[alchemysoulx]

HERO

Summary:

You meet a man who claims to be a prince from another world, after a love life full of disappointments and failed connections. As his impossible story begins to prove disturbingly real, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you didn’t expect.

Author's Note: After watching Master of the Universe (2026) and seeing Nicholas Galitzine at his best as Adam, I decided to write a chapter of a fanfic or a one-shot. It depends on whether anyone likes it. This chapter, like others, contains spoilers for the movie's plot. However, there will be changes in several parts as well. The characters don't belong to me.

TWO

THREE

A little while later, you and Adam were standing in the parking lot of the building where he lived, the night finally quiet around you after the chaos of the store. The whole drive over had passed in a blur of adrenaline, disbelief, and the strange, breathless feeling of having somehow gotten away with something impossible.

You had barely paid attention to the road.

Now, under the dim wash of the parking lot lights, Adam looked far less triumphant than he had a few minutes earlier. The sword was with him again, yes, but the hope he had carried into the store had dimmed into something uncertain, almost fragile.

He turned to you slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than you had heard it all night.

“Every single day,” he admitted, “my only goal has been to find my way home.” The words seemed to cost him something. His mouth pulled into the faintest pout, and for one awful second he looked as though he might actually cry. You felt your heart twist.

“And if Eternia does not want me back?” he asked, meeting your eyes with a kind of honesty that made it impossible not to take him seriously. Without thinking too hard about it, you reached for your seat belt and unbuckled it, then stepped closer to him and lifted a hand to his face. Your touch was gentle, careful, as if he might break if you pressed too hard.

“Don’t think like that,” you told him quietly. “Maybe it just didn’t work because of the way everything happened. Maybe there was too much pressure. Maybe it needs time.”

Adam looked at you as though he was trying to decide whether he believed you, and the uncertainty in his face made the whole thing ache even more.

Then, in a voice so sincere it nearly undid you, he said, “You are one of the best people I have met here.”

The softness of his smile after that felt almost unfair. It was warm and genuine and so unexpectedly tender that you had to look away for a second just to collect yourself. When you looked back, he was still watching you.

Then, with a faint lift of his brows and the smallest trace of his usual humor returning, he asked, “What if we try again before the police come looking for us? I feel like a magical portal would be very useful right now.”

Despite everything, a laugh slipped out of you.

“You want to try again?”

“I would prefer not to be arrested before I have the chance.”

You shook your head, smiling now despite the nerves still buzzing under your skin. “Then let’s try again.”

Adam’s expression changed instantly, the worry giving way to something brighter, more alive. Even in the middle of a parking lot, even with the possibility of police showing up any second, he looked relieved just to have you beside him.

He adjusted his grip on the sword, drew in a steady breath, and this time there was no crowd, no mocking voices, no attendants, and no one to interrupt him.

Only you.

Only the quiet night air.

Only the man who had spent his whole life trying to find his way home.

Adam lifted the sword.

Your hand stayed lightly at his arm, as if you could somehow anchor him there with you while he did whatever came next.

Then he spoke the words again. 

Nothing happened for a long moment.

The sword remained still in your hands, far heavier than you had expected, and Adam’s expression tightened as the silence stretched on between you. For the first time since you had met him, he looked genuinely afraid that hope might slip through his fingers again. Before that could happen, you straightened your grip as best you could and looked up at him.

“What if we try together?” you suggested.

Adam blinked, then let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though there was still strain in it.

“I suppose it can’t make things worse.”

“Comforting.” A brief smile flickered across his face. Then, very carefully, he shifted the sword toward you and let go enough for you to take some of the weight. The second it settled into your hands, you nearly staggered under it.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, struggling to keep it upright. “You did not mention it was this heavy.”

Adam gave a startled laugh at the sight of you nearly losing your balance.

“I didn’t think I needed to.”

“Adam, how are you holding this like it weighs nothing?”

Before you could properly adjust yourself, he moved in behind you with instinctive ease, one arm coming around your middle and the other guiding your hands back into position on the hilt. His body was close enough that you could feel the heat of him against your back, close enough that his breath brushed the side of your neck when he leaned in to speak.

“Like this,” he said, his voice quiet and close. “It’s about the position of your body.”

That explanation should not have sent a jolt straight through you, but it did. Immediately. Your heartbeat stumbled.

His hands settled over yours, steadying the sword, and the warmth of his body at your back made it increasingly difficult to focus on anything except the fact that he was standing far too close and somehow still speaking with complete, maddening calm.

The tension in your own body rose a little more when he shifted the sword just enough to show you how to hold it properly. His chest brushed lightly against your shoulder blade, his grip sure and gentle, and the whole thing felt too intimate for a moment that was supposed to be about magical escape and not the fact that you were suddenly acutely aware of every point of contact between you.

“We have to say the words now,” Adam murmured near your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine. He noticed. Of course he noticed.

Still, he didn’t tease you for it. He simply kept his hands over yours and waited, his voice lowering into something that sounded even steadier than before.

“Ready?”

You swallowed, trying very hard not to think about how close he was or how impossibly warm he felt or how the parking lot around you had gone so quiet that the entire world seemed to have narrowed down to the two of you and the sword.

Then you nodded. Adam’s mouth curved slightly, though you couldn’t see it so much as feel the change in the air around him.

“On three,” he said.

You took a breath.

“One.”

The sword hummed faintly in your hands.

“Two.”

Adam’s grip tightened just enough to steady you both.

“Three.”

Together, with your fingers wrapped around the hilt and his hands guiding yours, you spoke the words.

The reaction was immediate. Light burst from the blade in a blinding surge, sharp and brilliant enough to make you gasp. The air around you seemed to crack open all at once, a rush of energy rolling through the parking lot as the space in front of you tore apart into a shimmering, impossible gateway.

You stared. Adam went completely still behind you. For one stunned second, neither of you moved.

Then he let out a breath that sounded almost disbelieving.

“It worked.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before the portal brightened again, swirling with a glow so intense it painted both of you in streaks of gold and white. The force of it tugged at your clothes, your hair, the space around you, as though the world itself had decided to lean in and listen.

Adam’s hands were still on yours. His voice, when it came again, was softer now, full of wonder.

“It really worked.”

You turned your head just enough to look at him from the corner of your eye, and the expression on his face nearly made you forget the portal altogether. There was awe there, yes, but also relief so deep it looked almost painful, as if he had been holding his breath for far longer than you had realized.

Then the glow grew stronger. A wind rushed through the parking lot.

The open portal widened in front of you.

And Adam, still standing close enough that you could feel every breath he took, finally looked homeward with something like gratitude in his eyes.

The portal was still blazing open when the sound hit the parking lot.

At first it was only a low, vicious snarl, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up before your brain even had time to decide what was wrong. Then came the crash of something heavy slamming into the row of parked cars nearby, followed by the sickening screech of metal being bent under impossible weight.

You jerked your head toward the sound just in time to see a massive, fur-covered beast launch itself over the hood of a sedan, its body moving with a feral speed that looked wrong against something that large. It had the shape of a predator and the bulk of a nightmare, all claws, muscle, and snarling teeth, its eyes locked on the glowing portal as if it had somehow sensed exactly what you and Adam were trying to do.

For one stunned second, neither of you moved. Then the beast let out another roar and came straight for you.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, stumbling backward so fast you almost lost your footing.

Adam reacted instantly. “Move!”

You yanked yourself away from the portal, but in the split second it took for both of you to separate, you realized with horror that you had somehow come away with the sword still in your hands.

“Adam—” you started.

“I see it!” he snapped, already reaching for the hilt.

The beast hit the ground where the two of you had been standing only a heartbeat earlier, its claws scraping across the concrete so violently that sparks seemed to jump from the impact. It wheeled around at once, snarling when it realized you were no longer in front of it, and then it charged again, this time at full speed across the lot.

You and Adam split without thinking, both of you moving on instinct as the creature barreled between the parked cars. It climbed over one hood, landed on the roof of another, and kept coming, the whole parking lot suddenly turning into its hunting ground.

“Why is everything trying to kill us?” you shouted, clutching the sword with both hands.

Adam half laughed, half gasped as he skidded around the side of a dark SUV. “Because apparently I’m having a very enthusiastic homecoming.”

“That is not helpful!”

“It’s honest!”

The beast lunged again, and you barely had time to throw the sword back toward Adam before it crashed down where you had been standing.

“Catch!” you shouted.

Adam caught it midair without looking, spun, and immediately threw it back when the beast came at him from the side. You fumbled to grab it before it could hit the ground, nearly dropping it when the weight pulled your arms down hard.

“Again?” you yelled.

“It’s the only thing we have!”

“That is a terrible plan!”

“It’s still a plan!”

The beast roared and slammed both forepaws against the roof of a parked car, denting the metal with a sound that made you wince. People inside the building across the lot had started to notice by then, a few silhouettes turning toward the windows, but the parking lot itself was quickly becoming chaos. Car alarms wailed somewhere in the distance. The portal behind you flickered violently in the wind. Adam darted around the beast’s side and nearly reached you before it whipped around and charged again.

“Adam!” you shouted.

He turned, eyes widening. The creature was no longer interested in the sword. It was looking directly at you. You froze for half a second too long. Adam didn’t. He threw himself in front of you just as the beast struck. The impact was brutal.

You heard the gasp leave him before you saw it, heard the sharp, ugly sound of claws tearing across fabric and skin. Adam staggered backward, and for one terrible second you thought he was going to fall. The sword slipped from your hand and clattered hard against the concrete.

“Adam!”

He dropped to one knee, one hand pressing hard against his side, his face tightening with pain. Dark blood spread quickly beneath his fingers.

Everything else vanished. The portal. The parking lot. The creature. The fear. All of it dropped away at once. You were beside him immediately.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” you said, kneeling in front of him so fast your knees hit the pavement hard. Your hands hovered for a second, then settled carefully on his shoulders. “Stay with me.”

His breathing had gone uneven, but when he looked up at you, the expression in his hazel eyes was still unmistakably his, still there beneath the shock and pain.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, which would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t looked so clearly not fine.

“You are absolutely not fine.”

The beast gave a guttural snarl behind you. Adam’s head lifted just enough for him to see it shift its weight, preparing to strike again.

His expression changed instantly.

“Y/N, move.”

“No.”

“Move.”

You shook your head, one hand already reaching for his. “I’m not leaving you.” The creature lunged.

Adam tried to rise anyway, though the movement clearly hurt him, and in that same moment you saw the sword lying a few feet away across the concrete. The beast was between you and it now, lowering its head, muscles tense, ready to finish what it had started.

Adam shoved himself in front of you again even though he could barely stand.

The gesture was so fast, so instinctive, that it made your chest ache. Then a voice cut through the parking lot like a blade.

“Back away from him.”

The beast hesitated. You turned.

A woman stood at the far end of the lot with a spear in one hand and an expression that made it immediately clear she had no intention of negotiating. Her stance was ready, balanced, and utterly unafraid, the kind of posture that told you she had spent her entire life learning how to kill things worse than this.

Adam’s face changed the instant he saw her.

“Teela?”

The parking lot was still ringing with the last echoes of the creature’s retreat when the voice cut through the darkness again.

“Adam.” The name landed like a strike.

“You’re alive,” she said, and the words came out rougher than she probably meant them to. “You’re actually alive.”

Adam looked stunned, almost as if he had expected to be imagined, or forgotten, or both. “I was beginning to think nobody from Eternia would ever find me.”

Teela gave a short, disbelieving laugh that sounded dangerously close to pain. “Fifteen years, Adam. Fifteen.”

The number seemed to hit him harder than the beast had.

You looked between them, your stomach tightening a little at the way Teela was staring at him, as if she had spent more than a decade trying not to picture this exact moment and had failed anyway.

“Fifteen years?” you repeated before you could stop yourself.

Teela’s attention snapped to you at once. Her expression sharpened, not hostile exactly, but alert in the way of someone who had spent too long surviving dangerous things. Her eyes moved quickly over your face, then down to the sword lying near your knee, then to Adam’s bloodied side.

“And you are?”

You straightened slightly, though you stayed close to Adam because there was no chance in hell you were moving away from him while he was bleeding in a parking lot. “Y/N.”

Teela’s gaze flicked back to Adam. “Y/N,” she repeated, as if deciding whether the name meant anything to her. “You know her?”

Adam, still clearly in pain, managed a weak breath that looked almost like a laugh. “I met her yesterday.”

Teela stared at him. Then at you. Then back at him.

“You met her yesterday,” she repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“And somehow,” she said, gesturing toward the sword, the portal, the unconscious chaos that had very nearly become a dead body in the middle of a parking lot, “you have already managed to get yourself hurt and cause a disaster.”

Adam closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again with a pained expression. “That does sound like me.”

“It absolutely does.”

You pressed a hand more firmly to Adam’s arm when he tried to shift, and his breath caught slightly. That made your attention snap back to him immediately.

“Don’t move,” you told him, more sharply than you intended.

He looked up at you, surprised, then gave a faint, sheepish smile as if he had not realized how serious you were until that exact second. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“You were absolutely trying to do something,” you muttered. “I don’t know what, but I could tell.”

Teela watched the exchange with open confusion for a moment before her eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re taking care of him?”

Your face warmed despite the situation. “Someone had to.”

Adam’s smile turned soft at that, which only made the whole thing more embarrassing.

Teela noticed too, apparently, because her expression shifted from suspicion to something much more complicated. Recognition, maybe. Or surprise. Or the beginning of both.

She looked at Adam again. “You really did find someone.”

Adam blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Teela said, her voice tightening just enough to make the emotion beneath it obvious, “that after fifteen years of nothing, you show up in a human parking lot with a woman who is helping keep you alive, and somehow that is the part of this evening that surprises me the least.”

You blinked at that. “Fifteen years of nothing?”

Teela gave you a look, as if deciding how much of this was worth explaining before the police arrived, the beast came back, or both.

“Fifteen years since he vanished,” she said. “No word, no signal, no sign that he was still anywhere we could reach. Most of us thought the Sword had taken him too far for us to find him again.”

Adam’s face changed.

Not dramatically. But enough.

You saw it in the brief stillness in his eyes, in the way his mouth went a little softer at the edges. Whatever he had been expecting from Teela, it clearly had not been this.

“I tried,” he said quietly.

Teela’s expression hardened immediately, but not in anger this time. “I know.”

That answer seemed to steal the rest of the breath from him.

She stepped closer then, finally lowering the spear a little more, though she did not let her guard drop entirely. Not with a wounded Adam, a sword, and the lingering scent of whatever had chased you into this mess in the first place.

“Can you stand?” she asked him.

Adam drew in a breath and tried to push himself upright.

You caught his shoulder instinctively. “Careful.”

He gave you a quick look, almost amused despite the pain. “You really like telling me what to do.”

“I’m currently watching you bleed on a parking lot floor.”

“That feels relevant.”

“It is relevant.”

Teela looked at both of you, then huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh if the situation had been less disastrous. “I can see this is going to be difficult.”

You turned to her. “You two can have a reunion later. Right now, he needs help.”

Teela’s eyes flicked back to you, and this time there was no suspicion in them, only a sharper kind of attention. “You’re right.”

The fact that she said it so quickly made you trust her just a little more.

She knelt on Adam’s other side and, with the efficient certainty of someone who had spent years patching up reckless idiots, reached for the hand he had pressed against his side.

“Let me see.”

Adam let her guide his hand away without protest, though his jaw tightened when the movement pulled at the wound.

Teela’s expression darkened.

“Pretty bad?"

“Could be worse,” Adam said.

You and Teela both looked at him. He winced, then gave up. “All right, yes. It hurts.”

“Good,” Teela said, with the kind of bluntness that suggested she had missed him far too much to be gentle about it. “Maybe next time you’ll stop throwing yourself in front of giant monsters.”

Adam looked at her, genuinely affronted. “I was protecting her.”

Teela’s gaze flicked briefly to you. “I noticed.”

That made your chest warm in a way you did not have time to examine properly.

You glanced down at Adam’s side, where blood was still seeping through his shirt, and then back up at Teela. “Can you help him?”

Teela gave a short nod. “Yes. But we need to move. This lot isn’t safe, and if that thing comes back with friends, I’d rather not be standing around discussing feelings in the open.”

Adam almost smiled at that. “That sounds like you.”

“I know.”

You looked between them as Adam tried to brace himself more upright, and something in the way Teela was watching him made it clear this reunion was not finished. It was only being interrupted by the very inconvenient fact that one of them was injured and the other had spent fifteen years wondering whether he was dead.

“Do you two know each other really well?” you asked, mostly because the silence had become too heavy to leave alone.

Teela gave you a look. “He was my best friend.”

Adam, who had apparently not expected the answer to sound quite so immediate, looked at her with a mixture of surprise and something else that was much softer.

“And then he disappeared,” Teela added, eyes still on him. “So yes. I know him very well.”

Adam’s mouth parted slightly, then closed again.

You could practically feel the emotional weight of the moment pressing down around the three of you, and for a second it seemed possible that none of you would know what to say next.

Then Teela stood and offered Adam a hand.

“Come on,” she said. “You can tell me how you ended up in this situation later.”

Adam took her hand, then glanced at you before trying to rise. You moved immediately to support him on the other side.

He looked down at the two of you, one woman who had known him for fifteen years and another who had known him for less than two days, and for the first time since the beast appeared, he looked almost overwhelmed by the fact that both of you were still there.

And then, because apparently the universe was not finished humiliating any of you yet, a distant siren began to rise somewhere beyond the lot. Teela heard it first.

Her head snapped toward the sound, then back to the three of you. “That would be the police.”

She stared at you and Adam. “You’re kidding.”

Teela was already looking toward the dark edge of the parking lot, calculating when you said “I’m not.”

Adam, still between the two of you, let out a breath that was part groan and part laugh. “I really am having a very strange night.”

You looked at him. Then at Teela. Then back at him, despite the blood and the sirens and the fact that everything had just become even more impossible.

“Yes,” you said. “You are.”

The sound of the sirens grew louder behind you, cutting through the parking lot in a way that made the whole situation feel suddenly far more urgent than it had a moment before.

Teela heard them too. Her head turned toward the street, then back to the three of you, and whatever softness had begun to settle into the reunion was replaced at once by the kind of focused decisiveness that made it very clear she had survived far worse than a human police response.

“We’re leaving,” she said.

Adam let out a breath that was half laugh, half groan as he leaned more heavily into your side. “That sounds like a good idea.”

You glanced at him, then at the blood on his shirt, then back at Teela. “Can he actually move?”

“He can move,” Teela said, though the look she gave him suggested she was not especially impressed by the method. “He just won’t enjoy it.”

“Comforting,” you muttered.

Adam looked at you with a weak, almost apologetic smile. “You have been saying that a lot tonight.”

“You have made that very easy.”

Teela’s mouth twitched once, but she wasted no more time on it. She shifted her spear to one hand, reached for Adam’s shoulder with the other, and assessed the wound again with a glance that was all business now.

“Can you walk?” she asked him.

“I believe so.”

“That was not an answer.”

Adam frowned as if offended by the implication that his optimism was insufficient. “I can try.”

Teela gave him a look that would probably have sent most people into silence on the spot. “Then try.”

Between the two of you, Adam managed to steady himself enough to stand, though the movement clearly pulled at the injury and made his jaw tighten. You adjusted your grip automatically, one arm still braced around his back to help keep him upright.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten despite everything that was happening around you.

The sirens were louder now. Closer.

Teela looked toward the lot entrance, then sharply toward the dark side of the building as if measuring the fastest path out. “My ship is close.”

Your head snapped toward her. “Your ship.”

Teela looked at you as if that was the least surprising part of the evening. “Yes. My ship.”

Adam, despite the blood and the pain, managed a faint smile. “You made it all the way here?”

Teela’s expression shifted, and for a second something old and sharp crossed her face. “I have been here for longer than you think.”

That answer caught Adam off guard, and the look he gave her changed immediately, moving from strain to a more careful kind of attention.

“You’ve been looking for me?”

Teela’s jaw tightened slightly. “Every possible way I could.”

There was too much in that sentence to unpack while standing beside a wounded Adam in a parking lot with police sirens approaching, but it was enough to make him go quiet for a second.

Then, because he had apparently never learned how to exist in a normal emotional moment without trying to soften it, he gave a short breath of a laugh and said, “That sounds like you.”

“It is me.”

You glanced between them and then toward the direction of the sirens. “We can have the reunion later. Right now, I think we should not be standing in plain sight when the police get here.”

Teela gave you a quick, approving look. “You learn fast.”

“I am learning under extreme pressure.”

“I noticed."

Adam shifted again, and you immediately tightened your hold on him. His weight against you felt far too real, far too warm, far too human for someone who had only hours ago seemed like a story that had somehow walked off the page and into your life.

“Can you keep him on his feet?” Teela asked you.

You looked at Adam’s face, at the sweat along his brow and the way he was trying very hard not to show how much pain he was in, and nodded. “Yes.”

Adam turned his head slightly toward you. “I can hear that you said that with confidence.”

“You should be grateful.”

“I am.”

Teela started moving first, leading you quickly across the lot with the kind of efficient certainty that suggested she had already chosen the best route out of here before you’d even finished deciding whether this was all real. She headed toward the far side of the building, where the light was dimmer and the shadows deeper, and the three of you moved as quickly as Adam’s injury would allow.

You were only a few steps in when you noticed the ship.

At first, it looked like nothing more than a dark, angular shape tucked behind the building and partially hidden by a line of delivery trucks and stacked shipping containers. But as you got closer, the sleek metallic surface caught the parking lot light in a way that made it impossible to mistake for anything ordinary. It looked like something built for speed and survival, all sharp lines and practical design, the kind of vessel that didn’t ask permission to exist.

You slowed without meaning to.

Teela noticed immediately. “Never seen one before?”

You stared at it. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

Adam, still leaning on you, gave a weak smile that somehow managed to look both proud and amused. “That is one of the more reasonable reactions you’ve had tonight.”

You looked at him sidelong. “That’s not a compliment.”

“No,” he said, then winced as the two of you took another step. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Teela reached the side of the ship first and pressed her hand against a panel near the entry seam. A section of the hull opened with a quiet hiss, revealing a lit interior beyond. Warm light spilled out into the cool night air, and the sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something between relief and disbelief.

Adam straightened a little as soon as he saw it.

The shift was immediate.

You felt it in the way his posture changed, in the way his breathing altered, in the sudden brightness that came back to his face despite the injury.

“That’s your ship,” he said, the words quieter than before.

Teela glanced at him. “Of course it is.”

“You actually came.”

Her expression softened just slightly, though her voice remained matter-of-fact. "I just knew I would find you!"

Adam looked at her for a long moment, and for all his earlier confidence, he seemed suddenly unable to find the right words for that. So instead he gave a small, private smile and nodded once. You watched the exchange with a strange ache in your chest that you didn’t fully have time to think through.

Teela noticed the way you were looking at both of them and stepped aside enough to let you help Adam toward the ship. “Inside,” she said. “Before the sirens get close enough to make this everyone’s problem.”

You half-dragged, half-guided Adam into the ship, and the moment you crossed the threshold, the smell and sound of the outside world seemed to fall away. The interior was compact but clean, filled with glowing panels, unfamiliar controls, and a quiet mechanical hum that felt almost alive. It was not like the interiors of the spaceships you had seen in movies. It felt used. Lived in. Real.

Adam’s gaze moved over it with a kind of reverence that made it obvious this was not just a machine to him.

This was a path.

A chance.

A bridge.

He stopped once he was fully inside, his hand still braced against your shoulder for balance, and looked around as though he was afraid the whole thing might vanish if he blinked too long. For a moment, nobody said anything.

Then Teela broke the silence with a sharp look at him. “You have been gone fifteen years, and this is how you look when I finally find you?”

Adam huffed a short laugh that turned into a pained wince. “You say that like I planned the dramatic timing.”

“You did not plan any part of this?”

“If I had planned it,” he said, “I would have preferred a less bloody reunion.”

Teela glanced at his side again, and the brief softness that crossed her face was gone almost before it appeared. “Sit down.”

Adam opened his mouth, clearly prepared to argue on principle, then seemed to think better of it when you pressed him gently toward the nearest seat.

“You heard her,” you said.

He looked at you with a small, exasperated smile. “You are both very bossy.”

“And you are injured,” you replied.

“That does seem to be the problem.”

He lowered himself into the seat with obvious care, and the second he did, Teela turned toward a console near the front of the ship and began working without hesitation. You stood beside Adam for a second longer than necessary, then finally stepped back just enough to give him room.

He looked up at you as you moved, and for a moment there was something in his face that looked almost like relief that you were still there.

That look did something inconvenient to your stomach.

Teela glanced over her shoulder. “If you are both done looking at each other like the rest of the universe has stopped existing, I need a minute.”

You immediately looked away. Adam, to his credit, at least had the decency to look mildly embarrassed.

Teela did not seem interested in whether either of you was comfortable. She punched a sequence into the panel and a low hum deepened through the ship, the lights shifting slightly as if the vessel itself were waking up in response to her touch. Then she turned back to you.

“You,” she said, pointing briefly in your direction, “are going to tell me exactly how you ended up in this mess with him.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again. Adam, from the seat, gave a quiet laugh that made the wound in his side clearly unpleasant but did nothing to stop him from looking amused. “That is a very long story.”

Teela looked at him. “Then we will have time.”

You glanced from one to the other, your nerves starting to return now that the immediate danger had passed. The parking lot outside still existed. The police were still coming. The world was still normal in the way worlds tended to insist on being normal right before they stopped cooperating.

And yet here you were, on a ship with a wounded prince from another world and the warrior who had known him long before you had.

Teela finished whatever she was doing and returned to the center of the ship just as the engine gave a deeper, steadier hum. “The coordinates are set.”

Adam’s head lifted. “You can get us there?”

Teela’s expression turned unreadable in the way people’s faces often did when they were trying not to admit how much they felt. “I can get us close. The rest depends on whether the Sword behaves.”

Adam looked down at the weapon resting beside him, then back up again with something like fierce hope returning to his face.

You saw it. So did Teela. And when she looked at him, there was no mistaking the fact that she had spent far too long imagining this moment and had no intention of wasting it now.

“Hold on,” she said.

Then the ship shuddered beneath your feet, the lights dimmed for a second, and the view ahead of you changed as the vessel began to move.

You braced yourself instinctively, one hand finding the nearest support as the world outside the ship blurred into motion.

Adam looked up at you, then at Teela, and for the first time since the beast attacked, something in his face finally looked like it had begun to settle. Not fully. Not yet. But enough that when the ship angled toward the dark sky ahead, you knew you were no longer just running from something.

                         You were going to Eternia.

[mustyrosewater]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 : ( 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.0k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Death, Mourning, Swearing, Smut 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so we're all reeling after that episode right? my theory was confirmed that raymun is in fact a freak and a slut, can't believe i got this out as quick as i did, ira parker works hard but i work harder. never fear this series will be continuing, as well as others in the future, i would never leave y'all stranded like that <3. dividers done by @cafekitsune!!!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

You did not sleep in the Fossoway’s tent. 

As much as you were certain Raymun would have preferred to see you at his side, you could not erase the picture of your sister's tear stricken face out of your time. 

It was late by the time you arrived at your family’s tent, the usual buzzing sound of the camp grounds having been replaced with a dull, mournful silence. 

The realm was already beginning the process of mourning its prince, murdered by his own blood on the field. 

It seemed the only people that remembered your brother’s death were you and your family. 

It was quiet when you pushed past the entrance, the soft crackles of the fire accompanying the silence. 

The first person you caught sight of was your father, hunched over the table as he gripped a goblet of wine tight between his fingers. 

It was the first time you had seen him for the entirety of the tourney, the first time you had been him for almost four years, and he barely even lifted his head to look upon you. 

He had been this way when mother died, he’d locked himself in his chambers as had to have food forced upon him; he didn’t come back out for almost a week. 

Perhaps it was just the nature of yourself and your family, isolation in times of grief, ironic considering the moniker of the bee.

An animal that worked as one colony, staying together in times of distress, it was odd that you all did the exact opposite. 

You walked past your father as if you were a ghost, as if your presence was completely lost on him. 

Heading straight for your sister’s sleeping area, you pulled the curtain across and heard her soft shaky breaths, catching sight of her as she laid on her bed with her back facing you. 

You watched her shoulders shake, trying to keep herself composed; she hadn’t even changed out of the clothes she had worn during the trial, and you could see the remnants of what you hoped wasn’t blood across the fabric. 

No words were spoken as you sat down on the bed, your weight causing the mattress to dip and alerting her to your presence. 

She turned to look at you, her hand running over her swollen belly as she sighed deeply and turned her entire body to face you. 

Laying down, you laid there facing each other and shut your eyes, allowing your fingers to entangle into her own. 

Even without saying anything, you could hear the way she was beginning to cry once more, soft whimpers leaving her lips as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. 

Taking a deep breath to slow her cries, Gwendolyn wiped the tears from her cheek and looked upon you. 

“We will be taking his body back to Honeyholt..” she began, “After that I will leave for The Vale to bury my husband.” 

She paused, looking at you expectantly for a moment before speaking again.

“Will you come with us?” 

In truth, you hadn’t even thought that far ahead, you looked down at where your hands were intertwined together. 

“If I am allowed.” you nodded. 

“Your brother is dead,” she spoke, “I am sure your lady will allow you to visit your home so that you can put him to rest.” 

“I am sure of that as well.” you nodded slowly. 

“Lord Ashford has supplied us with mourning gowns..” she spoke, gesturing to the heavy black dresses that were hung over a chair, “I suppose he considered it to be thoughtful.” 

Sitting up, you rested your back against the headboard, Gwendolyn soon following after you. 

Running her hand over her bump, she sighed deeply and tilted her head back, looking up at the fabric roof of the tent. 

“This will be the last I have of him..” she whispered. 

You didn’t speak at first, only looked across at her as you felt your heart hurt at the sight.

“We are all but servants of the realm..” she sighed, “if the crown demands we die for their honour, then we do it.” 

“You will carry on his memory,” you spoke, placing a hand on her shoulder, “You will tell your child how hard his father fought, how he put his name forward to defend what he believed was right.” 

“And how our idiot brother wanted some of the glory for himself.” 

Gwendolyn’s interruption made you both smile softly, a mournful smile but a smile nonetheless. 

-

Stood at the coffin where your brother now lie, you watched as one of the many bees swarming around it came to rest upon your finger. 

Its little legs tickled your skin, you brought your hand closer to your face to inspect the insect, noting the details of its furry body and iridescent eyes. 

A small band of musicians played a mournful song, no merry tune was to be heard within this tent, not while you bid your brother goodbye. 

The mourning dress that had been supplied by Lord Ashford almost covered you completely, the high neckline and long sleeves only leaving your face and hands uncovered. 

Even your hair had been pulled up, not hanging freely or swinging from a loose braid, it was pulled into two braids that had been wrapped at the back of your head, leaving only two small strands to frame your face. 

Lords and Ladies made their way in and out of the tent, bidding their respects to your brother before they left to head to The Hardyng’s tent to do the same for your sister's husband. 

Gwendolyn had elected to stay at her husband’s side, remaining in The Hardyng’s tent while you stayed in your own with your father and eldest brother. 

Your father was sat at the head of the table, dark circles under his eyes as he could only manage a nod to each set of condolences he received. 

Thomas sat beside him, accepting the gestures where your father could not. 

It would not be long before he would have to return to his own wife and children back at Honeyholt, where you would accompany him and the rest of the family for a time. 

As the tent entrance was flipped open once more and your eyes flicked up to see Raymun standing there, it occurred to you that you had not even told him yet. 

The first time you had seen him since last night, it seemed you were both fighting the reflex to embrace one another right then and there. 

Simply returning your gaze back down to your brother’s coffin, you hung your head and let Raymun pass you to walk towards where your father and brother stood. 

“My Lords, I wish to offer my condolences; Ser Humfrey fought well, and he fought with honour.” 

Just as he had all day, your father nodded, barely looking Raymun in the eye. 

“It is good of you to come, I know you did not know my brother well.” Thomas replied, offering him a kind smile as he rested a hand over your fathers shoulder. 

The knowledge of you and Raymun’s attachment was only held by Gwendolyn and Humfrey, you realised, turning to look as Raymun turned to offer you a kind smile. 

“Your sister became lady-in-waiting to my cousin when I was only seven-and-ten, It would be wrong to not offer my condolences to her own brother.” 

Thomas turned his gaze to you, offering a look that told you that he seemed to be catching on rather quickly, even if he didn’t know to what extent. 

“I am glad my sister was in the presence of such honourable men during her time at Cider Hall.” 

Your brother’s words made your brows furrow, even more so Raymun’s as his mouth opened for a moment and closed. 

“My lord, I’m beggin’ your pardon..” he began, “Her time?” 

“She will return with us to Honeyholt,” Thomas clarified, “Father has demanded it.” 

“She will not be returnin’ to Lynara’s service?” 

As you listened to their conversation, you felt your breathing grow heavier, your hands beginning to shake. 

“She’ll be stayin’ with us.” Your father suddenly spoke, his voice gruff and tense. 

“At least until I’ve secured her a match.” 

You had been completely under the impression that you were to return to Cider Hall following Humfrey’s funeral. 

As Raymun turned to look at you once more, his eyes now giving himself away entirely, your father seemed to become aware that there was certainly something more between the two of you. 

For a moment, you expected your father to begin cursing at Raymun, ordering him out of his tent. 

But then your fathers gaze turned to you, softening as he looked at you, before turning back to Raymun. 

“Now, a match with a knight..” he began, “A newly appointed Lord of his own house…” 

Narrowing his gaze at you, your father gestured you over with a wave of his hand. 

“Come here girl, stop pretendin’ that you haven’t been listening to every word since he walked in.” 

Without wasting another moment, you scurried up to the table, clasping your hands in front of you as you watched your father shift his eyes back and fourth between you and Raymun. 

“You,” your father began, pointing a ringed finger at Raymun, “You love my daughter?” 

You sucked in a deep breath as your eyes flicked to Raymun, watching as he opened his mouth to speak before stopping. 

“Do you think me, a fool?” your father snapped, turning to look at you. 

“From the moment your sister began plantin’ seeds of Ser Raymun Fossoway in my ear, I knew, you're just like your mother, the both of you.” 

For the first time in almost two whole days, your father smiled, the memory of your mother bringing joy across his face. 

“Little schemers.” 

In a bold move, you felt Raymun’s hand clasp your own, squeezing it tightly before he spoke. 

“I have loved your daughter since she first came to Cider Hall, My Lord..” 

Nodding his head, satisfied with Raymun’s answer, your father sat up in his chair, gesturing to Thomas with a nod of his head. 

“Well then, if you are to be my son-by-law..” 

Thomas reached for a dagger within a sheath beside him on the table, before walking around to hold it out to Raymun.

“You’ll need a sign of my approval.” 

As Raymun took the dagger from Thomas’ hand, upon looking closer you realised just what it was that he had gifted to Raymun right before your eyes. 

“Father..” you spoke softly, looking at your father with widened eyes. 

“Had that commissioned for when Humfrey took a wife..” he began, the thought of never being able to see his youngest son married obviously paining him greatly. 

“My lord.. I can’t-“ Raymun began.

“You can and you will.” Your father interrupted, “It’ll just gather dust in some sad old armoury otherwise..” 

Raymun unsheathed the dagger, his eyes catching sight of the bee that had been detailed into the top of the blade. 

“If I allow you to take my daughter’s hand, you will swear to me that you will protect her with your life, always honour her, and always remain loyal.” 

Turning to look at you, Raymun smiled softly, bringing your intertwined hands up to his mouth to lay a soft kiss on the back of your hand. 

“I am yours.” he spoke.

Hesitating for only a moment, your eyes flicked back to your father, watching as he nodded slowly at you. 

Turning back to Raymun, you finally returned his smile. 

“I am yours.” 

-

“What will you do?” you asked. 

Sat on the grass beside Raymun, in the same meadow where he had kissed you, you rested your head against his shoulder. 

“I’ll wait for you at New Barrel.” he replied, taking a bite of the green apple in his hand. 

“You could come with me to Honeyholt, see my home..” 

Your offer had Raymun shaking his head. 

“You need to bury your brother, it’s not my place.” 

Choosing not to protest, you simply sighed softly as laid a kiss against his shoulder. 

“I will try to return to you quickly.” 

Looking down at you, Raymun could only smile, placing his finger underneath your chin and guiding your lips to his own. 

“You’re not leavin’ till tomorrow.” he stated, “You’re still mine for tonight.” 

Sighing softly against his lips, you kissed him once more, shutting your eyes as you rested your hand against his cheek. 

“Lady Fossoway.” he tested the title on his tongue, smiling as he planted another kiss on your lips. “My lady.” 

You rolled your eyes, pulling away from him with a soft push to his chest. 

“Not yet.” you warned, “So you had best watch yourself, lest I change my mind.” 

With your return to your family's tent as the sun finally began to set, you were informed that Thomas had extended an invitation to Raymun. 

“Father thought it wise for your betrothed to join us for supper.” 

So now here you sat, beside your father and brother in a yellow and black gown embroidered with little bees running up the sleeves. 

The mood was more merry than it had been this morning, with your brother’s coffin placed in a carriage so that he was ready for the long journey tomorrow. 

Gwendolyn had braided your hair again, allowing you to borrow some of her golden accessories even, claiming that you owed it to her to promise a fruitful marriage. 

She had taken it upon herself to skip the small feast, and had excused herself back to The Hardyng’s tent. 

It would take time, you thought, you had only lost a brother, but Gwendolyn had lost her husband as well as her brother. 

Now she carried a child that would never know its father, a child she would have to raise on her own, it was understandable that she was still in a delicate state. 

When Raymun had entered The Beesbury tent, his eyes had scanned across the table, searching until they fell on you, and a soft smile fell over his features. 

Approaching the long table, he bowed his head respectfully to your father. 

“My lord.” he greeted. 

Your father gestured to the empty seat beside him and yourself, leaving Raymun no other spot to sit besides in between the pair of you. 

A calculated decision by your father no doubt, a way to keep a keen eye on the pair of you easily. 

As Raymun sat, he spared a quick smile in your direction, only for your father to slide a goblet of wine in front of him. 

“Honeywine,” he began, “A step up from the horse piss they brew at Cider Hall.” 

Letting out a small gasp, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes wide. 

“Father!” you scolded softly, only for Raymun to laugh before taking a sip. 

“They’ll soon have the cider of Newbarrel to compete with.” He responded. 

“Good lad.” your father replied, nodding his head happily. 

A small silence fell over you for a moment only for your father to pipe back up once more.

“I should tell you about the time she was bucked off her horse as a child.” 

“Father..” you groaned deeply, hiding your face in your hands as Raymun chuckled. 

“Please, My lord, I’d love to hear it.” 

-

Bidding goodnight to Raymun had been easy enough, in front of your father, however, left things painfully formal. 

As far as the length of your affections for Raymun, it seemed only you and him were privy to such things. 

The customs of men dictated what was proper for a betrothed pair who had yet to be married, which had left you with a mere kiss on the hand from your love. 

It was only inevitable that you snuck out of your tent once everybody had long been asleep. 

You hadn’t been able to find sleep even when you tried, unable to rest as you thought of Raymun. 

Finding the modest tent that he had set up wasn’t difficult, considering a large amount of the other tents on the campground were now gone. 

If you had a chance to see Steffon before they left for Cider Hall, you would not hesitate to share your thoughts of his dishonourable betrayal. 

“Raymun..” you whispered, stopping in front of the tent’s entrance.

Movement could be heard from inside, shuffling followed by a soft thud. 

“Seven hells..” you heard him whisper, a smile coming to your face before he pushed open the entrance flap of his tent. 

Letting you inside without hesitation, Raymun closed the tent’s flap behind you and turned to look at you as you smiled. 

“Sneakin’ out at night and comin’ into my tent?” he questioned, crossing his arms yet returning your smile, “Goodness, My lady, what would your father say?” 

His words held a teasing nature, poised in a way that told you that he knew exactly why you had sought him out so late into the night. 

Stepping closer to you until the shoes of your shoes were nearly touching, he didn’t touch you, holding his arms crossed against his chest and tilting his head at you. 

“You missed me that much, did you?” 

His voice was deep, gravelled from the way you’d likely woken him up, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

There were times when he was easy to laugh with, the way you’d known him since he was a young man and yet..

As he stood before you, a man, plain and simple, it made your stomach flip. 

“If you don’t want me here, I'll leave.” you teased him, narrowing your eyes as you looked up at him, “Do you want me to leave?” 

He didn’t have to answer, he responded in the way his hands came to rest on your waist, the way his thumbs brushed over your midsection. 

His touch was delicate initially, but you could feel the way he was holding himself back. 

“I won’t see you for at least a fortnight..” he sighed, bringing his face closer to yours, so close you could feel his breath upon your lips.

“How do you expect me to last this long without you..?” 

Smiling, you brought your hands up to rest on his neck, pulling him down so that he met your lips. 

Your kiss was soft, barely above a peck.

“Why do you think I snuck out from my tent to find you?” 

With that, Raymun kissed you deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands began to roam your body. 

He took a shameless grab at your arse, which made you gasp softly, his deep and bassy laughter ringing out into the night’s silence. 

Shoving his chest, hard enough to have a soft ‘Oof!’ leaving his lips, he fell onto his bedroll, leaving you standing as he held himself up on his elbows. 

You removed your cloak, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you in your thin cotton nightdress.

In all the momentum of the first time you and Raymun had shared a bed together, you had completely forgotten that he had yet to fully see you. 

As you moved your hands to the thin strings at the top of your nightdress, Raymun shot up quickly, gripping your wrists to stop you.

“I’ll be doin’ that, thank you.” he said with a smirk. 

Sighing softly and rolling your eyes, you let him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his fingers pull at the strings as if he were unwrapping a present. 

Now falling loose enough to reveal your shoulders, Raymun’s hands travelling over the nightdress, his thumbs briefly stopping to run over your hardened peaks which he could see through the thin material.

He watched with a smile and eager eyes and your breath hitched, soft hums of pleasure leaving you as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Look at me, love.” he spoke softly, “Need to see your eyes most of all..” 

The moment you opened your eyes was when he pulled the dress down, quicker than you were ready for; the dress pooled at your feet as the cold air hit your skin. 

The shock made you gasp, reflex making you bring your arms up to cover yourself, which brought a sound of disapproval coming from Raymun. 

He gripped your wrists, pulling them away from your body as he looked at you with little shame. 

“I’ll not have my woman hidin’ herself from me..” 

His tone was low, warning almost, his eyes darkened now with what you knew was a look of desire. 

Running his hand from your shoulder down to your chest, he took one of your tits into his hand, teasing your nipple under his thumb as he hummed happily. 

“Look at you..” he growled, his other hand reaching behind your back to lay a soft smack on your behind. 

There was truly something about the way he almost.. objectified you.. looked upon you like you were a meal and he, a man starved. 

Taking your hand, he walked backwards and kept his eyes on your as he led you to where his bedroll was.

He moved to sit, dragging you to follow and pulling you until you fell onto his lap.

You were naked before him, yet he remained fully clothed; it made you feel like a whore in a pleasure house, and yet you loved it. 

His length was pressed against your heat, twitching under his pants that were no doubt getting absolutely soaked by your wetness as you began to grind shamelessly on his lap. 

“Eager..” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips to stop your movements, which only served to make you whine softly. 

“None of that..” he commanded, bringing his finger under your chin to make you look at him once more. 

“Please..” you sighed, leaning forward to take his lips again in a deep kiss. 

His hand was on the back of your head as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring one another as his other hand continued to play with your breast. 

Breaking the kiss, Raymun brought his other hand to your chest, groping at your tits and pressing them together before he leaned his head down to lay open mouthed kisses across your skin. 

Running your fingers over his scalp, your head tipped back and a soft cry left your lips when you felt him take one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the nerve as he began to grunt and groan. 

“Can’t believe you get these gorgeous tits from me for so long…” he growled, “used to touch myself and think about what you looked like under your dress..” 

The thought that he had desired you for so long, lusted after you in ways you hadn’t even thought, it made a fire light inside of you. 

“Raymun..” you whispered.

“That’s it…” he whispered, bringing his gaze back up to you as he smirked. 

Laying back, Raymun allowed you to continue straddling him, working to undo the strings of his braies and bring them down his hips. 

As his cock sprang free, you moved to get off of him and lay on your back, only for him to stop you as you rested on your knees. 

“I want you to ride me, love..” he whispered, tugging at his cock as he looked up at you. 

“I..” you muttered unsurely, “I don’t know how…” 

Somehow, that only made Raymun groan softly, the way you looked at him with those innocent doe eyes. 

“I’ll show you..” he spoke softly, placing his hand at the base of his cock and taking your hand in his. 

“Just.. lift yourself up..” he guided, letting you raise your hips until you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. 

“And slowly.. lower yourself…” 

The feeling of him filling you slowly made your brows turn, taking every inch of his thick cock, the stretch burning slightly in the best possible way. 

“Fuck.. that’s it…” he groaned, his eyes trained on the sight of your cunt slowly swallowing up every inch of his cock until you finally came to rest on his hips. 

Your chest rose and fell harshly, your mouth hanging open as you got used to the new angle. 

Even if he had fucked you once already before, this might as well had been the first time all over again, the way you felt him piercing entirely new parts of you; it was deeper, so much so you could almost feel him in your stomach. 

“Can you feel that, love?” he groaned out, bringing his hand to rest against your stomach, using his palm to place a light pressure which had you gasping out, “Can you feel how deep inside you I am?” 

For the first few moments, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, overwhelmed by the feeling of Raymun’s cock sitting right at the spongy entrance of your womb, every single little twitch sending a vibration through you. 

Soon enough, when you finally began to wind your hips, rising from his length and bringing yourself back down, the pair of you settled into a slow rhythm. 

A rhythm which had your hair hanging over your face and your mouth falling open as you panted and whined softly. 

His hands rested on your hips, guiding your rhythm and squeezing your flesh hard enough that you knew you would likely find bruises there later. 

Raymun couldn’t help but watch, watch the way our face curled in pleasure and your plush tits bounced softly as you rode him, rolling your hips in ways that had him grunting deeply and tipping his head back. 

“Gods above.. You’re so beautiful..” he whispered, hands reaching up to grab at your breasts as he began to meet your hips with his own. 

Seemingly needing to take over, you allowed him to lift you slightly with ease, moving so that his feet were flat in order for him to begin slamming his cock into from below. 

The sound of flesh rapidly slapping against flesh was all that could be heard, the occasional soft cries emitting from your chest as you tried to be quiet. 

The last thing that was needed was for some poor soul to wake up and find you missing, only to hear these sinful sounds emitting from your betrothed’s tent. 

It would not have been difficult to put two and two together in such a scenario. 

Unexpectedly, as his hand came down to rest against your stomach, his thumb reached down to begin rubbing fast circles along your clit. 

He watched as your cries grew louder, only urging him further as you let out ragged breaths of effort, fucking up into you and working to bring you to the edge all at the same time. 

With a pathetic cry of his name, you felt yourself coming undone, leaning forward until you had to brace your hands on the ground at either side of his head. 

Continuing to ram his cock into you, Raymun held tightly onto your hips, keeping you in place as he began to feel his own release fast approaching. 

While you were still pulsing around him and whimpering, he stilled his hips, letting out a choked groan as he painted your walls with his seed, so much so that it already began to leak out, mixing with the juices of your own release to leave a misty mix between your bodies. 

Collapsing atop of Raymun, he held you in place as the last spurts of his release were freed inside of you, the pair of you panting deeply as you lay there. 

After a few moments, a soft laugh left his lips, seeing the way your eyes were shut and you were still gripping his arm tightly, unwilling to let go. 

“You’ll have to let go of me sometime, love..” 

His words only had you shaking your head and gripping him tighter, which had him laughing and rubbing your back as he shushed you. 

“I suppose a few more minutes can’t hurt..” 

-

Thomas tugged at the saddle of his horse, doing up the final buckle as you stood by the carriage with Gwendolyn. 

The sigil of the beehive was taken down as your fathers men deconstructed the tent and began to prepare for the long journey back to Honeyholt. 

At least four days of riding awaited you, three if the weather was on your side. 

Gwendolyn was still dressed in her black mourning dress, a thick black veil covering half of her hair as she stepped inside the carriage. 

Turning around, you faced Raymun, noting the sad smile on his face. 

“I will return to you soon, I swear it.” you spoke softly, taking his hand and bringing it to your face to rest against your cheek. 

“I know you will,” he began, “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.” 

Pulling him in for an embrace, you seized the moment of your father not being in your line of sight and laid a soft kiss against his cheek. 

“I am yours.” you whispered. 

“I am yours.” he returned. 

As you pulled away from one another, you stepped back, his hand still clasped tightly around your own until he had no choice but to let go. 

He watched as you approached the entrance of the carriage, wondering how he was going to handle the next two or so weeks without you by his side. 

Sitting down beside Gwendolyn, she stayed silent until the carriage door was closed and you began moving, bidding a silent goodbye to Ashford and all the memories that now cursed its grounds. 

“I heard you sneak out last night.” she spoke calmly, but was fighting to hold back the smile on her face. 

Hiding your face in your hands, you shut your eyes and sighed.

It was going to be a long ride back to Honeyholt.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @holb32 . @mooondapple . @hellish-idiot . @josis-teacup . @ohnogovno . @sihtricswife . @althea-tavalas . @cold-v0dka . @sarlaccussy . @a-song-for-ages .

[mustyrosewater]

Raymun changing his tune of hatred for the royalty for a Targaryen princes .... Many such thoughts for you

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍

𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

[mustyrosewater]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 : ( 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,356 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, aerion being awful, unnerving predictions of the future 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i must just love spoiling y'al because here is chapter four for you all. things are finally starting to get nice and juicy, i've definitely turned this 'reader' into a character of her own, but most of my 'x readers' end up becoming ' x ocs' anyway. all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

Sleep had been hard to grasp for a majority of the night, leaving you yawning and rubbing your eyes as you dressed yourself for the day, struggling with the strings at the back of your dress through your lack of rest. 

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you ran your finger tips over the spot on your throat where Raymun’s lips had touched, feeling your skin erupt with goosebumps as you recalled the image in your mind. 

Shaking the thought from your mind, you regained focus on your morning duties and took to beginning to raise Lynara from her sleep. 

By the time you had finished helping her dress and ensured she’d eaten, a habit she had formed of skipping breakfast, you had left the tent and began to head to the jousting grounds. 

Gwendolyn had made you promise you would come by to watch both of the Humfrey’s, your brother and your sister's husband, as they were intending to try and see who could be knocked off their horse sooner. 

As you approached the tall stone archways that had become littered with ivy over the years, you found yourself suddenly grateful that there were no marks left on your flesh. 

It hadn’t been difficult to spot the two men from a distance, considering that your brother’s laughter was the first thing you heard before you even saw them, even over the booming of the crowd. 

“You can laugh, but I’m gonna have you on your ass!” your brother in law shouted as the two passed each other once more. 

Catching Gwendolyn’s eye from where she sat in the stands, she waved you over and slid over to make room for you. 

“How do you fare, sister?” she asked as you sat beside her, keeping her eyes on the field as she clapped. 

“If I start to fall asleep, shake me awake.” you groaned, hooking her arm around your own. 

Laughing at your comment, Gwendolyn continued to keep a keen eye on her husband as he readied himself for yet another pass, his oak coloured steed running its hoove over the ground excitedly. 

“The maesters have told me it’s likely to be a boy.” she spoke, running a hand over her bump with a smile. 

“And how are they meant to tell?” you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

She shrugged, tilting her head. 

“I’ve been waking up in sweat every morning, I can hardly even tolerate sleeping under a blanket; apparently that’s meant to indicate a boy.” 

Her answer made you laugh.

“And you believe them, then?”

“Oh not in the slightest, but it made Humfrey happy when I told him.” 

Just as she’d said that, you watched as the two men began to charge forward, lances lowered and ready to strike. 

Feeling Gwendolyn’s grip on your hand tighten, you could feel her breath hitch. 

As the two men came into contact, the sound of splintering wood paired with a large crash filled your ears as you watched the two men knock each other off of their horses, coming tumbling to the ground together. 

With a sudden roar of the crowd, Gwendolyn rose to her feet quickly and watched with widened eyes as the two men rose from the ground steadily, raising their fists in the air triumphantly.

Even you yourself couldn’t resist the cheer that left your throat. 

-

With a brief break in between events, done in preparation for the prince’s participation that was due next, you took the time to walk back to The Fossoway’s tent to remind Lynara of the event. 

You’d only managed to reach the marketplace when you felt a hand on your wrist, quickly dragging you behind a stall as you let out a startled sound. 

Ready to begin fighting back out of reflex, your fist only briefly made contact with a leather clad chest once before you realised who it had been that grabbed you. 

The brown eyes of Raymun stared down at you as he smiled, gripping onto your shoulders. 

Opening your mouth to begin to scold him for scaring you, you didn’t get the chance before he was silencing you with a kiss, running his thumb over your cheek as he held your jaw delicately. 

Gods be good, the first time you’d seen him since last night and he was already pulling you behind market stalls to steal kisses. 

Breaking the kiss, he kept his face close to yours, resting his forehead against your own as he exhaled a soft laugh against your lips. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble.” you whispered, though the smile on your features clearly betrayed the fact that you weren’t upset with him. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughed, “I just wanted to kiss you again..” he whispered back. 

His eyes were practically sparkling as he looked at you, his cheeks flushed from the contact. 

He looked closer to a love sick puppy than a man. 

Playfully shoving his chest, you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“If you scare me like that again, I’ll crack you in the jaw.” 

Your threat wasn’t serious and he knew it, only smirking at you and biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you turn and walk away. 

-

Returning to the grounds with Lynara’s arm hooked in your own, you listened as she rattled on about the scandal that had occurred between a knight from House Webber who had been caught in the stables with the daughter of Lord Oldflowers daughters. 

“Let’s hope she isn’t sent to be trained as a septa.” she laughed, “It’s not likely Ser Webber will receive any blame.” 

The topic made your hair stand on end, while you and Raymun had only shared a few embraces, there was still the matter of honour. 

It would do you no good to shame your lady should she find out you were sneaking behind market stalls with her cousin. 

“My mother was a Webber, you know?” you changed the topic smoothly, “She met my father at a tourney not unlike this one, or so he says.” 

Seeming to have grabbed Lynara’s interest with the promise of a story, she promptly forgot about the indiscretions of others. 

-

As the second round of jousts began, you found yourself once more sat between Gwendolyn and Lynara, watching as your brother in law unhorsed a knight from House Hunt and another of House Estermont. 

Your sister was cheering loudly for her husband, her favour tied to the hilt of his lance which you could see blowing in the wind. 

“He doesn’t seem happy.” Lynara commented as she watched the knight from House Estermont throw his shield to the ground in a rage.

“I think he shall survive.” you replied with a smirk, “Many men have survived far more than embarrassment at a tourney.” 

As you watched your brother in law disappear into his tent for a short break before he was due to face the prince, the horn signalled for new champions to begin. 

The announcer’s booming voice called out an introduction, you sighed, unable to hide your annoyance as you saw the golden armour of Steffon catch your eye, just as the announcer yelled his name. 

His opponent, a member of House Manwoody, strode out on a white horse, his shield painted with the sigil of a skull wearing a golden crown. 

As Steffon trotted onto the field, you couldn’t help but search for Raymun, knowing he would have to be present as his cousin’s squire. 

“Gods be good,” Lynara sighed as she watched her brother let out a yell, which the crowd followed with a booming cheer. 

“Your brother?” Gwendolyn questioned, watching as Lynara nodded.

“Unfortunately.” 

As they chattered, your eyes found Raymun, gripping his cousin’s lance at the edge of the field and staring ahead. 

Initially, you hadn’t thought it possible for his eyes to find you in the stands, yet from the moment his gaze turned, he spotted you instantly, offering you only a subtle smile before looking ahead once more. 

He understood just as well as you the importance of secrecy, neither of held any particular standing as is, your fates were left to be determined by your superior’s, one wrong move or shared glance and you would be separated faster than you could blink.

Then again, what exactly was it between the two of you; while a kiss shared between two people should have been an easy indication, there had been no declaration, no promise of loyalty. 

It seemed to have left you in a perpetual state of limbo as to what Raymun even was to you, a lover? a friend? or something else entirely. 

In your distraction, it had taken three passes of Lynara saying your name before you finally turned suddenly.

“What?” you asked, thinking you’d missed a question. 

Taking notice of your line of sight, Lynara had spotted Raymun easily, and now was acutely aware of the fact that he had held your attention easily enough so as to not even hear your own name. 

“Catching an eye for young squires?” she teased, only for you to shake your head. 

“Of course not.” 

“Oh hush, there’s no punishment for simple admiration, though..” she narrowed her gaze and squinted, taking in Raymun, “I can’t say i share your sentiments.” 

Before the conversation could continue further, the match concluded with Steffon unhorsing the knight of House Manwoody, the stands erupting in cheers once more. 

As another horn blew and deep drums began to sound, the announcer stepped up once more. 

Rallying through the series of titles before finally announcing Prince Aerion Brightflame. 

His blackened armor was sharp, his helmet moulded into some twisted version of the prince’s own face, but with what seemed to be either spikes or flames protruding from the back. 

The image was enough to send a chill down your spine. 

Though you could not hear the words that Aerion spoke to his cousin, the expression on the other young lord’s face told you that it was nothing kind. 

Moving on to the tent beside it, you watched your brother in law emerge, seeing Aerion’s lips moving yet not hearing his words. 

Mounting his horse, Humfrey placed his helmet over his head and rode into the field raising his lance, receiving a cheer from the crowd as he rode into his starting position. 

The growing pit in your stomach felt as if it was beginning to gnaw at your insides now, taking Gwendolyn’s hand in your own as the crowd drew to an unnerving quiet. 

As the first pass began, you watched as Gwendolyn placed a hand over her heart, fear clear on her features as her husband began to charge. 

Bracing yourself for impact, you both gasped when the prince weaved himself out of the way of your brother-in-law's lance, feeling the way Gwendolyn jumped as she watched Humfrey drop his lance. 

“What a cheat..” Lynara mused beside you, shaking her head in disapproval. 

Just as quickly as the first pass ended, the next began, with Humfrey’s squire handing him another lance before he sprung back into action. 

Rapidly approaching each other once more, your brows furrowed. 

“Something’s wrong..” you whispered, not sure what, but feeling the anxiety grow in your stomach. 

Within seconds, the tension had been split apart as the horse screeched as Aerion drove his lance into its neck, the crowd erupting in a mix of screams and outraged yells. 

Your hand flew to your mouth as you let out a cry of shock, unable to look away as the poor animal cried out in pain before finally falling, landing directly onto your brother-in-law.

Gwendolyn rose from her seat with a scream, crying out her husband’s name. 

Following quickly, you held her tightly as she watched Humfrey’s helmet fall off, the man spitting blood from his mouth as his leg was shattered. 

As you and Gwendolyn began to move out of the stands, you could hear the crowd beginning to boo, the prince’s poor sportsmanship creating an outrage. 

Holding your sister’s hand tight in your own, Lynara followed the two of you out of the stands and onto the field where Gwendolyn’s hand slipped from your gasp and she ran ahead, past the guards before they could stop her. 

Calling her husband’s name as he was pulled from under his horse, she helped as best as she could as the two men hoisted Humfrey’s arms over their shoulders and began carrying him away to get medical attention. 

Stopping at the entrance to the field, Lynara placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place though you attempted to follow after your sister as they disappeared inside his tent. 

“The maesters will see to him.” she reassured you, guiding you away from the erupting chaos as small folk began to climb over the fences to try and attack the prince. 

-

You’d waited until you were alone to begin shedding your tears, the sound of the horses screeches of pain still echoing in your head as you sat down at the top of a hill overlooking the tourney grounds. 

Using your sleeve to wipe your tears, you sniffled softly and pulled your knees up to your chest. 

Such a needless amount of suffering imposed on an innocent animal, not to mention the way you’d watched your sister run to her husband.

You’d never in your life seen her like that, the fear in her eyes replaying in your mind over and over like a demented puppet show. 

Startled by the sound of your name, you raised your head to see Raymun approaching from downhill, his eyes laced with concern. 

“Raymun.” you gasped softly, unable to hide the way your lip was wobbling and your eyes filling with tears 

Without any hesitation, you stood and ran to him, crashing into his arms and into his welcome embrace, burying your face in his chest. 

Holding you tightly, he allowed your muffled cries to leave you as he rubbed your back and shushed you softly. 

Raymun had only ever seen you cry twice before, the first time when he had met you, and the second.. 

-

The ladies in waiting had been practicing this dance for weeks, you included, a surprise for Lynara’s name day. 

Hands joined together, the band of musicians began to play the melody and you began as was practiced. 

Moving back and forth with precision, you kept an eye on your feet as you all spun and clapped in unison. 

Raymun had laughed when you told him you were planning to dance with the other ladies, you were intent to prove him wrong. 

Keeping a keen concentration on your timing, you switched places with another lady with ease, coming side by side with Eleira, another lady from House Florent, who’d seem to have it out for you from the moment you met. 

“You dance like a goat.” she whispered, keeping her eyes forward. 

Trying to ignore her words and continue to dance, you spun once more, another clap. 

Finally you heard the flute playing the final part of the tune, nearing the end of the dance, and felt yourself finally begin to relax for the first time since you’d started. 

Preparing for the final turn, you stepped inwards along with the other ladies, and prepared to step out. 

A carefully placed leg sticking out seemed to be all that was needed to send you tumbling to the ground. 

The sound of quiet gasps echoed as you collided with the stone floor, the other ladies continuing to dance and ignoring your mishap as your eyes flashed at all of the faces of the crowded hall. 

Scrambling to your feet, you turned and began to run out of the hall, pushing through the crowd as tears began to well up and your vision grew cloudy.

Cold air hit your face as you swung the doors open and you picked up your skirts to run to the apple orchard. 

Almost tripping as you entered, you caught your weight on the base of a tree and kneeled down, letting your tears fall as you sat on the ground. 

The golden flower accessories in your hair had loosened as you ran, now hanging by your face; raising your hand, you pulled them out and threw them on the ground below, emotion overcoming any logic. 

As you wiped at your face with your palm, you heard your name being called, and soon identified the voice. 

“Go away, Raymun!” you yelled, tucking your face into your hands. 

It didn’t take long for the sound of footsteps to grow closer, yet you weren’t willing to let him see your tears. 

Standing, you faced away from him and began to walk further into the orchard. 

“If you’re just here to make fun of me, leave me alo-“

Interrupted by the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, you expected to begin yelling at him any moment, only to be silenced when he pulled you against his chest. 

“I saw what Eleria did.” he said softly, “she’s nothin’ but jealous of you.” 

His words were soothing, enough to have you silently resting your cheek against his chest as you sniffled. 

You stared out into the orchard as Raymun held you, held your shaking body and soothed your tears. 

-

Sitting in the meadow hand in hand, your head rested against Raymun’s shoulder. 

“Have you heard anything about my brother-in-law?” you asked softly, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Raymun shook his head. 

“Lesser men have survived worse.” he encouraged, wrapping an arm around you to rub your shoulder. 

“Wish it was that bastard prince that ended up with a lance through his neck.” you spat, which only made Raymun chuckle. 

“Watch yourself, he’d soon have you hangin’ for treason.” he joked. 

“Let him.” you shrugged. 

“I’d have a sword put through my belly ‘fore I let anyone take you from me.” 

His tone suddenly sounded more serious as he spoke, his hand moving to place a finger under your chin and guide you to look at him. 

At first, you didn’t know what to say, opening your mouth only for nothing to come out. 

“What is this..?” you finally whispered. 

“Does it need to be reasoned?” Raymun spoke softly, “Can we not just exist here and now without putting a name to it?” 

Instead of answering, you leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss. 

Perhaps he was right, maybe the titles were best left to all the lords and ladies of renown; maybe it was easier to just accept that you and Raymun cared deeply for each other, and that it didn’t need to be explained. 

Breaking the kiss, Raymun planted another on your cheek, then your forehead, causing you to laugh softly as you scrunched your nose in response to the tickled feeling. 

“I do mean it.” he began, “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.” 

His promise touched your heart more than you had anticipated, your brows turning upwards as you stared back at him. 

“And I to you.” 

Your answer brought a smile to his face, leaning forward to steal one more kiss before he rose and offered you his hand. 

“We should be getting back.” 

-

As the pair of you had been walking back, you’d spotted the gentle giant and his small companion, talking to an old crone. 

Raymun called after them and sped up his steps, walking slightly ahead of you as the crone began to turn to walk away. 

Growing closer, she was just about to pass you before she gripped your wrist, pulling you in and speaking in a low tone. 

“You will know a great love, and a great loss; your heart will be tested.. and torn.” 

Staring back at the old crone with wide eyes, you opened your mouth but snatched your hand back before you could speak. 

Watching as she began to walk away, you heard Raymun call your name, turning to see him gesturing for you to follow. 

As you caught up, the young boy, Egg, looked at you, his own face seeming to be equally as unnerved by the old crones predictions.

“What did she say to you?” he asked.

Hesitating before you spoke, your eyes briefly turned to Raymun who seemed interested in what your future held. 

“She told me that my sister was going to have a baby boy.” you lied smoothly, continuing ahead without another word. 

With the crone’s promise heavy on your heart, you walked silently at Raymun’s side before stopping at the entrance of The Fossoway’s tent. 

“Everythin’ okay?” he enquired, seeming to pause his reflex to hold your hand, remembering that you were in public view once more. 

“I forgot that I need to collect water for Lynara’s bath.” you lied, struggling to make eye contact with him initially before giving him a hesitant smile. 

Brows furrowing, Raymun seemed surprised, but didn’t press the matter further, only offering you a nod and a smile before stepping closer to lower his voice. 

“I love you.” he whispered.

The words brought fear into your heart, your eyes widening slightly as you opened your mouth to speak but found yourself silent. 

The crone’s words echoed in your mind.

‘A great love, a great loss, heart tested, heart torn.’ 

“And I you.” you responded, turning and walking away before you could see the look on Raymun’s face. 

-

There was no clear direction in your steps as you walked, unsure where you were going, but just knowing that you wanted to keep walking. 

The sun had set completely now, leaving the grounds illuminated by torches.

Stopping in front of a stall with a small crowd, you watched as a storyteller recounted the tale of two doomed lovers as a troupe of actors were silently acting it out on the stage. 

“Ronal had given up everything for Johan of Lys; her kingdom, her wealth, and now here he lay, dead before her, poisoned by his brother.” 

You watched as the actor playing Ronal, dressed with green silks and a painted mask in her face, fell to her knees where the other actor was now pretending to lay dead. 

“Rather than face life without her love at her side, she took his own dagger from its hilt.” 

The actress rose the prop dagger above her head, an exaggerated performance of mourning. 

“And plunged it into her heart.” 

You took a step back, the image, though made lighter with painted masks and drumming, was enough to cause you fear. 

“So the star crossed lovers story ends, a tragic reminder of the mortality of the heart.” 

At its conclusion, the actors rose from the ground and bowed gratefully, taking in the applause of the small crowd. 

Turning away, you let out a shaky breath, trying to will your mind away from the thoughts of prophecy and fate. 

A commotion in the distance caught your attention, the rush of a moving crowd along with a distant scream. 

Only a few tents away, you could see people running in opposite directions, the sparks of a fire pit being toppled over by a guard. 

Unable to tell what was happening, you spun around looking back and fourth, trying to look for anything that let you know. 

As you approached the tent, you caught sight of Raymun running alongside Ser Duncan, and sped up to catch up with them, calling Raymun’s name. 

“What’s happening?” you called over the noise of the crowd. 

“It’s Aerion!” he replied, grabbing onto your shoulders to keep you steady, “He’s breakin’ her gods damned fingers!” 

Looking ahead, you finally caught sight of it, Aerion, holding the poor puppeteer in place as she cried and tried to fight against his grip. 

“Someone stop him!” you cried.

As a sickening crunch was heard, followed by the shrill scream of the girl, you watched as Ser Duncan lunged forward, raising his fist and bringing it down upon the prince’s face. 

Within little time, Duncan had brought Aerion to the ground, though not before being apprehended by three guards, even with the three of them struggling to hold him back. 

The roar of the crowd died down to a sickened silence as Aerion rose slowly, spitting blood from his mouth. 

As Raymun held onto your arm, you both watched with wide eyes as you waited to see what would befall Ser Duncan. 

“Why did you throw your life away for this whore?” Aerion questioned, “She’s scarcely worth it.” 

His words made your blood boil, as you watched the poor girl sitting there petrified and shaking. 

“She’s a traitor; the dragon ought never lose.” 

Turning to look at Raymun, the pair of you exchanged a glance. 

“We need to do something.” you whispered. 

“Shut up.” Raymun hissed, obviously trying to protect you, even if his words were harsh. 

“You’ve loosened one of my teeth,” Aerion spoke, his voice eerily calm. 

“So we’ll start by breaking out all of yours.” 

Placing a hand over your mouth, you gasped as Ser Duncan began to fight against the guards hold. 

Before you could look any longer, Raymun pulled you into his chest, shielding your eyes from what you were sure was going to be a horrendous sight. 

“No!” you heard a shrill voice, “Don’t hurt him!” 

Looking back up quickly, you recognised Egg’s voice, readying yourself to reach for him if the guards attempted to go for him as well. 

“You stupid boy! Hold your tongue or they’ll hurt you!” 

Despite Ser Duncan’s warning, Egg stood in place. 

“No they won’t, if they do, they’ll answer to my father.” 

You furrowed your brows as Egg spoke, unsure as to what in The Seven Hells he meant. 

As the young boy barked out orders, calling the guards by name, they reluctantly let go of Ser Duncan. 

“You impudent little rat, what’s happened to your hair?” Aerion questioned. 

Your eyes widening, you realised that not only did these guards know the boy, so did the prince. 

“I cut it off, brother, I didn’t want to look like you.” 

As his words dawned on you, you turned to Raymun.

“Brother?” you whispered.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @holb32 . @mooondapple 

[mustyrosewater]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 : ( 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,417 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a lady in waiting in service to house fossoway learns to navigate the world of westeros while trying to survive the trials of the heart; with a tourney at ashford meadow on the horizon, she begins to experience new feelings. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drinking, jousting, threats, steffon being awful, some light teasing, light steamyness. 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: the fact ive been able to pump out three chapters in three days is truly astonishing, but the reception to this series has honestly been amazing, yall keep me motivated to write more! all graphics done by @cafekitsune!!!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

The sound of roosters first crow of morning had startled you awake, nearly falling out of your bed first thing in the morning, not the start you were hoping for. 

Across from you, Lynara still snored softly, her dark hair falling over her face and her mouth hung open; that girl could sleep through anything. 

Crawling out from under the plush covers which had done a fair enough job of keeping you warm throughout the night, you trudged barefooted across the carpet that had been set up as a makeshift floor over the grass and reached for the hair brush sitting close by. 

By the time you had dressed yourself, Lynara was rising slowly but steadily. 

Groaning softly as she stretched, she let out a yawn. 

“What’s for breakfast?” she enquired sleepily, offering a tired smile as you came over and sat on the edge of her bed. 

“I think one of the bakers mentioned he was going to bring some lemon cakes when he made his morning rounds.” 

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Lynara smiled and rolled over, tucking herself back under the sheets. 

“Wake me up when he brings them.” 

Rolling your eyes but smiling none the less, you stood from her bed and left the tent, grabbing a basket on the way. 

It was still early at Ashford meadow, the sun only just risen and the birds only just beginning to sing; the only other people awake at this time were the stall holders setting up for the day. 

You balanced the basket in your hip as you looked over the options one particular stall had on display, trying to think what would be best for breakfast. 

“The pears are from Highgarden, m’lady; best in The Reach.” 

The woman running the stall was older, but held a kind face, taking one of the pears and handing it to you so you could inspect it. 

“Give me three.” you requested, reaching for the coin purse that hung at your waist. 

“Four coppers.” she responded, grabbing the pears as you reached for the coins. 

With the exchange concluded, you placed the pears in the basket and moved on, gathering a small spread of cheeses and meats to have for breakfast. 

Taking your time with the walk back was slightly selfish on your part, a way to enjoy the fresh morning air and walk around without crowds of people surrounding you constantly. 

As the sigil of the red apple finally came up, you approached the large tents to see a familiar face preparing Steffon’s armor and sharpening his sword. 

“How’s the head?” you enquired with a smirk. 

Raymun looked up from his cousin's sword and offered up what could only be described as a grimace and a smile all at once. 

“Never let me drink that much honey wine again; I was spewin’ this mornin’ you know.” 

Laughing softly, you reached into the basket and pulled out one of the pears you’d bought, holding it out as you sat beside him. 

You were sure he would have preferred a pigeon pie to nurse his stomach, but you knew the fruit was a better choice, even if he didn’t want it. 

Still, he took it from your hand gratefully and hesitated before taking a bite, chewing slowly and methodically as if he was worried he might bring it back up. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” he spoke with a mouthful of fruit. 

“Finish your bite before you spit it back at me.” you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes. 

Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued to chew before finally swallowing. 

“You shouldn’t waste your money on the likes a’ me..” he said with a chuckle, all before taking another hungry bite. 

“Don’t have anyone else to waste it on.” you replied with a shrug. 

Skeptical but seemingly not willing to argue any longer, Raymun continued to eat the fruit in silence as you sat beside him and watched the sun begin to finally climb its way over the hillside, bathing you in warm morning light that made you sigh happily. 

Standing from your spot, you balanced the basket on your hip once more. 

“Tell Steffon if he gives you a hard time today, I'll sort him myself.” 

You knew Steffon was jousting tonight, and you also didn’t doubt that tensions were likely to be high, you’d seen his wrath on more than one occasion, and it would have been a lie to say you weren’t worried on Raymun’s behalf. 

“Oh aye, I'll be sure to let you crack him up the back of the head for me!” Raymun called as you walked away, a smile plastered over your features. 

-

With your morning duties finished and out of the way, you had a spot of free time before you would need to begin helping Lynara prepare for the joust, and used it to walk across the camp grounds to the tent that held the rest of your family. 

Already outside and swinging at a training dummy, Humfrey grinned widely when he saw you approaching, dropping his sword to meet you halfway and give you another tight hug. 

“The night treated you better than me, then?” Humfrey commented, gesturing to the dark circles under his eyes, clearly having slept very little after such a big night. 

“Late nights of drinking and dancing are kinder to me because I don’t make a habit out of them.” you snarked, receiving a pinch in your side which had you squealing softly. 

Entering the tent with Humfrey, you quickly spotted Gwendolyn occupying herself with a crosstitch, visibly frustrated. 

“Nobody’s forcing you to do that, you know?” you spoke, causing Gwendolyn to look up and drop the cross stitch onto the table defiantly. 

“I have to keep myself entertained somehow.” she sighed, resting a hand in her belly as she raised her arm for you to sit beside her. 

“Where’s father?” you asked as you sat down.

“Off giving his greetings to the prince’s.” Humfrey spoke up as he poured himself a goblet of wine. 

Letting out a hum of acknowledgement, you leaned back on the lounge and fiddled with the end of your braid. 

“You’re jousting tonight then?” you asked, to which Humfrey nodded. 

“Here’s to hoping I don’t get knocked off in the first round, that’d just be fucking embarrassing.” he sighed. 

“You’ll be fine, Tully was drinking so much last night i’ll be surprised if he can stay on his bloody horse.” Gwendolyn commented, earning a laugh from Humfrey. 

“Trouble is, sister, i’m pretty sure I was drinking more than him.” 

“You’ll be evenly matched then.” she replied.

This wasn’t new, for as long as you could remember, your older siblings had always made a game of being at each other’s throats with words; you weren’t complaining, it was always entertaining to see the creative ways they would playfully insult one another. 

-

As the joust grew closer and the sun began to set, you’d said your goodbyes to Gwendolyn, wished Humfrey luck, and set off back in the direction of the Fossoways tents. 

With a chill beginning to make itself known, you raised the hood of your cloak and tucked your knuckles into your sleeves in an attempt to keep a resistance against the growing cold.

From the moment the Fossoay’s tent’s came into view, you quickened your stride, the anxiety at the back of your mind somehow convincing you that you were already late.

Stopping in your tracks, however, from the moment you caught sight of Raymun leaving the tent holding his hand against his cheek.

The moment you called his name, he turned his face away from you, a poor attempt at hiding before you reached him, gripping his wrist and wrenching his hand away from his face.

Across his cheek bone with a reddened mark and a shallow cut, not quite bleeding, but deep enough to have stung. 

“What happened?” you gasped, running a thumb over the cut only for Raymun to hiss softly.

“It’s nothin’.” he lied, still attempting to turn away from you. 

Gripping his shoulder and spinning him back to face you, he kept his head hung.

“Its not nothing, Raymund.” you scolded, letting out a frustrated huff before gripping his wrist and dragging him towards where you knew you could get water.

Dipping a rag into the barrel of cold water not far from the tent’s, you slowly brought it up to Raymun’s cheek, who was standing there with his arms to his sides and still not meeting your eyes. 

From the moment you touched the cut with the damp rag, he jumped instinctively which earnt him a soft slap on the shoulder from you.

“Stay still.” you muttered, biting your lip in concentration as you attempted to calm the angry cut. 

“S’ my fault.” Raymun began, “I bent the armor when I was cleanin’ it.” 

“And you think that meant you deserve to get backhanded?” you sighed, dipping the rag once more and squeezing the excess water out.

“He called me worthless.” He muttered, clearly more hurt by the insult than he was willing to let on. 

“Well you’re not.” you snapped, raising your voice more than you’d intended, “Steffon’s just a cunt who think’s being a brute make’s him a man.” 

Using your spare hand to grip his chin, you forced Raymun to look at you, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re not worthless, if I hear you talking like that, i’ll backhand you myself.”

Even if your threat was hardly taken seriously, it at least brought a smile to Raymun’s face, the way he let you hold his chin as you continued to clean the wound and pat at it softly to try and ease some of the redness. 

Before you could say anything else to one another, a horn sounded out from the jousting grounds, a signal that it was due to begin soon.

Turning back to look at Raymun, you realised you had still been holding onto his chin, only to quickly let go and clearing your throat as you dropped the rag back onto the small table beside you. 

“I have to help Lynara prepare.” you spoke softly, standing slowly as Raymun followed your action. 

“Come see me.. After the joust.” Raymun spoke, hesitance clear on his features. 

Staying silent initially, you turned to look at him before smiling softly and nodding.

“Okay.” 

-

As the joust had begun, you’d been ushered into the stands by Gwendolyn, who’d spotted you walking with Lynara and insisted you both sit at her side to watch Humfrey. 

Following the introduction of the royal family which caused an eruption of cheers, the horn blew once more to signal the beginning as knights began to emerge on horseback.

First you saw the golden antlers which you knew to belong to House Baratheon, followed by the green flame of the Hightowers.

House Tully’s display had been more than clear, as Medgar Tully rode in front of the cheering smallfolk and held a dead trout high above his head, screaming a tribute to the old gods and the new, before taking a bite.

The sight made you grimace, with Gwendloyn placing a hand over her mouth. 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” she croaked, causing you place a hand on her back as you laughed. 

Just as quickly as she had spoken, she was distracted by the appearance of her husband, her eyes lighting up as the sigil of red and white diamonds appeared.

Cheering and clapping her hands, you clapped along for your brother in law, who raised his fist as he rode into place alongside the other knights. 

Before you even had a moment to pause, the horn blew once more, followed by the deep galloping of hooves against the ground as lances were lowered. 

As the first impact and splintering of the lances began, it was followed by a deep groan by the crowd watching, only to melt into cheering once more.

You watched Gwendolyn’s face as Humfrey turned at the end of the line and began to storm forward once more, his opponent carrying the sigil of House Payne, only to knock him off of his horse on the second pass.

She cheered next to you, resting a hand against her bump proudly; the image made you smile, you were happy on behalf of your sister, if there had been anyone more deserving of a match of love, it was her. 

The joust continued to be enjoyed by all, with minimal injury to be celebrated, it remained a relatively blood free event. 

At its conclusion, you walked arm in arm with Gwendolyn as you accompanied her back to The Beesbury tent, both Humfrey’s trailing behind you sharing a pig skin flask of ale. 

“To the champion of the joust! My brother by law!” your brother claimed, raising the flask above his head before taking a sip. 

Turning to look at her husband and brother, Gwendolyn laughed at the two of them before facing ahead once more. 

“It’s soon time you get a husband of your own, isn’t it?” 

Her words made you almost stumble as you walked, shaking your head and letting out a groan. 

“I’m serious!” she laughed, “You can’t stay as Lynara’s for your entire life.” 

“Watch me do just that, live out my days as a maid, I shall be as pious as Baelor The Blessed.” you responded, stopping as you arrived at the entrance of the tent. 

Skeptical, but no longer interested in pushing the matter further, Gwendolyn simply rolled her eyes and turned to face you. 

“Will you come inside?” she asked.

Remembering the promise you had made, you shook your head. 

“I can’t.” 

Raising her eyebrow inquisitively, she saw right through your simple answer yet didn’t pry. 

“Well be safe, and get a good rest, Humfrey’s jousting again tomorrow, he claims he intends to unhorse Prince Aerion.” 

She spoke with a roll of her eyes as she turned to glance at her husband who was now dancing drunkenly with your brother, the pair of them humming a tune. 

“Goodnight, sister.” you concluded with a hug and a kiss to her cheek, before turning to begin the walk back. 

It hadn’t taken you long to realise that despite agreeing to meet Raymun after the joust, you hadn’t agreed as to where, leaving you peering around as you walked to try and find him. 

Though you did find somebody as you approached the Fossoway’s tent, it wasn’t who you had hoped. 

In fact you already found your blood boiling the moment you made eye contact with Steffon. 

You’d hoped he’d have kept his mouth shut as you walked past, yet when he noticed the pointed glare you aimed at him, he piped up rather quickly. 

“You got somethin’ you want to say to me?” he spat, leaning his weight on one foot and narrowing his eyes at you. 

No longer willing to pass by silently, you whipped around and stomped up to him. 

“If you ever strike Raymun again, i’ll wring you by the balls.” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. 

Turning to walk away you were stopped by Steffon’s grip on your upper arm, yanking you back. 

“You may be my sister’s lady, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have you sent back to your shithole at Honeyholt.” 

“Don’t touch me.” you snapped, ripping your arm from his grasp. 

Storming away from him, his words sent a lump into your throat, your hands shaking with rage as you continued without any semblance of where you were headed, just that you needed to be away from the crowds that littered the camp ground. 

It was just as you finally reached the end of the camp grounds that you heard the familiar voice of Raymun calling your name. 

Sat next to him was the gentle giant you had seen the day before, along with a little lad you hadn’t seen. 

As Raymun waved you over to where the trio were sitting under one of the meal tents, you composed yourself and walked over. 

Standing at the table, you offered a kind smile to the two strangers as Raymun introduced you, giving them your name. 

“This Ser Duncan The Tall;” he gestured to the big one, “And his squire, Egg.” 

The little one’s name made you laugh, an unusual name, but not exactly ill fitting you supposed. 

“Ser Duncan means to join the lists.” Raymun mentioned, which has you raising an eyebrow.

Even for a hedge knight, he seemed down on his luck, judging by the rope that was acting as a sheath holder for his sword, and the state of his clothes. 

“May The Warrior grant you his blessings.” you offered with a nod. 

“Thank you.” Duncan finally spoke, his voice just as deep as you had expected for his stature. 

“Ser Duncan,” Egg spoke softly, tapping him on the arm, “We still need to speak with Steely Pate.” 

Nodding, Duncan stood from his place and nodded politely at you.

“Good luck, Ser Duncan.” 

He returned your words with a smile and another nod, toddling away with Egg at his side. 

Turning to Raymun, you smiled at him while gesturing to the pair with your thumb. 

“You made friends with the giant, then?” you teased, sitting across from him at the table. 

Ignoring your comment but sending a playful glare your way, Raymun pointed to the barrels that had been set up with various ales and wines. 

“Do ya’ want anythin?” he offered, beginning to stand. 

“Ale’s fine.” you replied, reaching for the coin purse sat against your hip, only for Raymun to put his hand out. 

“I’m returnin’ the favour for this mornin’.” 

Leaving you without the option of refusal, you simply held your hands up in surrender. 

“By all means, then.” 

Just as quickly as he ran off, he returned with two iron cups of ale, a smile plastered over his features as he sat across from you once more. 

Taking a generous sip of the ale, neither of you said anything initially, until Raymun spoke up. 

“Was that your sister? the one you were sittin’ with during the joust?” 

Nodding your head in response, you took another sip. 

“My brother’s are here too, haven’t seen them in years.” you laughed softly. 

“I didn’t know you Humfrey Hardyng’s sister by law now.” he joked, causing you to role your eyes. 

“They only wed a year or so after I left,” you shrugged, “She’s pregnant now too.” 

Pausing to take another sip, you tucked some hair behind your ear. 

“According to her, it’s to be my turn soon enough.” 

That seemed to grab Raymun, his gaze hardening slightly at the mention of you getting married. 

He didn’t speak for a few moments, looking back down at his ale. 

“Is that somethin’ you want to do?” 

His question caused you to shrug.

“Hadn’t thought about it all that much if i’m being honest..” 

Your answer was honest for the most part, before recently, it hadn’t even crossed your mind. 

“What if I just wanted to stay in Lynara’s service for the rest of my life.. what if I don’t want to squeeze out heirs for some lord just cause people say that’s what I’m meant to do..” 

Huffing, you took another sip of your ale before speaking again. 

“Isn’t that what men want? Heirs to carry on their name.. boys to train to fight and girls to look after them when they go old and grey?” 

As you concluded your speech, you noticed Raymun watching you with a half cocked smile, amused. 

“Oh you think it’s funny how, wait till your father makes you marry some pig-faced girl and tells you to put a baby in her!”

You laughed as you spoke, pointing at Raymun as your words only made him laugh along with you. 

“It’s easy for you lot, all you have to do is bed us, then we’re expected to go through all the pain and the blood.” 

Pausing for a moment, you narrowed your eyes and lowered your voice. 

“Whoever marries you’s gonna have a hard time looking at your ugly mug when it comes time for the bedding.” 

Faking insult, Raymun shook his head. 

“You know I've got a face like a young milk maiden.” he protested sarcastically, “You think your future husband’s gonna have to take you from behind so he can actually make an heir?” 

Opening your mouth, you let out a shocked laugh before raising your hand to try and deliver a slap to Raymun’s chest across the table, only for him to catch your wrist before impact could be made. 

Maybe it was the ale talking, or the adrenaline left over from the joust; the pair of you were used to trading playful insults with one another, but there was something else rising up with all this talk of bedding. 

“I’ll not have you layin’ a hand on me, or i’ll put you over my knee.” 

“The seven hells would freeze over before I let you.” you teased, snatching back your wrist before standing from your seat. 

“That a challenge, then?” he countered, chugging the remainder of his ale as you turned and began to break out into a light sprint away from the tables and up towards the tree line in the distance. 

You didn’t look back to see if he was following behind you, you didn’t need to, you’d known Raymun for almost four years now, he was easy to rile. 

Passing the threshold of the tree’s, you grinned as you began to slow down and hid behind a thick tree base, trying to listen out for footsteps. 

Your heart thrummed in your ears through the silence occasionally broken by the sound of an owl or the distant sound of yelling and cheers from the camp grounds. 

A twig snapping not far behind you sent you taking off again, laughing loudly as you heard Raymun’s footsteps quicken with your own. 

You continued to run, spotting a break in the trees in the distance and pushing yourself to reach it. 

As a pair of arms reached around your waist and held you in place, you let out a squeal that began to melt into laughter, startled but amused all the same. 

Raymun lifted you with ease, manhandling you as he stepped into the small meadow the pair of you had reached before he let go and allowed you both to collapse onto the soft grass below you. 

Rolling onto your back, you panted from your run and stared up at the night sky, admiring the way it was littered with stars. 

Beside you, Raymun was laid on his back and looking at you, watching as you met his eyes and held his gaze. 

With little hesitation, you reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with your own, just as you had done the night previously. 

It was clear from his eyes that he was just as nervous as he was determined, opening his mouth to speak before stopping. 

“What is it?” you whispered.

“Can I kiss you? Properly this time..?” 

This time it was your turn to be silent, holding his gaze for a few moments before you sat up. 

Quickly following your action, Raymun seemed to be bracing himself for rejection once more. 

Yet when you nodded slowly, he let out a nervous exhale with a smile and reached forward to place a hand on your cheek. 

At first, it was soft, his plush lips barely touching your own, his nose bumping against your own as you both smiled before attempting it again. 

This time, you could taste the cider on his lips, feel the want radiating off of him when he placed a hand on the side of your neck. 

It seemed as if time was moving independently, like mere seconds and hours had passed all the same before he broke the seal of your kiss but remained close enough that you could feel his exhale against your lips. 

“You taste like honey wine..” he whispered, making your heart leap, before he leaned forward to kiss you once more. 

As if a string had snapped, you felt Raymun moving to put a hand on your waist, gently guiding you to lay on your back once more as he held himself above you. 

His hands didn’t attempt to explore further without permission, only held onto your hip as he kissed you deeply, soft exhales leaving your throat as began to kiss along your jawline and down to your neck. 

He wasn’t rough, yet he seemed to be restraining himself, placing softer kisses along the skin of your throat as you shut your eyes and ran your fingers through his curls. 

Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped the moment you opened your eyes once more and spotted a small garden snake a meter or so away from the pair of you. 

Out of reflex, you let out a scream and Raymun threw himself off of you only to watch as you began to scramble across the grass to get away from the small animal. 

Letting out a laugh, Raymun stood, scooping his arms behind your back and under your knees to lift you up off the ground. 

“Not quite a dragon, but just as fearsome.” he joked, watching your petrified expression and wide eyes following the snake as it slithered past and disappeared into a bush. 

“You can put me down now.” you finally spoke with a relieved sigh. 

“What if I don’t want to?” he teased, only to receive a glare from you before he obeyed. 

Keeping his hands on your waist, Raymun rested his forehead against your own and pulled you against his chest. 

Even if you did not share another kiss, you both shut your eyes as you shared an embrace and both laughed softly at the interruption. 

“It’s late.” you finally spoke, “people will be wondering where we are..” 

Pulling away, Raymun nodded and took your hand in his own. 

“Aye, I’m sure they’re arranging a search party as we speak.” he laughed softly, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. 

Beginning the walk back in the direction of the camp grounds, you kept your hand tightly in Raymun’s. 

Upon arriving back, you bid him goodnight, stopping him from stealing another kiss before somebody would see, and disappeared back into your tent for the night.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @holb32

[razzmothazz]

love how murph made up a guy and named them Baron from The Baronies for the bit because haha riz is too hyper focused on investigating and cool adventures to even care about romance and brennan went hey watch this and made a personification of the aro struggle of wondering if once your friends will fall in love they will just leave you behind once they no longer have a use for you because romantic relationships will always be above platonic in the social hierarchy.

and then brennan also went i äm yöurr römancë partnüürr rizzz gückkgaäackkk :3

[lookitseddie]

brennan lee mulligan decided to say 'one day, all your friends will find someone who they love more than you' on a random dnd live session while playing a stupid fucking puppet thing with a stupid fucking accent, and altered the wiring of my brain in horrific ways that can never be undone

[hyoer]

Project: Get Over Bob (2)

pairing. Bob Reynolds x reader

synopsis. Bob likes someone that’s not you and now its up to you to carry on Project Get Over Bob.

warnings. Mentions of suicide (vagueish), mentions of child abuse and  forms of non-physical self-harm, mentions of drugs :( Bob just struggling a lot with life but reader and the team are there to make it better even if it’s just a bit. Lots of angst and no comfort… Yet. Also, a bit of kissing. I may have made reader english unintentionally :) expansion of readers relationship with the team!! The Void and a little?bit of the Sentry make an appearance.

word count. 6.5k

Notes at the end of this chapter

part 1.

Phase: Bob?

Robert Reynolds grew up like a dog, held taught at the neck, beaten into submission for the hell of it. He'd spent 29 years running from the cage he grew up in.

From backwater towns to unkind cities, across borders and oceans, he was always searching for his next high.

And every time he found it and crashed, he crashed harder.

All of his misfortune had led him to Kuala Lumpur. What better place, he thought, for cheap meth and good food?

Not that he could afford either once he landed. His so-called "working holiday" quickly devolved into sleepless nights and cheap motel rooms.

The lab was a nightmare, and the splitting of his mind it hurt, it hurt so much. But none of that pain could compare to the guilt.

The sickening knowledge that he'd hurt people.

That he'd become the thing he feared.

His father had always told him: Violence is in your blood. One day, you'll understand it's not cruelty—it’s survival. Bob had spent his life trying to prove him wrong, only to fail.

Waking up in the vault was terrifying. But that fear was eclipsed by the feeling of something stronger, the opportunity of a real life.

A final chance.

He regarded it as the single most important moment of his life. Sure, getting the sentry serum was life-changing. But he’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping what he had now.

And you were there the day it all started.

You weren’t a child assassin like Yelena, or a phasing shadow like Ava, or a walking weapon like Alexei, Bucky, or Walker. But you moved with purpose. Precision. That quiet intensity set you apart. You weren’t the strongest in the vault. But took twice as many hits as you dealt and got up three times as fast.

Now, in the tower, most of Bob’s nights were spent with you. He’d perch himself on your sofa, fingers picking at the frayed threads along the armrest, eyes blurred but never closed. You’d talk about everything. The strange weather patterns, Alexei’s obsession with marketing, the new taco shop opening downstairs—mundane things, your voice soft and steady, trying to anchor him.

The room always felt smaller when you were there. Your presence was a warmth that filled every corner, something he could almost reach out and hold if he wasn’t so afraid of breaking it somehow.

But even you couldn’t keep the thoughts out.

The silence between your words gave them space. The darkness of the room fed them. And the safety you offered made them bolder.

“I wish I’d died in Sarasota.” he said one night.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with a fear he hadn’t expect.

“Hey—no, no. Please don’t say that, Robert.”  you moved closer  “Please just- just look at me.”

Your hand cupped his face, fingertips grazing the edge of his jaw, soft and trembling.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t sexual.

It was a safe feeling touch, he’d always wanted that.

You always gave it to him.

“Look, I won’t tell you that you can’t feel like this, it wouldn’t be right for me to say that. But you’ve been working so hard to unpack your issues and work at them, please, please just give yourself the credit you deserve.”

He blinked up at you, fighting the urge to look away.

“Most people go their whole lives never even trying to unpack their pain,” you continued, voice low but unwavering. “But you—you’re facing it. That’s brave.”

And for a moment.

The void inside him seemed to shrink that bit smaller.

Being at the tower felt freer than the life of a nomad he’d adopted for the past 7 years. There were still plenty of rules, curfews, schedules and therapy sessions—but the structure gave him purpose. It kept his mind and body active.

Every morning, Yelena would bang on his door like a madman.

“Make sure you grab your coffee ~” she’d call through the door, already bounding halfway down the hall by the time he’d have opened his eyes.

There, he’d find you with your back turned, shuffling through the music on your phone, tapping your foot lightly to the beat. He’d reach over and grab two cups for you both before heading out for a run in Central Park with Yelena, well, he’d be attempting to run, but that was besides the point.

He’d run beside Lena, wheezing through half-finished stories about old jobs or nights he barely remembered. She’d hit back with tales from the Red Room. They were always darker, sometimes sad, but she was a master of comedy so he’d be barking out laughs between gasps for air the whole way.

Once she was finished torturing him he’d head back to the tower to meet Ava in the lab.

She was helping him work toward his GED—something he’d started years ago, then abandoned when life got too loud. Now, with all the time and resources in the world, he thought it would be a good time to start again.

Ava was the best teacher he could ask for.

She never rolled her eyes when he forgot how to do something, never laughed when he misread something aloud.

Her teaching was patient and kind.

She wasn’t much of a talker, which was a given with her solitary upbringing, but that was fine with him. They’d spend time in comfortable silence, with Bob occasionally breaking it to ask a question. Both of them used to the quiet, neither of them quite understood what normal looked like but their quiet friendship fulfilled them both.

After finishing up with his work, Bucky would usually steal him away for sparring.

“You keep dropping your guard.” he’d grunt, tossing Bob onto the mat for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“I don’t have a guard.” Bob would mutter, staring up at the ceiling begging someone, anyone for a break.

He hated physical exercise.

The sentry serum had made Bob invincible and while he didn’t feel any pain, his frustration was with his lack of ability.

His strength was absolute, his body impenetrable, but, he wanted to be able to move around with the same grace and stealth that the others did.

Bucky pushed him harder than anyone else.

But it never felt cruel.

It was focused and encouraging.

Like he was his older brother who believed in him enough to never go easy.

You’d sometimes be there too, just out of sight in the adjacent room. You’d be reviewing mission footage or deep in a debrief.

Bob liked it better when you weren’t watching. Not because he didn’t want you there, he just preferred to keep his exploits or lack thereof between the senator and himself instead.

Dinner was one of the best parts of his day.

Sitting at the dinner table didn’t involve endless lectures or threats of harm. Alexei and John would always be the first ones at the table, seated across from him like some sort of strange uncle-nephew trio. They weren’t constantly at each others throats but when they were it was way more entertaining for him.

John always had a dumb joke ready but Alexei managed to always have a weirder one. Half the time, they would argue about whether Kramer vs Kramer was a Christmas movie or if John had browned the butter well enough for the banana bread.

“Why do you even eat potatoes like this?” Alexei would say, stabbing one with his fork “It is so dry, no soul.”

“You’re literally Russian dude?!!” John would shoot back his voice raising an octave.

“Russia has great food, you know my father-”

Bob was definitely not listening to the rest of that. But he would smile and finish his meal with a warmth in his heart and that’s all that mattered.

You and Bob would take your daily walks after dinner.

The city was quieter at night.

Well, New York never really was, but it was quieter in the way Bob liked. Just a low rumble of traffic in the distance and the occasional click of footsteps as you both aimlessly wandered.

Bob chuckled at your retelling of your siblings meeting Ava for the first time. His smile lingered even after you’d finished talking, it was a strange one. It felt like he was half-sincere and half-lost in thought. His steps slowed and he turned to you, “You’re one of my best friends, y’know, just thought I’d tell you.” said more like a question than a statement.

You smiled. “That’s why you’ve been looking constipated this entire walk?”

He huffed a laugh, but his face still has a serious look “I mean it. It’s not just because we have to live together or mission stuff. You’re always there for me even when I’ve been hard to be around.”

“Bob, you’ve never been hard to be around, ever.”

He didn’t respond right away. His jaw flexed and eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder.

“I guess I-I just keep thinking” voice low “That I’m this ticking time bomb. Like the more time you guys spend with me, the quicker I’ll blow up a fuse and hurt you all.”

You were quiet for a second. Then you said, “You ever think that maybe we don’t need protecting from you? That having you around is so good that we’d be willing to keep the Void at bay forever? I would go through hundreds of rooms for you Robert, every damn day if I had to, I’m sure the others would too.”

You didn’t say anything else, and he stared at you for a moment before sputtering out that it was late and you both should head back. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed how red his ears were.

Bob thought that maybe you liked him the way he liked you.

But he decided to push silly thoughts like that away. You would have said that to everyone.

It wasn’t that Bob himself didn’t like you; he just felt as though pursuing you would be another Malaysia. He would somehow grip your light so tightly that it would burn only you, leaving him at the centre of yet another massacre. And Bob was far too kind, he cared for you far too much to doom you to a life of walking on eggshells.

He would get over you. And he knew just what to have to start his journey.

A sweet treat.

Bob didn’t plan on finding the bookstore.

He was walking to find a new dessert place, the serum left him with a serious sweet tooth.

Bob liked walking on Main Street. Sure, there was always a major risk of him literally destroying everyone in the city if the transdimensional being in him escaped but, the feeling off blending in and being normal was worth the risk.

He walked for another ten minutes before he saw it.

The bookstore that you were always raving about. You had begged the whole team to come with you, rambling on about the idea of a book club in preparation for the new Christopher Nolan film, but your pleading had been interrupted by Mel informing them all they had press to finish up.

He decided he’d go in and find you something, that should cheer you up.

Bob wandered into the store, trailing his fingers along the many books, stopping only when he'd collected too much dust for his nose to handle. It reminded him of a place he’d hidden out in once, years ago.

Different city.

Different Bob.

“You looking for anything specific?” came a voice.

He turned and saw her.

A short woman with long loose waves nestled into a bun, a pencil sticking out of her pocket and reading glasses hanging around her neck. She looked at him cheekily and something about the intensity of her gaze flustered him.

“I’m-I’m not really sure, I’m looking for a friend but I have no idea what she would want.” he replied honestly, scratching the back of his neck.

She smiled, “Those are the best kinds of searches.”

Their first conversation was short. She’d recommended some kind of fantasy novel.

He’d bought it and you were so happy that you spent the next two weeks singing Bob's praises to anyone and everyone.

That included Lily.

Bob came back the next week to pick something else out. And the week after that.

And each time, Lily was there with a new recommendation. With questions about what he liked, how he was doing, how you were doing.

Sometimes they talked for a minute.

Sometimes ten.

Bob never told her who he really was, nothing about the Thunderbolts stuff, though he was sure she knew.

Just said his name was Bob and that he was working on “getting his life together”.

She never pried. Never asked why his hands sometimes shook, or why his eyes would occasionally glow. She always spoke to him gently and laughed at his shitty attempts at jokes in a way that made him feel like maybe he was just a guy in a bookstore.

Someone normal.

One day, he decided to be brave, “You ever uh free for a coffee?” he'd asked, the words almost catching in his throat.

“As in to drink it? Or are you asking me out?” she looked surprised.

Shit, she looked like she was freaked out, he almost backed off right then, but he decided to push through. He nodded “Yeah yeah uh the second one.”

She studied his face - not judgmental, just thoughtful - “Okay, yeah sure, but be warned I’m coming in hot off the back of an awful relationship. Like the guy was Loki levels of out of his mind, I may go crawling back.” she joked.

Bob smiled.

“Here. Take my number.”

Once outside with her number tucked safely into his breast pocket, he took a moment to take in a breath.

He thought about you for a second, your smile, your voice and he felt guilty, but you didn’t like him. It was ok for him to move on and he was sure you’d support him putting himself out there.

Right?

Phase 3

Phase 3 was not feeling as easy as you’d predicted it would be.

Not thinking of Bob was difficult. He engulfed your every thought, every second of the day seemed to stretch out further than you thought possible when you worked on any task that didn’t include Bob.

Even sleep didn’t offer a break.

In your dream, Bob appeared doe-eyed, curls falling over his face and his skin glowing. Your hands were roaming his body and his breath was hot against the shell of your ear. He was calm and collected, his movements slow as he cradled you tightly to his chest.

His head turned to you, his lips inching closer to your face and then all at once pressed against yours. His head angled to the right to swipe his tongue against your bottom lip, the action causing you to gasp and heat to bloom in your chest.

As your hands began to reach for his face, they fell through, jolting you awake. Your bed cushioning your movements didn’t stop your face from hitting the side of the bed frame.

You’d never made out with anyone before, so how the hell did the kiss feel so real.

“What the hell?”

Huffing you drag yourself to the bathroom, you find Bucky there brushing his teeth. You say nothing to greet him and the strangeness of your silence isn’t lost on him.

He offers a smile as he makes his way out of your shared space, he’ll bother you later once he brings back a red velvet from the store near his and Steve’s old place in Brooklyn.

Remind yourself to get an electric toothbrush, this one is struggling to withstand the force of your anger as you scrape each tooth with all of your strength.

You were doing so well to not fall back into thinking of Bob.

So why did this dream have to screw everything up?

By the time you’re done damaging your enamel it’s time for another hellish sparring session with John.

Good Lord, you were not in the mood.

You unwillingly tread down to the gym, smelling the clinical bleach mats before you round the corner.

The gym always smelled like sweat, chemical cleaner, and testosterone — basically John's cologne. You pushed the door open hard, making it slam against the frame making John jump from the noise and trip over the weight in front of him. Wait did that weight say 2000kg holy shit-

“What crawled up your ass?” he barked, startled but recovering quickly.

“Nothing. Just thought I’d get a bit of payback. You ready?” He smirked.

The mat is thick beneath your bare feet, cold and spongy. Walker stands a few feet away, stretching out his legs, the muscles in his arms rolling under his shirt. For someone so impossibly strong he sure was wirey looking.

Captain America, my ass. You reminded yourself he had limits — he had to.

You both began circling each other, and a quick step to each side had you both falling into a familiar rhythm.

“You know he came by asking for you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything.” you swing your fist, miming a punch, daring him to act.

Walker was always too trigger happy for his own good.

He would always bite.

“Y’know its pretty obvious to everyone include Bob that you’re distancing yourself from just him,” he said, launching at you with flurry of jabs. You dodged most, but he caught your shoulder and stomach hard.

Jesus that hurt, you deserved an extra matcha latte for lunch as a reward.

“Yeah? Well, he’s the one glued to his girlfriend’s side every hour of the day.” you step back with your arms up “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing “If you don’t like him, then why would it—”

“Oh my God, John,” you cut him off, voice tight  “Everyone knows. I know Bob knows I like him. I don’t understand what people want from me! I’ve been kind. I talk to her, I talk to him. I haven’t said anything mean or snarky, I’m not making a scene. If they’re in the room, I don’t disappear... I’m trying.”

Your breathing was heavy and you could feel the pressure rising behind your eyes. You weren't prone to emotional outbursts and John felt like he’d provoked you without reason.

“What else am I supposed to do?” you whispered.

John looked like he was going to say something — probably a joke, probably one of his usual offhand lines to break the tension.

But he didn’t.

“I see him with her and it really hurts.”  your arms dropped and you began to take the next few of his punches half-heartedly. You weren’t fighting back anymore.

Just standing there, letting the blows land and getting back up like clockwork.

“I-I can’t do this. I’m sorry”

You turn away, walking over to the wall pressing your forehead gently against the cool panelling. It’s the only thing that you could think to do to ground you. John comes up behind you, placing his hand on the top of your back, patting it like he would do to his son when he was helping him drift off to sleep.

John spoke, his tone gentler than usual.

“How do you always eat my hits like that?” he asks “You sure you’re not a mutant or something?”

You half-laughed, half-sighed, “If I was, I wouldn’t be a B-grade superhero like Variety said.”

He snorted behind you “And you believe the opinion of the magazine that made me ride my shield like a horse?”

You both laugh. John stands there with you until you calm down.

He tells you to clean up and head back upstairs, he says he doesn’t need you so stressed out so close to you guys’ next mission.

As you make your way up to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle you pass the library, freezing when you see two familiar figures sitting side by side on the floor.

Their arms are fitted so tightly next to one another, they look like their melting into each other. Lily reaches out and nudges a stray curl back behind Bob’s ear.

You feel sick.

Bob’s cheeks flush a little, and he gives her a sheepish grin and you make the mistake of scuffing your slippers across the floor in an attempt to walk away. They both look at you wide eyed, like they’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Hey guys” your voice gentle “Looks like a tornado flew through here, what you up to?” you’re hoping the fake texan twang is enough for them to not see the obvious awkwardness on your face.

Bob giggles and she explains their plan to find the ultimate saag paneer recipe, both finishing the others thoughts and animatedly nudging each other when they think the other ones wrong.

You decide that the scene is too intimate and too domestic and you need to run away.

Bidding them goodbye with a wide smile you all but run past the kitchen to go to your room and stew in your jealousy.

While Lily continues to argue the importance of the four forms of taste Bob swallows hard, his gaze distracted and brows slowly knotting together.

Something seriously doesn’t make sense with you.

You sit with your knees up on your bed, the soft glow from your bedside lamp casts shadows across the room. You make shapes with your hands and play with the shadows, your headphones are playing something by Lorde that makes you feel worse somehow.

That’s a first.

The door to the bathroom slowly cracks open, Ava’s brown curls visible as she inches her way in as quietly as possible.

“I’m awake y’know.” you grin at her, she was so cute when she was trying to be sneaky.

She guffaws “Yeah I k-knew.”

You stare at her accusingly with your brow raised.

“Ok so I thought you were asleep, so what? You can tell me off later once you tell me why you flooded your room on purpose.”

“I plead the fifth.” your expression completely deadpan.

“We’re both English! That doesn’t work.” she laughs out, not angrily but with the same tone a mother would with her child.

“Technically-“

She stops you “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the flying boy that you’ve been pining over?”

“That’s a low blow c’mon.” your pout is unintentional, you love Ava but you do not need to think about him even more after the day you’ve had, it would ruin the plan even more than it already had.

“Can we just drop the topic of Bob and just hang out? Since you’ve already snuck your way into my room”, she stills for a moment and without warning jumps onto your bed and grabs your waist. With her head in your lap you begin to thread your fingers through her scalp.

She mumbles something, half of her mouth buried in the plush fabric of your pyjamas. You’re sure it’s something about the way you keep the room way too cold for comfort.

This is nice you think.

Maybe you don’t need just Bob after all.

Phase 4

Never mind maybe you do.

Bob seems to struggle less and less with the concept of never seeing you around, he fills his time with Lily and her life. You think he seems to fit in fine with her spin classes and zoo dates. Not that there’s anything wrong with exercise and animals.

It isn’t your life, Bob isn’t your boyfriend and he would never want to be.

Ouch.

Maybe you really were on the cusp of really becoming invisible to him.

Just like you wanted?

Whatever, you didn’t have time to think about Project Get Over Bob anyway, Valentina had scheduled a gala to honour the ‘ex- Avengers’ as she called them. None of you were happy with the phrasing and you were sure Sam would talk you, Buck, and Joaqins ear off when you met up later tonight.

Your dress had been fitted a month or two before and Mel had scheduled a glam team for everyone so you go through the first half of the day abnormally relaxed.

You, Yelena, John and Alexei make your way downstairs first. You hear someone mumble about there not being enough space for everyone in the car but the air is so cold and bitter they’re lucky your ears haven’t frozen off by the time you’re off to the venue.

Once there, you struggle to get the train of your dress to stop sticking to the bottom of your heel, you curse loud enough for Alexei to notice and carry you out like a doll.

“Your dress ok my little firecracker?”

“Yeah thanks Lexei. You guys go ahead, I wanna go to the bathroom before heading in”

He nods and turns around, walking towards the others and wrapping his arms around them, binding them to himself as he rushes them in.

As you finally look up at the scene in front of you, your breath stutters.

The building in front of you was immense.

The lights perched about the balcony and grounds are blinding, and you grip the train of your dress in an attempt to calm your nerves. You focus on the sound of constant chatter and the feeling of the pebbled walkway under your heels.

Before your time with the team, you’d worked as a paralegal with the Govenor of New York. It was thankless but looked great on your Linkedin. You hadn’t figured out how to write Avenger in the current jobs section without seeming like an idiot yet. Galas were a common part of your job so you weren’t worried about having to network.

No what you were nervous about was keeping your cool around Bob. You’re sure that seeing him in a suit would kill you.

Now, back from the bathroom you feel a lot lighter and not just physically.

“You’re looking very foxy tonight lady.” without hesitation you reach out behind you to hit Joaqin.

“Why’d you say the same thing to me at every event dumbass.” the man gives you a bone crushing hug and another pair of arms snake around you while he squeezes.

“Buck been training you too hard or something? You look tired.” Sam and Joaqin really were tied at the hip recently, maybe Bob’s comment about them reminding him of Tina and Tina was right.

Wait, get yourself together, no more Bob!

You talk to the both of them for around twenty minutes before you're all ushered into the main room. You move effortlessly between the hoards of investors, senators and random people that you really don’t know, spitting out jokes and making conversation that the others on your team definitely don’t understand. You forget they didn't have to go full corporate for their previous day jobs.

God bless your internship at EY.

As you make your way over to the buffet, a voice calls out your name, you turn and see your friend Finley. He’d worked on a campaign with you a few years back.

You missed being less busy, even the stress of a political campaign was quieter than the constant press and training that had taken over your life. His sudden appearance was a welcome distraction.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back to take you in “Avenger, huh? Still can’t believe you went from filing out my paperwork to fighting eldritch horrors.”

“Hey it’s not my fault you were so bad at your job.”

 You both laughed and decided to find a nook to reminise about your awful pay and long nights together.

Your conversation was cut short when your phone buzzed in your clutch. A quick glance at the screen showed Bob was calling you.

You swipe the notification without a second thought.

You tell youself to remember the plan.

But you feel it suddenly, like someone is burning the side of your head with a lighter. What the hell?

When you look to your left, you see him.

Bob stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

His suit is black, tailored so precisely it looks painted onto him. The jacket hugs the top of his shoulders so deliciously, when he moves the fabric pulls just enough to remind you that he actually does have muscles and it isn't just rainbows/kittens under there. His shirt was crisp white, the contrast against his tan skin made your throat dry.

But it’s his face that really leaves you breathless.

His heavy brow bone, sharp and prominent, is even more pronounced under the chandelier lights. Shadows pooled in the hollows of his brow, making his already intense features twice as alluring. And his eyes—

God, his eyes.

Wait he looks really pissed.

His usually kind blue eyes looked unsettling, flashing wisps of black and gold. Did Bob always look like he was wearing eyeshadow or was it just today?

His gaze flicks from your face to your phone, then back.

He’d seen you ignore the call.

For a second, you brace waiting for him to say something, to call you out right there and then. But instead, Bob just… turns away but not before you see something raw flicker across his face, you just cant figure out what.

You text him a few times, a flurry of messages explaining you were in the middle of something important and were going to call him back, you promise.

Bob just replies with a thumbs up and tells you not to worry about it.

That somehow makes you feel worse than if he'd told you off.

The rest of the evening is fine, you have fun stuffing your face with courgette tarts but are worried about what to do when you get home. You’re leaving for Ulaanbaatar tomorrow morning and really don’t want to leave on a bad note.

The team was beat by the time the night was over, you all piled into your cabs and single-filed your way up to your rooms.

You’re two steps into yours when Bob lightly pushes his way in before the door closes.

“Hey”

His voice soft.

You turn, and there he is, still in that damn suit, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Was he trying to make you pass out on purpose? His eyes are tired, not angry. It makes you feel guilty, you’d have prefered him to be angry.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” he states.

Not an accusation.

Just a fact.

You swallow. “I’ve been busy. The mission prep—”

“Don’t.” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do that. Not with me.”

You want to look away, but his gaze is so strong it feels like the room is falling away and all you can see is him.

“You haven’t hung out with me in weeks.” he says “You stopped eating breakfast with me, you did a U-turn in the hallway when you saw me last week and I know that you hate pottery so whats going on?” a pause, he looks nervous “Did I do something?”

Your chest aches “No. It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. How could you explain? That every time you saw him with Lily, laughing at some joke you weren’t part of, it felt like he was ripping your heart out with his bare hands. That you were supposed to be over him, but you weren’t, and it was eating you alive?

Before you can force out another lie, Bob’s breath hitches. He can see the cogs turning in your head, attempting to lie to him again.

Wait, was the air in the room becoming thicker or was it the stress of the situation settling into your body?

His hands clenches. His pupils dilate—too wide, too gold.

Gold? Shit.

“Bob—” You step forward, but he staggers back, not wanting to touch you, bracing himself against the wall. His knuckles turning white where they grip the plaster, cracks begin to form under his palm.

That was not good.

“I don’t understand what the fuck your problem is! You go f-from telling me you aren’t avoiding me and that we’re such great friends to complete silence. I just, I don’t know what I did to make you upset with me.” his voice tapers off as he lowers his hands from the wall, the anger and frustration leaving his body only to be replaced with the sinking feeling of dread that maybe you really didn’t care for him.

“Hey, sweetheart I think we should both just calm down I’ll-“

“NO, no I won’t, I refuse to be ignored. We’ve devoted ourselves to you, don’t you see that!!” his voice is hoarse and it sounds as if all three of them, Void, Sentry and, Bob are shouting at you.

His body begins shaking and before you can even think you and Bob are completely gripped by the inky black tendrils of the Void.

The Void swallows you whole.

You land on your knees in a familiar place.

“No, no, not here, not again” you whine.

Maria Hill stands to your left, frozen in time.

You missed her, you missed her more than anything.

But you refused to live through it again, you worked so hard to come to terms with that day and it was a low blow for him to show you the room that you’d already worked so hard to leave a year before.

The scene changes and she’s there, right in front of you, bleeding out on the concrete.

Again.

And again.

“You like pulling cheap shots every time you force me to come here?” you scoff, sure the place scares you, but you calm yourself when you remember that Bob is stronger than whatever torture the Void is willing to put you through.

He’ll be here, you know he will.

“It worked on you last time, what’s the harm with trying twice?” a static-like voice whispers out from behind you.

The dark figure steps out in front of you, gripping your arm so tightly you can feel your muscle and bone press grind together. Despite the pain, you can feel him.

Feel Bob.

His presence calms you enough to stop struggling with the vice like force on your body.

You reach out, holding his face. The action angers him. You can’t see him but feel his features curl into a snarl.

“You think that a pathetic fucking human being like you can touch me or calm him? You think he dreams of you or thinks of you even a fraction of the amount you do.” his grip tightens even futher.

“Even the team, they think you’re dead weight, they tolerate you. Nothing more”

Suddenly Bob appears and he’s not alone.

He’s got an arm around Lily, whispering something in her ear and kissing her so deeply it feels innapropriate to observe.

You try to look away but his hand, Bob’s hand, grips your jaw leaving you unable to turn your head.

The Void purrs, his tone amused "He pities you and wants your attention because he’s bored, once he has her do you think he’ll care? He’s too kind to tell you to fuck off"

The Void senses your sudden hurt and latches on.

Digging deeper, he flashes every humiliating memory of yours—failed training sessions, missions where you froze and fucked up, anything that would make you hurt. "You’re a placeholder," he hisses, "a charity case. And the worst part? You know it." 

The shame burns so deep you can’t breathe, can’t think, and as you begin to find your voice to tell him that you didn’t care and he’d had misjudged your reaction, the Void delivers a final blow.

His face flickers to resemble Bob "You really thought I could ever want you?" It’s so cruel and something within you is so caught off guard at the sight of Bob that you believe him.

The Void’s glee is palpable.

And then a voice cuts through the dark.

“Enough”

Bob.

Your Bob.

He stands at the edge of the nightmare, his eyes are blown open and wild, his hands clenched like he’s holding up the weight of the world

The midnight world suddenly splinters.

You wake up and the room is shaking, no wait, the room isnt shaking its you.

Bob’s crouched in front of you, his face concerned and he cradles your head in his arms “I didn’t—I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your pain and fear is so strong you feel like you could collapse. You want to run away and scream, call out to everyone to take you away and lock you up somewhere that it couldn’t find you.

But you don’t dwell on those feelings, you know Bob, he must be devestated that he pulled you into the Void.

Your tone is soft as you push youself up “Hey, hey look at me. It wasn’t your fault, how were you supposed to know the big guy would come out so quickly.”

“But I let him hurt you-”

You stop him “Don’t, don’t say anything. Look we need to take you to the med bay now j-just don’t say anything please, just don’t.”

Bob stares at you—hurt, guilty, devastated—but he doesn’t protest.

You both hobble down to the med bay in silence and you cant help but wonder if he remembered what you both had been speaking about before or your hidden shame.

You really hope he hadn’t.

You’d called Yelena down on your way, telling her the other guy had come out to play for a bit and Bob was shaken up. She’d raced down as quickly as she could to relieve you of your babysitting duty.

Outside of the med bay, you speak to her in hushed tones while balancing the entire weight of your body on her, exhaustion setting in.

“You ok?” she strokes your hair as you tremble.

“Yeah I just, I need sleep.” she doesn’t press you for answers and you’re grateful. One small kiss to her head and you decide you’re ready to leave.

You glance back at Bob through the door, he’s already looking at you, pensive. You smile reassuringly and can visibly see his shoulders slump down in relief.

You leave but not after throwing another gummy smile and a thumbs up at the man.

The morning comes too soon, you’re still upset from the events of the night, but that doesn’t mean you can just shirk your responsibilities.

You’re packed and out the door before the sun fully rises, meeting John and Alexei downstairs. They don’t ask why your hands won’t stop shaking or why your eyes are so bloodshot.

As the engines hum to life, you glance back at the Tower one last time.

Project Get Over Bob was a complete bust.

Hey guys, hope that this chapter has you guy’s as excited as I am to continue on to the final part of this fic! Sorry for not adding a taglist to this fic but there were a lot of replies and I didn’t think I could get through them!

If you have any tips for fic writing pls follow me I’m always looking to improve.

I hope the writing style isn’t too different, I’m still trying to find my style and footing when it comes to this stuff!

The next chapter will be filled with plenty of comfort and maybe something a bit cheekier if you catch my drift!

[alltimefail-sims]

I’m freeeeeeee! I have finally finished the It Lives Beneath portion of this sim project I started a few months ago and you know what? I’m actually kind of glad I took forever on them because I’m really happy with how they turned out!

As I said when I started it, this project is probably a weeeeee bit self-indulgent, but with the second half of the (incredible) fan project It Lives Within coming out this month, I had to finish these guys with a quickness so I could make my babies the ILW gang! I plan to upload ALL the sims from this series at the very end, so stay tuned for that! I hope that even if you have no idea what the Choices app or the It Lives anthology is that you’re still enjoying this project alongside me!

From left to right: Danni Asturias, Tom Sato, Imogen Wescott, and Parker Shaw. Full body shots below the cut!

Keep reading

[misstake-art]

Couldn't sleep then this happened

[yummycastiel]

''The Dreamer'' Aemond Targaryen x OC Series Masterlist

summary: Daenys Velaryon, the brown-haired third child of Rhaenyra and Laenor, travels to King's Landing with her family to visit the King, her grandfather, and to witness Jacaerys' and Baela's wedding. As tensions between house Targaryen rise, Daenys and Aemond cross paths once again, and the prince discovers an annoying attraction to the Velaryon girl. (AU where the Dance doesn't happen because I said so and I just wanted to write an Aemond fanfic that isn't too complicated lol)

ship: aemond targaryen x original female character

info: targ!cest, uncle/neice

part 1

part 2

part 3

[mercystine]

'fuck you my child is fine'

your child: the reason the Shakespearean characters James and Oliver are compared to have a main character - sidekick dynamic is because thats what Oliver sees himself as in James' story. He sees himself as nothing but a sidekick ( "Was I not always his right-hand man, his lieutenant? Banquo or Benvolio or Oliver - little difference"). In the end tho, in James' letter to Oliver, they are compared to two lovers - that's because that comparison is made by James, and not Oliver, revealing that in James' eyes the role Oliver played in his life was the love interest. In this essay I will-

[softerhaze]

harmony boyfriend jeans;

just those pants from cottage living with the belt removed and in swatches you might actually use <3

∴  bgc, for masculine and feminine frames, teen-elder

∴  available in sforzinda’s blandine and caelhinn’s cotton jar palette

∴  TOU, but basically: don’t be a loser and/or freak! don’t charge for anything that derives from this piece

download + psd (dropbox) || alt (sfs)

[selenitesdawn]

Everything sucks

pairing : robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings : angst, anxiety, homophobia

summary : y/n and robin are stuck working together after breaking up just a few weeks ago. at first they both played it cool, but the truth always ends up coming out.

third person pov

Scoops Ahoy used to be the best thing happening to y/n and Robin. The young couple had always dreamed of working together. So when they both got the job at the ice-cream shop, they obviously got super excited. And things did go well, at least for the first couple of days. Whenever they had free time and no one would come to the store, they hung out in the back of the shop, cuddling in a corner and talking about their shared future. At this point they’ve been dating for a couple of months, all in secret of course.

“What if we bought a dog?”, Robin asked y/n while playing with her hair.

The couple was cuddled up, y/n laying in Robin’s arms.

“A dog is a lot of work love, you know that right?”, y/n had replied, thinking more realistically than her girlfriend.

“But hypothetically, you would want a dog right? That’s kind of important to know. And what would we name her? I was thinking about naming her after a badass female movie character. That would be cool right? Or maybe after one of the ice-cream flavors here. Aw, now that I’ve said that out loud, it’s much cuter. Let’s name her.. what about tutti-frutti?”

“Tutti-frutti? And you already know the dog is going to be female huh?”, y/n laughed, kissing Robin’s chin.

“Of course it’s going to be female. She’s going to be our love child. And tutti-frutti is a cute name.”, Robin exclaimed pouting, kissing y/n on top of her head.

Shortly before their 8 months anniversary, Robin broke up with y/n. The break-up was kind of messy, since Robin was bad at articulating why exactly she was breaking up with y/n. Trying to be the bigger person, y/n wanted Robin and her to still get along, so she dropped her anger and frustration to not cause any more heartbreak for herself. She just didn’t understand where Robin was coming from, and apparently Robin didn’t even know herself. They had maybe two or three fights in total, and those weren’t even serious. It was just about some stupid disagreements, like “What song is the best song of all time?” or “Why is being in a drama club cooler than being in a band?”. So y/n was obviously left confused and heartbroken.

But since they were still working together, they had to get along on an almost daily basis. The first few days were like living hell for both of them, but after some time they just went back to being cool with each other. Y/n just wanted the best for Robin, and if she couldn’t be that for her, then so be it.

“Hello Ladies, welcome on board of Scoops Ahoy, the best ice-cream shop this mall has to offer.”, y/n tried to say confidently to a group of girls standing in front of the counter.

“Yeah, that’s probably because it‘s the only ice-cream shop in this mall.”, one of the girls said, which caused them all to laugh.

Y/n tried to force a smile, trying not to lose her confidence right then and there. After the girls left, Robin pulled up the shutters of the window behind y/n, holding up a white board.

“And another point for you suck, which in total is the 8th point today.”, said Robin while smiling sarcastically.

“I get nervous okay! And this stupid hat suffocates my thoughts. That’s why I always mess up my lines.”, y/n said while taking her hat off, walking back inside.

“Sure honey bunny.”, Robin replied.

“Don’t call me that.”, y/n retorted.

Robin didn’t realize her slipping and just apologized quietly.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Not like it means something, huh?”

The last sentence came out more passive-aggressively than y/n intended it to.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay. That one’s on me.”, Robin quickly said.

After that y/n and Robin just sat in awkward silence, facing each other but trying to avoid each other’s gazes by any means. It was quite obvious that both of them still had feelings for the other, but not for them of course. Y/n wanted to act like she was moving on and Robin wanted to feed into the thought that she didn’t completely destroy y/n’s heart. That’s why they started this awful game of y/n trying to flirt with other people, just so both of them could overplay their true feelings. Flirting with other girls as a girl was clearly impossible, since most of them were too straight to even realize or just thought it was super weird. At first it was fun to act as if their hearts didn’t shatter the day they broke up, but now it was just getting more and more frustrating.

“We should just stop with that stupid game.”, Robin said, finally breaking the silence.

“Why? Scared someone will flirt back?”, y/n replied playing it smugly.

“You’re obviously getting frustrated, and i’m sick of telling you that you suck every time someone doesn’t appreciate your awkward but cute attempts of flirting. Besides, would it be so bad if I was scared ? We broke up just a few weeks ago, it’s not like I‘m going to be completely over us.“, Robin states, sounding painfully frustrated herself.

“Are you serious? You were the one that broke up with me, without even giving me one valid reason. And now you want to tell me, that you’re not over us?”, y/n replied angrily.

“It’s not like I wanted to break up with you y/n! But I had to! For you!”

Y/n got up angrily, tears forming in her eyes. Her hands were bawled to fists, nails digging into her palms.

“I know you’re mad at me y/n, I totally get that. Christ, I’m so so so mad at myself, like every single day. I go to bed, I’m mad at myself. I wake up, I’m mad at myself. And you have every right to call me a hypocrite or maybe, i don’t know, you should put salt in my ice-cream and watch me suffer while eating it. You could curse me out and I would totally, utterly understand your frustration, I promise. But it’s just not that easy, okay? I know I broke your heart and that was so so shitty, but I broke my own heart too because I just thought that all of this would be best for you but it clearly isn’t and now I just feel so stupid.”

The words came out with full force, each burning their way into y/n’s head. Robin stopped herself from keeping on talking and just watched y/n’s reaction now. Y/n eased up and stood in front of Robin in complete disbelief. She couldn’t comprehend what her ex just said. A tear rolled down off of Robin’s cheek, her body seemed to be shaking.

“I’m sorry.”, was all that y/n was able to bring out before she walked over to Robin and embraced her in a tight hug. Both of the girls started sobbing violently, holding onto each other like their life depended on it. Robin buried her face in y/n’s neck, trying to inhale the familiar scent through her stuffy nose. A few minutes passed while they were just holding each other, people walking in and out of the shop since no one seemed to be there.

“Please Robin, just tell me why you broke up with me. You shouldn’t go through this on your own. Together we can’t make everything work, remember?”, y/n whispered, slowly detaching herself from Robin.

Robin seemed to have caught herself again, her tears stopped streaming and her gaze was fixated on y/n.

“Remember when I was over at your house to pick you up for our cinema night?”, Robin asked.

“Of course I do. You looked so pretty that night, it was challenging to not kiss you in middle of the living room.”, y/n replied.

“Yeah right. So.. I just stood there, waiting for you. Then I heard your dad on a phone call. Pretty sure that he didn’t mean for me to hear it. But uhm.. it went something like this.”

“Can you believe that? The John Miller being seen doing gay stuff?”, y/n’s dad said on the phone.

Robin just stood in the living room, not knowing what to do with herself. Her hands were fidgeting, her body stepping from one leg to the other. Y/n’s dad walked around in the kitchen, not noticing that Robin was in the room next to him.

“If I was his dad I would move far far away from here. Or honestly just move him far far away from here.”, he told the person on the other end of the line, laughing spitefully

“No but seriously, what is he going to do with him now? Send him to a camp maybe? Or a psych ward? What do you do with him?”

With every sentence it got worse and worse. Robin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It didn’t take long until she felt an anxiety attack raising inside of her.

“Whatever, as long as my daughter isn’t like them, I don’t care what happens to them. She is spending a suspicious amount of time with this Robin girl though, maybe I should look into that.”, y/n’s dad finally utters. Although he did say it with an ironic tone in his voice, laughing just after saying it, Robin couldn’t hold it together any longer.

Luckily y/n came down the stairs just a moment after, giving Robin the chance to finally leave her own personal hell.

“It was something like that. I don’t remember the exact words but.. it was awful y/n.”, Robin finished.

Y/n stayed silent at first, letting the entire story just sink in for a minute.

“But why didn’t you tell me Robin?”, she then asked.

“I know you and your dad always had a complicated relationship y/n. And during the last weeks it just… it seemed like you two would finally get along again. And I saw how much that meant to you. You just seemed so much more relaxed at home and I… I didn’t want to ruin that. Who am I to ruin that? Just because I was eavesdropping. God, I wish I never heard that conversation in the first place.”

Y/n felt incredibly sorry for Robin. Because she knew she was right. Y/n did feel like her relationship with her dad was finally at a good point and hearing that did ruin things for her again. From now on she would feel uncomfortable at home, knowing that her dad deep down doesn’t accept her for who she is. She would feel weird bringing Robin home, and she would wonder if her dad actually had suspicions.

“I don’t care.”, y/n finally brought out.

“What?”

Y/n put her hand on Robin’s cheek, caressing it softly with her thumb. Robin couldn’t help but melt into it, closing her eyes and taking in ever single moment.

“I don’t care what my dad thinks. And if he doesn’t accept me for who I am, I could care less about our relationship. Being with you Robin, was the best thing that has ever happened to me. Our relationship was the most precious thing in my life and I would walk to hell and back just for us to be together. I would do anything, you understand? If that means moving far away with you, buying a dog and naming her tutti-frutti and maybe never seeing my dad again, then so be it.”

As y/n was done talking, Robin immediately grabbed her face and closed the distance between them. Their lips started moving in sync, falling back into their old patterns. It was a desperate kiss, filled with sadness and frustration. But at the same time it was pure and rare love being exchanged, excitedly gliding off of their lips, just to be reciprocated by the other. When their lips parted, it felt as if they would still pull onto each, eager to continue.

“I love you y/n. I truly and wholeheartedly love you. And if you want to, you can live with me. I always have space for you, you know that.”, Robin stated.

“I love you too Robin. And I would gladly move in with you.”

After that the couple just sat there, holding each other tight, enjoying their shared presence. They could have cared less about the angry customers in front of the shop, as long as they had each other. Well, at least for about 15 minutes. Y/n was afraid to lose her job so she chickened out and started serving the customers again. But nevertheless, the peace finally found its way back into not only Scoops Ahoy, but into both of their hearts. And they were 100% certain, that both of them would never let the other one go ever again.

[healthyeyes]

How to Write a University-level Essay

Heyo, so school is fast approaching, and seeing as Tumblr is made up of a lot of younger users who will soon be shipping off to college or university soon, I thought I would take it upon myself to help spread my knowledge of essay-writing. Essay-writing is my thing. I love it. I live for it. It’s how I make up for my shitty test marks, and still get by with an 85 average+ in University classes. I’m a historian by trade, so perhaps this information will seem a bit off from what you’re used to, but hopefully, It’ll help you out. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask.

1. Consider your question and find your thesis.

      I know, I know. People always say, no! Never start with your thesis/intro paragraph! Go to the body!! Well i’m here to say forget everything you’ve been told. Forget that, forget the stupid hamburger shit they teach you, forget it all and start reading. 

I ALWAYS start with my thesis. Why? Because you cannot make good paragraphs without knowing what you’re researching. You need direction, and a thesis is your map.

So, the question we’ll use shall be: What is one way in which the Union won the American Civil War?

Now remember, your thesis is your map. It shows you where to go, what to look for. The thesis is the heart and soul of all your work. You want a good, solid thesis. What does that include, you ask?

An idea

A reason for said idea

Evidence to support said reason, and thus validate the        idea.

So, lets do an example. Let’s say I’m writing on the use of media during the American Civil War. I like photography, and wrote a paper on this in my second year, but im gonna be doing this example freehand(idk where I put that essay lol) so lets work with how I got an A+ on that paper. This will be my idea:

                “Photography during the American Civil War influenced the war’s outcome in the Norths favour.”

This is VERY vague. This is an example of a thesis in bloom! Let’s take it further. Look at the above. What questions would you have from this thesis?

-Who was taking photos at that time?

-Why did it influence the outcome?

-How did it influence the outcome?

-Who consumed photography as a media at that time?

This is where you STOP, and start the next step.

2. Research

                Start your basic research with your idea, and the above questions in mind. Look at libraries, ask your professor or TA or librarian, or just do some basic google searches to get to know the subject(but for the love of god if you include a google link in your citation I will personally hunt you down and castrate you.)

I like to start with the basics of any inquiry: WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY, HOW. Who was taking photos? Where were they displayed that caused influence? ect…These, in relation to your beginner thesis, will help guide you in what form your thesis will take.

Once you’ve finished that, and have a general feel for the time period, go back to your thesis.

3. THESIS 2.0

Go back to your original question: What is one way in which the Union won the American Civil War? Now look at your thesis again. It’s too vague, isn’t it?

As you can see, our original thesis was too vague to be a real thesis. So, we NARROW IT DOWN using our WWWWWH progress we focused on during early research!

                “Photography during the American Civil war influenced the war’s outcome by providing a visual for ordinary citizens about the horrors of war, and thus helping to increase donations and awareness to the cause.”

Great! But once again, too vague! Questions that may arise include:

Who was taking the photos

Evidence for donations?

Evidence for social awareness?

So, we NARROW IT DOWN again. I’m going to use Andrew Gardner’s photography during the Civil war, as he was one of the most famous and influential at the time.

                “Andrew Gardner’s photography during the American Civil war influenced the war’s outcome by providing a visual for ordinary citizens about the horrors of war, and thus helping to increase donations and enlistment in the Union through awareness to the cause…”

The above then gives us the following(why and how are sometimes grouped together):

Who: Andrew Gardner

What: Photography helped the north win the war.

Where: Union-aka northern states

When: American Civil War

Why/How: Because Andrew Gardner’s photography raised social awareness through this new and budding medium

Use this sort of outline to guide you in the next step!

4. Now that we have a thesis, you need to do some more research and evidence gathering.

The way I like to do this is to go check out a few books from the library(look for text books in particular), and leaf through the index for matching terms. Our matching terms would be:

                Photography, civil war, Andrew Gardner, media

From there, you read over the pages, and see if any of the info relates to your subjects. Copy down quotes, page numbers, book title, author, publishing date and publisher. You need these for your bibliography. Pick and choose relevant information. The filter for relevant information relies entirely on your thesis, because it decides what you need to be looking for—this is why I hate when people tell me to start writing paragraphs before I write a thesis! It’s simply impossible and counter productive, and will cost you hours in revision.

So, gather your information from the library, and cross-reference with peer-reviewed articles and data. For our thesis, we would need data on enlistment numbers in an area after a date of Andrew Gardner’s photography exhibit showcases. No matter what type of essay you’re writing, you can always back up your evidence with data, and it won’t hurt one bit. Don’t be afraid of the numbers, kids!

So, if we were to go back to our thesis, we could now expand on it like this:

             “Andrew Gardner’s photography during the American Civil war influenced the war’s outcome by providing a visual for ordinary citizens about the horrors of war, and thus helping to increase donations and enlistment in the Union through awareness to the cause. An increase in  donations and enlistment in relation to exposure to Gardners work is seen in data/evidence point A, as well as in data/evidence point B, which will be fully outlined in the points below.”

This gives you an example of how to lead from a thesis, to your opening paragraph.

5. Data and Evidence Justifications–Paragraph making

This is the section where you can branch your essay into your data and evidence points you gathered in steps 2 and 4. You can have as many paragraphs as you like, just make sure your evidence and data is strong and supported. I personally like to work with my thesis copied and pasted onto the top of every page I write on. This keeps you on track, with your clear goal in mind, and will help you from straying. I will give you an example of how a paragraph might sound.

                Andrew Gardner’s photography during the American Civil War became heavily influential upon the American population at the time, particularly the north, wherein which his work was showcased. The influence of Gardner’s photographic works is seen in the _____, which shows us that without the influence of Gardner’s media influence, war efforts and awareness may not have been as successful as they had been.

This is an alright opener for you to work with. The ___ is where you could put in your data point or evidence piece. The point of the paragraph is to show your support for your thesis by confirming it with evidence.

Your paragraphs should take this form:

Present, Confirm, Conclude, Lead.

You present your evidence, confirm its relation to the thesis and confirm the validity of the thesis, conclude by brief revision of evidence, and then lead into your next paragraph. 

6. Conclusion

        Your conclusionary paragraph should be a look-over of the above paragraphs. Restate your thesis, present a summarized version of your paragraphs(one or two sentences only), and perhaps take the time to look at your own views on the subject. An example might look like this:

        “Taking a moment to step away from the above mentioned evidence, I believe it to be scholarly acceptable and even necessary to state my own views on the subject presented. In drawing conclusions, I felt that the above information was correct in that it presented a reality of the time period, in which photography was becoming a medium to be embraced by popular society. People were not only astounded by Gardner’s photographs on a social level, but also a technical level. The astonishment people held at seeing the war-torn battle fields spurred them into action, and even today can still present feelings of dread, fear and loss when looking at his photos…blah blah blah”

Why is it scholarly acceptable and perhaps necessary to state your views? Oftentimes, it is to reassure the reader of your own personal bias’, which exist whether you like them or not, to the subject at hand. Having a small tidbit on your own thoughts about your research ect, breaking away from the third-person droning of an essay can be refreshing and welcoming for a prof at the end of his stack of essay reading. 

7. In summary

Thesis

WWWWWH

NARROW IT DOWN

Data and Evidence

Present, Confirm, Conclude, Lead

Self opinions/Conclude

All in all, do unique things. Professors love it when they come across something that’s not cookie cutter! Even if they present you with a list of essay topics, take the leap and ask them if you can do your own research topic!! Take risks with your essay writing, talk to your professors about what you want to do, and try to have fun with your research. I’ve written on everything from civil war photography to Disney princesses in american media, to the religious formation of idea of heaven and earth. Remember, so long as there’s credible, documented evidence, it’s possible to write about it.

[mrsfrecklesmaraudersau]

Conan Gray has two songs that speak about the aromantic and asexual experiences. I think perhaps these two songs talk about two sides of the spectrum. (There might be more, of course)

Crush Culture - Asexuality and/or Aromanticism for people that are sex/romance repulsed or indifferent. It might be for people in the spectrums that are just tired of the normalization of sex and romance as the only source of happiness.

People Watching - Asexuality and/or Aromanticism for people who desire some kind of romantic experience, or are romance positive. Maybe it could be about sexual attraction as well.

Just my opinion, btw. As an aroace I feel related to both of these songs and I love Conan Gray.

[chronicallylav3nd3r]

some people don’t experience romantic attraction and that’s okay

romantic love isn’t the point for everyone

lack of romantic attraction won’t ruin someone’s life, there are many aspects of life that makes it worth living, romantic love isn’t the only thing.