nineteenth life or so, I believe? Once you die, you turn back into a baby. No injuries, no sickness, no memories. A clean slate. I try to avoid it, but whenever you start rebelling or growing too independent, it has to be done all over again."

"Nothing has to be done! You're killing me, just so you can what?! Watch me grow up again, exactly the same way?! What kind of twisted logic is that?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me," Castor scolds. "I'm not killing you, at least not technically. Besides, I love watching you grow, trying to find the perfect way to raise you. But it seems like no matter how I do so—whether I give you your freedom or make sure I'm the only face you see, you always end up leaving."

You shudder at his cryptic words. "Were you the one who cut off my wings?"

Castor waves a hand dismissively. "Only because you kept trying to run away with them. But they always regrow back once you're reborn." He pulls out a dagger, one you now understand why he always carries it with him.

"Dad, please..." you quietly plead, scrambling back in an attempt to stand up. "I'm sorry. We can let this go."

His eyes darken. "Not an option anymore, sweetie. You asked for answers, and you got them. Hey, maybe the twentieth time is the charm." He lunges for you, holding you down so he can lift his blade. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I promise it'll just feel like a pinch, and then you'll wake up good as new!" His expression is sweet and adoring, but also crazed.

Just as he brings the blade down and you squeeze your eyes shut, all your hear is Castor's groan of pain.

"(Y/n)!" Calliope yells, grabbing onto your hand and yanking you up.

Castor wipes the blood running down his nose, glaring at the two of your friends. "(Y/n), you made some friends, huh? Must've been sneaking out behind my back for a while if they're jumping in their own graves for you." He gets back to his feet and starts approaching. "Step away from my child before you really regret it."

"Let's go!" Osmond demands, opening up a portal in front of Calliope after she pulled you to your feet.

The three of you tumble in, right before Castor tries attacking you as well.

Then suddenly, you're back outside, standing in the forest where your kingdom stood tall. You can hear him scream in frustration from all the way out here, likely calling for guards and barking out orders.

"He knows magic too," you whisper. "He won't be too far behind."

"I can only make portals so far," Osmond murmurs. "We need to run. Now."

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

My only one // I'm not the one

My smoking gun // Two graves, one gun

My eclipsed sun // A moment of warm sun

This has broken me down // Just how low did you think I'd go before I'd self-implode

My twisted knife // My spine split from carrying us up the hill

My sleepless night // My friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair

This has frozen my ground // Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

Stood on the cliff side screaming, "Give me a reason" // You say that I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in // You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

Don't want no other shade of blue but you // You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

No other sadness in the world would do // How much sad did you think I had in me, how much tragedy?

My best laid plan // I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

Your sleight of hand // I founded the club she's heard great things about

My barren land // And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

I am ash from your fire // I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You know I left a part of me back in New York // I left all I knew

You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? // You left me at the house by the Heath

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart // I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place for so long

You knew the password, so I let you in the door // I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? // My white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, but what you did was just as dark // Every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there

Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart // Stitches undone

My only one // Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

My kingdom come undone // I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

My broken drum // I stopped CPR, after all it's no use

You have beaten my heart // The spirit was gone, we would never come to

[fizzlo-and-the-cubes]

uoghoughghg bloodbender au follow-up

(idk if any of you watched rottmnt and caught the reference here but i'm making this phil act more like a draxum-type character. there will be more references to draxum in the future. this is a threat.)

extra notes under the cut vvvv

phil wont get attached to these kids, he's a warrior after all (he gets attached after like a month lmaoooo)

missa first only came to the human world for it's music - he hates humans actually. after chayanne and tallulah showed him kindness though he started street performing and gave his earnings to the two of them

missa doesn't pull the wet cat act with phil here he gives that man passive aggressive hell

maybe phil disturbed something in the spirit world and it pissed missa off?

phil's plan is to move around unpredictably in order to evade someone and the kids follow him (to his irritation)

if i ever make this into a full on story i imagine they'd go to the earth kingdom first, where foolish and tubbo are building a city of their own that phil wants to seek refuge in

they go undercover most places (hence the different outfits) because phil is wanted in literally every country

cellbit is being held in a prison in the fire nation for bloodbending. while scouting ways to break him out, roier found pepito and brought him back to foolish

bagi is also a bloodbender but she barely uses her abilites. chayanne might seek her out later on in the story

roier carries a spool of metal rope and uses it to swing between buildings

charlie is a water bender and lives in the foggy swamp with juanaflippa

vegetta and willy are combustion benders

jaiden baghera and carre are air benders

etoiles can bend lightning

pepito is taught earth bending by foolish and roier, water bending by cellbit and juannaflippa (sometimes), air bending by carre and fire bending by leonarda

no dead eggs there will be no sadness (there will be sadness but i like the dead eggs and they cant bend if they're dead)

tallulah thinks chay wants to meet cellbit to learn blood bending, but in reality he wants cellbit to remove his bending entirely

if you've read this far you're being perceived YOU'RE BEING PERCEIVED OOGABOOGABOOGA NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE-

please bear in mind I'm not an expereinced writer in the slightest and i've never had the balls to make an au before so please bear with me as I get a better understanding of the qsmp characters. there are dozens of people to account for and i want to be fair and accurate with who i portray. k thx luv u all /platonic BYEEEEE

[speed-world]

I've been finding Y/N Cookie around my kingdom for a few weeks now and didn't find them but today...

I FINALLY FOUND THEM!!!

Cream Ferret would be worried as hell on why their little one has been missing for several weeks and wasn't in their hideout. Was the possible cookienappings/abductions true?

Plus, why are they in front of the train? What they plottin'?

*Huff…huff* “L-little one, is that you? Gosh, I’ve been, *huff* looking all over the Kingdom for you; I was worried sick to my stomach!! It’s been so long that Cookies were spreading rumors about you being abducted!! I was starting to think you were kidnapped or-or worse…!”

Y/N Cookie: “Oh, pffft don’t worry Cream Ferret Cookie! I know you would’ve gone crazy if something bad happened to me, that’s why I’ve been sending letters to you every day! You…did check the mailbox for them, right?

Cream Ferret: “I…I didn’t see anything in the mail from you. Now that you mention it, all I’ve seen in the mail are some messages from other Cookies wanting to know where you were. Most of them were from those obsessive mercookies…”

Y/N: “Ah-I think I know what happened to my letters now.”

Cream Ferret: “Yeah, me to-…little one, why are you at the train station? Are you waiting for someone or…?”

Y/N: “Yeah, about that-“

Before you could answer Cream Ferret, you both jolted from feeling the ground beneath your feet shake. You both turned around to see a giant horde of Cookies rapidly approaching you, and a large kraken was at the frontlines of the horde.

“Y/N Cookie~!!! It’s been ages since we last saw you, where do you think you’re going~?”

Y/N: “….you wanted to know why I’m at the train?”

Cream Ferret: “Yeah-?”

Y/N: “There’s why, LETS GO NOW!”

Cream Ferret: “Huh-GUWHAA-!?

You tightly held onto Cream Ferret Cookie’s arm and yanked them with you onto the train. You shouted at the conductor to start the train immediately as the Cookie horde got closer.

Black Pearl: “Y/N COOKIE!!! GET BACK HERE, YOU CANT LEAVE!!”

Y/N (leaning out a window): “Can’t hear you, train’s moving, really loud ‘n stuff, gotta go BYEEEE!!”

[gojoidyll]

The Emperor Must Make Laws Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Prologue

Summary | With the world reset and the Emperor leading a new life, he hopes to win your affections once more, however, you are making it harder than ever. Will you end up with the Emperor, or will your heart belong to another?

Your lips pulled into a small grin, your eyes holding a sort of warmth you didn’t know you could hold. Your life had started over and you had once again found yourself in Emperor Jing Yuan’s care, but this time … you could feel how different the atmosphere was. There was no impending doom that clenched and wrapped around your throat, nor was there the threat of execution around every corner.

Though, the Emperor was, of course, the Emperor.

“Good morning, Yuan,” your voice was light as you greeted him. Your focus on the book in your hands as you sat comfortably on the library couch.

He smiled at you as Blade stood next to him.

“What brings you to your library this morning,” you asked, your eyes not once flitting from the words on the pages.

Jing Yuan cleared his throat, “I just wanted to see you was all. And, of course, to thank you for accepting my invitation in coming here.”

You glanced up at him then. After Jing Yuan reset everything and had stated that he wanted to “win your affections” he had set about at preparing for a festival and had invited both you and your father to join his kingdom in the celebration. Your father, choosing to stay behind, had sent both you and your guard, Gepard, to Xianzhou. And ever since you stepped foot in Jing Yuan’s palace, the emperor has been waiting on you hand and foot.

But, even with his nice words and kind actions – you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

He wanted your love and wanted you to accept his in return. But …

Was it really that easy?

“Of course, it’s only right that my father’s kingdom sends a representative.”

Even with your words trying to put distance between both you and him, you could tell Jing Yuan was still determined to get close to you, but you couldn’t make things easy and you didn’t want to be easy either.

He says he loves you.

Then he can prove it.

He put you through hell and back. Everyone did. Your life had never been your own, but now it is. So, if he was the Emperor where no law could reach him, then you will simply make it where there’s a law could. If only to make it fair.