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french-toast-enjoyer · 2 days

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Venom essay baybey!!!!

as promised, here's my essay on symbrock as a dynamic! thank you to my contributors @symbiotic-slime

@bridoesotherjunk

@x-jean

@cannibalhellhound

@funkycave

@eddiebrockx

@bloodyaliens and @shiningstardan for helping me gather resources and testimony! the paper is a bit amateur nut i hope it's an okay read! please let me know if I forgot to tag you!

Symbrock– or, A Complex Love Affair Between Parasite and Host

23 April, 2024

Abstract

An investigation into “Symbrock,” or the bizarre emotional relationship between Eddie Brock– a struggling journalist and Spider-Man villain– and Venom– the parasitic alien symbiote that lives in Eddie’s body. Herein will discuss the themes, appeal, and complicated nature of the dynamic. This is a dissertation, this is an analytical dissection, but above all, this is a love story.

Keywords: Symbrock. portmanteau of “symbiote” and “Brock.”

Symbrock– or, A Complex Love Affair Between Parasite and Host

In the fall of 2018, Venom had his individual film debut to millions of Spider-Man fans and casual movie-goers. The movie was critically panned. Fans of Spider-Man and critics of pop culture media united to declare that they hated the "buddy cop" direction that writers Kelly Marcel and Ruben Fliesher had taken the character of Venom. Many believed that Marcel (most known for screen adapting Fifty Shades of Grey) wasted the film's grizzly horror potential exploring the getting-together of Eddie and Venom. The majority had spoken, the movie had failed. So why was the fandom exploding? Within days, there were threads, blog posts, and video essays, all delving into a new obsession with this chummy characterization of Eddie Brock and the Venom symbiote. Intrigued by it, turned on by it, and desperate for more content of it, this mysterious fan base began to go through nearly forty years of lore for more of the duo they loved. What they found changed the perception of Venom as a character. Venom historians, fans, and even comic writers declared that Eddie Brock and the symbiote were in love. But the question remains, why these two? What was the evidence, what was the response, and why did this relationship appeal to the queer audience it'd captured? In short, why had Venom become a queer icon?

When “I” became “We”

There is groundwork to lay in regards to proving the nature of this dynamic, and it begins with understanding what binds the two physically and spiritually, requiring readers to go back to the beginning.

While originally brought together by a mutual hatred of Spider-Man (read, The Amazing Spider-Man #300, 1988) the earliest example of a deeper bond between Brock and Venom comes to us in Venom: The Hunger (1996). Within the comic itself, Eddie Brock and Venom’s dynamic is threatened by the symbiote’s cannibalistic desires, which Eddie can not cope with.

If we blur our eyes and look at The Hunger, we see a story about Eddie coming to terms with the inherent violence and needs of Venom. Specifically, he sees how the symbiote needs a chemical compound called phenethylamine to survive– a fact that often leads him to eat human brains to get his fix. A trait that disturbs Brock so much that it drives the symbiote away, leaving the man without powers. In a straightforward manner, the story follows Eddie's journey to accept this hunger in order to remain bonded to Venom. In the final pages of the comic, Eddie brings the symbiote a vial of phenethylamine, as well as promises to share his own. The two reunite to create something stronger once again. From a distance, it's an exploration into what binds the two physically, but it’s not a fair one. Upon closer inspection, The Hunger is much more than a story of compromise.

The deep eroticism of Venom, to most, begins with the very chemical that the symbiote subsists on. For the purposes of Eddie and Venom's connection, it's important to know that phenethylamine is chemically similar to phenylethylamine– commonly referred to as “the love hormone.” According to the National Institute of Health (NIH), when concentrated, the compound has similar effects on the brain to amphetamines. Broadly, it is considered a “feel-good” chemical, and is associated with sensations of intense euphoria and gratification due to its releases of dopamine. (read: NIH). Including a chemical associated with love, sex, and even chocolate is obviously an intentional decision on the writer's part. There are thousands of compounds that comic creators had to choose from. Fear hormones, rage hormones, all things that could've related more to the brutal nature of Venom as a villain.

But the writer, Len Kaminski, chose love. And so was born Venom’s obsession with the chemical, leading him to chase it in all its forms, from human brains and nerve endings– to, as seen in the last panels of The Hunger, a heart-shaped box of chocolates, which the symbiote says is a great source of phenethylamine. There it is, a scientific explanation of why Venom feeds on love. But even with this justification of the phenomenon, Kaminski refuses to pull punches, refuses to make this platonic.

All I Ever Want Is Just A Little Love

Kaminski’s reading of Brock is far beyond romantic, and it bleeds into how writers would interpret the character even decades later (most notably, Mike Costa’s Venom run from 2016-2019). In the first volume of Hunger, Kaminski writes a heartbreaking scene in which, after eating a man’s brain, Eddie shows a deep remorse that drives Venom to separate from their bond. This was mentioned above, but what was not mentioned was how the symbiote left Brock; naked and trembling in a back alley, begging “the other” not to abandon him. The man is left in a state of temporary psychosis without Venom, his brain leached of all phenethylamine. After a stint in a tortuous sanitarium, he chases the symbiote down and reunites with it, claiming proudly “It’s not human, but it’s given me things no girlfriend ever could,” and declaring that he finally has enough love to sustain the titular hunger.

This wouldn’t be the last time Eddie would be written as captivated by his love for Venom, but it would go on to influence later iterations of the character, from the aforementioned Costa run to directorial notes of the films that’d launched the character into infamy.

In Venom #150, Mike Costa compared the bond between Brock and Venom to marriage. The interaction is a chilling one, taking place within the church where the two originally bonded, and where Eddie angsts about the nature of their relationship. He confesses, in vague terms, to a priest, that he loves his “other,” but that he’s been driven to do things he never would have done before. When the father implies that the dynamic isn’t healthy, we see a violent, possessive side of Venom. The symbiote overtakes Eddie’s body and nearly kills the priest– an action he later repents for the very same priest. He vows to try to be better in the name of devotion to his other. This marks a shift in Venom’s character and a complex arc into a more open and honest relationship between the two. And, as stated previously, this interpretation would grow to be popular with an audience of queer people, but the question remains as to why.

All Guts and Heart. There's an air of nuanced relatability to Venom as a unit. On online forums, users within the fandom each have unique reasons for loving the ship. Some enjoy that both characters are relatable outcasts, some are enthralled with the trope of “idiots in love” present in their dynamic, and some are just plain attracted to Venom.

But for a more devoted sect of the fan base, the intrigue lay in the intense physical proximity between symbiote and host. The potential for intimacy that comes with literally sharing a mind and body is intense. Venom, according to both the comics and films, sees every thought, compulsion, desire, and regret Eddie has, and Brock can do just the same to Venom.

One example of this is an excerpt from Marvel Comics Presents #5 (2019), which recently became circulated for its dark, provocative, and tense language. In the comic, Venom is handling the man with their tendrils while speaking in his mind. “We can feel every dirty curve of Eddie's intentions. All that lust entangled with terror.” and later, “We enjoy the taste of Eddie's heartbeat. Strong, solid, sweet … Should we make it go faster?” To which Eddie responds, “Watch the teeth.”

Fans were stunned by the sensuality of these panels; particularly on Tumblr, a popular blogging website. One fan claimed to have even seen a phallic shape in the dreamscape of flesh and teeth that the scene was set in. Many more declared the scene was a sex act.

It seems almost like an intentional callback to the “It's not human,” line. As though the writers are willing to explore the dynamic in a romantic and psychological context, and fans love getting to see this dimension of the characters– even when the subject matter is dark.

As with any piece of media, fan interaction is integral to the longevity and survival of a fan base, so it'd be an obvious point to investigate opinions of Venom within the fandom.

Fan testimonials. When asked why the ship appealed to them, popular Symbrock blogger @symbiotic-slime responded, “I guess I would describe it as the intimacy of being known? Having your self laid bare and someone else seeing and knowing everything about you and still choosing to stay is very romantic in my opinion.”

Regarding personal relation to the individuals: “It's partially because of being the weird neurodivergent queer kid. People think they're weird, their relationship is wrong, or something like that. Kinda hits a little too close to home.” says user @cannibalhellhound. The community in general seems to relate deeply to the outcast nature of Eddie and Venom, a point that comes through as well in discussions of the characters’ presentation and gender, as well as their “loser” status. Symbiotic-slime described a sense of connection to the devil-may-care attitude the symbiote takes with their pronouns and appearance, and user @just-anti-heros-things states succinctly, “Together they make a whole idiot who can fight battles and save the world. Or just fuck around and find out.”

A handful of aspec (asexual spectrum) fans even described connecting with the alien nature of their relationship, with user @bridoesotherjunk saying quote, “They’re not putting on a performance to please anyone- they’re just… them. And they love each other for it! That’s what I want for myself,” and @shiningstardan comparing the relationship to their own experiences with attraction towards other people.

No matter the sentiment, most fans agree that despite being outlandish and extraterrestrial, Venom and Eddie have a character more grounded than many an idealized hero in the Marvel universe. From holding hands in a movie theater to raising a child together, the two are never alone, and fans crave that proximity.

Discussion

While not a universally beloved franchise on its own, Venom has achieved cult status among a number of internet users for its raw, vulnerable, and often camp portrayal of a complicated relationship between two flawed characters. It's a fanbase that breeds creativity, exploration, and catharsis through the fantasy of a love foretold in stars. A place to make art, write fanfiction, and bond with other outcasts.

References

Kaminski, L., Halsted, T., Koblish, S., Lopez, K., & Smith, T. (1996). Venom, the hunger (Vol. 1–4). Published by Marvel Comics.

Lee, S., Ditko, S., Yanchus, A., Rosen, S., Simek, A., & Lord, P. (1988). Marvel masterworks presents the amazing spider-man: Reprinting the amazing spider-man, nos. 11-20. Marvel Comics.

Ryan, M. (2021, September 27). Andy Serkis on eddie and Venom’s “Love affair” in the new Venom sequel. UPROXX. https://uproxx.com/movies/andy-serkis-venom-let-there-be-carnage-eddie-venom-love-affair/

U.S. National Library of Medicine. (n.d.). Phenethylamine. National Center for Biotechnology Information. PubChem Compound Database. https://pubchem.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/compound/Phenethylamine

Pak, G., Nocenti, A., Waid, M., Lapham, D., Lapham, M., Aydin, A., James Monroe Iglehart, Kibblesmith, D., Percy, B., Claremont, C., Williams, L., Seeley, T., Brisson, E., North, R., Pierson, D., Sacks, E., & Emily Ryan Lerner. (2020). Tales Through The Marvel Universe. Marvel Entertainment.

#symbrock #venom #french toast rambles #my writing #veddie #writeblr #eddie brock #sincerely hope you enjoy!

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oristian · 3 days

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NESTA ARCHERON

There is an obscene, and frankly unfair, amount of hate towards Nesta Archeron in this fandom. I want to breakdown some of the arguments that I typically see said against her and use canonical evidence to debunk them.

1 — Nesta abused Feyre. I see this line said so consistently to the point where I see a video of any type on Nesta and expect it in the comments. Abuse is a word thrown languidly around this fanbase, but only ever applied correctly to so few characters. The abuse that antis tend to provide are: Emotional and financial. I’ll speak on the financial abuse allegations first. Feyre was the breadwinner for the family during their time in the cabin—she held the money. Feyre is the one who distributed the money to her sisters as she saw fit. Neither Elain nor Nesta stole money from Feyre. What they did with the bits that Feyre gave them is their prerogative. However, we do know that Elain needed a new cloak and Nesta needed new shoes.

As for the shoes argument, you need context to understand this. Feyre’s shoes were falling apart due to being outdoors often. While Nesta may not have been outside as often, wearing the same shoes for long periods of time wears them down. We found out in ACOSF that her shoes had holes in them and were not suitable to continue wearing. Certainly, Feyre’s shoes would be worse off and she would compare the state of her own to Nesta’s—that doesn’t mean that Nesta’s shoes weren’t also worse off by different standards.

People tend to say that Nesta was emotionally abusive towards Feyre.

I want to remind everyone that being mean to your sibling is not mutually exclusive to being emotionally abusive. Feyre herself has even expressed that she and Nesta were constantly at odds with one another—they both contributed to their lacking relationship in the cabin. Nesta never said something without cause, as she typically spoke in retaliation of being instigated against. As for Nesta being emotionally abusive to other characters—that does not exist. Certainly, there are times where she does go too far in her reactions and her tongue is like a whip, but context needs to be added into those scenes to see what was said and why she said what she did.

A reminder that living in poverty in such close corners for a long can affect relationships with those within the same situation as you. Feyre, Elain and Nesta all shared one bed and the cabin was not large enough for private spaces. For years, the sisters and their father were forced to endure starvation, harsh weather, unfavorable clothing conditions, etc. Their remaining family abandoned them and they had to use what little they did know of being fully independent to help make their situation any better.

2 — Nesta is selfish. I see this thrown around pretty often to the point where it has lost any semblance of meaning. People tend to say this because of how Nesta protects herself by lashing out. Feyre expresses that Nesta feels too much and this outward expression is how she copes with all of the emotions she feels internally. Now, back to Nesta being selfless.

ACOTAR — Nesta managed to overcome the glamour that Tamlin used on her and she travelled for over a week through the rough winter woods to the Wall to rescue Feyre. The same woods that Feyre had described as being too dangerous if you venture too far in. The same Wall that Tamlin and Lucien expressed were crawling with Amarantha’s monsters. Nesta had no experience with physical strength and self defense; she was determined to save her sister. The only reason she turned back was due to the mercenary telling her to do so. A reminder as well that she would always put Elain and her well-being over her own life first.

ACOMAF — While Nesta was apprehensive at first to allow Feyre and the others into her home—a reminder that she was taught to hate fae from childhood—she still allowed them in her home. Nesta also was the one who reached out to the Queens and was the one to beg them to give Feyre the other half of the Book of Breathings to save both Prythian and the mortal lands. In the throne room directly after being turned fae, she was immediately on Elain to check and make sure her sister was fine. Nesta did not even bother to glance at herself.

ACOWAR — Nesta worried about Elain and her health for the entire time they were in the House of Wind. She begged her sister to eat. Nesta trained her powers in order to be helpful towards the war despite not wanting to do so. Nesta went to the High Lord meeting and was the one to turn the favor towards Feyre and Rhysand to gain stronger allegiance for the war. Nesta used herself as bait against the King of Hybern so that Feyre and Amren could have a clear path to the cauldron. Nesta was willing to give her life up with Cassian instead of leaving him there to die.

ACOSF — Being Nesta’s book, we of course saw her darkest moments, but also her greatest. She helped to revitalize the Valkyries with Gwyn and Emerie, inspiring SA victims from the library to gain back their autonomy. Despite her own depression and PTSD, she risked her life more than once to find the pieces of the Trove. When in the prison, Nesta immediately came back to help Cassian against Lanthys when she easily could have left. Despite her trauma of being groomed as a child, she allowed herself to be used once again as bait against Eris. Her first thought when she woke up during the Great Rite was if Gwyn and Emerie were alright, and she searched for them. She allowed Gwyn and Emerie to become Carynthian and to win the Blood Rite while she defended them against Bellius. When Cassian was going to kill himself, she unleashed her magic and defeated Briallyn. Immediately after the Blood Rite, she sacrificed her magic to save the life of Feyre, Nyx and Rhysand. In that moment, all she thought about was Feyre and how much she loved her sister.

Nesta Archeron is one of the most selfless characters in this entire series. She does have her moments where she prioritizes herself and her own pride, but so does every other character. The amount of good that she has done across the series outweighs the bad by such a large margin.

BONUS (one of the most ridiculous things I have ever seen someone say about Nesta):

3 — Nesta told Feyre about her pregnancy in order to kill the baby. This is probably the most outlandish thing an anti has said about Nesta. For those who read the scene and came to that conclusion, I urge you to read again. The scene reads as Nesta had just found out that the Inner Circle had voted on her once again behind her back. Her consent was once again removed from her. She goes to confront Amren and Varian goes and warns Feyre. When Feyre shows up and begins to interject, Nesta uses this as an opportunity to showcase to Feyre how the people you know, love, and trust are not always who you think they are—especially when they make decisions for you behind your back. Nesta immediately regretted saying anything once she realized exactly what she had done. She never had any intention of killing Feyre, or her nephew.

There’s plenty more that I could add to this post, but it is already long enough. I’ll probably make it a series and go more in depth with Nesta’s character.

A final reminder that the blame for Feyre hunting is not supposed to be placed on Nesta. Feyre made it very clear that she did so to uphold the promise she made with Mama Archeron, but also Papa Archeron should have stepped up for his daughters. Nesta was also a child and should not have parental roles projected upon her.

#nesta archeron the queen she is #nesta #nesta supremacy #nesta acosf #pro nesta #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta deserves better #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #sjm

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fairy-writes · 1 day

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THE STORY OF US

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Dazai Osamu x Reader

Word Count: 4k (PLS READ, I’M BEGGING YOU)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Pretty Heavy AU (idk what to call it tho), Female!Reader, Time Traveler!Reader, Time Traveler!Dazai, Reader is shorter than Dazai

Taglist: @underthetree845 | @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

Notes: I don’t know what I’m doing

VERY HEAVILY RIVER SONG INSPIRED (find my quotes lol)

I might write part two from the Reader’s POV (don’t get your hopes up tho, I’m notoriously bad with writing part two to things, but if I get requests I’m more likely to do it!)

I just now realized that the title is also a Taylor Swift song, but I don’t wanna change it

Also, I’m just saying this now, this is not every scene I had in mind. A lot of scenes got cut for my sanity.

__________________________________________________________________________

Osamu first discovered he could time jump when he was eleven.

It had been an accident, really. Well, maybe not a complete accident. Osamu wanted to escape everything—his parents' arguing, their fights. But, of course, he had nowhere to go. As an eleven-year-old boy, there wasn’t anywhere that would hire him. He had no other family that wasn’t across the other side of the world.

He was completely and utterly alone.

The shouting was reaching its peak. Osamu shoved his pillow further over his head as if trying to suffocate himself as his mother screamed something at his father. Something about his lies.

Ha. If only she knew how much Osamu lied.

Lied about his day at school. (Anything to get her off his back.)

Lied about having friends. (Anything to make them not suspicious.)

Lied about everything.

The screaming grated on his ears through the pillow, and he ground his teeth until his mouth hurt.

Couldn’t they just shut up?

Couldn’t they just go away?

Suddenly, something was different. Osamu felt a tugging in his stomach. It was as if someone wrapped a string around his middle and yanked. Almost like he was being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste.

And then he could hear… water? The sounds of a river that should not be audible even through the open window. Did they even live near a river?

Osamu peeked out from the pillow over his head and was blinded by sunlight. He sat up and realized his pajamas were covered in scalding hot sand. Golden sand stretched for miles and miles, a long twisting river just visible in the distance. On the horizon, he saw pyramids being erected high into the sky.

What the hell?

And the rest was quite literally history.

December 31st, 1925

New York City

The air was cold. Snow fell in flakes as Osamu watched the snow fall outside the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks as he paid no mind to anyone around him. He had aged since his first trip through time. Though he could never remember how old he was. He looked to be in his early twenties, but everyone looked so different in different time periods, so he could’ve been thirty, and that would’ve made sense.

“Mind if I sit?” Comes a sweet voice. He looks to his left and sees you.

You’re dressed to the nines in a silver slip flapper dress with black beads decorating the length of the gown. Your hair was cut in a neat bob, a feather headband decorating the up-do. The kohl around your eyes only accentuates the pretty color.

Osamu plasters a grin across his features, and you shift. He gestures grandly to the stool beside him,

“I could do with a gorgeous woman’s company.” He quips, and you laugh good-naturedly before sliding onto the stool beside him. He can feel your warmth through the woolen fabric of his suit coat, and he takes a sip of liquid courage, suddenly feeling somewhat hesitant to talk to you.

There was something about you. Like you knew all Osamu’s secrets already.

You lean your cheek on the palm of your hand, smiling with ruby-red lips and brilliant teeth that were ahead of their time.

That should’ve been his first clue.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Where are we at now?” You muse, and he frowns as he sips at his whiskey. This was one of the only bars that still sold alcohol through the prohibition.

“Sorry, I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He says, and you cock your head, eyebrow raised, as you pick at the seams of your silken gloves. You abruptly stop picking and reach into your clutch purse that rested in your lap, pulling out a worn notebook he didn’t recognize. It was well-loved, with pictures stuffed in between the pages.

“So we haven’t done France yet?”

“France?” You lean back giddily and hold your notebook to your chest.

“What a night that was! Dancing in front of the Eiffel Tower? That ring a bell?” Osamu shakes his head.

He had yet to go to France. In all his time jumping, he hadn’t seen the point in going to France, much less the City of Love.

Now it was your turn to frown, flipping through your little notebook, and he spies neat handwriting in various languages. English. Japanese. German. Latin. And were those Egyptian hieroglyphs? All throughout the pages, he spies his picture scattered across the ink.

Just who were you?

And why do you have all those pictures and drawings of him?

“What about picnicking at Versailles?”

Another shake. Another page turned.

“The Titanic? What a messy time that was!”

“What is that?” He eventually asks, and you quickly flip it shut before he can actually read anything.

“Spoilers.” You say quickly, and when he arches an eyebrow, you sigh, call the bartender over, and order a glass of champagne. The two of you wait in silence until you get your drink. Eventually, you speak after you’ve downed half of your champagne flute. “It’s all of our adventures. Time travel gets complicated, doesn’t it?”

As soon as he connects the dots, Osamu is floored.

Another time traveler? He thought he was the only one!

It’s clear you pick up on what he is thinking because your face falls. You look heartbroken. As if he just ripped your heart out of your chest and smashed it into a million pieces. As if you were a lonesome star falling from the sky and drowning in the sea.

“You truly don’t have any idea who I am, do you?” Osamu shrugs,

“Who are you?”

Osamu didn’t know it was possible, but you looked even more upset. Tears welled up in your waterline and smudged your kohl as it dripped down your cheeks. You swallow thickly and sniffle, pulling a handkerchief from your clutch to dab at your watery eyes and ruined makeup.

For whatever reason, Osamu feels his heart ache.

“I suppose this was bound to happen sometime.” You say eventually, and he looks over at you from where he had just downed the last of his whiskey. You’re leaning both of your arms on the counter, running a finger around the rim of your champagne glass.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you huff, look at him out of the corner of your eye, and your finger stops

“We always meet out of order. Hence, the diary. But… I just never expected it to hurt this much.” You sniffle again, and Osamu realizes he wants to make it better. He realizes he doesn’t like to see you cry.

But he doesn’t even know you!

Why should he care if you cried or not?

“If it’s any consolation… I’m sorry…” He says quietly, and you bark out a laugh,

“There’s nothing to be sorry for! I suppose this is just a chance for me to get to know the younger you.” You sniffle, but that bright smile that makes his heart race lights up your face once again. You seem to think something over before standing and offering Osamu a hand.

“Care to walk with me?” You tease him with a flirty wink, and he finds himself unable to say no.

So, as the clock chimes closer and closer to midnight, the two of you leave the bar, with you each paying for your respective drinks. Osamu offered to buy yours as an added apology, but you just patted his shoulder with a knowing smile and said, “I know you’re awful with money.”

Which… You weren’t wrong.

Just how much did you know about him?

How much had he told you in the future?

You walk next to him, bundled up in a trench coat not unlike his own and with your hands stuffed in your pockets. Osamu pulls his own (matching) trench coat over his suit coat and slacks and follows you out into the sprinkling snow. You both walk side by side in a surprisingly comfortable silence. At least until you hear people counting down in the streets.

10…

You blink and turn to look at him.

“What day is it again?” You ask, and he looks up at the snow.

“December 31st, 1925.” He replies, and you gape in surprise.

9…

“Y’know, I’ve never celebrated New Year's with time travel and all. Never even had a New Year's kiss.” You muse, watching couples get together on the streets.

8…

“Would you like one?” Osamu blurts, and you nearly trip in surprise. Osamu almost follows suit when you stop abruptly to look at him with wide eyes.

7…

“But you don’t even know me.” You say hesitantly, but you turn to face him nonetheless. He finds himself smiling, a soft, genuine sort of smile.

When was the last time he smiled like this?

6…

“I’m giving my future self the benefit of the doubt and trusting his judgment.” He teases, and you relax, hanging your head with a soft giggle. But you don’t pull away when he slowly pulls you in close to him.

5…

Your coat flaps open, and he sees his father’s initials stitched on the side and realizes you don’t just have matching coats—you have the exact same coat.

When did he give that to you? He swore he’d never give it up to remind himself to never return home!

4…

Your soft arms around his neck catch his attention, and you’re suddenly much closer, standing on your tiptoes in your kitten heels.

3…

His arms pull you close by your hips, and he leans down.

2…

Your noses brush.

1…

The kiss is like the fireworks going off above him. His eyes flutter close, and he pulls you impossibly closer. Your lips are soft with the lipstick, and he doesn’t care that it’s likely stained on his mouth.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The kiss deepens, and you soak up his affection greedily. Like you had been waiting for this forever. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close oh so tenderly.

Like a puzzle piece being fit into place, his heart sang like a choir in a church.

Were you what he was missing all this time?

Could he finally have this?

Could he—

BANG! BANG! BANG!!

You jolt and fall to the ground as a car screeches around a corner and out of sight.

What?

What happened?

Osamu looks down and feels his heart stop.

You’re crumpled against the cement, blood seeping out of bullet holes in your abdomen. Your dress is ruined. But that doesn’t matter.

Osamu falls to his knees, not caring about the cold, wet concrete soaking his slacks. He pulls your upper half into his lap and applies pressure. You cry out and push his hands away.

“I need to put pressure on your injury. Hold still for me, love.” He whispers to you and turns to where people are still celebrating. “AMBULANCE! SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!” He cries, but they’re so wrapped up in their excitement that they don’t hear him.

Your hand touches his face, and he looks down to see you giving him a bloody smile. Crimson leaks from your mouth, and he can tell that you don’t have long.

“Hold on—Hold on, I’ll get a doctor—I’ll—” He stammers in an attempt to calm you (himself) down, and you just spit up blood in a choked laugh.

“We both know I’m not going to survive this.” You wheeze, and he can see the color draining from your face as you lose blood and warmth.

“Then I’ll jump back in time! Time can be rewritten!” You cut him off abruptly with more strength than he thought you had.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don’t you dare.” You say, hand falling to grip his hand as tightly as you could muster.

“But you’re dying.” He says, unable to explain why his heart is breaking to pieces inside his chest. You cough once more and smile that brilliant smile that he finds that he loves so much.

“It’s not over for you. You’ll see me again. You’ve got all of that to come.” You slur your words at this point, and he grits his teeth. Your hand goes weak in his, and he holds it even tighter.

“You and me. All those adventures all over time. You watch us run!” You whisper, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead just as you close your eyes.

117 AD

Rome, Italy

The crowd roars louder than Osamu has ever heard it. Bored, he watches as gladiators fight in the ring. The arena is bathed in blood, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He hasn’t cared about much since you died.

He wasn’t even sure why. He barely knew you. But he keeps thinking back to the kiss you shared on New Year’s. He thinks of your words.

“You watch us run!”

“Is this seat taken?” A voice yells over the crowd, and his heart stutters to a halt. He turns, eyes wide to see you.

Oh, how cruel this life was.

You’re dressed in a fashionable, long tunic that goes down to your ankles with a shawl of sorts around your shoulders. Your hair is longer than Osamu remembered. It is no longer a bob but instead curled at the front and with a braided crown in the back. You hold that journal under your arm and smile brightly before scurrying over and sitting beside him.

“Where are we at now?” You ask excitedly, pleased to see him.

But all he can see is your dead body in his arms.

Was there some god up above watching this cruel exchange with glee?

What had he done to deserve this?

“‘samu? Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

‘samu?

The last person to call him that was his mother. Before she and his father began to fight. Back before he could time jump.

Back when things were simple.

Your hand on his arm has Osamu flinching away, causing you to cringe back as well. You look worried, panicked even, and all for him.

So you didn’t know yet. You didn’t know you were going to die.

So, he doesn’t tell you.

“Sorry, my love, I thought you were a monster here to gobble me up!” He chirps, and your panic melts away quickly. You lean back into his side, and he takes the chance to wrap a bandaged arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You giggle and open your book.

“Where are we now?” You repeat, and he shrugs,

“You tell me.” He says, keeping his eyes off your book out of respect and on the gladiator games below.

“France?”

“Not yet.”

“The Wild West? That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Nope.”

You two go back and forth for a moment before you ultimately sigh and clap your book shut.

“It’s very early for you, isn’t it?” You say, mildly exasperated. Osamu nods silently, heart twisting when you set your book down and lean heavily into his side. He trickles his fingers along your neck, feeling goosebumps rise along the skin, and you shiver.

The games end, and you shuffle out of the Colosseum and through the streets of Rome. You boldly take ahold of Osamu’s hand as if this was regular for you. He can’t bring himself to let go, so he instead makes you laugh by swinging your arms between you, occasionally twirling you in a circle. His chilton feels suffocating despite it being made of linen.

But he can’t bring himself to time jump away. To leave you alone to spare his own feelings.

Perhaps it’s the overwhelming guilt he feels?

Perhaps it’s because he finds himself enjoying your company.

Either way, he allows you to pull him around the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome. Enjoying the markets and public museums that were beginning to pop up all over the city.

The entire time, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

August 8th, 1912

The Wild West

It’s hot.

Almost overwhelmingly so.

Osamu peels off one of his gloves and fans his face with it as he climbs the steps to the little cabin he had been staying at. His bandages itch with the heat, and he has a sneaking suspicion that they’re slowly soaking with sweat underneath his borrowed button-down, vest, trousers, and chaps.

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he liked this place sans the heat. The people in this little settled town were kind, barely batting an eye when he suddenly appeared in their home. The people he was currently staying with, an older couple named Buck and Bonnie, welcomed him with open arms. They claimed it was because he reminded them of their son, who was out settling the rest of the West.

“Osamu? Are you done already?” Bonnie asks where she’s putting a pie on the windowsill to cool. Apple, by the smell of it, and utterly delicious.

“Just taking a break, Bonnie. Buck works me to the bone!” He says and collapses on the couch, his spurs jingling as he kicks his feet up over the edge of the sofa and leans his head back, tipping his hat down over his face. He hears Bonnie say something, but he’s already halfway to dreamland.

Despite only intending to sleep for a few minutes, Osamu naps for the better part of an hour. He only wakes up when he hears the whinny of an unfamiliar horse and quick steps up to the cabin door. Then, an excited set of knocks.

“Can you get that, Osamu? I’m busy with supper!” Bonnie calls from the kitchen, and he calls back, saying that he would.

Only to come face to face with you.

It had been ages since he saw you. He had yet to see you at any significant historical events that he time jumped to. The Titanic, the moon landing. Hell, he hadn’t even seen you during World War Two when he was accidentally drafted!

“You!” He jabs a finger, and you grin adoringly, stepping under his arm and skipping to the kitchen.

“It’s me, Granny!” You chirp, and he hears a delighted squeal.

“Dearest! It’s been ages!”

So you’ve been here before.

Several times by how familiar Bonnie seemed with you.

Osamu meanders his way into the kitchen, where Bonnie is wiping her hands on her apron. She grins at the sight of him,

“This is Osamu! He’s been helping Buck around the farm for the last few weeks!” She says, and Osamu tips his hat with a wink.

“We’ve met before.” He says, and you jump up from where you had been sitting at the dining table and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“‘samu!” You cheer, and he returns any affection greedily, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He’s still unable to get the sight of your corpse out of his mind. But he vowed that if he ever saw you again, he’d accept any love you’d give him.

You’re dressed the part of a cowgirl. A long calico skirt and long-sleeved button-down. Your hair is longer than he remembered, tied back in a braid, and a bandana around your neck to protect you from the harsh sun above. Your hat sits on the table, and so do your gloves.

Your skin is just as soft as he remembers.

It isn’t long before Buck is called in for dinner, and the four of you eat together. You sit to Osamu’s right, with Bonnie to his left and Buck across from him. You chat happily with the couple, and Osamu is content with just sitting and watching. You tell an obviously edited version of your adventures, with grand sweeping gestures and voices to accompany your tales.

Long after Bonnie and Buck go to bed, Osamu finds you on the swinging bench on the front porch. You’re writing in your journal, about halfway full, and sketching a picture of him.

It’s an incredible likeness to his face and rather impressive to look at. You even got his cowboy hat right.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, and you jump, slamming your journal shut and looking up with wide eyes. But you realize it’s him, relax, your shoulders sagging, and nod with a smile. The wood creaks as he sits at your side. His arm stretches along the back like it belongs there, and you lean into his side. He relished in your warmth.

“Have we done Rome yet?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“I was thinking of going there next, though!” You say, and he nods, leaning his head against yours.

“How come you never go to big events?” He asks next, and you hum with a shrug,

“I like the little days. I like seeing how people live their day-to-day lives.” You say, and he can’t help but laugh.

You were truly the exact opposite of him.

You swat his chest,

“Don’t laugh at me!” You cry with mock anger, but a smile curls the corners of your mouth. Like you liked hearing him laugh. You give him pause when you lean up and press a kiss to his nose. He freezes, blinks several times, and stares down at you.

“I love your laugh.” You say, and his smile falters just the slightest bit.

No one liked hearing him laugh.

Not since he left home, at least.

But you were his home now.

October 31st, 2012

Yokohama, Japan

Fog rolls through the streets of Yokohama. Osamu strolls the streets, hands in his pockets. He was alone. At least for the time being. At least until you showed up again.

If you showed up again.

No… You would… Osamu had faith. You usually did on the small days.

Whenever his nightmares got particularly bad, he’d time jump to a place he thought you’d like. This time, it was Yokohama, Japan. Notably, it was Halloween. Nothing ever happened on Halloween. Well… except for that one time…

Oh, whatever.

He had been here for a few months, finding himself at peace in modern-day Japan. He discovered his parent’s graves and realized he was home.

At least… when he wasn’t with you.

Until he saw you crossing the street.

You looked younger than he had ever seen you before. Another young girl walked beside you, both of you dressed in Halloween costumes and laughing amongst yourselves.

But the longer he watched you, the longer he realized something.

You wouldn’t know who he was. No, no, no, it was much too early for that. He had never seen you so young before. Not even in pictures when you had shown him at Versailles.

Was this before you began to time jump?

Suddenly, a hand smacked the back of his head, and he flinched, turning to see his newest acquaintance, Kunikida Doppo. He was shouting something. Something about being a bandage-wasting machine. Something about being a lowlife. He didn’t bother listening.

Instead, he looked back to see you looking at him. There isn’t the faintest glimpse of recognition in your eyes. Nary a clue of who he is.

You genuinely don’t know who he is at this point in time.

You lift a hand and wave with a friendly smile, unknowingly making his heart crack in two.

So, he turns, walks past Kunikida without a word, and heads back the way he came.

“Dazai!” Kunikida’s voice, and he hears his acquaintance (He doesn’t have friends. He’s utterly alone in this world.) running up behind him.

“What is it, Kunikida.” His voice sounds oddly monotone, and he knows he has to get you out of his head before he breaks down. He can’t ever come back here, not without causing a paradox and ripping Yokohama apart.

And that would mean he would never see you, ever.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida’s voice makes him stop. He spins with a plastic smile on his face and his heart threading to pieces.

“Of course I’m okay! What makes you think otherwise?” He titters with an all too fake-sounding laugh. Kunikida looks uncharacteristically solemn.

“Well… For instance, you’re crying.” He says, concern seeping into his tone.

Osamu reaches up and touches his cheek, finding that it is indeed wet and glistening with tears.

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #osamu dazai x reader #osamu dazai x you #osamu dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #fairy writes #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd

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snow-lavender · 2 days

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now that we're a week out from the finale, i'm feeling settled enough to make my sappy post. TL;DR is: fable has been incredibly important to me, and i think it's a story that's important to have out there. to the community and cast, you've made something beautiful and helped me more than you could know.

so here we go-

i started watching fable in the summer of 2022, to kill time in between summer courses (and thank fuck for that, cause my brain desperately needed to have some fun after 5 hours a day of doing psych stats by hand.) i was originally pulled in by vo'lete, as dissecting a conlang is really fun to me. it became basically the only media i consumed, as 2022/2023 was the fourth year of my BA and i was crazy busy. and then the characters pulled me in further with their earnestness and their devotion to redemption and compassion.

i think one of the theses of fable is "people always deserve happiness. doing awful things doesn't erase your ability to change." and i think the simplicity and love of that take hit really close to home. in the era of modern fandom where bad actors try to make everything black and white, it's an important point to make.

i started making shitposts on tumblr, started enaging with stories from an analysis standpoint again, and found a lot of joy in the community here. i don't have the words for what that means to me, so i'll just default to you guys are great <3

then mid-august happened

those of you who frequent rin's streams might have caught bits and pieces of this, but basically, i had a fall and my knee became royally fucked beyond belief. it can only be fixed with a surgery that's not very common. the pain was (and still is) debilitating to the point that i had to drop out of my second degree, and couldn't walk more than like, a block every few days. my life, my dreams, my future all got put on hold. i was in a new city with no supports, no friends, and no way to leave my apartment. fable went from the only media i consumed to the only thing i did, period.

the fandom became the only people i talked to regularly, other than my family, as online relationships were the only ones possible to maintain. in fableblr and in rin's chat i've found people who i really click with, people whose company i enjoy and who enjoy mine. when i was lying in bed, feeling so alone and less than human, having people on the internet go "i know who you are and you are making an impact," quite frankly, kept me sane. i know i don't talk to people super often, but know that seeing you in my notifs brings me so much joy, and i'd love to talk to you more.

to assuage any worries- i'm doing a bit better now. i've moved back in with my parents so i have human contact and people who can make up for the things i can't do. i have a new doctor who is taking the severity of my condition very seriously and is fighting to get me treated asap. i'll be okay.

so yeah. fable has been super important to me, and will remain so! for me it's a story with so much joy and deep feelings and rediscovery of passions and just. fun. it's been so much fun. and i'm not letting go of that fun any time soon. i'm gonna keep making and watching and enjoying.

to sage, corn, and cob- you guys are great, i cherish every time we get to talk. i hope that it's okay that i count you among my friends

to my other mutuals and people who are here frequently- recognizing you in my notes is such a joy and i hope to get to know you better. y'all are cool and i'm glad you think i'm funny

to rin- thank you for nurturing your little community and creating a space where i have so much fun. also thank you for putting up with my constant setting off of automod

to beck- thank you for making a story that explores sisterhood in all its ugliness and beauty, that shows how even families full of love can fuck up, that holds space for loneliness and loss and joy and fear and new beginnings

to the rest of the cast- thank you for making a story with so many varied and yet connected points, characters and world. with so much love in it. you've truly done something special here and its impact will not be forgotten

to all of you- thank you for knowing my name. thank you for breathing life and joy into these stories. i can't wait to see what else we make. <3

#fable smp #just a heads up this does get into slightly venty territory so. yeah.

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bbbuckaroo · 8 hours

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you are rights bobs are getting louder because they can feel the interest in their ship dwindling. But you know what?? They brought this on themselves.

I loved buddie and when Tommy came along I was one of the people who thought “yeah he’s cute. I do hope they date for a while” but I held onto the buddie endgame. But I try to “curate my space” like they always say whenever someone complains about how toxic the fandom has become and curating for me means try to avoid negativity. And I used to follow only buddie shippers but I told myself “I’m only gonna unfollow the one who badmouths bucktommy because I don’t wanna see that kind of energy”. And I ended up unfollowing 90% of them. So the reason I became uninterested in buddie is because I don’t see many posts about them and the reason I don’t see many posts about them is because most buddie shippers can’t love their ship without hating on bucktommy or Tommy or even Lou (fucking psychos). Sorry for the rant. I can’t believe how much those people behavior made me fall out of love with a couple i’ve been cheering on for 6 years.

sincerely, a former buddie shipper

Welcome to BuckTommy Nation, we’re all quite lovely and happy to have new residents! We spend our days basking in the sunshine these two boys bring ☀️ And I promise, we’re not anti-Buddie, we’re anti-bullshit. First of all I want to sincerely apologize that you weren’t able to enjoy your ship. In no finer terms, that sucks. Everyone should be able to ship any couple they’d like and enjoy doing it.

I honestly started with 9-1-1 LS, fell in love with Tarlos and heard there was another non-canon couple on 9-1-1 who could develop into that. Within the first few episodes of S2 I loved Buck and Eddie but not for the reasons many did or I expected. I loved how positive and healthy their friendship was as two “manly” men. There was no silly caveman antics or refusal to share feelings. From the beginning they could be two male friends without toxic masculinity and that was (and is) so needed.

I too scrolled through the Buddie posts that showed up on my dash following Buck (I’m a Buck baby) and thought hey, let the shippers have their fun. I’m not going to rag on them and that was back when it was just that, FUN! And as time went on it has become necessary to block all Buddie content because it’s so hard to weed out the positive posts, they’re drowned out by the radicalism and that is so sad. It should have never become that way.

Lou was a total surprise for me and regardless of if he and Buck stayed together, as a character with such growth and stability I adored him and then promptly fell in love with Lou. So the fact that both he and his character were literally attacked from that first kiss was appalling. You’re right, it injected so much negativity into the entire show by one small group and here we are trying to fix it. It’s practically years worth of nastiness. And the part that just blows my mind is that EDDIE was the driving factor in Buck and Tommy getting together and he and Buck’s conversation about coming out was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful and so many people could relate and felt so much hope seeing both someone come out at an “older” age and have his best friend wholeheartedly support him. I legit cried during that scene.

So even as a non-Buddie shipper who never had any issue with the ship EVER, I can understand and see how unfair it is for you and honestly, I am sorry. I wish there were some way for Buddie shippers to enjoy their ship or even be separated from the pack. Because Buddie has become a nasty word with such a negative connotation and you don’t/didn’t deserve that.

I hope y’all know that BuckTommy Nation IS a safe space for Buddie shippers who respect our ship as much as we do theirs because I believe we all want Buck, Eddie, and now Tommy happy and in healthy relationships, whomever they may be with. So please don’t feel like you can’t celebrate both and I promise that myself and other members will try our hardest to not immediately associate Buddie with the BoB’s.

Please feel free to rant as much as you need to, you have a reason too! And clearly I’m a huge advocate for positivity and ignoring the BoB’s so when they are talked about or responded to I immediately shut it down and block. Your rant isn’t negative towards Buck or Tommy or any of them and in no way is giving the BoB’s the attention they’re preying off of. Instead you’re giving an honest and raw testimony of one of the worst things that’s happened because of this insanity. And that’s fans being unable to enjoy themselves and do so with like-minded people. These shows are made to be enjoyed and now people feel like they can’t and you know who that hurts? The people who make and star in the show would we wouldn’t have any of this without!

So thank you so much for sharing your experience and giving us insight into how true Buddie fans are feeling. We need to hear that so we can continue to spread positivity regardless of which characters/actors it is. Because if nasty people are going to make their own fellow-shippers feel like they can’t, we can at least make it a positive place again for everyone. Buck and Tommy have brought so much of that to the show and shown people what a healthy relationship looks like when after years of failed and toxic relationships. Many people desperately need to see that who are in those, regardless of who makes up the couple.

Thank you for sharing all of this and sorry my response turned into a book! We’re so happy you’re here enjoying the ship and the positivity it brings, that’s all we want ❤️

#911 abc #911 show #anon ask #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #bucktommy #buddie #not anti-buddie #anti bullshit

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rainbow-angel110 · 1 year

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HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL!!!

Im excited for where the journey will go for me and my mutuals (hehe talking about you @idontliketomatoesleavemealone and @haylightstarlight and @stars-and-birds and @sometipsygnostalgic and @the-lampman and @theres-got-to-be-more I love you guys 💖💖!!!)

I am hugging you all very firmly, I hope this new year will treat you well!!

And to all else who are reading this, I wish you the same. May you all sleep well, your dreams achieved, no bothers or worries and anxieties to hold you down, not art/writing block, and everything goes well.

I love you guys, take great care of yourself!!

Rainbow out 💛

#the owl house #sky children of the light #gravity falls #percy jackon and the olympians #that sky game #amphibia #shera and the princesses of power #tagging my fandoms cuz I want people to see it so they can feel better about the new year #i know some people might be anxious or stressed #And I understand #so if that's you #🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂#hugs you gently #love y'all

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thebibliosphere · 9 months

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Not gonna draw attention to the post because I suspect the person might blow a gasket, but it's always so funny to me when you see someone picking apart fanart, in this case, a popular fan Ot3 pairing, and they're like, "y'all have brainrot, this'll never be canon, you realize that?"

And maybe I'm just ancient, but since when has fandom ever been about validating canon? Canon is incidental to fandom output. It is, at best, a guideline. You can stick to it, or you can go so far off the beaten path that you fall off the edge of the world and wind up in a new one where the map has words like "here be dragons" stamped in the upper corner.

Fandom is about exploration beyond the canon. It can look like canon, talk like canon, and sometimes even emulate it so perfectly you'd swear you've found the author's secret account, but it doesn't have to.

Ultimately, however, it's about having fun. And if you can't understand that, I have no idea what you're doing here.

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hyperfixating-rn-brb · 6 months

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The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

#good omens spoilers #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #good omens #go2 #bus scene #they like holding hands #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen

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ao3org · 3 months

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Update on "No Fandom" tags

AO3 Tag Wranglers recently began testing processes for updating canonical tags (tags that appear in the auto-complete and the filters) that don’t belong to any particular fandom (commonly known as No Fandom tags). We have already begun implementing some of the decisions made during the earliest discussions. By the time this post is published, you may have already noticed some changes we have made. Several canonical tags are slated to be created or renamed, and we will also be adjusting the subtag and metatag relationships between some tags to better aid Archive users in filtering. Please keep in mind that many of these changes are large and require a lot of work to identify and attach relevant tags, so it will likely take some time to complete. We ask that you please be patient with us while we work! While we will not be detailing every change we make under the new process, we will be making periodic posts with updates on those changes we believe are most likely to prove helpful for users looking to tag or filter works with the new or revised tags and to avoid confusion as to why changes are being made.

New Canonicals!

1. Edging

For a long while, there has been some confusion caused by the fact that we have a canonical for Edgeplay, but not for Edging which has led to some unintentional mistagging and other challenges. Consequently, we will be creating a canonical tag for Edging with the format Orgasm Edging and this new canonical tag will be subtagged to Orgasm Control. Relatedly, we will be reorganizing the Orgasm Control tag tree to allow for easier and more straightforward filtering and renaming Edgeplay to add clarity. You’ll find more details regarding these changes in the Renamed and Reorganized canonicals section below.

2. Generative AI

We have canonized three tags related to Generative AI.

Created Using Generative AI

AI-Generated Text

AI-Generated Images

All tags which make mention of specific Generative AI tools will be made a synonym of the most relevant AI-Generated canonical. Additionally, please note that AI-Generated Text and AI-Generated Images will be subtagged to Created Using Generative AI. How to Use These To Filter For/Filter Out Works Tagged as Using Generative AI: ❌ Filtering Out: To filter out all works that use tags about being created with AI, add Created Using Generative AI to the “other tags to exclude” field in the works filter. This will also exclude works making use of the subtags AI-Generated Text and AI-Generated Images. If you wish to exclude either the Images or Text tags only, you can do so by excluding either AI-Generated Text or AI-Generated Images.

☑️ Filtering For: Add Created Using Generative AI to the “other tags to include” field in the works filter. This will also automatically include the works making use of the subtags AI-Generated Text and AI-Generated Images. If you wish to filter for Images or Text only, you can do so by including either AI-Generated Text or AI-Generated Images only .

As a reminder, the use of these tools in the creation of works is not against AO3's ToS. These new tags exist purely to help folks curate their own experience on the Archive. If you would like to see more information about AO3’s policies in regards to AI generated works, please see our News post from May 2023 on AI and Data Scraping on the Archive.

Renamed and Reevaluated Canonicals!

3. EdgeplayAs mentioned above, we will be renaming Edgeplay to clarify the tag's meaning, given that it is often confused for Edging. This tag will be decanonized and made a synonym of Edgeplay | High Risk BDSM Practices. It will be removed as a subtag of Sensation Play and be subtagged instead directly to BDSM. Please note if you have made use of the Edgeplay tag on your works or wish to continue to use it in the future, you are still welcome to do so. The tag Edgeplay will be made a synonym of the new canonical, so all works tagged with Edgeplay now or in the future will fall under the new tag so that they’re still easy for users to find. If you have made it a favorite tag, it will be transferred automatically when we make this change.

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Careful - Chapter Two

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Liar

Why should I deny what's all at once, so crystal clear?

Summary:

Spencer is eager to talk to you - to find out if your son is actually his. But there are more important matters at hand, like the fact that you might be the next target of a serial killer who is actively stalking single mothers.

The two of you get locked in a battle of wills when you stubbornly refuse his protection and Spencer remains determined to keep you safe.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst and Smut.

Word Count: 8,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of killing/murder, mentions of the reader being a target for a killer; mentions of the reader buying and using a vibrator (does not take place during the fic, more so mentioned as the reality of the ‘sex life’ of a single mom); the reader and Spencer parted on very bad terms (but the details of the situation are not yet revealed); the reader is very angry towards Spencer; the reader and Spencer argue; the reader is in denial that she is the target of a killer; there is some mention of Sebastian having similar hair to Spencer - but I don’t want that to describe or exclude the reader’s race because in the next chapter, there is a mention of Sebastian having the reader’s skin tone; mention of the reader ‘shoving’ Spencer out of anger (not hard enough to cause harm); mention of the reader owning a gun (registered with gun training) as a form of self defense; mention of the reader character celebrating a birthday - but there is no mentions of specific dates or months when the fic is set, so you can easily imagine that this takes place around your birthday (aside from mentions of holidays or seasonal weather); mentions of JJ x Will; JJ talks about her trauma regarding dogs after being attacked in 2x15; this ends in another flashback, this time including flashback sex (smut); Spencer cuts off foreplay to give the reader a birthday present - mentions of heated kissing and some groping; Spencer calls the reader ‘Princess’ (not during sex - in the context of ‘I am here to serve you like royalty’); the smut basically consists of Spencer eating the reader out. And I think that’s it for this chapter.

A/N: Okay so something I did not intend to happen - a lot of this chapter is from JJ's perspective. It just naturally started happening while I was writing it, and it was really interesting to me to write about Spencer and the reader's relationship through her eyes (especially to keep the conflict between them vague to the audience, because JJ doesn't know the details of what happened), and it's not something I did intentionally, but I really loved how it shaped the chapter, so I kept it in. Also, I really wanted to include a lot of JJ x Spencer friendship and comfort moments in the fic because (as a lot of people in the fandom have discussed) - the writers love to have the characters say that JJ and Spencer are best friends, but they don't often show it. They just show a lot of conflict between them. So I wanted to show the potential of their friendship. And I had a lot of fun exploring that. So - I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter, and definitely hope to see you come back for chapter three!!!

...

When you heard someone knock on your door, you thought it was a delivery.

You had ordered Sebastian some new educational coloring books, and some new CDs with Mozart concertos to fall asleep to, because he was getting bored of his current ones. You often felt like you couldn’t keep up with him - Sebastian was so damn smart, and you always tried to provide him with the best resources to learn. Even if he was getting to a point where he was asking for high school level chemistry text books and actually seemed to understand the material in them and you were confused about how he could comprehend any of it.

The package also could have been the new vibrator you had ordered. You weren’t sure if that package was small enough to be left in the mailbox or not. You had to roll your eyes when you thought about how pathetic your sex life had been since having Sebastian. But you couldn’t risk bringing random men through the house just for sex when you had Seb around. So battery power and smut novels, it was.

“Sorry!”

You called out, hoping the delivery person would wait, as you raced to get to the door. You hoped they wouldn’t just slip one of those ‘failed to deliver’ notes into your door handle and force you to run an extra errand with a kid under your arm. You tripped over a toy truck and cursed yourself for procrastinating cleaning up (again).

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

‘I was in my office, in the back of the house.’

The sentence died off on your tongue when you finally fumbled the door open - your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

Spencer Reid.

The father of your child, the man you had once loved.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

Was he here because of Sebastian? Was he angry? He had to be angry that you hadn’t told him about Sebastian for all of these years. He had to be angry that you had given birth to his child and not told him about it.

You flickered back to lust for a moment as your eyes traced over him.

He looked good.

Somehow, he had grown up so much in just four years. He had gone from a gangly, boyish man to a full blown man. But he was somehow still so much the same. His hair had grown out a lot since you had last seen him - instead of the neatly combed, short cut you had last seen him with, it was downright wild. The chocolate brown locks were sprawling out into the thick curls that you had come to see sprouting from your own son’s head. It wasn’t a look that you were used to on Spencer, but it looked damn good on him.

He was wearing his usual leather messenger bag - probably the exact same one from years ago. And he clearly had the same dress sense, but these clothes in particular made you want to jump his bones. A lavender cardigan that complimented his skin tone so well - and his usual button up shirt and tie, along with his usual gray slacks.

You desperately wanted to blame the sting of attraction that you felt for him on the recent lack of male suitors in your life; the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. But you knew it was something else, too. Your previous attraction to him - the fact that because you had slept with Spencer before, you could still feel the ghost of his hands and tongue on your body.

How did he look so good?

He made you feel like a slob in your casual ‘work from home on a random Tuesday’ Mom clothes. If it had been your choice, he definitely wouldn’t be seeing you for the first time in years while you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that you were sure had raspberry juice stained on it somewhere, and eyeliner that you had slopped in between traffic lights in the car that morning.

(You hated it.)

“Y/N,”

He finally broke the silence, speaking your name in that honey-sweet way.

Unfortunately, it brought you rocketing back to that night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This chased out that tiny splash of lust and brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. More longing. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom, your neck aching as the blood pumped hard through your aorta.

Immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and fear took over his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked fiercely, this question rocketing back to the forefront of your mind.

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that suddenly, you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch. Without even thinking, you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched.

You let your emotions carry your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was resentment and heartache that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You screamed. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove. Perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, even you weren’t sure.

Spencer just looked at you with wide-eyed shock. Clearly, for once in his life, at a loss for words.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

The two of you became locked in an icy staring contest, neither of you speaking. Spencer found his throat too dry, and for once, his head far too empty. You were simply too angry and too stubborn to speak in those moments.

This stalemate was only broken up when JJ walked around the corner.

“Spence, Hotch just told me that the first woman doesn’t even match the-”

“JJ!” You cried out her name happily, your entire demeanor changing when you saw her.

She grinned, completely forgetting whatever news she had to report to Reid as you practically flew off the porch and ran to meet her. JJ eagerly opened her arms to hug you, and you squeezed her with all the warmth and kindness of an old friend.

Spencer felt a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t being greeted with as much affection. He knew that the last argument between the two of you had been bad, but he didn’t know it had left such a distinct impression on you. He didn’t know it had been enough to make you hate him.

When you pulled away from JJ, you looked between her and Spencer, and then it suddenly struck you.

If Spencer wasn’t here alone, that meant this wasn’t personal. He wasn’t just here to see you over some lost love, or - maybe he didn’t know about Sebastian at all. You felt a pang of guilt twist your gut because of that.

“What - what are you guys doing here?” You asked, now entirely confused, directing the question toward JJ.

JJ looked toward Spencer, and according to his ill-concealed frown, his reunion with you had not gone well. She doubted that you would take the news that you were possibly being hunted by a killer well on top of that.

“Is it alright if we come inside?” JJ asked, her voice tentative and soft. It was the same voice she usually used with victims and their families.

“Yeah.” You said, knowing there must be something big that you were missing, and hoping that you would be filled in soon enough. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

You walked back up the few steps of the porch and breezed right past Reid. You didn’t even spare a glance in his direction as you went back in through the open front door, leaving it open for the two of them with the expectation that they would close it behind themselves.

“So - I take it things didn’t go well?” JJ whispered to Spencer as she moved up onto the porch.

“Not quite.” Spencer mumbled in return before moving into the house, waiting for her to follow.

This made JJ even more curious about what had gone down between you and Spencer all those years ago.

What could have possibly made you so cold and distant toward him?

But she couldn’t just come out and ask. They had a job to do. They were there to ensure your safety against a man who had already killed five women and orphaned five children.

JJ walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised that she nearly tripped over a plastic toy truck in the entryway. Even though your son didn’t seem to be here (it was far too quiet for a small boy to be around), this was definitely a house where a child lived.

The first space that was visible to her eye - the living room, was clearly a space that belonged to a young child. There was a large, colorful play mat underneath the coffee table, and a few toys scattered over across the floor, showing that he clearly liked to have hands on play. In the corner, there was a child-sized desk with a small chair, which seemed to be surrounded by art supplies, and advanced textbooks? Some of them opened and were dotted with bright, colorful stickers. One glance told JJ that the reading material very advanced for his age clearly belonged to him.

So he very likely was Spencer’s son.

She wasn’t sure why, but that did bring a cluster of joy through her. Likely because she knew he would be so excited to have a child of his own.

JJ couldn’t help but to notice that many of the toys were Paw Patrol themed - it was a favorite show of Henry’s, too. In the back of her mind, she wondered if your son and Henry might be friends.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You huffed, rushing around with your arms half full of toys now - distracted from getting the coffee, as you had mentioned. You were clearly rushing to pick up some of the mess now that you had realized how it appeared in the eyes of your ‘guests’. “All the - stuff.”

You hesitated to say ‘toys’. Clearly, you didn’t want to bring up the subject of your son, even though the evidence of him was so visible all around. You didn’t want to give Spencer the smallest opening to start asking questions about him. It was something you wanted to avoid speaking about for as long as possible.

Spencer looked at you with a mournful look on his face as you dodged around him, purposefully avoiding eye contact while you picked up a coloring book and a handful of crayons off the couch. You still refused to look his way at all as you rushed off to stash the items away somewhere.

Clearly, he wanted to ask you more about your son, and simply ask that penultimate question: was he the father?

But now wasn’t the right time.

“It’s alright.” JJ assured you. “You can just come sit down. We really need to talk to you.”

You heaved out a sigh, defeated in your effort to clean up, and then came back from one of the other rooms. (JJ could only assume you had stashed the toys in a playroom or a closet, because much like her own home, all areas had become a domain for toys and playtime). You motioned for them to sit on the couch, and you scooted over a rocking chair from the other side of the room to sit in front of them, blocking the shut-off TV on the other side.

“So, what is it?” You asked, clearly eager and curious to know what they were doing in your home - why they had contacted you now after so many years apart.

JJ and Spencer exchanged a look, and with a gentle nod from him, JJ took the lead.

“Well, um… there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe that you might be in danger.” She told you, introducing the topic gently, while wanting to be honest and direct. “Perhaps you’ve seen it on the news? But if you haven’t… several single mothers have been killed in the area recently, and we have reason to believe that you might be the killer’s next target.”

You looked at her, entirely observant, quietly taking in her words. Your face was still and expressionless, and JJ was unsure if you were going to take this calmly and logically - if you were going to panic after you had fully absorbed the news, if you were going to cry.

After a moment of silence - you burst out laughing. Your laughter was harsh and nervous, a sound that cut through the air like the rip of a chainsaw. Clearly, it was the stark opposite of someone taking the news with tears.

“Oh my god.” You sighed, taking a breath from the non-humorous laughter. “You know that you didn’t have to make up some excuse just to come and see me, right?”

Spencer’s face curled into a deep frown. He was upset that you weren’t taking this seriously. JJ found herself in shock. Usually when people found out they were potentially on the radar of a killer, they were paranoid, afraid, questioning why.

But it was very rare to see denial.

She did take notice of the fact that you didn’t immediately ask about what kind of evidence or reasoning they had to believe that you were the killer’s next target. Perhaps if your brain let you assess that reasoning for yourself and found it to be valid, then fear would take over. And you couldn’t let that happen. So this laughter, this posturing and not taking things seriously - it was an unconscious way to protect yourself from that fear.

But JJ could only theorize about that.

“I did miss you, JJ.” You said, very pointedly looking at her while you said it. “But you could have just sent me an email or something.”

You continued avoiding Spencer’s harsh gaze as he bored holes into the side of your face with his intense, intrusive eyes.

“Look, this is serious-” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that there is someone trying to kill me,”

You spoke of this lightly, the words entirely condescending on your lips, as though Spencer’s theory was entirely wild and imaginative to begin with.

JJ saw the movement in his jaw as he grinded his teeth out of the corner of her eye, and she was surprised that he let you continue.

“I have an alarm system that I set every night before I go to bed.” You informed them. “I am a proud gun owner. I have a registered revolver that I keep in a lock box beside my bed and I renew my gun training every single spring.” You told them, not seeming the least bit worried at the idea of a killer hunting you down. “If someone wants to kill me, let them try. I’m sure you guys have much better ways to spend your time than sitting around here, chatting with me when there are people out there, actually in danger. People who probably need your help.”

You said this, trying to dismiss them. And then you moved to get up from your seat, looking to escape the conversation entirely. But once again, Spencer stopped you.

“That’s it?” He fired back, entirely indignant, standing from his place on the couch.

This caused you to roll your eyes and let out a hiss, your lungs deflating like an annoyed balloon as you paused in the middle of the room.

“Yes, that’s it.” You groaned back. “Look, I know it’s your job to see problems everywhere, but-”

“It’s my job to protect people.” Spencer replied, cutting you off. “And-”

“Funny!” You scoffed, your voice escalating in volume. It had turned into a full-blown argument now - you were entirely uncaring that JJ was there to witness it; Spencer was locked in your sight like the crosshairs of a scope, and you were ready to fire. “You give a shit about ‘protecting’ me now, but what the fuck happened four years ago?”

You glared harshly at Spencer, and he locked his jaw, staring right back. It turned into a poisonous silence as neither of you spoke - he didn’t have a good answer for this question. And it made JJ all the more horribly curious about what had happened between the two of you. But she didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that the two of you needed some privacy.

“Do… do you mind if I go get myself a glass of water?” She asked, tentatively standing up from her place on the couch.

“I’ll get it.” You huffed out, moving to leave the room.

“It’s okay.” JJ told you. “I can get it for myself. Just point me in the right direction.”

You motioned toward the kitchen and JJ left, and she heard Spencer hiss out something about you being stubborn, which turned into another cluster of voices. The argument turned even more personal and sour now that the both of you didn’t have a witness.

When JJ made her way into the kitchen, she was happy to see that your backyard was full of toys. A pair of sliding glass doors let her peek out to see a colorful swing set and a large playhouse, and a scattering of other toys meant that your son obviously spent a lot of time outside. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the rising, angered sound of voices from the other room as she found a glass in one of the cabinets. When she moved to the refrigerator’s water dispenser, something along the way caught her eye.

A vase of fresh flowers was sitting on the counter.

White carnations.

It made her stomach churn ominously. It felt too perfect to be a coincidence.

She abandoned her half-full glass and grabbed the vase, walking back to the living room with it.

“You just can’t accept help from anybody, can you? How can you not understand that your life is in danger here? This man is not going to stop until-” Spencer ranted on.

He was still trying to convince you to take the threat seriously - but you were still boiling with rage over the past, blind to anything else.

“I can’t accept anyone’s help?” You scoffed, crowding into his personal space to hiss the words closer to him. “That is so rich coming from someone who-”

JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting you off.

“Spence.” She got his attention from the intense gaze he was keeping on you - anger hot in his eyes even though he was staring heavily at your lips.

When Spencer looked over and saw the vase in JJ’s hands, his entire face shifted in a blink. His expression went from tight-knit anger and annoyance to ‘shit-your-pants’ worry. The danger went from being theoretical to being very real in that moment.

“Where did these flowers come from?” Spencer asked.

“What?” You gaped, so entirely confused.

“Where did you get the flowers?” He asked, rephrasing the question, his tone more urgent and demanding now.

“Why does that matter?” You replied, exasperated. You didn’t see how it was at all relevant.

“All of the women who were killed received these exact same kind of flowers within days of their death.” JJ told you. “Do you have any idea who sent them?”

“I thought my mother did.” You shrugged. “There was no name on the card. It just said ‘Happy Birthday’. She didn’t get to see me in person for my birthday, she’s traveling right now. She’s one of the only people who would send me flowers for my birthday.”

“Yes, but your mother knows that your favorite flowers are lavender and baby’s breath. Why would she send these?” Spencer replied.

Naturally, he remembered your favorite flowers.

You couldn’t get stuck on that, though. Instead, you pondered the question he posed.

Why would your mother send you white carnations without even signing the card?

It wasn’t something you had thought about. At the time, you had just thought it was considerate, and sweet. When you had called her to thank her for the flowers, you had gotten her voicemail. You had left her a message thanking her. She was away on a singles cruise with shoddy reception and she hadn’t gotten back to you yet.

“They’re just flowers.” You said, letting out another nervous chuckle - but your voice broke over this one.

Obviously the reality of things was truly starting to set in with you.

“We need to set up protective custody for you.” Spencer said, taking out his phone in order to get this done.

“No!” You snapped. “I am not having some random cops follow me around because you think I might be in danger.” You hissed angrily.

Spencer paused and stared you down, debating if he was going to go against your wishes or not, his phone still in hand.

JJ hated the look in Spencer’s eyes. That deep, bitter fear. Whatever had happened between the two of you, there was still enough care lingering there that he would fight for you no matter what. He was terrified for you. He wasn’t going to let you meet the same fate as the other victims. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

JJ put the vase down on the coffee table, and turned to you.

“It doesn’t have to be random cops. We can stay with you, in order to-” She started to explain, only to be disrupted by the digital ringtone of your home phone echoing through the house.

You rushed to grab the phone, and JJ heard some of the quiet conversation from you on one end.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. It’s no problem. Thank you so much. Yeah, twenty minutes. Bye.”

You hung up and then rushed back into the living room - and before either of them could speak further on the matter, you rushed past them. You went to the entryway, taking off your slippers to exchange them for sneakers.

“Look, guys, I would love to stay and hang out, but I have somewhere important to be.” You huffed out.

“Seriously?” Spencer replied, entirely frustrated with you. “This isn’t some tea party. We aren’t just hanging around here for fun. Call whoever that was and tell them that you’re gonna be late. Or call and cancel, or-”

“No!” You yelled back, entirely frustrated with him. “Dammit, Spencer! People have responsibilities, you know! I have responsibilities. I am an adult, I’m not some child you can talk down to. Now get the fuck out of my house so I can lock up, and get to the important things that I have to do. Things that don’t involve wasting my time talking to you.”

You said the last part so snidely, resenting that Spencer’s unexpected visit had been part of your day.

He opened his mouth to argue against this, but JJ put a gentle hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the door. He sighed and flexed to this movement. He angrily stormed past you to leave through the front door, which he left wide open like a toddler having a tantrum.

You grabbed your keys and your purse from a side table near the door and JJ moved to leave as well. On her way along, she put a gentle hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention.

“We’ll check back in with you later, okay?” She said, using her most gentle, non-confrontational voice.

“Sure.” You easily agreed, unable to be angry with her. “But just call, or something. There’s no need to bang down my door over some stupid flowers. It’s nothing.”

She stepped through the door and you followed. As you used your keys to lock up, you added on:

“I would give you my number, but I’m sure Penelope can find it for you in five minutes flat.”

JJ chuckled at this.

“More like two and a half, I’d say.” She replied - it was a joking tone, but she did truly think this highly of Penelope’s skills.

You smiled over your shoulder at her and she nodded before she began to walk back to the car, where Spencer was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing in his anger.

When she got in beside him, they watched you pull out of the driveway and drive off before either of them spoke.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply, tired.

In order to distract himself from all of it, he was staring down at some files in his lap - some of the case files of the other murders that he had pulled out of his bag. He needed something to do to keep his mind from churning more on the fact that you seemed to hate him. He wanted to find a way to protect you now, instead of focusing on the past.

But JJ seemed hellbent on walking backward - getting him to look back on what happened between the two of you.

“I can do complicated.” She said. “We’ve got plenty of time. We should just sit here and wait for her to come back.”

“You should go check in with Hotch.” Spencer told her, dodging around the question once again. “I’ll come back after.”

“After what?” JJ questioned, finding this wording particularly strange.

JJ started the car and pulled away, hoping that you would be safe during the time they didn’t have eyes on you. The UnSub had a particular routine - he liked to stalk his victims for a few weeks before he broke into their homes and killed them. So she hoped that he wasn’t ready to make contact with you yet. She hoped that if he did, your gun and your alarm system would be enough to deter him.

“I - I wanted to get her something nice.” He answered, sounding rather shy about this proclamation. “Like she mentioned, her birthday just passed. And, according to the preschool forms, her son’s birthday was a week ago. I want to get something for him too.”

“They have the same birthday?” JJ asked.

“Not exactly the same, but their birthdays are only five days apart.” Spencer replied. “I missed his birth.” He added on, a quiet sigh, entirely melancholic. “I missed the whole pregnancy. I - I missed everything.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.” JJ reminded him. “What happened?”

Spencer knew she was asking as a friend. He knew that of all people - she was the one to talk to about this.

“It - it was right after Hankel.” He admitted quietly. “That was when Y/N and I broke up.”

“Oh.” JJ said quietly.

The air in the car became thick as the heaviness truly overtook her.

So, it was complicated.

But she definitely couldn’t understand your rage toward Spencer.

“When I came back from Atlanta, she knew I wasn’t the same. And things - we - we fell apart.” He admitted this barely above a whisper, hesitant to even voice the words as a reality. “You knew what kind of person I was back then. I wasn’t good to her. I wasn’t good to anybody.”

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle - a defense to all the hurt he was feeling about it.

JJ spotted a sign for a shopping center, and pulled into the parking lot. She knew that Spencer likely had a good idea about buying into your good graces with a late birthday gift. Even if it wouldn’t instantly make up for everything that had happened all those years ago.

“Yeah, but you’re sober now.” She reminded him.

“She doesn’t know that.” Spencer replied.

JJ ruminated in thought for a moment.

“You know, I met Will afterwards, right?” She said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Spencer nodded.

“It was only a few weeks after everything happened, when we were working that case in New Orleans.” She explained. “And he looked at me like I was a hero. Because I helped him finish what his father couldn’t. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile or broken. He didn’t tip-toe around me. He didn’t see me as some ghost. And that is part of the reason why I fell for him. He always saw me as this goddess. Like Superwoman.”

Spencer smiled at this.

He wanted to be that person for you. He wanted to be your Superman. (But he feared that he couldn’t live up to that. That he would fail you when the time came.)

JJ found a parking spot, and parked, but Spencer lingered - sensing there was more to the conversation.

“You know… Henry wants a puppy.” JJ’s voice shook, her throat clenching up around these words.

Spencer’s stomach shook.

He hadn’t been there, but he had seen the scars on JJ’s arms. He had seen the footage of the other poor woman being torn apart by those dogs.

“And I had to tell Will everything. How I was chased down, how I had to shoot two innocent animals - the stupid fact that I still feel guilty about it, even though they would have killed me if I hadn’t done it.” She said, her throat becoming more closed off with each word. She cleared it before she spoke again. “How I lost you, how it was all my fault.”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault.” Spencer felt the need to say this aloud, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on her knee. She nodded at him before she continued.

“Just - it was all so overwhelming. The idea of having a dog in our house. But… I told him that I wanted to try, at least. For Henry.” JJ explained. “But when we went to the animal shelter - the sound of dogs barking… I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. And next thing I know, I’m sitting on the curb outside with my head between my knees and Will is putting a bottle of water to my lips.”

“Henry seems more like a cat person anyway.” Spencer replied, hoping this slightly humorous comment would offer some comfort to his friend.

JJ let out a tired laugh.

“He’s three and a half, I think we’re still in the stage where a goldfish is more than enough for him.” She added on.

“I - I never told Y/N.” Spencer said, suddenly shifting the conversation. JJ raised her brow, prompting further explanation of this. “I never told her what happened to me. What happened with Hankel.”

JJ gave him a sad look.

“Why not?”

“I - I didn’t want her to view me as weak. I couldn’t fight him off. I accepted the drugs. At certain points, I…. I even pitied him.” Spencer replied. “I didn’t want things to change between us. Even though they did anyway.”

“Do you still wanna be with her?” JJ asked.

“What?” Spencer gaped, not expecting the question.

“If the kid is yours, obviously you wanna be in his life. But co-parenting as separate, single people is one thing.” JJ explained herself. “Do you still want to be with Y/N? Do you still love her?”

“Yes.” Spencer replied shyly.

“Then you have to tell her everything.” JJ said firmly. “Being with someone for the long term isn’t about creating some fantasy. I fell in love with Will because he looked at me like I was Superwoman, but I stayed in love because he takes care of me when I’m powerless. You have to be weak in front of her and let her take care of you, so that you can be strong everywhere else.”

Spencer sighed - letting this wisdom fully penetrate him.

He knew that being a genius sometimes meant that he wasn’t the smartest person in the room. Apparently, this was one of those times.

“You’re right.”

Then, he reached for the car door’s handle, feeling like JJ had taught him a lot with that conversation and he needed some time to think alone.

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked. “You might need a woman’s opinion on what to get,”

“No thanks, I know Y/N pretty well.” He replied. “At least I hope I still do.” He opened the door fully and stepped out. “And I wanted some alone time, to… think all of this over. To think about what I’m gonna say to Y/N. I’m gonna walk back afterwards, the house is only a few blocks away.”

JJ nodded.

“I should check back in with Hotch.” She noted. “See if they found anything with the other women on the list. Otherwise, all we’ve got is the flowers.”

Just as he moved to close the door again, JJ spoke up one last time.

“Rubble.” She said suddenly - which sounded very strange with no context.

“What?” Spencer asked, ducking his head down to see inside the car to potentially hear her words better.

“Rubble - it’s a character from the kids’ TV show, Paw Patrol.” She explained. “There was about five action figures of him sitting on the living room floor back there. So I would assume that he’s your son’s favorite character.”

Spencer’s chest jumped at the way she said ‘your son’ - so casually.

He could really have a child in his life. This could really be his future.

If he played his cards right, this could be his future with you.

“Thank you, JJ.” Spencer grinned at her.

She smiled back and he stood up to his full height and closed the car door, walking off into the shopping center by himself.

And of course, his thoughts drifted back to you.

He thought back to the last time he had spent your birthday with you. Before Hankel, before all the madness. Before everything good in his life slipped through his fingers and he was left feeling so alone.

…

For someone with basically no serious relationships under his belt before you came along, Spencer was excellent when it came to romance.

Perhaps it was because he spent his time reading the classics - he could recite Elizabethan poetry off by heart, he could whisper epic romantic ballads in your ear before kissing you with such intense passion that it left your head spinning. He had such a perfect picture of what romance should be, and it meant that he knew how to plan a date that left you feeling like a queen.

Every single time he took you out, he made you feel like you were the only woman on earth - like he would move the seas and the sky just to show you how much he cared.

And because he insisted that your birthday should be a day all about you - a day dedicated to celebrating you - then this was certainly no different.

The night had been a whirlwind of perfection.

After dinner at a gorgeous fine dining restaurant downtown, Spencer then drove the two of you to an art gallery to stroll around. He cited that he wanted you to have some down time for your food to settle before he gave you your present. From the spark in his eye, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what that present would be. The whole evening was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. And like everything with Spencer - it was a pleasant enrichment of the mind, looking at art while he told you things about the artists or the origins of the paintings.

Before you got halfway through the gallery, he checked his watch and told you that it was ‘just about time’ for your present, and then he drove you back to his apartment.

The two of you barely made it through the door before you had him pinned against it, your mouth enveloping his in a hot, desperate kiss. You were so utterly grateful to have such a romantic, thoughtful man in your life.

The entire evening had been nothing but a reminder of that - the way he looked at you with love so pure in his eyes. Him opening doors for you, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you gently around, speaking lowly to you as though his words were precious and only meant to be yours.

You needed him. You needed to show him how much you appreciated all of it. You needed him to know how much of a treasure he was in your life.

You reached for his belt and Spencer let out a choked off moan into your mouth.

You were surprised when he reached for your wrist, gently pulling your touch back - stopping you from unfastening the belt as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips away from your kiss.

“As - as much as I want to,” He huffed out against your mouth. “I - I still have to give you your present.” He noted, flashing you a smile.

“I thought this was my present.” You replied, reaching down to grope Spencer’s half hard cock through his pants.

He let out a groan; but then he reached for your wrist again, pulling your touch back.

“I - I promise - later - afterwards? Later tonight.” He stuttered out, hard pressed to focus as more blood rushed to his cock.

Spencer puzzled you. You had never known any other man to interrupt foreplay for something other than sex, unless it was life or death. But it made you very curious about what your present was and why he was so desperate to give it to you.

And sex was still on the table, so that panging need between your legs would be taken care of eventually.

You hummed in ascent and stepped back, releasing Spencer from where you had him pressed against the door. He gulped in a large breath of air before he moved across the room.

You were surprised when he didn’t move to turn on any lights in the apartment, leaving the two of you settled in comfortable darkness. The only lights being the light from the bathroom that he had left on before leaving, shining down the hall, and the dim lighting coming in the windows - some street lights and the occasional passing car’s headlights.

Spencer shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of the couch on his way toward the window. He yanked up the blinds in front of the space where he had set up a very expensive, advanced, gorgeous telescope - one that had been there the last few times you had visited. Astronomy was one of his many hobbies, and he often invited you to view different stars or passing comets. It was just one of the many things you learned from him - knowledge you absorbed from being around him that made you feel infinitely smarter.

You always indulged in the joy of feeling smarter just from being in his presence. You loved that Spencer was someone so gifted who loved to share his knowledge, rather than gatekeeping it or being snide toward others who weren’t as privileged as him. It was just another thing to love about him - the fact that he was so kind in sharing his big brain with others.

You watched him with intrigue while you took your wrap off your shoulders and tossed your purse onto the couch. Enjoying the quiet and the peaceful darkness and watching him work, you moved to sit on the arm of the couch to begin unstrapping your heels.

He checked his watch again, and then looked to a small side table he had near the telescope. He flipped open a notebook that he had there, and you supposed that the minimal light coming in through the window was enough for him to see whatever it was that he had written there. He adjusted the telescope slightly, then looked at the notebook again, then adjusted the telescope again.

Then he said ‘aha, there you are’ under his breath, grinning widely to himself.

The entire thing made your insides glow with curiosity.

Spencer then turned back to you, still grinning widely. When he noticed your shoe half-hanging off your foot, he stepped over to you and softly grabbed your ankle, sliding your shoe off the entire way before gently rubbing the sole of your foot.

“Let me help you with that, Princess.” He said quietly, before moving to take the shoe off your other foot.

Again, your insides tingled as he made you feel like you were the most important woman on earth.

“Thank you.” You replied, almost speechless at the action.

“If you’ll step right this way, I can show you your present.” He said, motioning toward the telescope with a dramatic flare.

You let out a giggle as you stepped over your abandoned shoes and moved to look into the telescope.

You wondered if he had written some poem and taped it onto the other end of the lens or something like that (it was Spencer, it must have been something epically romantic). But as you bent down and closed one eye to get a good look, it was entirely ordinary.

The telescope was focused on a single, tiny star.

It was beautiful, but it was very… plain. And more than anything, it was confusing.

Your present was… a star?

“Spencer, I don’t really get it?” You sighed, standing up to your full height once again.

“I got you a star.” He said proudly, grinning even wider now.

When you stared at him with more intense confusion, Spencer reached over to the notebook and pulled something out. After he handed it to you, you leaned into the light of the window and studied it carefully.

It was a certificate stating that Spencer had paid to name the star after you.

He had literally changed the night sky for you.

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly.

You felt so overwhelmed.

If he had made you feel like the most important woman in the world before, then now - you felt like the most important woman in the galaxy.

“Spencer, this is - this is too much.” You said, your throat clenching up slightly due to the intensity of the emotions.

“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on your jaw, tilting your face up from looking at the certificate to look at him.

There it was again, all of it spelled out in his eyes - the adoration, the pure, overwhelming affection that he felt for you. It bloomed nothing but those same feelings in return from you. It was almost so overwhelming that you felt like you could have exploded from how much love you felt for this man, all of it swelling inside of you so quickly that you felt like your body couldn’t contain it. Like it was a sickness that was going to overrun your body if you weren’t careful.

“Spencer.”

His name swelled in your throat like that throbbing love, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss. Because of course, words weren’t enough. You smothered him with your mouth, trying desperately to communicate every ounce of passion and gratefulness you were feeling with the heat of that kiss.

Spencer held you, engulfing both your cheeks with his large, warm hands, kissing you back with just as much intensity.

Both of you lingered there for a few moments, savoring each other’s lips, mingling in each other’s breath.

You were disappointed when Spencer pulled away.

“There is something else.” He told you, a bit of glee edging on his voice.

“What?” You gaped, shocked by this.

“There’s something else I have to give you. Another part of your present.” He clarified, pulling back completely - likely in order to fetch this thing.

You let out a breath. You weren’t sure how this magnificent man could possibly do more.

You placed the certificate for the star down on the table where Spencer had kept it. Later, you would take it home and have it framed, wanting to display it proudly. You could imagine yourself putting it up in the front of your home when you eventually moved in with Spencer. You could put it next to your marriage certificate; eventually, put next to wedding photos when the two of you eventually got married. (And sometime later, it would be hanging alongside photos of you and Spencer with your kids. You tingled, realizing that this was the first time you had ever thought of having kids with him, but it fit so well. It seemed right.)

The thought made you tingle.

You could truly imagine yourself having a life with Spencer. Standing proudly because this was just the beginning of it. He truly felt like ‘the one’ you had always been waiting for.

“Here.”

Spencer’s voice pulled you from your plethora of dreamy thoughts, and you turned to see him holding a velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat at the passing thought that it might be the box - but no. Now wasn’t the time. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. And while you were so deeply in love, you knew that it was a bit haste to assume that he was ready for marriage when you were his first serious girlfriend. You were still both so young.

He opened the lid and you let out a small gasp when you saw it.

It was a simple, elegant silver necklace. The pendant was a four pointed star, with a small, dainty stone in the middle. You easily recognized it as your birthstone, meant to represent the fact that he had given it to you on your birthday. And obviously the star pendant as a whole represented that he had also gifted you a literal star in the sky on that same day.

“Spencer, it’s so beautiful.” You said, utterly breathless.

“Traditionally, the four pointed star is believed to represent the designation of a goal. It marks one’s great endeavors, because it seems to point to the four cardinal directions. This star is meant to guide someone, like a map - the way that sailors used the stars to guide their path.”

Spencer explained, knowledgeable as he always was.

“I - I chose this for you because… well, because when I met you, I felt as though I had accomplished great things in all areas of my life, except for one. Academically, I was satisfied. In my career, I was happy. But when it came to matters of the heart… I was utterly clueless. And when I found you… it felt like you were my guiding star. Like you were the person I had been waiting for to finally show me - show me the meaning of love.”

“Oh, Spencer.” Your voice cracked around these words, barely able to form them. “Oh, honey. I love you so much. Thank you.”

It was all your mind could gather at the moment. It wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, but it was certainly one of the most intense.

“I love you too.” He replied. Through the dimness, you could almost see tears forming in his eyes. “You truly make me so happy.”

Spencer then cleared his throat harshly, wanting to clear away his intensely emotional tears.

“Can - can I put it on you?” He asked shyly, motioning with the necklace in its box.

“Of course.” You grinned. “I’d love that.”

You turned around and Spencer took it out of the box, fiddling with the dainty clasp for a moment before he put it around your neck and then did it up for you. It felt so right around your neck. It felt like his love was being carried with you. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t want to take it off anytime soon. You could easily imagine yourself feeling so proud to answer whenever random strangers or your co-workers asked where it was from.

When it was secured around your neck, Spencer leaned in and laid a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the chain. This simple act reminded you of that needy throb between your thighs; of what you had been wanting so badly the moment you had come in the door.

“So…” He whispered against your neck. “What else does the birthday girl want?”

“I can think of a few things.”

That was how you ended up with your back pressed against the softness of the couch - too impatient to even make it to the bed - with your dress pushed up around your waist, your panties tossed somewhere in the middle of the living room rug. Spencer’s glasses were pressed up onto his forehead while his knees dug into that same rug, his fingers splayed across your thighs, holding you open to makeway for his tongue.

He ate you out with all of the intensity and passion that he had kissed you with - moaning into your pussy as though he was singing directly to the gods.

“Fuck, Spence.” You moaned, raking your hands through his hair, holding him close - not that he would want to pull away for even a second.

He loved your taste more than anything in the world, and he savored every second that he got the privilege of being on his knees for you. He moaned into your pussy, loudly, almost pathetically - hot echoes coming from his lungs as though he was the one being pleasured. He laved his tongue across you with an open jaw, drinking in as much of you as possible while your thighs quaked around his head. Your nails dug into his scalp and he only moaned harder, loving the sound of your needy whines and your gasping breaths as your clit throbbed under his tongue.

Spencer hummed in delight while he bounced your clit on his tongue, loving the feeling of that sweet little bead throbbing against him; loving your taste, loving your echoing moans. Loving how much he could bring you pleasure.

“Fuck, Spence, so close!”

He put his lips around you and sucked then, holding you gently against him by the hips. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of your body quaking against his face while your orgasm overtook you. It was overwhelming and beautiful and warmed your whole body - just like the love you felt for him.

He pulled away after a moment, when he was sure that he had seen you through to the satisfying end, and he grinned against the mound of your pussy.

“Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

…

After the break-up, Spencer often looked up to the sky and thought about you.

On the nights when your star was in place overhead, he felt a particular pang in his chest. He wondered where you were and what you were doing. He wondered if you were safe. He spent many nights staring out his telescope, wondering if you were happy, blanketed under that inky sky.

You thought about the star sometimes, too.

You thought it was a lot like your relationship with Spencer. Placing all of your hopes and dreams onto something already dead - something where the light had died out long ago.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Three - Turn It Off

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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queers-gambit · 9 months

Text

Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst

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senlinyu · 4 months

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I'm excited to announce that I have signed a book deal with Del Rey at Penguin Random House in the US and Michael Joseph in the UK for my debut novel, Alchemised, a standalone dark fantasy set in a war-torn world of necromancy and alchemy, in which a healer with amnesia is taken as a prisoner of war and must fight to protect her lost memories and the secrets hidden among them. It will grapple with themes of trauma and survival, legacy, and the way that love can drive one to extreme darkness, and it is, as you may be able to tell, a reimagined version of Manacled.

I know I’ve been rather quiet about my publishing journey, and a lot of that has been because I didn’t want to spark any concerns or worry that I might be abruptly taking away a story that is such a deep part of myself and that I know has meant so much to so many people. This process has unfolded very slowly and quietly because I have tried to be mindful as I could be in every step of the way.

As most of you know, I have been a reader in fandom long before I ever began to write. Fanfiction is incredibly special to me, and I have tried to do my best not to undermine its legal protection or allow my works to do so either. During the last several years, there has been a growing issue with illegal sales of Manacled, putting both me and the incredible community that shares fanfiction freely in legal jeopardy.

After consulting with the OTW as well as other lawyers, it has grown clear that as a transformative writer I have limited options in protecting my stories from this kind of exploitation, but I wasn’t sure what to do; I didn’t want to just take the story down, in part because I worried that might only exacerbate the issue, but I didn’t know what other options I had. Then I suddenly had this idea of alchemy, which was peculiarly appropriate; an academic world filled with unique transmutational abilities, and a necromantic war against people who had discovered the secrets of immortality, and I could see a path to reimagining the story while still holding on to as much of the original spirit of Manacled as possible.

I began redrafting the concept privately around Christmas 2022, and then as if the universe had aligned, just as I was finishing, Caitlin Mahony and Rivka Bergman of WME reached out to me and were delightfully enthusiastic about concepts and ideas for my new alchemical world and the ways I had reimagined the story.

I'm thrilled to be working with Emily Archbold, my visionary editor at Del Rey, along with Rebecca Hilsdon at Michael Joseph in the UK, to polish this novel for publication in Fall 2025. I feel uniquely privileged that both my publishing teams are familiar with Manacled and understand how special it is to so many people, and how important it is that this reimagining captures the same spirit while also having its own wings.

Manacled is not going anywhere at present. It will remain online throughout 2024, at which point it will, if you’ll pardon the pun, alchemise for 2025 and be removed from AO3.

I'm so thankful to all of you who've enjoyed my works, and I hope that I can continue to rely on your support as I take my next steps as an author.

#manacled story #alchemised

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lxkeee · 3 months

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TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART SEVEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Swearing and Adam.

Notes: shit is about to go down.

PART ONE | PART SIX | PART EIGHT | NAVIGATION

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” [Y/n] added, her eyes glaring down on Adam, her power and strength can be felt through the air and they can tell that she is absolutely furious.

“Oh shit.” Adam muttered underneath his breath. His boss' boss is here.

Adam nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “Heyyy there [Y/n]... I didn't expect you to be hereee or rather, I didn't expect to see you today... Don't you have work...?” he says nervously, clearly not expecting the news would reach the Seven Heavenly Virtues this soon and [Y/n]'s eyes narrowed even more at him, her wings fluttering behind her back—puffed up and angry.

“Enough Adam, you've done enough pain and destruction here. Take the exorcists and your ass back hOME!” She sneered, her eyes looking at Adam with annoyance, “You and Sera will be held accountable for your actions and for your disobedience and if you don't want a severe punishment then I suggest you go home quietly and quickly. Do you understand?” she snapped, her voice filled with anger and authority. Reminding them who they're dealing with.

Adam avoided her gaze and eventually nodded, “I understood...” he muttered, opening a portal back to heaven with a snap of his fingers, “Exorcists! Fall back and return.” Adam ordered and flew past [Y/n], the exorcists following behind him.

The sinners just looked at the scene in awe, an angel ordering Adam to stop whatever the fuck he was doing and the man just complied without questions.

Lucifer's eyes never left her form, he never stopped looking at her in fear that the moment he blinks she will disappear once more. Like a dust in the wind.

[Y/n] sighed, her angelic form calming down once Adam and the exorcists left, the portal closing. She turned back to look down on the sinners. Her heart ached when her eyes finally landed on her husband. Her mind telling her to imagine it was Xavier but how can she? When Lucifer was missing Xavier's [e/c] eyes? That is not her son, that is Lucifer, her husband, ex-husband?? She doesn't know the status of their marriage and she's in too much in pain to care.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down her fast beating heart, she can feel her body is weakening even more. She barely got any rest, she's also wounded and her healing powers took most of her energy. She just hoped she had enough to last to return back home and back to her son.

She slowly flies down to where the sinners are, to where Lucifer is.

She landed in front of them gracefully, well, a little wobbly.

The sinners and Lucifer looked at her with hesitation, nervous whether she was a new enemy or an ally.

“Greetings, I am Raphael from the Seven Heavenly Virtues.” She greeted, giving them a small bow, “On behalf of heaven and the seven heavenly virtues, we apologized for Sera's, Adam's, and the exorcists' behavior. This cleansing wasn't approved by the others and was done without the other's notice. We will make sure that they will be held accountable for their actions and disobedience. We never intended for sinners to suffer like this.” she says, her voice quivering before kneeling in front of them.

This is so embarrassing. [Y/n] thought to herself.

Their eyes widened in surprise to see an angel, a seraphim angel prostrate herself, her head on the ground as she asked for their forgiveness.

They were also surprised to know that this cleansing wasn't a decision made by the entirety of heaven but just a few people.

Charlie waved her hands, trying to get the woman to stop kneeling, “Um... Please raise your head...” Charlie says nervously.

Lucifer was speechless, how could he not? His first wife that he didn't see for so many millennia is here. His eyes caught sight of a golden wedding ring on her ring finger—the very wedding ring he slipped into her finger when they got married, he could never forget it. She still wore it after all these years, after all the things he has done to her and their family. She waited for him...

[Y/n] raises her head, her eyes tired and... Lucifer doesn't remember her eyes to be this... Sad. His heart broke into pieces. He's done this, he caused her so much pain and it changed her. Those aren't the eyes of the [Y/n] he fell in love with, [Y/n]'s eyes were so bright and hopeful before and now... It doesn't even look like it can see herself living tomorrow. It doesn't even look like she has gotten enough sleep judging by the heavy bags underneath her eyes and the dark circles around her eyes.

[Y/n] avoided Lucifer's gaze, she felt so small and weak underneath his eyes. Even after all these years he still had this much effect on her.

[Y/n] tried to focus on whatever the girl said, her ears were slightly ringing and her eyes were slightly blurring. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before slowly standing up, wobbling slightly.

Everyone noticed it, something is definitely wrong with her and it made them worry. They can notice how pale she looked and she seems to wince slightly whenever she moves.

“Are... Are you okay...?” Charlie asked worriedly, helping her up and [Y/n] smiled, though it never reached her eyes. The girl looked just exactly like Lucifer, this must be his daughter then?

“I'm just a little tired, don't worry about me.” She says weakly, patting the girl's head.

“I think I would be leaving now, we'll make sure to punish both Adam and Sera for their actions and we'll try to help hell find a better way to deal with its growing population.” She says, gently parting away from the girl's hold. Her body felt heavy and so incredibly exhausted. This is bad, she needs to get home soon.

She stumbled slightly, Lucifer's eyes widened and his body moved without thinking and caught her effortlessly, her head pressed against his chest, [Y/n]'s eyes widened, her eyes starting to prick, no don't cry, don't cry... He felt so warm and so soft, she missed this. She weakly tries to push him away. She can still smell his signature perfume of vanilla and roses from his suit. The scent calmed her down slightly.

“Lucifer... Please don't... Please don't hold me like this... Please don't hold me like you still care...” she pleaded weakly, trying to push him away. Her arms on his chest, weakly pushing him away but the man wouldn't budge.

These two have history together... The others thought as they looked at the two angelic beings.

Lucifer's heart aches even more but refusing to let go of her and make her fall into the floor, he can tell she's incredibly exhausted by how much she's no longer trying or having the energy to stand up for herself.

“No [Y/n]... I made that mistake before and I promised not to lose you again...” he says, his voice cracking with emotions, slightly choking on his words. [Y/n]'s eyes widened at his words, her heart aching, hurting, she wants to believe his words, but the damage is not so easy to fix. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She nuzzled her head against his chest, her eyes finally rolling back as she passed out into his arms. Physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. Despite all of that, Lucifer's arms are as warm and comforting as she remembers.

Lucifer's gaze softened, he gently shifted [Y/n]'s limp body so he's now carrying her bridal style. Making sure he's not causing her even more pain.

His eyes returned back to the sinners and her daughter, they looked at him with evident confusion in their eyes. He sighs, “She's... My first wife... First ex-wife.. I don't know...” he answered pathetically to the unspoken question in the air, even he himself doesn't know what his status with her is. They never really divorced each other.

Angel Dust whistled, “Quite a dilemma you got there toots.” he snickered and Lucifer glared at him before sighing, he himself agreed to that statement, “I know...” he sighs.

“I'll just leave her somewhere safe to rest and I'll come back to help fix and tidy up this place.” Lucifer says, summoning a portal behind him and quickly stepping in with [Y/n] in his arms. The others didn't have time to protest as the portal closed before they could.

Lucifer carried her effortlessly in his arms, walking towards his bedroom—it is currently the cleanest as the other rooms were dusty from being unused.

He gently laid her down to rest on his bed, making sure she's not lying down on her hair. He was about to tuck her in when he noticed something golden seeped into her white dress, just by her waist.

His eyes widened, that's blood. Angelic blood to be specific.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She's bleeding, what the actual fuck happened to her?

He thought to himself, debating whether to rip her dress or undress her so he could treat her wound.

“Oh Satan. I shouldn't overthink this, she's in desperate need of help.” Lucifer muttered underneath his breath, hands shaking. Why wouldn't he? She's finally back in his arms and now she's wounded and bleeding and passed out to exhaustion? He's behind worried!

Think Lucifer, think.

He thought to himself before finally getting an idea. He gently wakes her up with a small nudge, causing the girl fo groan and open her eyes.

Pain, sharp pain on her side is what [Y/n] felt first when she woke up. She could see a familiar mop of light blond hair. Disoriented, her eyes blurry, and head aching, she just groaned, “Xavier...?” she calls out, thinking it was her son.

“I'm sorry [Y/n], I'm just going to undress you and treat your wound real quick. Can I do that?” he murmured, asking for her consent. [Y/n] just nodded and groaned before passing out again.

Lucifer sighs in relief, snapping his fingers together to remove her dress and changed her into something comfortable and appropriate. A light pink satin pajamas. He lifted up her shirt and Lucifer had to cover his mouth.

So much concentrated negative energy is present on her wound, a wound that is located at the left side of her waist.

Lucifer swallows the lump of nothing in his throat, he sits on the empty spot of his bed. He'll worry later, he needs to heal her as fast as he can. Placing his hand above her wound, hovering slightly. A golden aura radiates from the palm of his hand.

No wonder she's so exhausted, it's taking so long to heal this wound. He thought, exerting more energy into healing her. His eyebrows furrowed as he maintained his concentration, making sure his power flows directly into his hand.

Slowly and surely, her wound began to close in. Lucifer could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the concentrated negative energy making the healing process much more harder.

No wonder she was so exhausted, she must've tried healing herself before coming here. He thought to himself.

With a gasped, the wound finally closed and healed itself. It felt like his life was sucked out of him after healing her.

He sighs, his eyes softening as his gaze landed on her sleeping form. She no longer had that pained expression on her face after healing her and he's glad. He's glad to be able to at least help her and not cause her pain for once. He gently lifts her hand and pressed a chaste kiss at her knuckle before bringing it back down again to her side.

He tucks her underneath the blanket, making sure she's comfortable.

He left her side once more, this time, promising that he'll be back. He just needed to help his daughter. He'll be back before she wakes up.

“Luci...? Please don't leave me again...” she whispers in her sleep, snuggling into his warm blanket. Lucifer's eyes watered, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

“I'll be back before you know it, I'll see you soon, [Y/n].” he whispers before teleporting away in specks of red and golden dust.

Meanwhile, in heaven.

“YOU LEFT MY MOTHER BEHIND?!” Xavier growled, pissed. He glares at Adam, the first man. Annoyed that the man left his mother with his father, THE MAN WHO LEFT HER FOR ANOTHER WOMAN!

“Look, your mom was clearly pissed off and I don't want to face her wrath. I can tell that that woman is holding so much anger inside her and just waiting to blow up.” Adam says nonchalantly, a sigh escaping his lips, shrugging.

Xavier wanted to rip his own hair in frustration. He is beyond worried, he just found out that his mother would be taking care whatever bullshit is happening in hell and she's been gone for hours now! Adam and the exorcists' arrived back in heaven three hours ago and there is still no sign of his mother.

He's worried, he knows his mother has just gotten out of work from the mortal realm and went straight down to hell to fix whatever damage Adam and the exorcists' did.

“Fuck this, I'm going down there and look for her.” Xavier says with a sigh, annoyed at Adam for being good for nothing.

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