#or was. he died thirty-two years before I was born

[rosie-writings]

For Just a Moment I'm Whole Again

Request: anon—ghost!Reader falls in love with Colby

Summary: ghost!Reader finds out that her twin flame is Colby who was born decades after she died, and upon meeting him for the first time, she needs his help to usher her on to the afterlife to be free from the purgatory she roams.

Warnings: ghost!Reader x Colby smut, Age Gap, Bittersweetness, light Angst, Fluff, and Twin Flame relationship

Words: 6.6k

No Y/N Use

Title from 'Calcutta' by Sleep Token

A/N: Technically, Reader is 19 while Colby is 27, however she died nearly thirty years before he was born, so who's older?

I stopped crying about it a few years ago.

Maybe a decade or two, I wasn’t quite sure. It’s not that I was upset about how I died, I almost forgot the pain of it all, I was upset because out of everywhere I could have died, it was in a house. 

A lonely house.

After I died, apparently my friends were too traumatized to keep the house, so they sold it. I tried to get their attention. Everyday I tried to convince them that purgatory was real and they forced me into it by leaving. What was I supposed to do alone in a house that no one wanted to buy because a death occurred?

When I found out that they also rumored to their realtor that it was haunted, I wanted to slap the lives out of them. Of course it was haunted; that was your best friend trying to get you to look at me for once before I could never see you again—

I cried for years.

No one bought the house.

I slept in the king sized bed in the room upstairs alone and cold.

There was a hotspot in the middle of the house. 

The house was built upon a particular mineral that ushered in traveling ghosts, and the convenient vortex in the center of it aided their arrival. Occasionally I met other ghosts and other inhuman beings that couldn’t care less about me. They probably had millennia of experience navigating the afterlife’s purgatory on earth while I was only a couple decades old.

I think I died in 1971. I couldn’t remember. 

The day this house was bought, I thought I was saved.

Instead, major renovations took place. They ripped the nostalgic wallpapers off the walls and tore out the carpets that my human and ghostly feet were all too familiar with.

”How about you chose an actually appealing pint this time, motherfucker,” I spat at the contractor who walked right through me in the main hallway upstairs. I rolled my eyes and followed him into the primary suite.

Today was the day they renovated my bedroom.

”I wonder how many years it’s been; you look fucking weird. Do all men have that silly ass haircut or something now?” I asked as I sat on top of the ladder in the middle of the room. “Thanks so much for bringing your tool batteries in here. You don’t need those do you?” I felt their powerful buzzing. I felt the electricity waving through the room and I sucked it all up.

With every minute that passed, I felt stronger and stronger, until.

”Oops—“ I sighed in boredom as I knocked a paint can off the top of the ladder.

The worker whirled around with wide eyes and basically looked at me in mine, but he saw through me. I rolled my eyes again.

“You humans are all the fucking same. God, I was so damn embarrassing as a human. Can’t you at least try to talk to me? I’m so fucking—“

His co-worker called his name and walked in the room.

”What the fuck have you done?” The second shouted. White paint pooled on the concrete below me.

”At least you didn’t put floor in yet—“

”It just-It just fell! I didn’t even touch it! I put it up there like 20 minutes ago and-and it just fell!” The second worker grumbled and picked up the emptying can.

”They said there was some poltergeist activity in this house which is why it took fucking 50 years for it to be sold again.”

50 years?

My lack of heart nearly fell through the floor. 

I sat on the ladder looking through them this time. 50 years? I was stuck here for 50 years with nothing to do? No one to talk to? I wanted to cry. Ghost cry sessions weren’t as satisfying as human cry sessions.

I had to get out of here.

I had to—

I stole the energy from all their equipment, but it was still not enough. Even with the electromagnetic energy pulsing through my spirit, the hotspot wouldn’t take me. 

“Come on,” I grumbled. I looked through the vortex and saw spirals and spirals of unveiled spirits traveled through this purgatory called earth, and yet none would grab on to me. What was beyond? “Please! Take me! Get me out of here!” 

I broke down crying again. 

This was the biggest chance I had in order to leave and not even it was enough.

I curled up in the middle of the floor there and cried until I fell asleep.

Later, when the sun was high in the sky and the house was vacant, I woke up. 

As I stood, I appeared in the master bedroom so I could sleep in the bed—

“What the fuck?” I asked to nothing.

The walls were white, the flooring was finished with deep warm floorboards, and the bed frame was a plush cream color with a creamy duvet. 

“They did this fast. I wonder how long I was asleep for.” There was a dresser, two nightstands, and a desk that all matched in a deep brown, practically black, wood finish. “We go 50 years in the future just to be completely devoid of all color. Jesus fuck.” I curled up in the bed regardless. “Oh my god,” I moaned loudly. “Actually, I take all that back. I will give up any color in my life to feel this mattress if only for a second. This is how technology should be used, oh my god…” 

I don’t remember finishing my sentence, I fell unconscious again.

I woke up to the sound of voices. 

I shot to the foyer in a blink of an eye and I saw a family. A mom, a dad, three kids, and a dog, and I nearly cried on sight.

”Hello! Oh my god, yes thank everything good and mighty. You bought this house? I’m not alone anymore!” The dad walked through me. “I’m so excited—Oh my god your dog is so cute!” I fell to my knees in front of the Husky and it howled a talking fit at me, and when I raised my hand to pet it, it ran away from me so fast that it slid across the floor on its nails. “I’m not that scary, I don’t think,” I sighed and stood up again.

There was a girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, who walked right past me with something in her hands.

”Oh what’s that?” I asked as I followed her. The rectangle in her hand illuminated back at her like a TV screen and her thumbs furiously typed on some kind of keyless keyboard. “Holy shit! Is that one of those phones that all the futuristic movies talked about? We have them in the real world now?” I nearly screamed. I plopped into a vacant barstool next to her. “I would have loved that,” I grumbled. I devised a plan to steal it from her in her sleep and play with it all night. 

I watched as she turned it on again.

”A passcode?” I questioned and I was ready to memorize it, but suddenly a blue light scanned down her face and it unlocked by itself. “Now that’s—“ I got out of my seat and backed up from her. “That’s weird. Can that detect ghosts?” 

“Come on! Let’s go in the pool!” I gasped when the younger boy ran right through me and out the backdoor. I smiled when he cannon balled in the pool out back. 

“Lukas! It is 40 degrees outside, get your ass in the house now!” His mother screamed, and I laughed.

“Oh yeah, they put so many cool pool toys in the chest out there,” I told him as I stepped foot outside. “You would love them in the summer though. It’s pretty cold—“

I must have walked too far out of the house, because in a blink of an eye, I teleported back in the middle of the vortex.

”God help me,” I sighed, and I started to devise my game plan to get into that girl’s device in the night.

It wasn’t easy. 

The moon was high in the sky, and I walked in the girl’s bedroom cautiously. Not like she could see me, but I could make noises and I didn’t want to scare her.

Her phone lay on the table next to her bed with a cord coming from it, and she slept soundlessly next to it. I picked it up. 

It illuminated to life and I gasped. I read the time and date.

2:35am, December 20, 2021

”Oh.. my god…” I whispered slowly.

2021? That wasn’t a real year. It had been 50 years that I was—

How was I going to get out of here? I needed out. First I needed this girl’s device. I grabbed it, and when it scanned my face, it said it was the incorrect Face ID.

I pointed it at the girl cautiously, and after a few recalculating aims, it unlocked. I brought it back to me and saw so many colors I didn’t know which to tap first. The entire screen responded to my touch.

I flicked through the squares on the screen and with each one, I read more and more paragraphs about people. It looked like the news or something. I couldn’t believe how amazing this device was at taking photos. 

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. The squares where it seemed like I could communicate with other people intimidated me; I didn't understand who I was talking to so I tried to get out of it and go back to the original place where all the squares were. I accidentally swiped and it moved the screen and I tapped out of it. That was how you got out of it, got it.

I found another app that was red. I clicked it. This time photos with short captions were the only things I scrolled through. After a second, I clicked one to make it larger, but instead, it brought me to another screen and a video began playing.

The audio was so loud and clear, I gasped and tried to figure out how to silence it. The girl disturbed next to me. The button I clicked turned the volume down.

A video played of the same photo I clicked on—

Those weren’t photos, they must have been paused videos or something. I watched and listened and it was actually entertaining. After the video ended, I clicked another.

And then another.

And before I knew it, the sun peeked over the horizon. The time read 7:30am. I had been watching these videos for five hours. 

I put the phone down and walked out of the room. 

I would have loved 2021.

I did it again the next night.

I sat there on the floor against the nightstand and watched more videos. 

Video after video, I started to remember the names of the people who posted them. I didn’t remember the rabbit trail I went down; recommended video after recommended video led me to one that made me stop my jumping around.

It was a video of two idiotic boys messing around in a haunted house.

Now, I never was into haunted or spooky things when I was alive, and being dead now, I would say that I had a pretty large say in and experience in what these boneheads talked about. 

I didn’t expect them to be so respectful. And considerate, too.

I watched as they talked to spirits in the house, and it was startling to watch humans interact with us spirits from their perspective. I forgot that that was all they saw.

I forgot how limited I was when I was trapped in my human skin.

How silly they were; it didn’t matter that they would have been seven years older than I was. Most of the people were children on YouTube, and they were the worst of them. 

Sam and Colby certainly made me laugh, and their means of communicating with ghosts even more so. 

There were some videos that scared me.

I liked the two a lot, and I didn’t want them to get hurt or manipulated by demonic forces. I had seen demonic forces firsthand, and humans were stupid enough to summon them. If I was afraid of them, humans definitely should have been.

The way they assumed everything was as sinister as they did made me laugh the most because the majority of spirits communicated with them were teasing them and cracking jokes. The boys took everything too seriously, but that was why they were so good.

They cared.

But one of them, Colby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. It was like I knew him. Warmth spread through me, and for the first time since I died, I was overcome with the need to leave. The pull teased me, beckoned me. 

I was over forty years older than him; I would have never met him, so how did I know him? 

Why did I need him?

I needed someone who cared about me like they did for spirits. I needed a human who cared to come in and help me. Certainly there were other humans out there who could help me like Sam and Colby, but they definitely weren’t as loud or had as much faith as they did in their capabilities. 

I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry when that family left the house two days later. It wasn’t because I would be lonely again but because I couldn’t drown myself in Sam and Colby’s videos. 

Or in Colby’s appearance and voice.

Hopefully someone else would stay for a week and I could use their phones to watch YouTube again.

Two weeks later, the house was booked again.

I finally learned that the house I was trapped in was turned into something called an AirBnb and I supposed that it was a house rented like a hotel. 

The same routine spun into effect.

A new visitor spent the week here, I drained their batteries in everything they brought, I drowned myself in YouTube (to be honest, I drowned myself in the force that was Colby’s voice), and spent endless time spinning around the house in boredom wondering when the human chosen to save me would come.

They would come and help one day, I knew it.

The front door opened. 

I was out of the bed in a flash and appeared in the foyer to see the new visitors. Two men walked in the house, and I wondered what on earth they were up to for arriving near two in the morning. 

It was three years after I first learned what YouTube and social media was. I was ingrained in the politics, culture, society, and hyper-communicative world that was 2024. 

I toed the fence. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to stay here and live as a free spirit in 2024 forever or be taken into the next spiritual realm. I knew I couldn’t stay forever, and with every year that passed, I felt the fabrics of my spirit being taken away into nothing. 

I needed help.

When I came spirit to face with the two new visiting men, my entire world flipped upside down.

I knew them.

They were the ones with the YouTube channel. 

They were—

”I know we said we would do some stuff before we go to sleep, but I literally—“

”No, I know,” the other sighed. “I’m so tired too. We got here a lot later than we planned.”

”We should just sleep then wake up a bit earlier than we planned to have more time to do what we couldn’t now.” The other nodded lazily.

”Yeah, we can do that.”

”Night, Colby,” said the blond one as he walked up the stairs.

”Night, Sam,” said the one I stood next to in between the foyer and the living room.

If I had a heart, it would have pumped loudly in my ears, and if I had a tongue, it would have dried up. Ever so slowly, I turned and looked at Colby as he pulled things from the backpack he had placed on the couch. His back faced me. 

And I couldn’t control myself, the intrusive thoughts won. I wondered what he would do if I—

At the sound of his water bottle crashing into the hardwood floor, Colby whirled around with wide eyes and watched as it rolled to a stop.

“What the fuck?” He whispered. I gasped when he walked through me. I turned and watched as he picked it up and placed it back on the table. He watched it.

With a smile, I didn’t take my gaze off his face as I knocked it back onto the floor. He took two steps back. 

That was when the realization dawned on me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. When I felt him, when I was near him, it made sense. The pieces shoved together painfully.

“Uh… Sam?” Colby called. 

“What?” He called cautiously as he came from his room. “What’s wrong?”

”I—I swear to god, this water bottle fell off the table deliberately. Like someone knocked it over, twice.”

”Really?” He asked hesitantly when his feet hit his floor. At this point, they both stood in front of me and I crossed my arms in boredom. I was nearly as tall as the two; they were a lot smaller in person.

I was tall for a girl; almost five foot nine.

He placed the water bottle back down.

I stared at it. Humans were so dumb. I watched their anticipation knowing full well I wouldn’t satisfy them. 

“What is happening, I swore it happened and it’s not now which means it’s not like the table is slanted or something.”

”That’s weird,” Sam said. 

“You can go back to bed, sorry—“

”No, you’re fine, stupid,” Sam laughed as he went back.

Of course when he was halfway up the stairs with his back turned I yanked it off the table. Colby already left to the couch though, and so when Sam turned around quickly, he froze when he realized Colby was completely out of reach.

”See? I told you!” Colby cried.

”Oh shit… Yeah I have no idea how to explain that.”

”Wanna get a rem pod and the camera or something?” Colby asked.

“Maybe if something else happens.”

”Okay, okay,” Colby said, and I watched in surprise when Sam walked back to his room. They must have been tired then.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t mess with Colby until he went to sleep.

”You guys are idiots,” I said as if I expected a response. “Are you actually staying up or are you—oh,” I gasped when he turned around and walked through me before I could react. He picked up his bag and walked up the stairs. I sighed. 

“That answers that.”

I peeked around the door. Colby stood in his room. I watched as he situated the things from his backpack. Those were some fancy cameras, small ones for that matter, and it looked like he charged the batteries. My eyes couldn’t pull from his skin though. He only wore his black jeans.

He turned towards me and I watched as he walked to the desk in his room. I intently focused on his face and his tattoos. He was so pretty. But he looked so different. I walked into the room and stood at the desk with him.

”What are these?” I asked and I touched the devices on the desk. Then, I gasped as his hand went through mine. My hand paused and I tried to feel the warmth. What would have been my hand burned with warmth, and I didn’t pull it away. 

Colby froze in his place and stared at his hand. It burned cold.

But then he turned from the table and went back to the bed.

Now, never once in my life have I snooped. I’ve never pried, intruded, or watched anyone when they didn’t think they could be perceived. But I couldn’t leave his room. I froze in my place as I watched when he pulled his pants off. I couldn’t focus on anything else except his body. The way he moved, settled in the room, got in the bed, and plugged his phone in; every decision and every thought process was so painfully human.

I liked him a lot. Too much.

I wanted him to know I was here too. 

The last time I tried to communicate with humans was with my best friends after the accident happened. After, their realtor was a bitch. There was a medium who was more so a dumbass who came to communicate with me. I scared her, and perhaps that went wrong. That might have been why it took so long for this place to be renovated. 

I needed to talk to Colby. I wanted him.

I never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him.

I stood in front of the desk where the devices were strewn about, and as he read his phone, I touched one of the devices. 

I recognized one. It was a radio of sorts. One of the mediums who tried to communicate with me used it. Perhaps they were here to try to talk to me anyway.

I turned the spirit box on.

Immediately, Colby sat straight up in his bed. His phone was forgotten on the sheets. I laughed and watched as his confused eyes scanned the room.

”Hello,” I laughed. Then I used energy and found the word on a channel—

Hello

Colby looked around the room.

”Um, hi?” He said.

If I had a body, I was pretty sure the feeling I had was akin to my heart falling out of my ass.

“I know who you are, you publish on YouTube, right?”

I know you

Colby’s face turned with distrust. 

“What—Are there actually spirits in this house?” He asked. I rolled my eyes.

”Obviously. You’re so dumb. I thought you know how to talk to us—

Duh…

He scoffed and his shock turned into an amused expression.

”What’s your na—“

Don’t be stupid

He stopped talking and his eyes widened.

”How do you know me? I’ve never been here.”

”You literally have 11 million people watching you on YouTube, don’t be silly,” I sighed.

You make videos

”You’re seen my—“ He gasped and thought for a moment. “How old are you? How long have you been here?”

For a long time

”I’m supposed to be nineteen,” I sighed.

Nineteen

”Nineteen—Holy shit wait, someone—the owners said a nineteen year old died here in the 70s—“

”That was totally me.”

Me

Colby looked at the spirit box on the table and I smiled.

“Yeah,” he gasped nervously. “Are you the only spirit in the house?”

”Only one that lives here, anyway,” I scoffed.

Only one

”I’m sorry you’re alone.” I froze. 

“What did you say?” I asked quietly, timidly. Silence. It defeated me. 

It had been over 50 years since the accident and in all that time, no one apologized.

No one said sorry about my death or that I was alone. Not a single person had the empathy. Colby stared back at the spirit box. His eyes fell from it. He looked around the room in thought.

Suddenly, the urge ever too heavy came over me. 

I glided straight over to him and I sat on the bed.

He shot up with his eyes wide. 

If I had eyes, he would have looked right into them.

”Are-Are you on the bed with me?”

”Yes,” I confidently said and tried to use all my energy to tell the spirit box—

Yes… On this bed…

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered. 

I felt the way his heart skipped.

The way his skin lit on fire.

I moved forward, and when I did, his skin fell cold.

”Did-Did you just touch me?” 

“I’m on top of you.”

And it was true. I straddled him. I held his face in my lack of hands, and the warmth coursed through me like an electrical current. I needed him. He tethered me back into reality; the human world. That urge and that desperation to move onto the spirit realm died the moment I touched him.

Top

”You’re on me?” He rested his weight on his hands behind him. When he pushed his hips forward, a gasp left me because I felt the pressure. 

Familiarity.

“I remember you, Colby. I know you, we knew each other—‘

Colby

”Why did you say my—“

I know you

“You know—oh shit,” he gasped. My vision hazed. My perception of my surroundings grew blurry as if I was about to sleep.

Heat coursed my body, and I held onto him to keep from falling asleep.

”You feel really good,” I gasped. I didn’t think about this.

We knew each other

“What?” He gasped as his body went rigid. Sexual things were so far from me. I figured that when I moved onto the spirit realm, more doors to explore sexuality would open. I never came across another human I viewed as desirable like him. 

I never came across a human or spirit that felt as familiar as he was.

I knew he already had two female ghosts who liked him and messed around with him.

Good

”What’s good?” He gasped again. This time, it sounded like he was more breathless than anything.

”You.”

You

”Is that you making me feel like this? Are you touching me?” I moaned when I thrusted against him over and over. “Holy fuck—I just got so… What am I even doing?” Colby sighed more so to himself and then he laid himself back down against the bed. I gasped when he moved through me. 

I looked down at him as his forearm rested across his forehead. His face was flushed and eyes were closed in thought.

I couldn’t deny the pressure under me. I knew he was painfully hard under me, but I had no intention of leaving or letting him do it himself. I looked down and couldn’t look away from his body. It was on fire, and the pressure in his underwear grew and grew.

I wish I could feel him for real with my hands and my skin. 

“Holy fuck,” he moaned this time, and I moaned as well. He sounded so good like this. “I feel so crazy. Please tell me this is you doing this to me and not me—“

”I’m doing it. I’m touching you, Colby. Let me touch you.” Colby moaned again and again as I thrusted against him. 

It’s me

His eyes shot open again.

Let me touch you

“Fuck, okay—holy shit—okay you’re-you’re actually real.”

”Yes,” I laughed. “I want to see you feel good.” 

“If you’re actually real, get off of me and make me stop feeling like this—“

I was on the other side of the room in an instant. Colby sat up with a flushed face. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered. I felt as the arousal in his body diminished. “And…” He mumbled hesitantly. “And if you’re real, get on top of me. Turn me on again.”

I blinked and I straddled Colby’s lap. 

“Holy fucking—ugh.” And his head tossed into the pillow and eyes rolled back.

”Fuck,” I gasped as I watched him throw his arm across his mouth to conceal his moans.

Immediately, his arousal built again, and I thrusted against him over and over.

”You’re making me—Oh my god, don’t stop please,” Colby gasped. 

You feel good

”Fuck,” he gasped.

He looked up at me and I swore he saw me. He didn't look through me, and I wished I could touch him.

Kiss him.

”You’re going to make me come.”

“Oh my god yeah, I want to see you come,” I mumbled. I would resurrect myself from the dead just to kill myself again if he knew I said that so I tried to hold in the energy. I didn’t want the music box to pick up on anything.

I tried to pull his underwear down. It was too difficult, too heavy. I was too tired. My gaze flashed around the room.

His phone. 

I focused my energy on his phone and took the energy from it. The strength boiled and boiled in my being until I opened my eyes and watched as the waistband of it ever so slightly pulled back.

”Oh my fucking god—“ Colby gasped, and I cried out in surprise when he sat up straight and kicked himself away from me. “You-You fucking pulled—Are you trying to take my underwear off? Oh my god—You’re fucking real. You really are—“

“Colby it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you I want to make you feel good—“

Don’t be scared

”What?” He gasped and whirled his gaze to the spirit box.

Make you feel good

“I’m—“ he paused. He looked around the room. “I’m not scared. I can’t believe you’re communicating so well with me.”

”I’m taking power from your phone,” I said towards the spirit box.

This cell phone

Colby looked back to the spirit box.

”My phone?”

Using energy

”Oh, you’re taking the energy from my phone? Let me plug it in so you can take as much as you want—“

Yes

”Okay—“ He groaned as he leaned over and plugged it in. He left it on the table next to the bed. I didn’t give him another second to say a sentence. I pushed down against him and he drew in an uneven breath. “I can’t believe I can feel you.”

”Can you feel this?” I grinded down on him, and his arm caught another moan behind his mouth.

“Holy shit—I think I felt-I felt that. I’m so—oh my god!” I pulled at his underwear again, and this time, I pulled it halfway down. “I’m so…” He sighed into a moan, and I felt the way heat traveled down his body. His temperature rose, and I couldn’t look away. Not a second passed that I didn’t utterly consume the image of his real life human body under me.

I pushed again and again, and before his hand could reach into his underwear, he gasped a rather louder moan and spilled in the fabric. 

I quickly tried to pull it back again, and this time, his underwear pulled halfway off. 

“Oh my god—“ I gasped as I watched the rest of his fluids cover his stomach.

”You just fucking—You actually took them off,” he gasped breathlessly as he gathered himself together after his orgasm.

Pleasure washed through me as well, but it wasn’t as tangible as it used to be when I was alive. I was on fire, and I wanted more, anything more, but it was impossible here.

Then the tug.

I wanted to move on.

It was as if this window of pleasure piqued my interest, and I knew that if I moved onto the spiritual realm, I could live again. I wouldn’t be trapped in this purgatory.

Colby was so cute though. He was familiar; he looked like he was mine. We were each other’s. I wanted him to myself, but there was no way I could take him with me. He needed to finish living as a human first.

Then maybe I would hunt him down and rescue him from his purgatory so he wouldn’t have to live like this for 50 years like me.

“Did you leave?” Colby whispered.

”No. I’m right here.”

Here

“Okay,” he sighed and relaxed into the pillow. “I can’t believe I just had sex with a ghost—wait,” he gasped and looked around the room. “Did I fuck you? That’s so—What the fuck…”

“No, I just touched you. I wanted you to feel good. I can’t feel good until I move on.”

No… For you… I don’t feel good

”What?” Colby gasped. “You don’t feel good?”

”I can’t.”

Can’t

”Oh, because… Is sex only for human bodies then?”

”No,” I said, and reminded myself to be concise for the spirit box

No

”When I escape I can feel something again.”

When I escape

”You’re trapped here?” Colby gasped. The gears turned in his head and excitement welled in me.

”Help me out, please.”

Help me

”Help you do what? Do you need to move on?”

”Yes! Help me to the spiritual world.”

Yes

”Where do you need me to—”

Spirit world

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered. “You want me to help move you out of purgatory? Is that what this house is for you?’

”Yes!” I exclaimed. 

He understood!

Yes

”Well then I’m getting up and telling Sam.”

If I had a body, I would scream and cry for joy.

Also, if I had a body, it would burn alive at the sight of Colby cleaning himself up, so I left the room and waited in the hallway with welling excitement. 

“You’ll actually use the spirit box and not make me look like a freak in front of him, right?”

”Yeah, I’ll talk to him,” I laughed.

Yes

”Good,” he scoffed as he pulled on clothes. 

“I promise.”

”Dude, that’s crazy if it’s true.” I watched as Colby told Sam what had happened and conveniently left out the part where I touched him. If he didn’t want Sam to know, then I wouldn’t expose him in that way. “Let’s see if she actually communicates as accurately as that,” Sam said as he turned on the spirit box. “Would we need to try the Estes?”

”Maybe we can,” Colby sighed. “There was a vortex downstairs, did you see it?”

”No I didn’t actually,” he gasped. “Do you want to do Estes there?”

“I’m getting bored,” I grumbled.

Let’s hurry it up

”Whoa!” Sam cried when the box spat those words out at him.

”Yeah,” Colby laughed. “She isn’t very patient.”

“Are you trapped here like Colby sai—“

”Yes!”

Yes

”Oh my god.”

”I told you!” I watched the boys as they grabbed their things. “Let's do it now.”

And as they walked through me towards the staircase, I froze with realization upon feeling Colby's body. It ached with excitement, nervousness, and…

Longing?

I followed them and listened to his heart and the rushing of his blood. Something tuned to desperation flowed with it. 

It would have been much easier for me to navigate life as a human if I could feel someone’s physical attraction to me like I could feel Colby’s. I didn’t think that was possible, especially since he couldn’t see me. For all I knew, they could still be on the fence about believing that I existed.

But I couldn’t deny the way he felt. The way Sam felt. Sam didn’t hear me or feel me the way Colby did, but I could tell by the warmth of his palms and the racing of his heart that he didn’t linger in denial anymore. 

“I’m not even sure how to start this,” Sam said as he sat in the chair. He volunteered himself to be under the Estes method so that Colby could lead the interaction. I stood next to Sam in the middle of the vortex; the darkened mirrors holding endless hypnotizing space hung on either side of us. 

“I know, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out when we get there. I’m pretty sure I just encourage her to move on and she uses energy or something. We’ll see.”

Sam pulled the blindfold down. Headphones placed over his ears. 

I felt the energy from the spirit box shrill to life.

“Did you follow us down here?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’m here.”

“Here,” Sam’s monotone voice spoke for me.

“Okay good.” Colby’s voice softened. I wanted to leave, I wanted it more than anything, but I also wished I had more time to listen to Colby, to be close to him. Every time I was near him, I zapped with electricity; a desperation I never knew. What would it be like if I was human? If we knew each other back then? What would it be like if we were born at the same time in the same state?

“Why are you afraid to move on?”

“I—All this time I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t want to leave the human world, but now I can’t leave you. I want to stay with you, Colby.”

“Oh wow…” Sam muttered. 

“What?” Colby said quickly.

“That was a long—Those were a lot of words,” he laughed sheepishly. “Um…” I repeated what I said but paraphrased it to make it easier for the box to pick me up. “I wasn’t afraid of it.”

“You aren’t?” Colby gasped. “Why haven’t you—”

“Missed people.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Let me stay with you.”

“What?” Colby paused this time. “So you didn’t move on because you missed people and now you want to stay with us? Is it because you haven’t talked to anyone except for us—”

“No,” I grumbled. “I want you, Colby. No one else.”

“You, Colby.”

“Me?” He whispered. “Why do you want to stay with me? You can’t do that. You need to move on–”

“I wish we had time together then you would understand.” I wished that I could cry like humans did at that moment. I cried, but no pressure relieved me.

“We could have had more time.” Colby’s body froze as he stared in shock at Sam. Or maybe he stared through him. He wanted something to look at; he couldn’t see me. I wished I could reveal myself to him, but I didn’t know how.

“Why do you want us to have more time?”

“Because we would have been together. I could have actually probably loved you.”

“I would have…. I didn’t catch— Love you.”

“I would have loved you…” Colby whispered. “It’s too late,” he told me, but the quietness of his voice sounded like he figured it out for himself. 

“I can see you again, Colby.”

“See you again… Colby, dude it keeps saying your name.”

“I know,” Colby spoke absentmindedly. He looked like he was in a trance more than Sam was even though he rocked back and forth in the Estes method. “Are—Do you know me?”

“Maybe in a past life. We can find each other in the next.”

“Past life.”

“Holy shit.” His voice was quiet and I wanted nothing more than to hug him. I stood face to face with him in the blink of an eye. 

“I will see you soon, Colby.”

And I kissed him.

He blinked quickly and warm surprise flooded me when he licked his lips once.

“See you soon.” He didn't know what to say. I felt the tension in his throat.

“Don’t cry. Now tell me to leave and then you can find me when you’re done living here.”

“Help me leave.” Colby shook his head.

“No–”

“Please help me, Colby. I need to go on. You can’t stay here forever. I’ll be able to see you still and you’ll be able to feel me until one day you’ll see me for the first time. Well, for the first time in this timeline. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Please help me… You will still… I didn’t hear—Oh, You’ll still feel me.”

“I—I don’t like—”

“It’s okay, don’t be scared.” I stood in the vortex again. “Help me leave. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t be scared. Help me leave.” 

“Okay,” Colby said as he shook himself out of it. “It’s alright, you can move on. Spirits leave this house, move on to the next life.”

That tug returned, but now it was unavoidable. The mirrors lulled me into a beckoning trance.

“Move on and be free from this house.”

The mirror pulled me in, the house was unreachable now.

“Love you.”

As Sam pulled off the blindfold, Colby’s eyes darted towards mine from where I traveled through the mirror, and from the look on his face—the pure focus on me, drift of his tear filled eyes across my face—he saw me.

Then all I saw was light.

A/N: I took a much needed break. Not to info or trauma dump, but my mom moved about four hours away from me a week ago, and I only found out three weeks before that. After helping her move, it's been pretty hard for me since we've only ever lived at most 10 minutes from each other. Thanks for being patient, and I'm going to hop back on that writing grind because I miss it!

Also, Comment if you would rather read multi-chapter fics on Tumblr or Ao3. This will help me navigate where to post if I do not cross post.

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

@graceciesiels22

@honestlybabymiracle

@xxsecretscenekidxx

@thedeadlynights

@glittervame

@rockwyu

@worldlxvlys

@benbarnesprettygurl

#sam and colby #colby brock #18+ only #minors dni #rosie writings #rosie hub #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer

[cartograffiti]

An intro to the historical Zheng Yi Sao

Ruibo Qian's character in Our Flag Means Death is based on a real person, though like all its real pirates, she is a loose interpretation. In particular, the real Zheng Yi Sao wasn't born until 57 years after the real Blackbeard died!

In real life, she lived from 1775 to 1844. She was known by a variety of names; her birth name is usually given as Shi Yang. Zheng Yi Sao is the name most often used, which literally means "the wife of Zheng Yi" (more on him later), and you may also see variations like Ching Shih or Madam Cheng, depending on transliteration. Calling her Zheng, as Oluwande does, is good, or ZYS in fandom chat, but if fic writers crave a more personal connotation for a scene, Yang is a good choice for a given name consistent with the real woman. It's like the difference between Mr. Buttons and Nathaniel.

She was born in the Guangdong province, and many bios of her claim she worked on one of the boat brothels there, but this is speculation only.

When she married Zheng Yi, he was a successful member of a pirating dynasty, working as a privateer for emperors of Vietnam. The couple collaborated to unite six different pirate fleets operating off the Guangdong coast into a confederation, sealed with an agreement signed by the captains of each. Zheng Yi was informally recognized as the overall leader of the confederation until his death in a storm two years after the signing.

Zheng Yi Sao had the respect of other key figures in the alliance, and her smooth assumption of leadership was followed by a period of huge success and expansion for the pirate confederation, driving the Chinese government to desperation. This is where her reputation as a pirate "queen" comes from in real life, though I'm excited to see where the show goes with her fictional conquest of China!

In 1810, Zheng Yi Sao recognized that the confederation faced internal fractures and additional opposition, as Portuguese and British military forces allied with Chinese ships, so she led the confederation to bow out on a high, and use their immense power to bargain for a peaceful retirement, surrendering ships and weapons for pardons, supplies, and money. Although it's fictional that her crew was predominantly women, when Zheng Yi Sao surrendered, she did so accompanied by a delegation wholly composed of women and children who belonged to the confederation. At that time, the confederation consisted of 226 ships, 24 of which personally reported to Zheng Yi Sao.

If you're doing the math, she was only in her mid-thirties, and was far from done with life. She remarried, to one of her former captains, Zhang Bao, and accompanied him to the Penghu Islands, where he commanded a garrison. After his death, she returned to Guangdong and had another career of twenty-odd years, becoming the owner of a casino until her death at age 68 or 69 (nice).

She was one of the most successful pirates in history, both because of her power and her ability to survive it. I think she's neat as hell, and so have a lot of fiction writers! You might have encountered versions of her, or characters inspired by her, before, in things like Pirates of the Caribbean, the Bloody Jack novels, Assassin's Creed, and Doctor Who. It's fun to see a form of her in this! We can expect her arc to progress differently, but I hope having some context will help.

The most helpful things to note for the rest of the season for ofmd fans will be that Zheng is her surname, she wasn't really a contemporary of the other historical figures, and that her connection to sex work should not be treated as a fact, whether you want to include it in this fictional interpretation or not.

#Our Flag Means Death #OFMD #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #Zheng Yi Sao

[harryspet]

the alpha’s trophy | s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!alpha!steve rogers x reader, omega!innocent!reader, reader is the last omega, military!steve to the max, non-werewolf a/b/o dynamics, kidnapping, praise kink, agegap, size difference/size kink, spanking, oral sex (female recieving), forced orgasms, omega heat, domestic!steve, my attempt at politics

A/N: This probably should’ve been two parts but oh well! (model is @enchated_noir)

In which you’re the last Omega and Steve’s the most influential Alpha in the country.

word count: 9k 

taglist:  @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan​ @doozywoozy​  @oneoftheprettynerds @xoxonotme @winterbuckystan1917​ @simpformarvelmenandwoman @hallecarey1​

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Your bare feet padded against the wooden floor of Bruce Banner’s downstairs hallway. It was past your bedtime, a strict nine-thirty, but some nights you got curious what the bumbling man got up to at night. His office was on the first floor of his brownstone, with double doors leading to a spacious but paperwork covered room. You made sure to tip toe as you peaked inside, thankful that he was probably too much in a hurry to make sure it was closed. 

Blue holograms surrounded the room, each one representing a living person and almost each you now recognized. When you first met Bruce, you hadn’t realized just how famous he was and it was too late to be cautious of his sad and volatile past. He’d moved past it, he explained to you, and he was gonna help you control your inconvenient gene as well. That’s what the medicine was for. 

Apparently, you had your own inner demon to fight off, “Bruce, all your leads seem to be coming up empty,” That voice was James Rhodes, the Iron Patriot, Tony Stark’s former right hand man, “I’ve spent the last two months combing through mountains in Veracruz using the device and absolutely nothing. Before that, Washington, Montreal, and Savannah. I spent half a year in Cork and never got close to an alert. You’ve been around the world yourself and you still have faith in this thing?”

Bruce always seems grumpy on the mornings after these meetings. He was always the smartest in the room and people could treat him sometimes like he wasn’t, “We have DNA collected from some of the last Omegas that ever existed and we have DNA from perhaps the strongest Alpha in the world. It’s in their chemistry for Alpha’s to find Omega’s and the device is able to completely, although artificially, utilize that ability. It’s a science. A science I have mastered. The problem isn’t with the device.”

“Then what is the problem, Bruce?” Bucky Barnes, you recognized that voice too. He’s the one who gives Bruce the most headaches. You could also recognize him by the energy he gave off, energy you could feel even through the hologram. 

“The problem is simply that this crisis is worse than we feared. We haven’t come across an Omega yet because there are most likely less than ten of them left on this entire planet. If that.”

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips and Bruce turned around, meeting your eyes for a second before pretending that he hadn’t noticed you. He didn’t want them to know you were there for some reason. 

“He won’t take that as an answer,” Bucky responded and you leaned in closer, gently placing your hand on the knob. You knew Bruce would be angry but you cared more for hearing the rest of the conversation, “If there is even one left, he wants them, and he won’t stop searching. Even if it is a one in a seven billion chance, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce leaned against his desk, his arms crossed in front of him as he blew out a sigh, “There’s always an evolutionary reason for things like this. They weren’t snapped away, they slowly stopped being born and they died out. Tell Steve this or not, I don’t care, but it seems the universe is telling us to move on. Alphas will mate with Betas and Betas will mate with those who are not ranked. The world goes on.”

“Bruce-”

Bruce interrupts Rhodes, “Hey, maybe ask Captain Marvel if she’ll fly you an alien omega from another planet,”  The scientist didn’t let the two men get anything out before pressing a button on his computer that ended the call. 

You took a step back, wondering if you could make a dash upstairs and avoid his wrath, “Don’t,” You heard his voice on the other side of the door before one of the double doors swung open. 

You took a breath, “Hi,” You whispered. 

“Hi,” Bruce seemed to smile even though he really didn’t want to. He looked down at your small figure, deciding that, like usual, he just couldn’t get truly angry at you. Although he was a Beta and completely outranked you, he never treated you that way, “I thought you were fast asleep.”

“I was…” You tiptoed around the truth. “I couldn’t sleep and … you never talk much about the stuff you do.”

“You’re curious,” Bruce placed his hand on your shoulders, a comforting and warm feeling flowed through, as he slowly turned you in the direction of the kitchen, “I suppose I can’t blame you for that. You know what always helps me sleep?”

You perked up, looking over your shoulder at him, “Milk and cookies?”

“Milk and cookies,” He nodded in agreement, leading you into the small kitchen. All the appliances were on one side, a wooden dining table on the other, with a view of Bruce’s tiny yard. There was a small garden outside though all the plants were dead since Bruce was often too busy and not home enough. You wished you could tend to it but you weren’t allowed outside. 

You watched as he retrieved the store-bought cookies from the freezer and you helped him separate them on the pan, “I assume you heard a lot of my conversation.”

“A little,” You shrugged.

“Y/N,” He warned, “C’mon, what are you thinking?”

“That I’ve never …met an Alpha before,” You spoke honestly.

“Well, they’re getting rare these days as well. I suppose that’s a good thing that there’s less ego. If you’re lucky, you’ll never meet one.”

You nodded although you still had questions, “But why exactly can’t I meet one?”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, like he suddenly realized how delicate this topic was, “Alphas and Omegas are a natural pair but Omegas are outnumbered. Too outnumbered.”

“You said that there are probably less than ten of us,” You remembered, “Did you mean that?”

“Yes,” Bruce spoked quickly, “But it’s an estimate. It’s been thirty years since anyone has seen a living Omega.”

“But I’m not the last one, right?” You asked, “You could find another? Why don’t you use me to help? I could help.”

“Y/N,” Bruce said, snapping you from your delusions, “It’s a miracle I found you. A complete miracle. And I promised your Grandmother that I wouldn’t experiment on you, that’s the last thing that she wanted. In the wrong person’s hands, that’s exactly what you’d be. She wanted you protected.”

You weren’t sure exactly how you should feel. You had no idea you could be more isolated. It was all you had known. You spent the first eighteen years of your life with Nana and then the next three with Bruce. You’d never gone to a real school or had real friends and yet this was the first time you were truly alone. You were one of the last ones left. There was no one out there to truly understand you. 

The two of you sat at the dining table after the cookies cooled off, your legs tucked beneath you, as you leaned over your plate, “Why do you lie to your friends on the blue computer things?”

“I used to call a lot of people my friends. Now things are different and I just don’t agree with the things they stand for anymore.”

“So why do you talk to them?”

“They’re connected to an important person. I can’t really afford to be on their bad side.”

“The man who’s looking for someone like me?” You pressed further.

Bruce hadn’t realized you comprehended so much and he noted that he would have to start taking his meetings elsewhere. Bruce dipped his last cookie in his glass, eating the whole thing in one bite before dusting off his hands, “I think that’s enough for tonight. You won’t be able to sleep with so much on your mind.”

“There’s already so much to think about,” You whined, “I can handle it, I promise. Besides, who am I gonna talk to about it?”

“That’s enough for tonight,” Bruce spoke firmly, “We both could use some rest.”

Once you found sleep it was relatively peaceful but you were jolted awake by your blanket being ripped from on top of you. You didn’t realize your heart could beat so fast and you were immediately angry at Bruce who had scared you within an inch of your life, “Get up,” He spoke aggressively, “Put your things in this. Pack only the things you need.”

He tossed you a black backpack that you had a feeling would not fit enough of your precious knick knacks that you’d acquired over the past few years. You threw your legs over the side of the bed, “W-What’s wrong?” You asked as he made his way to the door, “Bruce!”

“We’ve been here too long, Y/N,” He ran his fingers through his hair, his voice losing breath, “I’m taking you somewhere safe. I-It’s, uhm, everything’s fine. Just pack up and come downstairs.”

You did as he said, grabbing a maroon sweater to drape over your nightgown before grabbing more clothing items to put in the bag. You decided on one stuffed animal, a squishy version of a panda bear, before grabbing a few toiletries from your bathroom including your white pills. 

You slipped on a pair of black boots, strapped on the backpack, and hurried your way down the stairs. This moment felt exactly how it did when your Nana’s heart gave out and Bruce was whisking you away to a land you’d never been before. 

“Bruce, I’m ready,” You hurried to the bottom of the stairs only to see a gun being pointed at the side of Bruce’s head. The man holding the gun was dressed in black, an arrow strapped to his back, and intricate tattoos decorating his arm. There was another man with dark skin who’s determined look seemed to be replaced by a dropped jaw at the sight of me, “Bruce.”

“God almighty,” The man with the gun spoke, taking me in. Bruce gave you a panicked look and for the first time it seemed like he didn’t have a plan. You did the only thing you could think to do. You turned on your heel and ran back up the stairs, “Go, Sam.”

You made it back to your bedroom, locking it behind you as you ran to your window. There was a pounding at the door but it wasn’t louder than the pounding in your ears. You manage to get it open before your door is completely broken down. You were halfway onto the landing before you were wrapped in strong arms and yanked back inside. You dug your nails into the man until he groaned in pain but he never let you go.

As your hands desperately grabbed at the stair railing, you heard a deafening sound from too close nearby. Sam hurried down the stairs with you in his arms and he finally let you go when he reached the bottom, “W-What did you do?” You scrambled to your feet, looking over the couch to see Bruce on the floor, the carpet around his head soaking with blood.

“Resisting arrest by a government official,” The man declared and you felt your knees give out beneath you.

“She doesn’t smell like one, Clint,” Sam commented. 

“He’s probably been feeding her suppressants. Makes sense why we haven’t had a lead in years,” They spoke about you like you were an object and perhaps that’s what you were, “Cuff her, let’s go.”

You didn’t resist as your arms were pulled behind your back and a black sack was hauled over your head. It’s like your body wanted to shut down, to free you from the terror in your mind, and you could barely feel a thing as you were led outside. It was the first time you’d truly been outside for years and you couldn’t even feel the sun on your skin. 

You could hear the roaring sound of a large engine and you were lifted inside before a door was slammed shut. You couldn’t tell if you were alive. You told yourself to breathe but breathing led to hyperventilating. There was not enough air in your lungs nor inside the hood over your head and the oxygen ran out soon and your thoughts trailed off to nowhere. 

Steve and Bucky sat side by side in the back of the armored vehicle. Fort Lehigh was their destination, newly revamped in Steve’s honor and now the largest army base in the country. Bucky handed Steve a phone displaying a live feed of your room. 

His first impression of you was how small you were and how you looked even smaller due to the fact that you were curled up tightly in a ball. The bed wasn’t small and you didn’t seem to lack any blankets, you were just seeking comfort within your own skin. 

“How long has she been off the suppressants?” Steve asked, concern laced in his tone that he would only show to his closest friend. 

“Almost 72 hours,” Bucky answered.

“And no one has been allowed near her?”

“No, only the unranked, just like you asked. I doubt anyone will make a move against you, they know where your eyes are set.”

“Still, it’ll be hard for any Alpha to resist her when she fully presents as an Omega. I need to make an offer to Capitol Hill.”

After Tony Stark’s death and Thanos’s defeat, Steve became even more of a symbol. Now, he was the highest ranking American soldier and had more political influence than any politician, “They’ll be touted as heroes for giving the last Omega to their most respected soldier.”

“But they’ll still want something to line their pockets,” Steve said, looking down at the small screen. You still hadn’t moved and Steve wondered how much they scared you during the retrieval. Steve cleared his throat, handing the phone back over. The car was getting closer to the center of the base and he’d be face to face with you soon. He adjusted the front of his suit, a darker version of the usual red, white and blue, “Whatever they ask, make sure they get it.”

“Aye, aye.”

The room barely had any blankets or pillows. One pillow and one blanket. You were completely freezing and all you wanted to do was be under a mountain of blankets and stuffed animals. There were no stuffed animals either and you’d probably never see your old ones again. And fuzzy socks. No fuzzy socks. This place was a complete prison. 

In a panic you rearranged the room, moving the mattress beneath the bed and laying the blanket on top to create a tent. They never turned the lights off here either so the time of day was lost on you. 

The door to your cell creaked open and you assumed someone was here to drop off food but an extremely deep voice said your name. The name vibrated through you, widening your eyes, and raising every hair on your body. It felt as if you were hearing it for the first time. 

You didn’t move but the door closed and the footsteps became louder. His smell enveloped the room, warm and woodsy, like tobacco leaf and vanilla. You completely felt him before you saw him. You could picture him as everything about him had already invaded your every sense. 

He kneeled down, lifting the blanket that was shielding you in your tent. It was like a scary movie, the murderous villain finally shows him face, only to be extremely handsome. You were still frightened nonetheless. He scanned you fully examining you like one of his missions.  

Steve Rogers. 

You were surprised when he let the blanket fall and let you be enveloped by darkness once again. His footsteps faded and the cell door opened, “She needs blankets. Soft things. Find whatever you can. And kill the lights at night, no one can sleep that way. Understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve was right. You weren’t tucked away under the bed anymore, you were gathering everything soft they’d given you and creating an intricate nest on the floor. Every pillow was arranged perfectly, contorting to the shape of your body as you finally slept peacefully.

“These young kids have never even seen a young Omega in their lifetime. I didn’t realize they’d have no idea how to care for one,” Steve stood beside Bucky, watching you through the two way mirror. 

“It’s a shame,” Bucky shook his head, “I remember when we were younger and we thought you’d turn out to be an Omega.”

Steve smiled, “I proved myself, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bucky nodded, “She could turn out to be something great too. A symbol, I mean. People think the reason we lost so many Omegas is because of how corrupt our society has become. You two … you could represent a transition back to good, American values.”

Steve couldn’t even admit how much the idea of that excited him, “I’ve let you hang around too many politicians.”

“I’m Mr. America, Cap’s Best Friend. Don’t forget that,” Bucky nudged him, “What’s stopping you from just taking her and running?”

“I’m gonna do this right,” Steve responded, “And the suppressants haven’t worn off, I want to be absolutely certain of what she is. Besides that, I’m making other preparations. Everything will eventually go public and people will either want to sell her or experiment on her. I need a safehouse, one much better than Banner’s.”

“What was he thinking?” Bucky asked in disbelief. He was the one who spotted you during the meeting. You were the eyes peeking through the door of Banner’s office.

Steve knew exactly what happened, “He was still trying to be the good guy.” Years ago, he would’ve done the same. 

The next time Steve visited your room, you were less on edge but your body was starting to drive you crazy. You had random crying fits even when you weren’t sad and moments where it felt like your blood was on fire. The only thing that soothed you was your pile of soft things. 

He leaned against the wall, arms folded in front of him, like a guard, “You had him killed.”

Steve shook his head, “No,” He also didn’t send Clint and Sam there with orders to take him peacefully, “But I’m sorry for your loss.”

You didn’t believe him, that was clear, “He was your friend before he knew me.”

“When you get older, you’ll understand friends often grow apart,” That was something Bruce would’ve said to you. 

“And I guess I’ll make friends one day from inside the box I’m forced to live in,” You responded, playing with the fringe on a teal blanket.

“You won’t feel trapped for long.”

Next he was gonna say you’ll have plenty of space to roam, like you were an animal, “You’re the man who was looking for someone like me?”

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N,” You sucked in a breath, “And as my luck would have it, you’re here.”

“What do you want to use me for?”

The captain’s eyes seemed to narrow on you, “What do you think I would like to use you for?”

He was toying with you and you wished you weren’t in such a low position compared to him, “Bruce said bad people would want to experiment on me. He said I was one of the last ones.”

“You are the last Omega, honey,” Steve pushed away from the wall, stalking closer, “And just like Bruce, I don’t want you to be an experiment either.”

“But … you won’t give me my pills.”

“Those pills repress the most special part of you. That’s the part I’m interested in,” Steve crouched down, getting closer to eye level with you, “You don’t know much about yourself, do you?”

You glared at him, and you were angered at what he seemed to be implying. Yes, you were younger and less experienced but you were not stupid. Anger was soon replaced by a new feeling as his eyes settled on your lips. You stood up from the mattress, crossing the room to create more distance.

“What if I don’t want to go with you?”

Steve hung his head for a moment and you could tell that was not the reaction he wanted. He stood next, and you realized just how much bigger he was than you. You were a third of him, his shadow immediately draping over you, a wall of muscle you could barely see past.

“I know that coming off the suppressants is making you feel weird . . . emotional, even, but it’ll pass. You’ll feel normal-”

“I-I’m emotional because you . . . y-you killed my friend and I’m stuck here!” You were surprised you raised your voice but you needed him to hear you. Your voice was smaller than his and your voiced seemed to bounce right off of him and crumble to the floor. Still, your frustrations flowed out, “I don’t know you, I don’t know where I am, and everything here tastes like … l-like cardboard! None of my clothes are here, my panda is gone, and there’s no bad reality television to watch!” 

Steve smiled, “Keep going, sweetheart.”

You had the urge to scream but you clenched your fist instead. Steve watched as you began to pace, “This is what I was warned about. Those pills keep me from being w-weak . . . a-and crazy and I’m not supposed to be like this,” Tears stung your eyes before they fell down your cheeks, “I'm not supposed to be here with you.”

“Come here, Y/N,” Your body went rigid as his voice shivered through you. You looked up at him in shock as it wasn’t you who was in control of your movements, “Come closer.”

He’d changed his voice, it had the same deepness but it was now dripping in influence. Control. 

A test. 

You tried to shake your head but couldn’t. You were still upset, your throat still tight from the crying, and you felt the lack of control was gonna make your mood worsen. 

“Y/N,” He tried again and you actively fought it. 

“No,” You struggled to say, your voice a whimper, “Please.” 

Now, you were desperate. Steve liked that word on your lips and he liked those tear stained cheeks more than he’d probably admit. 

“Come,” He ordered again and your body moved towards its Master, “That’s it, good Omega. Good girl.”

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around him and your head rested on his chest. A switch flipped inside you as you were enveloped in his warmth and a part of you seemed to roar awake as his large hands pet the curls atop your head. Your worries faded, your heartbeat evened out, and the flame beneath your skin was extinguished. 

It was euphoric. 

Steve went into the ice unmated, and once he awoke, all the Omegas were gone. Something shifted within him as well and even he marveled at how quickly nature took its course. The sound of his voice was enough to quell your tantrum. All you needed was to be reminded of your place. You’d have him to guide you and to protect you. Steve would make sure you wanted for nothing. 

When you pulled away from his embrace, your hands roamed cautiously over his uniform, feeling every divet and wanting desperately to feel his skin. Your smaller hand grabbed his, your doe eyes staring up at him. What were the chances that the last Omega in the world would be this beautiful?

Steve was curious about your next movements as you led him over to your makeshift bed. You pointed down to the bed, expecting him to understand but he was left guessing, “You want me to lie down, honey?”

You nodded, the relaxed daze you were in had left you speechless. Steve did as you wanted, wondering how it was that he was taking the orders now. Normal, non-hypnotized you, would’ve found it funny watching the monster of a man lay there on a twin sized mattress. Now, all you wanted was to be protected in his embrace. You kept your hand in his, laying down right next to him. 

Next, you closed your eyes and found the coziest dreamland. 

Two days later, the scientists on the base declared that it was likely that the suppressants were no longer in your system. You were at your most natural state but it couldn’t feel much more foreign than it did. Steve was wrong, the emotional fits continued but now it was due to the fact that he’d left you alone, clinging to a pillow that still smelt like him. You missed him and hated that you missed him. 

That morning, your breakfast arrived as well as a stack of folded clothes. You knew it was a sign that you were leaving the room but that brought new fears you hadn’t even considered. You were trading this prison for another but there had to be some way out. Steve couldn’t possibly have everything figured out. But what if he did? And he’d overpower you easily so what was there left to do.

You were beginning to think it might be better to be a science experiment rather than his puppet. 

The clothing provided was a pink, floral, knee-length dress and a clean pair of white sneakers. Undergarments were provided, of course, but you wondered if Steve had a hand in picking those. Before you could stop yourself, you brought the dress to your nose, needing to know if he had touched them. 

You sensed no trace of him and immediately felt embarrassed that you desired him. That emotion turned to anger and you decided that you wanted to stay a little longer in the white box. You tossed the clothes to the side, focusing on fueling yourself instead. When your food was done, you stared at the two way mirror, a scowl on your face, and you hoped Steve was on the other side. 

The door opened again thirty minutes later and you were fully prepared for Steve but a woman entered instead, unranked, and dressed like a lawyer. She smiled at you, her dark hair tucked neatly in a bun behind her hair, as she closed the door behind her, “Y/N, I’m Maria Hill, It’s nice to meet you.”

You scanned her over, unable to even truly imagine how disheveled you must look in comparison to her. She glances quickly over to the clothes that are tossed to the side of the room. “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s going to meet us at our next location but don’t even worry about him, think of me as your advocate. I’m going to explain all the legal jargon so it’s not-”

“Legal?” Your eyebrows raised, “Where are we going?”

“Washington, D.C.,” She said, “A senate subcommittee meeting is being held concerning your … well-being.”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand. W-Why does the Senate care about me? Do lots of people know about me? How many?”

“As of this morning, the world knows,” She spoke, although her eyes said that she knew she was delivering devastating news, “Our government has a duty to protect you, Y/N. They’re deciding the next steps they need to make in order to ensure your safety.”

“I’m safe here,” You rushed out, panic beginning to set in, “Just let me stay here. I-I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

“Listen, I know this is frightening but this is your chance to ensure your own freedom,” That snapped you from the fog of anxiety, “You can show them who you are, that you’re your own person with feelings and needs. You can say whatever you want to them. This isn’t the 50’s anymore, the only thing they want to force you to do is to stay alive.”

You swallowed. 

You weren’t even sure who you were and you weren't even sure you could even think of words to describe yourself that didn’t seem juvenile. Steve had the upper hand in that arena as well. You didn’t know him well but you could tell he was sure of himself. 

You stayed close to Maria the entire time, during the helicopter ride and the car ride to the Capital. As you got closer, you saw thousands of people lined up on the street just to see the line of black limos pass by. There was no hiding it, the world knew your name and there was no hiding your scent. 

A group of eight Secret Service agents surrounded you the entire time, up the white steps and into the prestigious building. You couldn’t see much past them. You could only hear the roar of a crowd and the snapping of pictures. 

Once you were inside, the agents parted only to let someone into you and Maria’s bubble. You hadn’t seen Steve since you’d cuddle up to him in bed and you didn't realize you’d feel the same euphoria as before just by being a foot away from him. You kept your hands to your side, resisting any desire to reach out and grab him, “You look beautiful, sweetheart,'' was the first thing he said. You could say the same as he was dressed in a fancy black suit, his lapel decorated with several different medals of honor. 

Your lips parted although no words left them. That made him smirk. 

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

You shook your head quickly.

“Good,” He stated, “There’s no need to be nervous when I’ll be there, understand?”

You nodded, feeling like a puppet.

“Tell me you understand, honey.”

“I . . . I understand,” You found your voice and you gave Maria a suspecting look which Steve seemed to notice.

“Is that all, Captain?” Maria asked, “The meeting is starting soon.”

“Yes,” He leaned down to whisper in your ear in that life-shaking, influencing tone, “You’re mine.” 

The pictures didn’t stop even as you entered the meeting room. The room was huge with wood walls and expensive looking golden fixtures everywhere. The group of 12 senators sat in a half circle behind a curved wooden desk, elevated a few feet from the crowd. You walked with Maria past several rows of pews filled with people. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to sit, leaving reporters and photographers standing on the sides of the room, snapping pictures, and calling out your name in order to get your take on the situation. 

The room felt airless and it made it even worse that you felt you were moving in quicksand. Maria was keeping you upright, tethering you to the planet you mentally felt so far away from, leading you to the second table placed in front of the congress members. When you sat beside her, you wanted to stop yourself from looking behind you but you couldn’t help herself. Like you expected, everyone’s attention was locked on you. From all angles, there was no way you could escape it. 

Your eyes met Steve’s who was sitting in the adjacent table to yours, right next to Bucky Barnes. You realized that Steve was going to be a voice in this matter, most likely arguing against whatever you wanted for yourself.  

With your feet dangling above the group in the large chair, it was hard to think the two of you were on the same level.

The meeting had started but you felt outside your body and you realized you were only staring instead of listening. Everything seemed to get quiet and you were suddenly back in your body. You had no idea how long it had been since you sat down or why everyone seemed to be waiting. 

Maria squeezed your hand which was sweaty and resting on the table in front of you. She leaned over to say, “Senator Ochoa addressed you,” She gave you a reassuring smile, “She wants you to introduce yourself and talk about how you ended up here today. Just stand and share what you’re comfortable with.”

You didn’t know you’d have to stand to speak and you were almost considering falling over and faking a heart attack. Steadying yourself on shaking legs, you suddenly realized you had no idea who that senator was. You scanned their nameplates, your eyes landing on a brown skinned woman with straight white hair. 

You were suddenly aware it had been an uncomfortable amount of silence since someone last spoke. Still, you were getting up the courage, deciding to focus on the woman as a way to not focus on the hundred of people whose eyes were on you, “Hi … I’m Y/N … Y/L/N-” Already there were whispers and you looked down at Maria who was urging you to continue, “I-I didn’t know I was coming here today and I’ve . . . never even been in a room with more than 3 people until now. The past few days have probably been the worst of my life but . . . before that, I grew up with my grandmother. She protected me and she homeschool me for my entire life. When she died, Dr. Banner took me in-”

Everyone was in tune to every word you said, like your life was the most interesting thing in the world. Truthfully, your life still wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things and you disliked the seriousness people were now assigning it. 

“He kept me safe and loved me like his own. He was . . .” You held in your tears but your eyes still watered, “He was murdered by one of your government officials and now I’m here. That’s my life, Congresswoman.”

She addressed you again, “Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. We’re all aware this environment is abnormal for you, that’s why we had Agent Hill help represent you today. Please feel free to ask questions if you don’t understand something,” You nodded, “If I may continue, in the official report, it says that Dr. Banner pulled a knife on Agent Barton. You mentioned that he kept you safe. Would it be safe to say that he would kill for you?”

“I didn’t know him as a killer, and I was there, I know for a fact that he didn’t try to hurt Agent Barton. There was a gun pointed to his head-” You tried to control your tone, not wanting to come off as angry, although that was all you felt when you thought about how he died, “No, he wouldn’t have.”

Another Senator spoke up, “Miss Y/L/N, isn’t it true that Dr. Banner didn’t clue you in to much of his business? Did you know that he had sold the government fake tracking devices and was sending our agents on wild goose chases around the world?”

“Well …” You couldn’t lie, especially around this many people, “I didn’t know that exactly. I did know that Omegas were being searched for and that . . and that-”

“Did you or did you not know the device was fake, Miss Y/LN?”

You looked down at Maria and she simply told you to be honest, “No, I didn’t.”

You were asked a few more questions and the only thing the Senators seemed to learn was that you knew nothing at all. When it seemed they were getting nowhere with me, they moved to Steve, and many of the Senator’s eyes seemed to light up when the hundred year old man began to speak.

“The matter of today is not to determine the cause of Dr. Banner’s death nor is it meant to decide his intentions. Whether we believe he was right or wrong, the law was broken. It was established years ago, that any Omega must be turned over to authorities,” Steve was confident and precise, “Of course, we’ve never had to actually deal with that possible issue until now. There’s no point in wasting time. We’ll need a plan to keep Miss Y/L/N safe and then procedures in place in case another Omega is found. Miss Y/L/N’s surfacing gives hope for a promising future but we can’t deny that her presence will bring challenges.”

The conversation shifted to one that you no longer felt a part of. 

“What’s a sure way that an Omega remains protected?” One Senator asked. 

“A mate,” Another one answered. 

“Are you suggesting the government play matchmaker?” Senator Ochoa seemed to be one of the few not under Steve’s influence. 

“As Captain Rogers said before, Senator, a sole Omega will attract much unwanted attention. Having a mate, a physical bond, would provide the most protection,” You could feel Steve’s eyes on you although you couldn’t face him. You worried he’d gain the ability to control you with his eyes next.

You watched as a debate began between the Senators, some calling it blasphemous but too many suggestions involved sacrificing self interest for the greater good. You turned to Maria who seemed surprised by the direction of the conversation as well. She stood next and you mentally let out a breath of relief as you weren’t sure you could eloquently get your point across, “It must be her own choice of who her mate should be. Arranged matings are not the sort of precedent we want to set in this country.”

“I’m afraid this precedent has already been set, Agent Hill,” Senator Brinkley chimed in, “With the decline in new Omegas during the 60’s, arranged matings were very common and even arranged by local governments. I urge Miss Y/L/N to consider the incentives we’d be required to provide her for her trouble.”

“Her trouble? Money is not something that would compensate for any sort of emotional distress.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? Ranked humans are meant to have mates. Omegas are born to be paired with Alphas. It’s in all of our natures.”

You saw Maria running into a dead end and your anxiety grew worse, “I hadn’t realized this was an ambush. I am moving that we schedule another meeting a few days from now. That way we can have more time-”

“Time is of the essence, Agent Hill,” Steve interrupted. 

“Captain Rogers is correct,” Senator Neal, the subcommittee chairman, made his final declaration, “We can arrange another meeting soon but the problem at hand must have a solution for now. We simply cannot take the chance of losing our last Omega. For the time being, Miss Y/L/N will be turned over to Captain Steve Rogers. As our most decorated military member and one of our highest ranking Alphas, I believe she’ll be in great care.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know-” You heard Maria say before you tuned out the world around you. 

Being one of the few Omegas, you thought you might be treated as less than but until now you hadn’t realized how true that would be. It was stupid to let the crowds and reporters fool you. They were watching you like an animal in the zoo because that’s exactly what you were now. 

When you tuned in again, a calloused hand had wrapped around your tiny one and you were standing in front of a flock of reporters. You looked up at Steve and he had the same confidence and seriousness in his look as he spoke to them. He’d probably have no problem convincing the public that this was the right choice. 

You had to walk fast to keep up with him. Maria was gone, you weren’t sure when you had lost her, but now you were surrounded by even more people that you didn’t know. At some point you were sitting in a car listening to Steve talk on the phone to what sounded like a news outlet. Then at another point you were being pulled out of a car and lifted into strong arms. You supposed Steve had gotten tired of your short legs. 

It was loud on the asphalt, you heard the whirring sound of the engine as you were carried closer to it. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your head tilted into the side of his neck as you inhaled the most enticing scent, “The hard part is over, honey. You can relax now.” 

You ran to what you hoped was the bathroom once you awoke and saw that you were on TV. Your eyes were closed as you wretched but you could still see a scared little girl standing shyly next to the strongest soldier in the world. Why did you let him whisk you away when you could’ve stood up for yourself? Why could you not think for yourself at all when you touched him? 

When you finished vomiting into the toilet, you made your way over to the sink, and you saw a figure standing behind you as your eyes first opened again, “Your toothbrush is in the first drawer to the right. All your things are on the right side, mine on the left. The closets are organized the same way.” You opened the door and surely there was a pink, electric toothbrush. 

You truly got a chance to look at the bathroom which had tall ceilings, a fancy shower, his and hers sinks, and the impossibly clean mirror in front of you, “I don’t have any clothes,” You countered, adding toothpaste to the tip.

“I had a few things brought from Banner’s house and I had more purchased for you.”

You shifted, not having expected he would go as far to get you clothes you’d actually be comfortable in. You didn’t let that ease you, your stomach still feeling unsettled as you began to brush your teeth. Steve’s eyes stayed on you, watching you as if you might dust away at any moment. 

“I know it was scary being seen by all those people,” Steve said, leaning in the bathroom doorway. He almost looked unfamiliar in a black t-shirt and black sweatpants, “You represent something good, that’s all, that’s why people care so much.”

You spit the contents in your mouth into the sink, wiping your mouth as you turn off the water, “You knew how it would affect me but you caused it. Maria said that yesterday–”

“Two days ago, you’ve been asleep for awhile,” He corrected you. Your brows furrowed and you finally noticed the clothes you were wearing. A men’s plaid button up that went all the way down to your knees. 

You couldn’t possibly have slept for two days, “You keep using your stupid Alpha voice on me and now I’m losing track of time. The last thing I remember was getting on the plane. I feel like I’m losing my mind,” Your eyes were wide, panic setting in again.

“Y/N, you fell asleep because your body was exhausted and my touch allows for it to relax. You’re not losing your mind, I promise, just learning more about yourself.”

It didn’t make sense. You had no idea that Alpha’s had that power over Omegas, “That doesn’t change what you did. Maria said that the meeting was an ambush. You planned it. You knew what decision they were going to make.”

“Yes,” Steve nodded, “I pushed them in the correct direction.”

You shook your head, “I’d rather be back in the white box than here with you. I’d rather even be where Bruce is now. I hope you know that. Whatever little voice you use, or whoever I turn into when you touch me, that’s not who I am. I hate you.”

You were surprised to see him falter, to see anger threaten to show on his features, and you realized the noble man wasn’t always so stoic. 

He straightened himself, his arms still crossed across his chest as he came closer, “I don’t need to use my voice to control you, Y/N. And my voice is not going to be the reason that you’ll do exactly as I say from now on. Would you rather my touch be unkind to you? I can bend you over my lap and show you how unkind I can be. Do you under-”

You caught him by surprise again as you made a break for it, running around him and through the master bedroom. He was stronger but you were much smaller. You couldn’t outrun him but you could exercise what little control you had left. 

With tears stinging your eyes, your bare feet padded down a long wooden hallway until arriving at a staircase. Steve wasn’t running but you could hear his heavy steps behind you. You felt you were running through a museum as you began to look around at the decor. You were surrounded by traditional fixtures, moody colors, and a whole lot of war memorabilia. 

At the end of the stairs, you saw the front door and ran to turn the knob though it did not budge. You looked through the sidelights, noting that the home you were in was in the middle of a cul de sac and you saw rows of identical looking houses all the way in the distance.

 “Y/N!” You kept moving. Steve sounded more annoyed than angry now as he followed you through the kitchen’s swinging doors. You stopped in your tracks, meeting eyes with three people, a woman who was cutting vegetables on a cutting board, a woman who was wiping down a dining table, and a young guy in overalls installing something near the back door.”

You felt Steve’s hand on your shoulder, “Sorry, guys. Y/N desperately wanted a tour. Y/N, this is our chef, Cynthia. Our housekeeper, Amy. And Andrew is taking care of some things around the house, helping us get settled in.”

It looked like he was installing a similar security device to the back door. 

It was your turn to say something as both Amy and Cynthia gave you warm smiles. The only thoughts crossing your mind pertained to Steve’s hands on your shoulder, “Will you both be having lunch in the dining room?” Cynthia asked.

“No, just have it sent up in about … an hour,” Steve responded, “Thank you.”

Steve was leading you out of the kitchen and, as soon as you were out of their sites, you were thrown over his shoulder. You expected a cool remark but Steve was quiet as he carried you back up to the room. 

He set you on your feet, only to keep his promise by bending you over his lap. He’d sat at the edge of the bed, pinning your arms to your side as he held your body as close as possible. He only had to lift the shirt a small bit to completely expose your body.

“Cynthia and Amy will help us for our first weeks together. Your first real heat will come soon and we’ll need to be together, they’ll be able to keep the house together,” You squirmed as his fingers caressed the back of your thighs, threatening to dip into the gap between your parted legs, “When your heat is much more managed, or when your belly wells up with my child, you’ll take on those duties of maintaining the house. A military base is not where I want us to live forever but it will do for the time being.”

He’d thought all of this over, most likely in great detail, he’d had a chance to process it and he expected that you’d do the same. Still, he gave you little time to panic over that impending doom as he began to lay hard slaps against the bare skin of your bottom. 

You screamed, thinking that maybe one of the people downstairs would come to your aid but your hopes weren’t high for long, “Please!” You begged, although you soon grew embarrassed by your own crying, letting the comforting muffle your voice. You didn’t want anyone to rescue you. You didn’t want anyone to know you’d been spanked like a disobedient child as an adult. 

“Tell me you’ll be good for me, baby.”

There was no Alpha voice and there was even a sweet mention of a pet name yet this was the most threatened you felt to obey. 

“Yes! O-Okay,” You stuttered, choking on a cough.

“Repeat it back to me, Y/N.”

“I’ll b-be good for you, S-Steve,” You could finally catch your breath when he stopped. When he stopped, you didn’t even move yourself, you didn’t even attempt to cover yourself. Steve was the one who lifted you, laying you gently at the edge of the bed with your bottom up.

You laid there motionless, hearing Steve walk away to the bathroom, but your eyes were fixed on the master bedroom door. This would be a bigger cage and you doubted that you wouldn’t feel trapped here like Steve had promised. 

The bed dipped beside you and you cringed and squirmed as you felt his hand on your bottom again. He shushed you, holding your upper arm to keep you in place as he lotioned a cool substance over the raw skin. 

Steve wiped your tears, pushing the hair from your face in order to admire you more closely. You looked even more beautiful with your wet stained cheeks and he loved the way your eyelashes laid against your cheeks when your eyes were closed. 

“Please don’t do that again,” Steve heard you whisper. He grabbed your chin and your eyes fluttered open again. You looked at him in a way he hadn’t noticed before, like you were seeing him for the first time. 

Steve didn’t want to argue with you anymore, knowing he could get his point across more clearly with you when he was physical. He brought his lips toward your hesitant ones. Steve knew you wouldn’t pull away, your body wouldn’t let you run away from that sort of pleasure, and he deepened it further. 

This wasn’t his first kiss since the 40’s but it sure felt like something new. Steve held your hips and he could sense you get overwhelmed by your wandering hands. He wanted to feel all of you although he knew he’d have to avoid your bottom after his cruel handiwork. He caressed your back, your thighs, and made his way to the back of your neck. He held you in his strong grip, keeping your lips tight against his as he moved his against yours. 

His stubble brushed against your skin, tickling you as his lips moved to your neck. 

Steve kissed and sucked on your neck and moans and mewls fell from your lips. Steve could tell you were extra sensitive there and it sparked his curiosity. He made it his new mission to find the most sensitive parts of your body, the ones that made your body writhe with pleasure, and one day he’d torture you slowly by focusing on each one. 

Steve had to feel between your legs, had to taste and smell you. You were to be his mate, he was the only one to have you in this way, and he’d relish every moment of your first time. He teased your clit with his pointer finger. You closed your legs, an attempt to hide away but he was stronger, “Give yourself to me,” He rasped against your throat, “Or I’ll take it.”

You were already soaking the comforter and Steve heard your words becoming practically incoherent, “I … please … I …so-so … “

Steve pressed your front into the mattress, deciding to take his place behind you, his commanding hands lifting your hips into the air. Your ass was still sore and Steve could feel your fear that he would hurt you again but all you felt was the lips that were just on yours dipping between your legs. He lapped at you furiously, his tongue dipping inside you, licking up and down before it swirled around your sensitive bud.

You moaned into the comforter and Steve rubbed his hard member through his sweatpants. Normally, he might’ve kissed you longer, massaged you longer, or waited until you had a few more orgasms against his tongue but he had to be inside his little Omega. 

After he gave you your first orgasm, Steve revealed his cock, wasting no time sheathing himself inside of you. 

It felt right, although your body was so much smaller, it was the perfect fit. You’d never done this before but your body was ready, you accepted him with a little bit of easing, “There you go, honey, you’re doing so good,” Your head turned to the side, Steve watched your eyes roll back as he went deep inside of you. 

He slowly pressed your hips back down against the mattress, moving in and out of you with ease. He felt every time you tightened around his cock, your body releasing all the tension beneath your skin. Steve removed his t-shirt, beginning to break a sweat although he still had a lot left within him.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asked, going harder. 

“Don’t stop,” Was your response which made him smile.

“Ask me politely,” Steve slowed his pace, teasing you.

“Please don’t stop,” You spoke quickly and he could tell you were close to convulsing again, “Please, Steve.”

“Good, Omega,” Steve went harder again, knowing you went crazy when he pulled himself all the way out and shoved himself deeper again, “Good girl.”

“Thank you,” You mewled, “I’m your good girl.”

It wasn’t long before your words coaxed him into his own orgasm. He felt his own sense of euphoria as he released inside you, feeling your warm walls around him until his body allowed him to relax. Steve laid beside your shaking body, caressing your back as he pressed his nose into your hair.

“I’m your good girl?” He heard you whisper and he now realized how much his words meant to you. You wanted his reassurance when you were within your most vulnerable state. He knew you were wrong before in saying this side of you was not the real you. 

“Yes,” Steve kissed your shoulder, “You’re my good little girl. Forever, honey.”

part two

#dark!steve rogers #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #dark steve rogers x reader #mcu smut #dark fics #bucky barnes #maria hill #alpha omega #alpha/beta/omega AU #a/b/o universe #avengers a/b/o

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Three

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I just wanted to warn y'all that we're going to be getting into some messed up shit here. Even more messed up than assault, getting drugged, nearly raped, and peeing on yourself. As always, thank you so much for your patience with these updates, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of a miscarriage and related thoughts, vomiting, daddy Daemon.

The prescribed charcoal remedy had long dried on your stomach, cracking and flaking gray chunks into your sheets. Helaena had left with the sun low in the sky, leaving chaste kisses on yours and Aegon's foreheads. She went to ensure Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were comfortable, and they went down to rest.

Aegon refused to move when the Maester returned for the evening; his arm slung over your chest and nose buried into your neck. Orwyle did his work as if the Prince was not there, wringing a damp, woolen cloth into a bowl of cool water as he removed the hardened remedy from your abdomen.

He observed with wrinkled brows when he saw the Valyrian symbols above your womb, rocking the fabric over your malleable skin as he quelled the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He rinsed the material, the clear water becoming ash as he continued his duties.

Orwyle longed to voice his concerns regarding your health, fiddling with his fingers as he concocted another batch of charcoal and clay. You needed to wake soon so he could ensure your best chance of survival. The first forty-eight hours were the most crucial for those battling Poison Hemlock, and the fact that the Stranger had not taken you was a miracle. Animals who ingested the flowering plant died within a day of doing so, their lungs giving out or seized by convulsions.

The Maester believed you were more robust than he thought. The Mother had unquestionably blessed you with the strength of the Warrior to have you breathing for this long. Or perhaps, he thought, it was the Valyrian Gods of your ancestors, the dragon blood in your veins, that protected you.

The few interactions Orwyle had with you always left him with a joyful feeling, a small ray of light within his darkened quarters filled with dusty and ancient tomes. He tried not to care for your health more than that of a provider and his patient, but he found it challenging.

It was the dichotomy, he thought, of when you were awake, full of life, sparring with words and the swords against men who believed themselves better than you, to now, laying on your soft feather tick mattress with an emotionless, sallow hue to your skin. It caused him anguish. Orwyle was determined to find out who would do such a thing to you, uncharacteristically desiring them to be brought to the Father's justice, and resolved to remind Aegon of the need to do so when your two servants entered the chamber.

Once he finished making another concoction, Aegon waved him off, leaving with a firm yet uneasy bow to the room. The moment he left, Aegon stood, righting his rumpled tunic from his few restless hours of sleep, and addressed Fiora and Jeyne.

"What news have you?" he asked pointedly, gathering the ashy mucilage and brush to apply to your abdomen.

The maids shared a look, Fiora's eyes seeming to have never dried up as she cowered behind her companion. Jeyne inhaled a resolute breath. Her years of working for spoiled, impuissant palace goers was a typical occurrence.

"We have found a servant boy who claims to have seen the Princess's protector enter her chambers hours before your discovery. I believe that there is no coincidence to his absence at her door during that time," she relayed in one steady breath, hands clasped humbly over her lower abdomen.

Aegon grunted, disbelieving the credibility of such a statement. It would be the most obvious answer for Ser Arryk to be the culprit. He was heartbroken that his idyllic image of you shattered and the only one besides Aegon who could get close enough to slip poison in unnoticed. The answer was too simple, too straightforward to be true. A lowly kingsguard was the easiest to blame to save face within the royal family and protect whoever really did this. He still had the feeling within him that his mother had something to do with this. It was no coincidence that days prior, the Queen demanded you to leave, and now suddenly, you were at death's door.

Yes, heartbroken and ego-damaged men were a danger to those around them. Aegon understood that more than any, but Arryk would never go so far as to kill you for it. His oath was still to that of the King.

"Bring me this boy," Aegon said dispassionately, never looking in the maid's direction, simply painting your skin.

Fiora and Jeyne nodded, curtsying as was protocol, and headed for the exit until Aegon stopped them short.

"I'm sure you know that the Hand has barred any ravens from King's Landing to Dragonstone," he inquired, unamused as a sneer curled his lip. "Her family must know what has happened here. The more who know about this assassination attempt on a, perhaps this rat will feel pressured reveal themselves."

They both glanced at each other, Fiora gnawing on her lip as more tears emerged from her viridian eyes. Aegon ignored the servant's weeping and placed the bowl on a writing desk with the rest of the Maester's equipment. He pulled a piece of folded cream parchment from his trousers and hurriedly scribbled, fearing someone getting wind of his plan.

"Here is a letter meant for her father," he stated, flicking the paper between his index and middle finger. "You will not be able to send it through the rookery and must go to a brothel madame within the slums of Flea Bottom. Her name is Babette and she will ensure that my words make it to Dragonstone unhindered," Aegon instructed calmly.

They were stunned. Both maids stood in the doorway to your chambers with slightly parted lips, reminding him of a fish. They had never seen him act like such a... prince. He was raised within the castle walls and had the highest education of anyone in Westeros, yet he never seemed to take advantage of it. The maids heard rumors that Aegon was no longer seen at brothels or gambling houses, though they did not believe such a thing to be valid until now.

Fiora's gaze drifted to your listless form, fiery brows arched in disbelief, slowly drifting back to the white-haired prince. Jeyne was the first of the duo to compose herself and briskly walked forward, taking the wax three-headed dragon seal to her cracked hands. You had changed Aegon in ways that people believed impossible, and if she hadn't realized it until now, then who else knew?

If she, someone who saw you daily, did not know the effort and influence you had over a person, did anyone? The eldest maid felt a pang of sadness in her heart for you as weathered eyes lowered to the stone floor, the memory of her scrubbing away your blood and bile replaying as if she were there again.

Jeyne heard passing gossip that you had brought up concern for the small folk during a council meeting. It was fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of a feather drifting in the wind, and soon she forgot about it. What other accomplishments had you done that no one knew of? It was the plight of women, it seemed, to sacrifice one's soul to receive respect or recognition in the world. Once you awoke, she would tell you how much she saw and that your actions were not in vain.

If you woke up, she grimly realized.

A frown pulled at Jeyne's thin lips as she returned to Fiora's side. Her companion seemed to sense the elder's thoughts, placing a comforting hand at her back. Again, She faced Aegon, his violet eyes never leaving hers as she spoke.

"You are changed, Prince Aegon, and while that does not atone for the wrongs you have done, it shows that you are capable of being better," Jeyne expressed with a firm look on her visage. "It would do her well to know that."

Aegon needn't ask whom she was speaking of. He already knew, a sullen look coming over his face as he focused on the cracks of the stone floor. The memory of your limp body when he found you vividly displayed in his mind's eye.

Jeyne and Fiora exited with brief nods and bent knees, with two different goals in mind. The elder would get the servant boy, and the younger would go to the brothel, madame. They didn't ask why Aegon trusted this woman, but they knew it was useless to try. All that mattered now was ensuring your safety and justice.

A quiet groan caused Aegon to lose his collection of thoughts, swiftly going to your side as he watched your brows arch in pain. Droplets of sweat he had not noticed glistened on your hairline and ran down your temples, grabbing a cloth to blot at the excess perspiration. Your breathing sped, breasts rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Seeing you more alive as Aegon rang the dampened fabric into the bowl was a relief.

Aegon slid into his place next to you, intertwining his fingers with your limp ones as he brought your knuckles to his lips, stroking the thin skin of your hand. His lips pursed in thought. Aegon knew the Keep was full of snakes ready to strike at any opportunity to raise themselves into higher power, no matter the cost. But in his mind, it was too risky to harm a member of the royal family, but others did not seem to share the same sentiment, and anger filled his hardened soul once more.

Aegon tightened his grip on your hand, harsh enough to bend their sides and crackle the bones.

"When you wake, little one, we shall rain dragon fire on who dared hurt you," he declared, sullen face now calloused.

If you wake...

***

You found yourself within a void, darkness surrounding your body clad in a simple white gown. You couldn't see the beginning or end of where you were, as if your eyes were shut, an unending blackness never touched by light. Your hands found their way to your face, fingertips touching your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and the sockets of your eyes to ensure you were, in fact, real.

Memories flashed within your mind, becoming the only thing you could see in the infinite darkness. You recalled voices, wet mouths talking and drinking, tongues licking lips and tasting something rancid and sweet, hands gesturing and twitching, crawling up your legs. Nausea churned your stomach, and pain rippled in your gut, causing you to fall to your knees. The ground was solid; it was real, and suddenly your eyes opened.

The world was still midnight, though you could see a man before you.

But it wasn't a man...

You weren't sure if it was a person, their face covered with an obsidian mantle and the seven-pointed star's insignia woven into their robes. Fear cinched your heart, and your chest rose and fell with quick breaths as you attempted to run, only to be flung back into your spot by an invisible force.

"Who-" you stammered, breaths coming in quick pants, "who are you? Where am I? I-I cannot see."

The being reached an arm in your direction, the fabric slowly drawing back to reveal its skin or lack thereof. Their finger slowly traced down your cheek, cold and warm, comforting and alarming, yet like nothing simultaneously.

"I am what I am," they stated, tone unlike anything you had ever heard. It sounded like the voices of many speaking simultaneously, men, women, children, and everything in between melting into one eerie noise.

"You're here to hurt me, aren't you?" The words did not sound like they came from a grown woman; instead, a young girl high-pitched and hoydenish with fright as tears lined your lashes. Your breath hitched as their fingers left your skin, fear scratching at your throat and squeezing your eyes shut. "Where am I?"

The being stepped backward, seeming to float on the ground as sparkles of white flashed in the air. Stars, you realized, twinkling in the infinite void. For a moment, you were put into a state of wonder, gazing at the bursts of light in awe as the being only stared. It made no movements nor breaths, allowing you to take in the amazement of your surroundings.

"Am I dead?" you asked, finally gaining the courage to voice the most prevalent question in your mind.

"You are in the world between worlds, child. Not dead yet not alive within the realm of your creation," they answered with not a hint of emotion.

You couldn't hide the aghast sob that left your lips at his revelation, your mind reeling. You knew what happened for you to wake here. You drank from a cup tainted with poison that caused your limbs to freeze and your brain to wave, but who did it was unknown. The only picture within your mind was a silhouette of a figure with short, mousy hair and a slouched posture, supporting their weight on something.

You knew who they were. You felt it in your bones, but your mind refused to let you see. Was that your psyche subconsciously trying to protect you, or did the poison affect your memory?

"I don't want to die! What did I do to deserve this?" you wept with blurred vision, looking at the unmoving being before you.

You felt them sigh, though they did not move, their chest not indicating if they had lungs. "New born babes should not be taken from the world before they can sin, yet they are."

An involuntary grimace pulled your face as you licked the briny water from your lips. The world was cruel and uncaring. It took children from mothers before they were ready and kind people into places of darkness. Life was bleak and hopeless and full of negativity. At times, you wondered if there was a point to living when life would always end the same—breathing, eating, fighting, and suffering until you died and were forgotten a hundred years from now.

"I know who you are," you spat, tongue thick as you swallowed tears. "You are a callus and heartless being who takes those undeserving while displaying yourself in a cloak of self-righteousness."

They did not seem angry about what you said and tilted their head in response, examining you like one of Helaena's pinned insects. Its unseen stare unnerved you, appearing like a statue you never prayed to within the Sept. Anger began to well in the place of your unease at their indifference, taking purposeful strides to them before your body was abruptly taken aback, nearly tripping over your feet.

"I am neither good nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine."

It raised the same arm that stroked your cheek and pointed at you, causing panic to grip your chest as the shrouded hands shoved you to the ground, air knocking from your lungs. You struggled against them, the whites of your eyes visible as your arms and legs flailed in their vice-like grip. The being came closer, towering over your writhing form until you could see what hid underneath the obsidian hood.

A face not of this world looked down at you, half human and inhuman, alive yet dead. It was too much for your mind to comprehend as you released a scream, kicking your limbs as you desperately tried to escape from whatever fate awaited you.

The hands pulled at your hair, keeping your head down and unable to see the face of the Stranger any longer.

"No! No, please! I don't want to die!" you beseeched, throat raw from tears and screams as your wide-eyed stare found the Stranger at your feet once more.

"I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood and I have come to take what is mine—one soul. No less," they repeated in an amalgamation of different tones. Your heart broke for the loss not only of life but of what might be.

The Stranger's accusing finger continued to point not at you but at your stomach, your misty stare flickering from yourself to them.

You knew what was to come next. They would rip your heart out before your very eyes, crushing your life source within the secular realm and the divine. You would never wake again, never feel the sun flush your skin or the wind whipping your cheeks on dragon back. Aegon would revert to his old ways of whoring, gambling, and drinking himself into unconsciousness, a crown forced on his head as the realm plunged into war and your kin were slaughtered. Every sacrifice would be for not all due to one simple drink.

Refusing to resign to your fate, you thrashed and screamed in failed attempts at breaking free. There was no escape to this realm—no beginning or end in the vast darkness. There was only you, these unseen hands pulling you into submission, and the Stranger, his digit still raised and pointed.

"What have I done to deserve this?" you wailed, feeling your limbs locked at the joints. "I-I know I was not a devoted follower of the Faith and have sinned, but I repent. I'll pay penance to the Seven each day forth from now on. I'll attend services in the Grand Sept. I'll-I'll refrain from any vices you so wish. Just let me live!"

Your bargaining with the faceless being went unheard, his arm slowly falling to its side as you felt the hidden fingers slither across your abdomen, tearing your nightgown down the middle. Your eyes grew wide with horror, attempting to pry them away with panicked movements only to be thwarted by the others pushing your limbs into the ground.

"Stop!" you screamed, voice cracking as your neck was whipped back, head cracking onto the ground as your vision flashed.

Though you couldn't see them, you could feel them. Their digits indented into your malleable flesh as it broke under pressure, blood seeping from the gashes as a searing pain tore like a thousand cuts of a hot blade through your skin. Blood poured from your stomach and down your sides, soaking your tattered porcelain nightgown into a stained crimson. Wailing in agony, your throat grew sore, limbs twisting and contorted into inhuman positions as you gave under their ravenous scratching.

"Blessed be you, the daughter of the Mother bound to suffer eternal through the sins of your father committed long before your conception," the Stranger prayed, words carrying over your cries. "Blessed be your whore mother, tired and angry, waiting with bated breath on a ferry that will never move again. Blessed be the children. Each and every one who have come to know their god through some senseless act of violence."

The exposed image of your essence caused your heart to become faint, the torment fading into the back of your mind as your vision fluttered and your head became light. It was a small mercy in the ruthless death that you could no longer feel the torture of your organs torn into, limbs twitching in subconscious reflexes.

"Blessed be you, girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you."

The squelching of your insides was sickening as silent tears leaked down your temples, confused as to how you were still alive. No human could survive being disemboweled; the blood loss alone would kill the most robust of men, yet the invisible beings continued to burrow into your insides, seeming as if in search of something.

The Stranger did not move from its place at your feet, observing as your intestines glistened in the twinkling lights of the void.

You felt betrayed by them and those who preached that the Stranger was not a being of good or evil. They were supposed to guide you into the afterlife, not watch as beings threw your organs to the side. They lied. No being would stand there and allow a daughter of the Mother to have her insides turned out. You never feared the Stranger yourself. Death was inevitable, but now you understand why followers of the Seven feared the Stranger.

Cries that were higher pitched than yours yanked you into reality, a single thread pulling your gaze back to your stomach as a babe covered in crimson, glistening with your essence, was ripped from your womb. Confusion, fear, surprise, and desperation surged through you, attempting to pry yourself from your confines again. The cord connecting the child to you still pulsed with blood through the purple and blue veins as it was taken and placed into the hands of the Stranger.

"What are you doing?" you questioned with a thick tone, panic seizing your limbs as you broke from their unseen grip. 

That was yours—something you made solely of your labor, and they were taking it from you. It belonged to you!

You desperately yanked at the fleshy cord still connecting you to your child, the babe's shriek piercing your ears and into your heart. "Please, give it back!" you sobbed, reaching out again only to be shoved. "No! No, please! Please give me back my child! They are mine! They don't deserve this."

You were unsure of what came over you. You had never met this creature before, though it was born of your flesh and blood; you did not want them taken. An instinct to protect the life of something so fragile and innocent lay dormant within your body, coming to fruition. The thought of sacrificing yourself in the babe's place nearly slipped off your tongue, but a sudden light blinded you, pushing the cries of your kin to fade as your eyes burned.

When you came to, you were no longer in an infinite void. Instead, within your chambers, thick, fragrant smoke choked your lungs as the same searing agony from before tore through you. Aegon stood over your writhing form, and his brows arched with concern as he saw your sheets become scarlet.

You stared at him, his eyes glassy and filled with an exhausted longing, as he rushed to your side, grasping your slick palm. "You're alive!" he exclaimed, unable to think clearly through his shock. "You're alive."

Unable to speak, you nodded, sweat and tears dampening your face as another wave of pain knotted within your lower back, forcing a scream. Aegon's violet eyes danced over you, seeing your blood now spread onto your top blanket as his cheeks became devoid of color.

An array of thoughts swirled within his mind like a maelstrom at sea, swiftly lifting the sheet away as he saw the crimson between your legs. His first instinct was to believe that, somehow, the assassin had returned underneath his watchful gaze, paranoia seizing his chest. But Aegon, still confused as to what was happening, gripped your hand impossibly tighter, causing a groan that rumbled in your lungs.

"The Maester," you managed to breathe through gritted teeth. "Get the Maester, Aegon."

He paused for a moment too long, and another cramp went through you, wailing with a clenched jaw and shut eyes as your body arched in pain. The prince did not need to be told twice as he watched the woman he loved beg the Gods for mercy, swiftly exiting your room as he ran to Orwyle's chambers, your cries becoming distant within the pale red stone walls.

The man in question opened the door with tired eyes to the Prince's incessant pounding. He did not need him to explain. He knew it had something to do with you as he hastily gathered supplies and the seven-pointed star necklace on his person. What Orwyle did not expect to see when he entered your humid chambers were you on all fours, grunting and straining with blood-soaked hands and bedclothes, sweat discoloring your once pristine nightdress.

He went quickly into action, ordering Aegon to summon your maids as he stood there listlessly, unable to comprehend the urgent words over the sounds of your shrieks. Aegon was unsure when he finally summoned Jeyne and Fiora, the pair looking perplexed before spotting their Lady. Both quickly went into action, following Maester Orwyle's instructions, scattering in and out of your chambers with different items.

Aegon could not think as he observed the events unfold before him. It was all too much. He couldn't process the abrupt chain of events. One moment, you were laying there, breaths barely audible, now suddenly panting and sobbing for an end he was not sure he wanted to see. Aegon did not know if this was an effect of the poison as his distant eyes met yours, lips mouthing something he strained to hear. He could not bear to lose you. He finally had love within his grasp after years of yearning only for it to be promptly taken away before properly basking in its warmth.

Aegon, who was so focused on the end of something, could not see the future before him, staring with violet-rimmed pupils within thick lashes, begging him to bring comfort. Finally, he could hear you, a rush of sounds and voices barraging his senses as you strained a grunt for him to come near.

You took his fist in yours, the other clutching the footboard as sweat ran down your neck. It felt as if your head was about to burst from your skull with each contraction, panting like an exerted animal.

"It's almost over now, Princess. You just need to pass the biggest part," encouraged Jeyne, a soothing maternal presence in a place that lacked it. "Come now. In through your nose and push out your mouth."

Nodding fervently, you did as told, inhaling deeply and growling with downward force, bringing your arm to wrap around Aegon for support. You needed the closeness and comfort a loved one brought as you went through this traumatic event.

Tears from above sprinkled on your damp hair. Streaks of wetness lined Aegon's cheeks as much as they did yours as another cramp rolled through you.

"What's happening?" he whispered against your cheek, breath uncomfortably hot.

Surprise dawned on your features as the pain ebbed for a merciful moment, resting on your knees. Your free hand grasped his silver roots in support as your other led Aegon down to your stomach, unable to speak. He stared with wrinkled brows and glassy purple eyes as you allowed him to apply pressure there. You need not tell him the reason in words as he glanced down. It could only be one thing.

"You are with child?" he questioned softly, tenderly stroking the area with his thumb.

You nodded, the cramps rising and commanding your body to gush more gelatinous blood. "I saw her. She was right there and they took her from me. Straight from my womb as she wailed."

"Who? Who took her from you?" he asked, free head tangling within your matted hair as you rested your forehead against his.

"The Stranger."

Aegon believed this to be the ramblings of someone in labor, the blood loss not helping to have a clear mind.

The death of a child, whether in this realm or within the womb, hurts immeasurably. The loss of something you could see and touch, something you formed a connection with, brought immense suffering to you and many of those around you, but it wasn't grief to bear alone. Having a life stolen from inside you created feelings of failure and doubts about your body's natural capabilities in isolation, morphing into self-blame and loathing of what could have been if only you were different.

But it was not your fault, not in this or any other sense. Your body did its natural process of protecting you, and even though you did not meet the child in its complete form, there was still a connection to mourn.

So deep within your thoughts, you did not hear the opening of oak doors, two pairs of footfalls storming into the room as your support was suddenly ripped away. Your fists balled into the crumpled sheets in compensation. Aegon struggled in Ser Criston's ironclad grip on his collar as you felt the sudden urge to push, push, push.

"Yes, Princess, yes! Keep going, more is coming out! You're almost finished," Fiora cheered, kneeling in Aegon's place as she clasped her fists around yours.

"Bring him back! I want Aegon!" you shouted. "I need him, please!"

At your cries, the Prince felt panic begin to take root, a terror and desperation to get to you that was so visceral that he did the only thing he could. Aegon growled and bit down on the fleshy part of Ser Criston's palm that met his thumb and forefinger, breaking the skin as blood stained his lips scarlet. The knight howled in pain, releasing the Prince on instinct as he attempted to return, only to have his mother stand in the way.

"Aegon, you needn't worry about her now. She is in capable hands," Alicent attempted to placate, her voice as gentle and maternal as when he was a child.

He paid no mind to her false coos and shoved the Queen out of his way, uncaring as she landed into a corner of furniture that stabbed her side. Ser Criston swiftly regained his composure at his Lady's shriek, once again grabbing Aegon by the fabric of his tunic and towards the exit.

"She is your Queen and mother! How dare you lay hands on her!" Criston admonished and struck the Prince with an armored grip upside his head as if he were no more than an insolent mutt.

You protested the action, begging the Queen, Ser Criston, the Maester, or anyone who would hear your pleas to bring Aegon back to you, but no one listened. The Queen was the highest authority in the room. Her word was law, and you were nothing but a lowly bastard dressed in fancy clothes and titles left without regard.

"Mother! Please, don't do this. She's with child!" the Prince beseeched, unruly locks of unkempt silver strewn across his pale face.

"Not anymore," Ser Criston jeered as his vision met the blood-stained sheets, dragging a raging Aegon away.

Alicent stood, righting herself and smoothing the fabric of her peridot gown with jeweled fingers. "You do not have the right to make such demands, Aegon. Leave at once. We shall discuss this later."

She couldn't stand to look at him, the shame of everything weighing heavier than all man's sins, as Alicent turned her brown orbs away from her son. He had sired bastards before, as had many Targaryen men, but one within his own house, with another bastard no less, was too much for the Queen's mind to comprehend.

The doors to your chambers slammed shut, rattling your bones as sobs of defeat tore through your throat. Your body did not allow you to mourn Aegon's absence, focusing your efforts as your muscles forcefully contracted, expelling the last of the thick matter out of your womb and onto the bedclothes. Fiora stroked your sweat-knotted hair as the pain subsided into dull cramps, reminding you of a particularly rough moon's blood, lungs slowly inhaling as your body relaxed.

Maester Orwyle began dabbing at your temples and neck as you sat, breathing heavily through your nose. "You did well, my lady," he praised quietly, glancing over his shoulder to Alicent, who stood staring into the hearth with her thumb in her mouth.

You sighed in acknowledgment, eyes briefly shutting as your fury gave you the energy to speak. "You are a cruel woman, Alicent." Your words were a dagger straight to her heart as you wiped your stained hands on your nightgown.

She turned to you and quickly placed her arms at her side, trying to put on an air of pomp that the situation did not need. "Tis hardly proper for a man to witness the pains of a miscarriage," she answered as if rehearsed.

"Proper?" you asked rhetorically. "I was dying and all you cared about was fucking propriety?" you snarled, rising to your knees with a wince, nerves alight.

The Queen did not dare say more, her conscience gnawing at the back of her mind like her teeth to her lip. "I know this was your doing," you spat, allowing Jeyne to help you onto your plush settee as the Maester began to clean your stained thighs.

The two women who had been with you since the moment you were forced to call the Red Keep a home gathered your soiled linens, stripping your bed without needing to be told. The sight brought warmth to your heart you had thought died moments ago. Through the brief time of Ser Dalton Greyjoy's presence to dutifully covering marks left behind from stolen moments with Aegon, Jeyne and Fiora's loyalty did not waver. Most maids would be eager to pass on gossip and rumors among the nobility for a chance at some coin. Or perhaps to provide themselves some entertainment in their less fortunate lives, but your two maidservants did not.

You were overwhelmed by a sudden gratefulness for them, longing to bring them into your embrace to sing praises and shout thank yous, but the Queen's looming presence forbade it. There was uncertainty about why she was here. Undoubtedly, the same woman who all but told you to leave King's Landing was not concerned for your well-being. You were hardly but an insect pestering her with your annoying, buzzing wings.

"Is it not enough that you've murdered the last remaining blood of my mother? Now you must take the life of my unborn child," you grunted, adjusting your position on the plush, emerald cushions as nausea struck through your core.

The Queen gasped, and everyone in the room looked weary, certain they were not supposed to hear this. "I would do no such thing, Princess," Alicent rebutted with a horror-stricken expression. "You are being unreasonable. 'Twas whoever snuck into your chambers and poisoned you that did this! Do not blame me for your misfortune."

A hollow laugh escaped your chest at her words, swallowing the bile that rose with the lingering cramps. "Oh, but how fortunate for you," you replied bitterly, the jab tasting acrid on your tongue. You wanted her to leave, to let you grieve the loss of a future you would never know, but she refused, implanting herself into the lives of others to ensure her gains were met. "Have I not earned my place here? Have I not sacrificed enough?"

"You know nothing of sacrifice," Alicent rejected quickly, snapping her avoidant gaze to yours.

"Don't I?" you chortled. The laughter sent your stomach into knots, but you pressed on, nudging Maester Orwyle away to stand upright, much to his concern. "Have I not done what you commanded of me? Kept your son from whoring and drinking himself to death on the streets of Flea Bottom? Do you remember the day you wrote to me? How you implored me to come to King's Landing and herd your son back to the Keep?" you sneered, tears of frustration and sadness welling in your puffy, bloodshot eyes.

No matter how desperately you wished to do so, you would not break in front of the Queen, heart empty as you spoke, blood trickling down your leg. "I have done what you asked and more. I've made Aegon understand the responsibility of his birth. He does not gamble or whore, gluttony is no longer a vice. He's become a better husband, brother, and father. He is everything you want him to be because of me!" Your voice wavered, barely containing a gag that pulled your lip muscles, threatening to become something more.

Realization struck you as you observed the Queen stand underneath your rage. All your life, you have served others to attain recognition in their eyes, whether to prove yourself competent or receive the love and acceptance every child craved. With your father, desperately eager to please him, to show him and all others that you were not the baseborn bastard daughter of a whore---that you could hold your own and make a name for yourself. Your desperation to prove yourself would be your downfall, but no longer would you allow yourself to be the subject of your insecurities. Worth was not dictated by what you did for others but by what you thought of yourself.

"Now that I no longer serve to further your schemes of putting Aegon on the throne, you see it fit to discard me as if I am nothing but a piece thrown about the board, sacrificed to achieve victory." Your anger was palpable, striking the Queen into her soul without physical action.

Alicent inhaled sharply, glancing at your maids and the Maester, who had all seemed to have halted their tasks. Your words were a mirror to her as anxiety began to flutter within her gut underneath so many stares. Hands once primly placed at her side were now picking at the skin of one another, a nervous tick she never broke. She did not know these people. She did not trust them not to run to the nearest lord, who was desperate for Rhaenyra's favor with word of treachery.

"What you claim is treason and not from a sound mind," she protested, her voice velvet. The Queen knew that if she spent a moment longer discussing secrets that had been unsaid, they would finally surface to harm the steps made to plant Aegon on the throne.

You opened your mouth to speak once more, but Alicent's smooth voice was quick to interject.

"Maester, I believe the Princess has gone into hysteria due to the poison. She is not thinking clearly."

You began to argue, but the feeling of nausea overcame you, and you quickly stumbled to your chamber pot as the little contents of your stomach exited. Fiora and Jeyne rushed to your side, holding your tangled strands from your face as the other rubbed soothing circles across your lower back.

"Her hysteria is dangerous to herself and those around her, Maester. I believe milk of the poppy will numb her mind enough until she is well again," Alicent said with pursed lips, staring down at your hunched back from under her nose.

Orwyle blanched, understanding that this was not a suggestion but a request. Who was he to deny the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms? "Your thoughtfulness for the Princess moves me deeply, your grace. However, any attempt to sedate her now would put her at more unneeded risk. She has lost far too much blood, and I must monitor her health."

The Queen's jaw clenched, teeth grinding at the man's tenacity. What did you have that gave people such a steadfast honor to protect you? Unlike her, you could not give them titles, land, or money in compensation. She was the Queen. They were supposed to serve her and bend to her will. Yet, they tended to your well-being with unyielding devotion, even in the face of one of Westeros's most influential people. Why did they not stand with her? Did a Queen not offer more than a bastard? Why not her? 

Why not me? Why not me? Why not me?

Envy ran hot through her veins at the thought. 

The three servants knew what this was—an attempt to control the situation and narrative, to prove that Queen Alicent would remain the all-encompassing figure of power and dominance, not some young, pretty bastard girl who bewitched all those around her.

"I shall not allow another danger to lurk about my home, especially one that deceives. We already have her assassin to worry about." She ignored your scoff, her words velvet but holding an icy undertone.

When Maester Orwyle did not move, Alicent shifted, palms conjoined just below her heart as she raised a manicured brow. "Do it Maester or I will have my guards do it for you."

He hesitated again, gaze flickering to your slouched one leaning onto your ladies for support. You gave him a solemn nod, conveying with a single look that you would not resist. If this would get Alicent to leave the four of you alone and allow you to mourn peacefully... so be it. It would be better for you and them. You would not have to think about what happened for at least a little longer, and perhaps the pain would be gone when you woke, and your beloved Prince would be at your side once more. But hope was a double-edged sword. Each side was as sharp and brutal as the other and cut equally profoundly.

***

The air was cold on Dragonstone, with a salty bite stinging Prince Daemon's flushed cheeks as he stood on a brimstone balcony overlooking where Blackwater Bay met the Narrow Sea. The moons spent without his daughter chipped at his war-hardened soul, revealing the center he kept tucked away, though many did not see it.

People believed Daemon to be a cruel, calculating man deserving of the title "Rogue Prince." And while they were not wrong, it did not mean that the same sentiment traveled to the treatment of his family. He was devoted to his wife, stepsons, and true-born children, tending to them as a shepherd would his flock. He no longer cared for the war in the Stepstones or any battle, focusing his efforts on the future, a future for his family that seemed to grow more uncertain as his brother's health declined.

While he did feel guilt knock at his hollow chest when he thought about his eldest daughter, the life she was born into, the life she was kept from and forced to live, he did not have regrets. Daemon would, a thousand times over, accept you into his heart.

You were a part of him he did not know was missing, fitting so perfectly into his cracked soul that not even Rhaenyra's love could mend. You are as much of his blood as the young Aegon, Viserys, and the babe that grew stronger every passing day within his wife's womb. There was a special connection between the two of you that only a father of a girl could comprehend. He now understood why his brother passed him in favor of Rhaenyra becoming heir, for if he had the choice, you would serve to inherit all he had.

Daemon longed to have you at his side again, listening intently to whatever thoughts, happenings, and plans you had. The council meetings around the Painted Table grew increasingly irksome as he patiently awaited your next raven. Rhaenyra brought Jace along to more than one gathering with the pompous lords. Daemon admired the boy's fire and tenacity, yet he always seemed to lack the mature awareness you seemed to possess—no doubt a byproduct of your vastly different upbringings.

It had been a sennight since your last word, the longest Daemon had ever waited, and he grew antsy with each passing hour. He found himself pacing the sandy beaches across the island, climbing the same mountains and hills he forced you to in training. Memories were what he felt he had left of you now and that of the written word.

"My love."

He heard his wife's tender voice calling him inside. "You will hear from her soon. I know it."

Rhaenyra's soft hand found Daemon's, bringing it to the growing bump underneath her Myrish lace dress. The notion grounded him as much as her as they pressed their foreheads together, sharing a kiss full of all the longing and melancholy he kept hidden within himself.

It was not until late evening, as he and his wife retired to their chambers for rest, that a footman knocked, revealing a single piece of parchment atop a bronze platter. Daemon's heart leaped for joy, knowing it could only be one thing, and he hastily tore at the three-headed dragon seal.

Rhaenyra allowed her husband to read in silence, brushing out her long, snowy hair as she hummed a tune her late mother used to sing, absentmindedly stroking the life tucked below her breast. When her task was done, and she had secured herself within her thick nightdress, she turned to Daemon, his hunched spine facing her over their shared writing desk.

"What news does she have, my darling?" Rhaenyra sang, combing a fragrant oil through her strands. She prodded him further at his silence, eager to know what her chosen daughter said. "Has another lord insulted her again? You mustn't worry about it like last time. She is more than capable of defending herself."

Daemon did not answer, a strained, choked sound that his wife had never heard before emitting from his throat. Rhaenyra turned, swiftly walking to him as she smoothed a palm down the crown of his head to his nape. "Love?"

"She's dying."

"What?" Rhaenyra stammered, taking a step back.

"She was poisoned. The Greens have obstructed all communications with Dragonstone, and the sender is unsure if she will be alive by the time I read this," he answered, paper trembling.

The shock paralyzed all rationality. Rhaenyra didn't know what to think or feel. "Who sent this to you?" she ardently asked. The world around her became fuzzy, and her head went light as she braced herself against the wooden desk.

Daemon flipped the parchment over, searching for any indication of who the sender could be, but found none. "It has the royal seal, yet there is no signage."

His wife had no answer, dread beginning to take hold of her chest as tears collected in her amethyst eyes. A sob escaped Rhaenyra. The pain, the suffering you must have been through, was enough to make her faint, knees buckling as she struggled to stay upright—her poor child. Poor perzītsos dampened until they snuffed out her flame.

Daemon was lost within the confines of his mind. Fear, betrayal, sadness, and anger coursed through him, roaring the dragon blood to life in his veins. 

He felt powerless living on an island away from the daughter he loved, unable to fulfill his role as father and protector. It was a failure on his part not to see what the Hightowers could do. Their schemes and treachery reached from King's Landing to Oldtown, an ancient family with roots among the elites of Westeros. There was a reason they held onto power for so long, and it was not by allowing one unexpected person to throw them awry.

Swiftly, Daemon stood, throwing the sturdy wooden chair behind him with the force of his legs. He gripped the letter with an iron fist, wrinkling the parchment under pressure as he went for the door.

"Daemon," Rhaenyra called, struggling to steady her breath. "Where are you heading?"

The Rogue Prince paused just before the exit, turning on his heel to face his wife, crumpled paper raised high in his hand.

"To burn that green bitch and her cunt father," he proclaimed, a fire within his voice that assured he would keep his word. "They will pay for what they have done to our daughter." 

Rhaenyra understood that convincing him otherwise was futile, and deep down, she didn't want to. Despite not being her biological child, she held you in her heart as her own. She wouldn't stand in the way of Daemon's quest for retribution, knowing that he would spare no effort if their roles reversed. With a brief nod, she left him and settled into a cushioned chair.

Daemon stormed through the brimstone halls of Dragonstone, leather riding boots echoing his every step. He had only one goal, one in which he had no care for the consequences of as he reached the cave where his ride was housed. The Rogue Prince climbed the ropes of Caraxes as the Keepers struggled to untether the beast, mounting atop his dragon and fastening the chains in the saddle.

The Blood Wyrm chirped with a puff of smoke through its nostrils as Daemon snapped the reins, sending the dragon forward and out of the cave. He did not care as the frigid wind cracked like whips against his exposed skin, flying higher—faster to his destination, death and destruction trailing behind beating crimson wings. His daughter would be avenged even if it meant the whole Keep would be nothing but ash and bone by sunset.

Masterlist of Series

Daddy's on his way, babies! Are we excited? I know I am! I hope this chapter wasn't too sad for y'all. I've never had a miscarriage before or have been pregnant. I wanted to make the most accurate portrayal by talking with people I know who have had one or been pregnant. I apologize if I've offended or triggered anyone with what I wrote. Thank you again for your understanding and patience while waiting for these updates. Life has been chaotic!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry4, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @hjgdhghoe, @im-sidney, @aurorathi, @marihoneywk, @xitsemm, @justbelljust, @qardasngan

#house of the dragon #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x you #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon ii smut #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #hotd alicent #alicent hightower

[deathmetalunicorn1]

can I request an Emperor!male!reader who was known as the Conqueror who died of heartbreak (after his daughter’s death) and the moment he died his empire that he expanded basically fell apart since his daughter was his only heir and she died before him which left his generals and the nobles fighting for his position, oh also I want him to die at like 32 while his daughter was 17 (yes I want his daughter to be illegitimate since he wasn’t married and he had her when he was 15, and he fought his father, the emperor at the time to legalise her which his dad refused but the moment his dad died and he became emperor he legalised his daughter and made her his only heir)

-Historians regarded you as a wonderful leader, you were honorable, loyal, and you led your empire to glory days while you ruled.

-However, the thing that most praised you for was that you were a family man first and foremost. To you, your family was the most important thing, and many adored you for that, because it made you more human. You were an emperor, but you were a human first.

-Your love for your family came from your daughter, whom you had out of wedlock and when you were young, only fifteen. Because she was a bastard child, your father refused to recognize her as your child.

-You made sure your darling daughter had more love than anyone else you came across, even her own mother, a concubine, as well as your other concubines, ones who all wanted to be your future bride and consort.

-The moment your father died and you ascended the throne, the first thing you did was legalize your daughter as your heir, something many thought was unusual, as most would make the first-born son the heir, but not you- your daughter was there first so she was your heir.

-This angered the other concubines, who wanted their sons to be the heir, as they would have an easy life once their son took the throne, this wasn’t going to happen with your daughter in the way.

-That’s why they did something about it, poisoning her on her seventeenth birthday, during her banquet you had prepared for her, but the concubines were sloppy and quickly caught. You immediately arranged for them to be executed, showing everyone what they had done, killing the precious princess, and many agreed with your decision.

-However, losing her, losing your daughter so suddenly, so quickly, you quickly fell ill, your heart breaking, and you passed within a few days.

-The empire you worked so hard to make into a prosperous nation quickly crumbled and fell, as you had named no other heir, not one of your other children or one of your trusted advisors and your empire fell in a mad grab for power.

-In Valhalla where you were welcomed as a hero, one who was a fine example for a leader, you kept to yourself, still mourning your daughter who had not ascended to Valhalla as well. You had lost her twice, and you mourned not being able to see her ever again.

-As your grief healed slowly, over the many years, you became a mentor, despite your own young age, being in your early thirties, and you met with other notable leaders throughout history, making friendships and bonds with them.

-Many knew of your love for your child and how cruelly she had been snatched away from you, but they knew not to bring it up.

-Many of them didn’t know the pain of the losing a child, but they had seen how fragile you were when you were thinking about her, when they only knew you to be a strong leader- it was like you were a different person.

-The two that you were closest too was Apollo and Qin Shi Huang, it was an odd-looking group, the three of you, but you were all very similar in personality, you were confident, sometimes cocky, but very wise and all good leaders in your own right.

-You and QSH had similarities because you were both emperors as well as some of histories greatest leaders, so you had that kinship, as you both knew firsthand how rough being an emperor was, but you also knew how to be good leaders, in helping others, fighting alongside your people and not just commanding them.

-Apollo was the one who saw you first, admiring you from afar, you were in a position of power, but you weren’t cruel or arrogant, you seemed so- so human, so down to earth, yet you wore your emotions on your sleeve.

-Apollo liked that about you- you didn’t try to put on a mask, hiding who you really were, you were just you- you were just Y/N.

-Both of them were rather protective of you, protective against those who knew your one weakness and would try to use it against you and while they could tell that you were trying to remain strong, seeing others being so unnecessarily cruel, broke your heart.

-Apollo was usually the first to step in, ripping our accosters a new one, before QSH would join in, asking if they had ever lost a child. This would usually shut them up, making them realize that what you were feeling was the pain only someone who had lost a child would feel, it made them think of their children, it made them think of what it would feel like if they lost their children.

-You were grateful to your friends defending you- sticking up for you, as they couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain or the sorrow you must be feeling, but that’s why they protected you, as they knew what it was like to feel powerless, to feel useless, and if they could help you like how you helped them when they were feeling low, they would never hesitate.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror apollo #ror qin shi huang

[cicerenella]

Omg please give us more info of HRE and Italy 😙 what is their story?

(Of course dear anon! But first, I have to warn y'all: HRE's canon characterization is...a big mess. As a history nerd, I tried to find a more "accurate" way to depict him, so if it distances a bit from canon I am sorry! Also chibitalia makes no sense along with chibiromano, so we scrap them here. Long post ahead.)

Italy-HRE relationship: my take on it!🇮🇹

Before actually starting to look at their relationship, I think I have to make it clear that I envision HRE as Germania's son rather than grandson. That is because it is a general conception that both Prussia and Germany are Germania's sons, and so to make HRE his grandson (mind you, HRE is older than germany!) makes...no sense. Also, if you think HRE is Germany, this depiction might help. Moreover, this headcanon is more of an help to keep the plot linear rather than an historical fact.

Another point is his age. I really do not like chibitalia, and think that the whole thing of making Feli dress like a girl is...creepy? So again, I scrap this whole bullshit, since HRE and Italy are already several centuries old when they start having a relationship. HRE officially was created in 800 with Charlemagne, but similar to the Italy Brothers case, I depict HRE being "born" a bit before that, since he is Germania's son and was most likely alive before his dad died (poor guy). That makes him a bit younger than Feli.

So we come to the year 800! A 11 year old looking Feli is brought in the new and shining Holy Roman Empire and he...is not enthusiast about it.

HRE says in canon that he started loving Italy ever since the 900s, and I actually really like this touch. The first century is most likely feli getting used to live in such a different context, and their relationship was not good at the start. So HRE actually having a middle school kinda crush for one of his territories is actually so cute. Mind you that here they were still fairly young looking, so it was mostly puppy (for now unrequited) love between a young empire and his conquered land.

Fast forward to roughly 4 centuries! Both HRE and Feli grew up to their late teens/early adulthood, and the latter in particular started to gain more and more autonomy from his "young emperor". Venice was starting to affirm in Europe as a powerful Republic, the duchy of Tuscany flourishing with arts, Genoa becoming a maritime power... y'know, he was getting bitches around Europe.

And HRE? The crush for Italy just never left, and it only got stronger as they grew. Feli was now his sorta-equal, and he admired him so much at this point. And so I hc that roughly around the second half of the XIV century, they started "dating". (Oh and to make it clear, I don't make the whole "HRE thinks italy is a girl blah blah" because gay rights♡♡) whereas it was their first serious relationship with another nation.

I like to hc that HRE gave Feli his "Veneziano" nickname, since he used to call him "his beautiful veneziano" everytime they met. because they both struggled a lot during that time, with Feli trying to manage the rivalries between Tuscan cities and HRE managing whatever the hell was his empire (LMAOO).

now, regarding the death of HRE, the official date of dissolution of the empire was around 1806. in hetalia however, it is implied that HRE died in the Thirty Years War, and so that bring us almost two centuries before in 1648. I honestly want to keep this as the period that he died, mostly because it adds more...tragicness? to it. although I have to bang my head against a wall trying to understand who the hell replaced this guy after his death. (Prussia?? Austria??)

anyways, this guy goes to war and he NEVER returns. nation death is not common, and especially not something that happens everyday, so across Europe it was a big shock to hear when across the battlefield the corpse of the once Holy Roman Empire was retrieved. And you can also imagine the utter shock that feli upon learning about his lover's death.

It scarred him, a lot. HRE was his "first love" and he was the one that gave him the utmost respect. even months after his funeral, feli still waited for a letter from him hell, one singular word even! but of course, this was just a product of his grief stricken head. this is also why I headcanon him as being very frivolous in his sentimental life, since the only time he had love, it had been ripped away from him in the cruellest way possible.

#hetalia #hws hre #hws italy #headcanons #this is also a long post eheh #hope you guys like it! #do i tag it as gerita tho #uuuuh fuck it #gerita

[lovedreamer11]

Westeros couples with large age gaps

Okay, today I want to write about the age gap among Westeros couples. This will be a long post. I got this idea after seeing a post calling Daemon a pedophile for the hundredth time. I would understand if this was written by people who are concerned about Rhaenyra’s well-being, but no. The authors of such statements are most often green fans who don’t care about Rhaenyra and are looking for another reason to write nasty things about Daemon.

The sexual relationship between Daemon and Rhaenyra began when the princess was 15 and the prince 31. From a modern point of view, this is terrible, I admit. If I had a daughter, I would never have allowed her to have a relationship with such a big age difference when she was 15. But at that time, others were more embarrassed by the fact of an extramarital affair than by the fact of an extramarital affair. age difference. Rhaenyra was lucky in a way. I mean, before the war, Daemon was good to her. They spent a lot of time together, expensive gifts, compliments. Maesters love to discuss Daemon and Rhaenyra's relationship during the war, but before the war there was not a single mention of adultery in the ten years of marriage. Moreover, shortly before the war, Daemon and Rhaenyra conceived another child, and the entire time the princess was carrying Visenya, her husband was always nearby. And even at 49 years old, Daemon was still an attractive man.

Let's look at other couples.

Rhaenys and Corlys. The age difference between them is 21 years. Corlys is older than Rhaenys's father, Prince Aemon. But this did not bother anyone. The princess's grandfather himself, King Jaehaerys, approved of this marriage and stated that Rhaenys could not have chosen a better man. And Rhaenys was only 16 years old, while Corlys was 37 years old. She was his wife almost all her life. 39 years of marriage.

What do you think of the age difference between Corlys and the mother of his illegitimate sons? 44 years old. My grandfather was 44 when I was born. And it wasn’t even a one-night stand, since there were two children. The boys lived with their mother in the village, while Corlys did nothing for the boys' well-being over the years, as he was too afraid of his wife's reaction.

Next up are Princess Daella Targaryen and Lord Rodrik Arryn, who are 21 years apart in age. I admit, I don't feel any animosity towards this couple. After all, thanks to them, Aemma Arryn was born, and after Rhaenyra Targaryen. But there are some points that confuse me. First, the reasons why Daella chose Lord Arryn is that he reminds her of her father. The second thing is that, according to Alysanne, Rodrik loved the princess for many years and did not hide it. I'm sorry, many years? Daella was 16 when the wedding took place. How old was Daella when a thirty-year-old man and father of four children liked her? There's an even better question. If Alysanne knew that the councilman was in love with her daughter, who was younger than his own eldest daughter, then why didn't she do anything?

What will people say about Lady Baela Targaryen and Thaddeus Rowan, who was 40 years older than the girl? Here is his description.

"Lord Rowan is forty years my senior, bald as a stone, with a belly that weighs more than I do."

Every girl's dream, isn't it? Fortunately, Baela was able to avoid such a marriage, but Floris Baratheon was not so lucky. Thaddeus was 42 years older than the girl, and Floris herself got married at 14. To make matters worse, a few years later the poor girl died during childbirth.

What about between the engagement between Princess Viserra Targaryen and Lord Theomore Manderly, who was 30-40 years older than the bride? To make matters worse, he outlived four of his wives and had several heirs. Viserra would be doomed to spend the rest of her life in a foreign land, with an old and ugly husband, and her children, if they were born, would not receive any inheritance. I just can’t believe that such a marriage was arranged for a girl by her own mother.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen (daughter of Aegon the Unworthy) at the age of 15 married Prince Maron Martell, who was 14-25 years older than her. The marriage was an arranged one and, according to GRRM, Daenerys herself was in love with her illegitimate brother Daemon Blackfire. But at least it seems that Maron was kind to his wife, and Daenerys herself became the wife of the Prince of Dorne. I would like to believe that Daenerys was able to find happiness in this marriage.

Lysa Tully was born between 266 and 268. Her first husband, Jon Arryn, was born between 218 and 220. The age difference between them is almost fifty years. Jon was old enough to be a father to Hoster Tully, Lysa's father. I have never felt love for Lysa Arryn, but I feel sorry for her. She was unhappy almost all her life, and due to her past abortion, she was unable to become a mother for a long time. Jon was kind to wife and their marriage gave Lysa power over the Valley, but still the power did not make Lysa happy.

Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo. Their age difference is somewhere between 15-20 years. GOT tried to romanticize this couple, but I don’t see romance. I apologize to the fans of this couple. But Dany is a real victim of Stockholm syndrome. I really feel sorry for fourteen-year-old Daenerys, who convinced herself that there was great love between her and Drogo.

Lord Walder Frey and his eighth wife Lady Joyeuse Erenford. Attention, the age difference between them is 74 years! Walder is an old and rude old man who has more than ten heirs. The poor girl will just waste her youth on her husband and be unhappy all her life.

Larra Rogare and Prince Viserys Targaryen. Their age difference is only seven years. Not as much as previous couples. Everything would not be so bad if Viserys was 16 years old and Larra 23, but no. When the couple got married, the prince was only 12 years old, and at 13 he became a father. This is normal?!

The next couple will surprise everyone. This is Maegor Targaryen and Ceryse Hightower, who was 10 years older than her husband. Then again, if Maegor was 16 and Ceryse was 26, everything would be fine. But Maegor was only thirteen. At that time, he had not yet become a murderer of relatives and a usurper, he was a child. Problematic, but still a child. I blame Aegon and Visenya for allowing their son to marry so early rather than wait at least two or three more years.

The point is that in Westeros marriages with large age differences constantly occurred. This is truly terrible. Some were able to find happiness in their marriage, some avoided it, some remained unhappy for the rest of their lives. This post may seem chaotic to some, but don't judge me. I got sick a little bit.

#daemyra #only books #just my thoughts #fans of the following couples #please don't kill me #team black #asoiaf #fire and blood

[yourantag]

Rises the Moon (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: 3 posts in a row? More likely than you'd think! The next is probably gonna be dropped on New Years since I heard if you post too much at once, you can get shadow banned. Still, gotta feed you guys the few things I've written before I'm dragged back to school. This fic was actually written in August for the Ithaqua server's Ithaugust. The prompt was "you forgot, but I remember." I was between hitting the reader with a car k-drama style or this, but luckily I ended up with this. Enjoy! Word count: 2.0k words TW: Mild violence, death, and yandere themes. Summary: The sun god has always loved the deity of the moon. Even as galaxies collided and the stars died, he has loved them. But fate is not kind, ripping you away from him. Again, and again, and again. So, even if you cry, he can only apologize. He'd rather confine you in these walls than lose you ever again.

"What do you think of mortals, my sun?"

"They're selfish fools who yearn for more than they need, so easily consumed by greed."

"My, such cruel generalizations. Not all of them are like that."

"Perhaps, but can you truly claim that most are innocent?"

"I suppose not, but I believe in it."

"Believe in what?"

"The good in humanity. I'm willing to bet my life on it."

-

The ebbing and flowing of time was as inevitable as the pushing and pulling of the tides, taking with it lives and memories of the past. With each rotation of the sun, the rise of a new moon, and the occasional visits of comets and asteroids from beyond, life continued. Regardless of the pain and suffering of those who lived on, the world continued to turn, just as time continued to march on. Sometimes, Ithaqua wished it would just stop.

Thirty million, two hundred two thousand, and twenty three years have passed.

Twenty five human lifetimes have come and gone, each one leaving him more grief-stricken than before.

Every encounter with you was as devastating as the last, leaving Ithaqua yearning to see you again while praying he didn't. Every time he met you, you'd steal his heart again, as if you could steal something that was already yours to begin with. Yet, still, he'd fall in love with you again and again, lifetime after lifetime, like a fool.

Each life only really started when he met you, held you in his arms, and loved you. Then, tragically, horribly, unavoidably, his life ended when you died.

The first life had been fine, the two of you born as commoners in some civilization long past. It was a hard life of surviving the elements, fending off wild animals, and trying to just live in a world humans had not yet adapted to. Still, however difficult it was, Ithaqua treasured the memories of that life as it had taught him so much about humans. 

Such resilient creatures, capable of persevering and creating. He saw just how brilliant they were, and just how stupid as well. They could take down animals twice their size and weight yet couldn't figure out how to navigate. 

Incredible. 

Regardless, sitting around campfires, singing songs, running in the fields and just living was invigorating. Ithaqua came to appreciate life and the small things within it; from the crunching of leaves to the chirping of birds, the blue seas and the cloudy skies. The views and experiences he'd never get to have as a god, the ones he'd never get to know or love as an immortal, even the very essence of fleeting lives became so, so very beautiful to him.

Humans were nothing compared to the gods, but when Ithaqua sat among them, talked to them, laughed with them, he came to find that you were right. Despite how difficult it was to live in this world, humans still held kindness for each other. They offered him food despite not having much for themselves. They offered him shelter despite not having much room. They offered him help despite needing help themselves.

Such complicated, foolish, yet oddly kind creatures they were, but that made them all the more charming. Ithaqua genuinely considered that the humans in this world were unlike the ones from the last, that they were truly good. They treated the two of you so well, and taught him so much.

The last lesson they ever taught him was just how far they'd go to ensure their own survival.

It wasn't something Ithaqua ever expected to experience, not when he had been a god his whole life. The rumble of the earth as it trembled under the stamping feet of hundreds of cattle shocked him. Fear bloomed in his heart as he saw animals he'd only ever regarded as sacrifices before becoming deadly, stampeding through the small village the two of you resided in.

He was lucky, or so many had said. Surviving such an experience by not being too close was a blessing. Yet, how could Ithaqua feel that way when you hadn't made it out safely? When he saw, from the cliff that watched over the village,  that a man pushed you in front of the charging cattle to save himself?

The bitter taste of betrayal lingered on his tongue for a long time, even after he had killed the man and everyone whose negligence led to the incident.

The next life was kinder, as though the world itself understood he needed time to process things and feel better. When he met you once more, you had given him a warm smile and a hug.

Ithaqua held you for a long, long time. He breathed in your scent, listened to the steady beat of your heart, and slowly started to compose himself. He hadn't even realized how distressed he was until he found himself calm once more.

The two of you caught up, explaining what had happened in this life, what you wanted to do in this slightly more advanced time, and more. At some point, Ithaqua had to ask you if you still believed in the good in humanity.

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

He wanted to say the obvious answer. He wanted to point out the fact that you died in the last life because of humans, because of their selfishness, their incompetence, their betrayal. Yet, when he looked in your eyes, seeing them clear of any feelings of hatred, Ithaqua let it go. If you forgave them, he would too.

Really, it should've been more obvious to him that it was a warning.

The gentle days of sitting in the sun, playing in the river, and feeling the pure relief of having you back had made Ithaqua blind to such a hint. He simply went on with this life, living happily with you by his side.

Though extremely wary, Ithaqua came to trust humans once more. Naively, he came to believe that perhaps, the humans of this time period were better. Perhaps, they were more civilized. With less of a focus on surviving and more so on improving the quality of life, things were more peaceful than before.

Ithaqua relaxed as he once more laughed among humans, sharing new jokes, reciting old poetry, and learning new things that had recently been discovered. You always smiled so sweetly when you saw him interact with mortals, so he tried his best to be more social.

"Talking with humans is crucial! It helps stimulate the brain and be happier. We're humans now, so we need to keep in mind what they need to survive."

Ithaqua would've loved to disagree, claiming that this vulnerable mortal shell was not who he was, therefore his needs were not the same, but his stomach would always disagree. Still, he vehemently denied being human, even as he ate whatever you had made for him. At the least, Ithaqua knew he didn't need to spend time with others. You were more than enough.

The moments he had with you were treasured more than any others.

He shared the first snowfall of his life with you, the soft specks of ice fluttering delicately in the wind. They swirled around you two as you danced, laughing as the surroundings became blanketed in white. Ithaqua thought, once again, that the world was beautiful. But, perhaps that was just because of you?

However, it seemed like only when the wounds of the past had healed that tragedy would strike once more. This time, it was a more targeted murder, one where they were out to kill you specifically. Poisoned to death because of jealousy, because of someone who apparently loved him and thought that, somehow, he'd love them if they killed you.

The first winter of that year was tainted by the blood on his hands, soaking into the snow. Red seeped into the ice and polluted the otherwise serene beauty of the frost covered land, painting it in ugly colors that seared itself into his mind. However, compared to the sight of your cold, lifeless, glassy eyes, the once comforting and kind ones that shined like stars in the sky, it was no travesty.

No words in the world could express the pain in his chest or the severity of this crime. Not even if the heavens fell or if the world itself turned its back on its inhabitants, nothing, nothing at all could be worse than the sin of robbing you of your life.

Ithaqua's heart ached more than his frostbitten fingers realizing that, this year, he wouldn't get to dance with you. Not this year nor the next, or the next, not until he died and was reborn to start the cycle anew.

Even after the first betrayal, the first death, Ithaqua felt incredibly hurt that he was betrayed again by humanity.

Still, he pushed on.

For you.

Yet, with each life that passed by, you recognized Ithaqua less and less. You forgot things about him, be it his godhood or the memories you shared. You were starting to forget yourself, not remembering that you weren't human, that this wasn't how you were supposed to be.

By the tenth life, you didn't recognize him at all.

You remembered nothing about your past lives, nothing about your godhood, not even his name, nothing, you remembered nothing.

You forgot.

Still, he desperately sought you out. In each life, Ithaqua tried to get you to remember your past lives, the happy memories, the bad ones, even just his name or the stupid bet, anything. It would be fine if you remembered that time he slipped and fell like an idiot. It would be fine if you remembered how he tried to drown a fish. It would be fine if you remembered anything, anyone, just as long as you remembered.

But you didn't.

And, every time, you'd die.

Again. And again. And again.

You fell for the trickery of humans time and time again. To their cunning, their cruelty, their evil. No matter how he tried to save you, how hard he tried to convince you not to trust them, it never mattered. Everything he did was futile, only ever allowing him to miserably watch as you died again.

Once upon a time, Ithaqua believed. He thought it was possible that, in another world, another place, humans could be kind. They gave kindness so freely, offering assistance and support with smiles, but in the end, the results were always the same.

Humans could never be trusted, not when he- you had been betrayed in every lifetime.

…

Twenty five. 

Twenty five lifetimes with you. Watching you get betrayed, watching you suffer, watching you die.

And yet, you remembered none of them.

It's no different this time, you see him and feel a connection, yet you don't remember him. You sometimes remember things about him like his favorite color, his favorite foods, even the things he hates, but it's always chalked up to instincts, nothing more and nothing less.

Ithaqua is tired. Tired of being forgotten, tired of being betrayed, but most of all, tired of losing you. So, there's really only one thing he can do. If you won't listen to his warnings, and if all of his efforts to protect you are futile, then the only logical option is to keep you away from humans.

It's not hard to get you away from them when you trust him with your life.

Delicately trailing a finger down your face, Ithaqua smiles. Blindfolded, chained, and trapped you may be, but you're still radiant in his eyes. Ever so brilliant and glowing, even within the confines of a dimly lit room.

"It'll be okay, my moon, all will be fine. Here, you are safe. No one can hurt you, and no one can take you away." Ithaqua drags his hand down your arm, watching you shiver. He pulls up the blanket on your lap to cover you more, humming lightly.

"You know, I'm quite a jealous man." He says off-handedly, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, the chain around your wrist clinking at the faint movement.

"Death has had you for so long... would it be so selfish of me to ask you to stay with me for eternity?"

If you don't remember, it's fine. After all, he remembers, and that's what matters. Ithaqua can remind you as many times as you need. After all, you can't leave.

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

[evita-shelby]

Prove it

Version of my only other Namor x reader one shot with the dialogue in English.(spanish dialogue)

Gif by @unicornspwnall

You weren’t born yesterday.

There was no possible way for this fucking historical hotel was truly haunted.

There was no cool poltergeist, no ghost ladies giggling in the floral room where the hacienda’s owner’s daughter died suddenly in the eighties, and there was no fucking way there were Mayan Warriors with blue skin led by fucking K’uk’ulkan himself to pay homage to the big rock in the garden.

That had to be some idiot they had hired from town.

You bet your shitty paycheck you knew that dumbass in the slutty green shorts.

“How much are the paying you to do this bullshit every December?” you ask as the man stares at you in horror.

“What?” the man asks before cursing you in Yucatec Mayan, an older type with like no Spanish in it whatsoever.

But it’s still the same language, so you insult him back, which makes it worse.

Especially when you slip back into Spanish and he acts like you just spat in his face.

“This is my mother’s sacred grave!” he shouts at you in Spanish, but you don’t buy it. He is too real looking to be a ghost, that vein popping out on his forehead and the way he gets close enough for you to feel the warmth of a human being lecturing you on your rudeness.

“Yes, I know that is the grave of a woman, but I seriously doubt a woman in the 16th century has a , I don’t know, thirty year old son in the year 2020.” You cross your arms and stand your ground.

Would he be offended if you ask him out for drinks at the shitty hotel cantina once you two get over this?

“And if I told you I am over five hundred years old?” he continues with the farce, and you wonder if its worth it to have another wannabe actor fuck buddy here.

“I’d say you look pretty fit for a five-hundred-year-old geezer, but I’d sooner believe that you get five hundred pesos to show up in such little clothing every fucking winter.” You answer with a scoff, five hundred pesos was a shit rate, that was barely fifty dollars. The cute girl from the local University got paid twice that to do her fake shaman tarot reader bullshit every month.

This fucker should ask Rigo the Owner for more.

He laughs, a slightly bitter thing that tells you he is this close to just killing you outright.

He is handsome, you give him that. And well endowed, which is probably why Rigo’s slutty much younger wife chose him.

The feathers and his outfit look legit, too real, especially the fake jade jewelry. You had to hand it to him, the nose plug and the earrings looked pretty fucking good.

“I would kill you, but I wouldn’t dishonor my mother’s grave with the blood of an idiot who can’t see the difference between a human man and the god, K’uk’ulkan!” he exclaims and you think he may be right.

If the Norse had sexy Thor and whatever his goth brother was, if the Americans can defrost Captain America like frozen meat, maybe, just maybe the weirdo standing here was the Serpent God of Mesoamerica.

Could explain why he looked the same in all the photos since cameras were invented.

Could the man you’ve infuriated so much that he stands there breathing hard and clenching his fists to avoid hitting you be the god, K’uk’ulkan?

“If you really are a god… then prove it.” You say goading him into proving he was fraud. If he is a fraud, he will do anything to make you forget it, like kiss you in anger and get the two of you fired for hate fucking where some of the guests can see you.

You hope he is a fraud; it has been so long since you’ve had a good fuck.

He smiles, one that makes you shake in your metaphorical boots, as he took you by the waist and flew with the weird little wings on his ankles.

“Holy fuck.” You utter as he flies you to the beach.

#namor x mexican!reader #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan my beloved #namor x reader

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I love this movie. Edipo re. God the actress playing Jocasta is so beautiful. And the actor playing oedipus is handsome.

Anyway, this scene and music really speaks to me. I also have a weird pleasure. I like watching women breast feed. I find it lovable. The bond between her and her baby. What do you think?

..................

You were in Germany and your triplets were almost three months old. That's right. You returned to earth. Thanks to your studies of Pandora plants.

You helped cultivate earth. Well, not just you. Many scientists returned to earth after the battle.

The battle that costed the life of the Colonel.

The father of your children.

Here you were. A young single mom and widow. You were married to him by law. Since you were forced to sign a marriage certificate. You were legally Mrs. Miles Quaritch. The fallen Marine soldier who sacrificed for humanity.

What a lie. He died for humans. Not humanity.

Maybe if it was not for his wrong beliefs, you might have loved him. But, he was rude to anyone who didn't agree to his opinions. Like your fellow scientists. So... You shook your head. Nah. You could never love an arrogant prick like him.

You admitted you were attracted by his looks. He looked so young despite his age. He would have tricked people thinking he was in his early forties or late thirties if it were not for his gray hair.

Maybe you lusted after him. That was the closest of romantic feelings.

He baby trapped you to never leave him. But, he left you instead. His remaining family members welcomed you with open arms. They joked how you didn't look nothing like your babies. Not even Isabella Maria. Might as well look like a kidnapper.

You inherited a cottage from the late colonel. He made a will before he died. All assets to you. Even his mother's wedding ring. It melted your heart and made you feel guilt. He must have loved you.

But, would he have loved you have you not been lovely? You thought not. He probably just lusted you.

You were quiet as you used a stroller to ride your babies around a garden close to the cottage. It was filled with thick trees and dark green grass. It was so refreshing away from the city life.

Ironic that Quaritch wanted to industrialize Pandora yet own farms and cottages.

The Colonel was a stubborn and hypocritical tyrant.

You hoped your sons won't be like him later. You looked down at the blonde baby on your lap. You placed your other two babies on a blanket next to you on the grass. You were breast feeding Miles first then will switch to the others when done.

The first born son was sucking the milk straight out. He was always the rowdiest. A little tiger. Energetic too.

You were scared of Miles the most. You hoped he wouldn't join the Marines.

He reminded you of Quaritch the most. Val was second. Luckily, Isabella Maria acted like you. Princess like.

You looked up and stared at the distance. You had a strange feeling in your heart all of a sudden. Like something bad and evil will happen in the future. But when? Foreboding. You titled your head in confusion. You felt this feeling once before. Almost two years ago at the base in Pandora....

You saw a man in a wheelchair who looked lost. You offered him help. You knew where the orientation room was. So, you pushed his wheelchair there. A tall and muscular man was walking around and speaking.

You tried to leave. He ordered you to stay despite not working under him. You obeyed. He felt out of place. You weren't a soldier. You were the youngest medic scientist. You came two weeks ago at the base from earth. You were kind of new. But being a scientist had no orientation sessions like this. That was why you never met the head of security.

He suddenly stopped walking then stared down at you. You then felt it the first time. You were sadly ogled all your life since birth. A damn ornament and sex object.

People assumed you had an easy life for being the most lovely.

They were wrong indeed.

He looked different than the other perverts. He looked as if he was... Insane. Hungry to the core. He looked as if he wanted to murder you. Despite his job of protecting you. Keeping you alive. He announced he will not succeed for all.

You must be one of the casualties then. He looked as if he will not protect you from himself.

You were starting to regret coming to the base away from your father. Being alone and unprotected.

You lowered your eyes to submit to his cold piercing eyes. You gulped in nervousness. You wanted to go home.

"understand, my dear?" He asked mocking and teasing you.

You looked up and bit your lips. You nodded.

He raised a brow. "I want words, doll." He sternly ordered.

You felt yourself pale in fear. An ugly shiver dances down your spin. "yes, sir."

He grinned in amusement. There was something sadistic on his smile. Like he won a victory against you. Like you lost a challenge when you don't remembering entering one. You wished you were with Grace and Trudy. You met them the first week you came. They seemed to like you. The closest to being friends on this weird planet.

Max and beth seemed to accept you.

But, they were weak staff members. And this Colonel had power.

He nodded. "Good girl." He then spun around with his muscular back towards you and talked again before humiliating a skinny man who was dozing off.

After dismissing the room. You were ordered to stay again. He asked you for your name and occupation. He looked disappointed and offended when he realized you were a scientist. You noticed how almost all soldiers were rude to the scientists. He must have been one of them.

"Let me walk you to the labs. It's dangerous for a lady to wonder alone." He flashed you his white teeth. It didn't looked genuine.

You forced a smile that was not real as well. You wanted to refuse. You rather risk being alone than be with him. But your better judgement made you agree.

Now in the present, you wondered what will happen in the future.

Au. I got this scene from this yandere Quaritch series called infatuation. I hope the author will not be mad that I copied her. I really love that series. Her name is nervoused. She inspired many stories of mine. Go support her.

#avatar #yandere miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #yandere miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #dark miles quaritch #spider avatar #spider #Youtube

[kehlana-wolhamonao3]

Cissy's sister!

This one is quite an AU of Blue Castle!

Basically, I wanted to explore how different would Valancy be if she was born as Roaring Abel's daughter and how it would influence her relationship with Barney. I like her involvement with the Stirlings too much though to give it up, so I made up a Roberta Stirling who eloped with Abel, had a short, tempestuous marriage with him and died giving birth to Valancy. He hires a wet nurse for her, married her soon after and she in turn gives birth to Cissy, so while they are half-sisters, only Valancy is related to the Stirlings.

Here is a very rough draft of the beginning:

The fact whether Valancy herself should be accepted as part of the Stirling clan had remained a hotly debated issue since the day she was born and her mother, Roberta Gay nee Stirling, died in childbirth. Roberta, ever a rebel among the staid and utterly respectable Stirlings, fell passionately and disastrously for the handsome, wild Abel Gay, a carpenter, blasphemer and a shameless town drunk, and eloped with him to the horror of her family. Their marriage, filled with volatile quarrels mixed with passionate reconciliations, lasted little above a year before it met its tragic end. During that time, Roberta had been considered dead by her relations, but her actual death while leaving behind a baby complicated the matter. Should the Stirlings recognise little Valancy?

“She’s a daughter of that sinner Abel Gay,” pointed Isobel Wallace nee Stirling distastefully. “Can it be expected that she’ll grow up into anybody we want to have associated with our family?”

“It’s extremely doubtful,” agreed gravely James Stirling who, at thirty, was already reputed to be very clever and was therefore the clan oracle—brains being none too plentiful in the Stirling connection. “Especially considering how easily her mother abandoned all decency in marrying him.”

“Roberta made her own bed,” Benjamin threw in his own agreement. “She should have expected that no child of such union could ever be recognised by us as kin. Roaring Abel’s daughter!”

“But Roberta is dead,” interceded Frederick, always the most soft hearted of the siblings, as was well known. Amelia, his bride of not yet a year, sent him an exasperated look. She had no pity for Roberta, whose scandalous elopement completely overshadowed her own marriage into the Stirling family which took place two weeks later. Nobody talked about a boring union between Amelia Wansbarra, determinedly respectable in face of her own father’s eccentricities, and the second youngest son of Jacob Stirling, when they could gossip about the elopement of the groom’s sister instead. Amelia didn’t forgive Roberta for it yet and she didn’t think she ever would. “The child is blameless, whatever her parents are guilty of. And as for her upbringing, do we really intend to leave the poor newborn baby to be brought up by Abel Gay? Surely people would talk about that.”

That hit a string with his family, as he predicted. The Stirlings feared and hated nothing more than a scandal – the main reason for their immediate cutting off Roberta – and the thought of being talked about as heartless and neglectful for refusing to take care of Roberta’s orphaned child didn’t sit well with them.

“She is our niece, whoever her father is,” acknowledged Herbert reluctantly. While he wasn’t as soft as Frederick, he was known for his abhorrence of conflict, a rare trait in the connection. “And Abel hardly has the means to take care of her properly.”

“The baby probably won’t last long anyway,” sniffled Mary, Wellington’s new wife. “I’ve heard she looks sickly.”

“Poor little lamb,” said Cousin Georgiana softly. Widely considered a hopeless old maid at thirty four, her opinions never carried much weight within the clan, but everyone was used to having her around. “Motherless from the day she was born!”

The Stirlings shifted uncomfortably. It was all well and proper to cut off the fruit of sin, but it was a bit harder when reminded that this fruit was at present a days old baby.

“We can’t ignore the child’s existence,” announced Jacob Stirling, the patriarch of the clan, ending the discussion. “It would be different if Roberta was alive – she made her own bed, as Benjamin rightly said – but her death changed things. This baby is half Stirling and she will be regarded as such. We can’t allow her to grow up in poverty and squalor unbecoming of the family. We would fail in our Christian duty.”

“But who is going to take her in?” asked Isobel with a frown. “I can’t – I have my boys to think of.”

“Well, it can’t be me,” said Herbert matter-of-factly. “I’m a bachelor.”

He had his sights set on Alberta Monroe, the most beautiful girl in the province, but since he was still working on climbing the ladder in the timber company he’d started to work for recently and his chosen bride was just sixteen, he did not expect to marry any time soon.

“Of course nobody considers you,” said his mother with an eyeroll. She was a thin, strong woman, with a long wrinkled face and sharp grey eyes which were still able to scare any of her seven remaining children into submission, even self-important James and vicious Isabel. Roberta was the only one who dared to rebel against her, but Roberta was dead now. “It’s obvious that the care of the child should go to a married couple.”

The married among her children – James, Benjamin, Isabel, Wellington and Frederick – looked at her in apprehension of hearing her verdict.

“I and your father can’t be expected to take such a responsibility so late in life,” stated Ruth Stirling firmly. “Especially since Mildred is still under our care. Isabel, as she just said, has two young children of her own; it would be hardly kind to burden her with another baby, especially a sickly one as this one is rumoured to be. I don’t think Benjamin’s father-in-law would welcome Roaring Abel’s child under his roof and we don’t want to spoil your relationship with him, Benjamin.”

Benjamin, who was a clerk in Mr Frost’s general store and, after marrying his boss’s only daughter, had reasonable expectations of buying into the business and inheriting it in its entirety one day, nodded sagely at that.

“Neither would it be wise to upset dear Mary’s father or indeed dear Mary herself mere weeks after her wedding,” continued Mrs Stirling. Marrying Mary Elliot was undoubtedly Wellington’s biggest achievement – Mary’s family was the richest this side of Port Lawrence – and making things difficult in his marriage was the last thing anybody in the Stirling clan intended to do. “Which leaves us with James or Frederick.”

James grimaced. The thought of taking in a baby – an offspring of his wild sister and the notorious Abel Gay no less! – didn’t sit well with him. He might have caved in for the reputation of generosity and benevolence it would give him though if his wife, a timid, pretty little thing, didn’t interject on the matter.

“Oh, let us take her, James!” she pleaded, her blue eyes imploring. “I’d love nothing more than to take care of a baby and since God hasn’t blessed us with one yet…”

She trailed off, seeing the clear refusal in her husband’s face even before he spoke.

“We can’t possibly do that, my dear,” said James condescendingly. “You have to think about your health first. It’s too delicate – much too delicate – to handle such a huge burden as a baby.”

Alice looked like she wanted to protest, but she didn’t, of course. He trained her better than that. James barely restrained a pleased smile at her deferring to his wisdom.

Nobody tried to quarrel with James or defend Alice; this was not how things were done in the Stirling clan. All eyes turned to Frederick and Amelia instead. They’ve been married for a year already, but didn’t have children of their own yet. Amelia was the only daughter of Amos Wansbarra who was neither rich nor completely respectable; there was no need to take into account neither her own nor her family’s opinions. And everybody knew that soft hearted Frederick could be talked into it.

As it turned out, they didn’t even have to talk him into it – to the horror of his wife, he volunteered.

“Of course Amelia and I will take her,” he announced cheerfully. “We have enough space and I dare say that Amelia would welcome something to do while I’m at work.”

Amelia stiffened at the implication that she didn’t have enough to keep her busy even without taking in the baby of a woman she disliked and a man whom she abhorred, but she didn’t dare to quarrel in the presence of the whole clan. Her position in it was still too tentative for her to risk it. She forced herself to smile.

“Of course,” she said with much less convincing enthusiasm. “We’ll do our best to bring up this girl as a good, obedient Christian.”

Everything agreed upon, the only thing which remained was to communicate the matter to Abel Gay, which they promptly did after Roberta’s funeral.

Abel laughed in their faces.

#the blue castle fanfic #the blue castle fanfiction #the blue castle #the blue castle book club #valancy stirling

[16magnolias]

Meet My Encanto OC, Lucía Moreno from Just Your Ordinary, Everyday Miracle on ao3!

Full Name: Lucía María Moreno-Hernandez

Age: 41

Birthday: December 13th

Height: 5'3"

Eye Color: Brown with amber/gold flecks

Hair Color:  Dark Brown

Appearance: Medium brown skin. Long wavy dark brown hair, worn in a braid down her back or wound into a bun at the back of her head. Long thin nose and brown eyes set into a friendly round face. Usually wears a white or cream blouse with a brown, green, or blue skirt and practical shoes.

Memorable Quotes:

“I suppose we should be thankful for small miracles, eh?” Ch. 2

“I don't want an out, Bruno. This may come as a surprise to you, but I actually like you.” Ch. 9

“I want to move forward, but I don't want to forget. Sometimes it feels like everyone else is forgetting.” Ch. 16

 “You’re allowed to forgive yourself for the things you regret.  You know that, right?” Ch. 26

General Information/Personality: Lucía is a kind, practical, 'do-what-needs-to-be-done-with-as-little-fuss-as-possible' type of person. She tends to see the best in people, and her upbringing by two loving parents in the safe and protected Encanto has given her a fairly optimistic view of the world. She's very aware of the pain that can come in life - she is a widow and losing her husband in a tragic accident broke her heart - but she tries to focus on the good she sees in the world instead - and to be some of that good herself. If she sees a need and can meet it, she does. She'll step into a situation without question if she feels she can help, but if someone is antagonizing her directly she avoids them (and conflict) like nobody's business. Her desire to be helpful often directly contradicts (and overpowers) her desire to mind her own business. She's a dreamer and a writer, and her favorite stories are ones that include pirates. Her favorite place to go when she needs time to herself is beneath the old cedar tree in the center of her neighbor's corn fields. Her biggest worry and greatest responsibility in life is raising her daughter Josefina well without her husband Alejandro, but she has a loving family that supports her in her efforts.

History: Lucía’s parents were present at the founding of the Encanto, but Lucía and her younger sister Sofia were not born until around a decade later.  Her father is a printer and does his best to keep literature of both the fiction and non-fiction variety alive in the Encanto, and Lucía followed in her father’s footsteps.  She grew up helping her parents set type and bind books, and reading and listening to various stories and informational texts.  She helps run her father’s print shop and makeshift library and took on a larger role in the shop after her mother died when Lucía was in her early thirties.  Half of the shop houses the printing press, typeset, ink, and paraphernalia associated with printing and bookbinding, and the other half holds several shelves filled with books that her parents either printed or salvaged over the years. She helps set type and print orders and helps maintain the small library they have.  She also hosts a story time for the village kids a few times a week.  Her sister Sofia married Lorenzo Rojas, who runs the stables in the Encanto.

When Lucía was in her early twenties, she married Alejandro Moreno, an up and coming artist who went on to paint a mural of the Madrigals in town.  After they married, they worked together on printing and illustrating a large book of fairytales, legends, and fables, which Lucía still uses during her story times.  They also had one daughter together – Josefina – before he died while roaming the mountains around the Encanto in search of materials for his paints and inspiration for his work.

Alejandro’s death devastated Lucía, and she spent over a month afterward deep in shock, grief, and depression, pushing her family, friends, and even her young daughter away.  It was only with the help of her family that she slowly began to heal from his loss and the mistakes she made while grieving him. She does her best to be a present and loving mother to Josefina and does her best to keep Alejandro's memory alive by speaking of him frequently with her daughter. Three years later she is still in the cyclical process of grieving and healing. The night Casita falls, she's helping clean up her sister's barn when Bruno Madrigal shows up with the hood of his ruana thrown over his head, demanding her ‘fastest steed’. 

Though Lucía is quick to befriend him, their romance is what you would definitely consider a slow burn. It takes both of them time to open their hearts to the possibilty of second chances.

The wonderful art at the top of this post is by the lovely @starfangssecrets. ❤

The rest is mine as I attempt to teach myself to draw. Please excuse variations in appearance and shading as I figure out what the heck I'm doing, lol. 🥰

Thanks so much for hosting this fun event @encanto-extended-edition

#encanto #encanto oc event #encanto oc appreciation #encanto extended edition #bruno madrigal x female oc #lucia moreno #everyday miracle

[flitsy]

I know it's meant to be a silly, ha ha joke, but like. Alastor's very much not a boomer??? He died well before the Baby Boom even started. He has to be at least two generations before that, three at the most, depending on how old you believe him to be.

I personally say he was 33 when he died, making him born in 1900 and a part of the Lost Generation. Any older than that and it's still the same. Up until 1883. He could feasibly be the Greatest Generation, but only for a few years, I'd think? Because he definitely doesn't feel like he's any younger than thirty. But also probably not older than fifty, so not in the Missionary Generation either.

Maybe that's the joke itself, IDK. That it's impossible for him to actually be a boomer. And that he more than likely has no idea what's meant by the phrase in the first place. If anybody in the cast is actually a boomer, it'd probably be Katie Killjoy, lol.

...Or Valentino, actually??? He died in the 70s, if he was in his thirties, he totally could be, omg.

Get his boomer ass, Niffty.

#Hazbin Hotel #Alastor Hazbin Hotel #gif

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Blatant foreshadowing:

"Kings are a rare sight in the north."

Robert snorted. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!" (Eddard I, AGoT)

--

"King," croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont's shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth.

"He likes that word," Jon said, smiling.

"An easy word to say. An easy word to like."

"King," the bird said again.

"I think he means for you to have a crown, my lord."

"The realm has three kings already, and that's two too many for my liking." Mormont stroked the raven under the beak with a finger, but all the while his eyes never left Jon Snow.

It made him feel odd. (Jon I, ACoK)

--

He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. (Prologue, ADwD)

--

When Gilly entered, she went at once to her knees. Jon came around the table and drew her to her feet. "You don't need to take a knee for me. That's just for kings." (Jon II, ADwD)

--

"My uncle declared for Stannis, in hopes it might provoke the Lannisters to take poor Harry's head. Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

"Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—" (Jon IX, ADwD)

--

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. (Jon X, ADwD)

--

He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn," the bird said, and, "King," and, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall. (Jon XII, ADwD)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him for a hero who had died too young, but though he lived a long long time, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that?" Sam felt the tears welling in his eyes, and knew he could not go on much longer. "He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended." (Samwell IV, AFfC)

--

"Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born." (Jon II, ADwD)

The fandom:

#asoiaf #jon snow #ramble

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 7

Bayeux Tapestry - hawking

1130 – On this date the medieval poet Baldric Of Dol died (b.circa 1050). He was abbot of Bourgueil from 1079 to 1106, then bishop of Dol-en-Bretagne from 1107 until his death.

Balderic's poetic works were written almost entirely while abbot at Bourgueil. The 256 extant poems are found almost exclusively in a single contemporary manuscript which is most likely an authorized copy. They consist of a wide range of poetic forms ranging from epitaphs, riddles and epistolary poems to longer pieces such as an interpretative defense of Greek mythology. A praise poem for Adela of Normandy describes something very like the Bayeux Tapestry within its 1,368 lines. Two themes dominate his works: desire/friendship (amor)—including paedophiliac—and game/poetry (iocus).

In his collection My Dear Boy: Gay Love Letters through the Centuries, the scholar Rictor Norton publishes Baldric's many letters to male lovers.

1829 – William Maxwell is the last English sailor hanged for sodomy.

1899 – Francis Poulenc, French composer (d.1963); Poulenc was one of the first out Gay composers. His first serious relationship was with painter Richard Chanlaire to whom he dedicated his Concert champêtre: "You have changed my life, you are the sunshine of my thirty years, a reason for living and working." He also once said, "You know that I am as sincere in my faith, without any messianic screamings, as I am in my Parisian sexuality."

Poulenc also had a number of relationships with women. He fathered a daughter, Marie-Ange, although he never formally admitted that he was indeed her father. He was also a very close friend of the singer Pierre Bernac for whom he wrote many songs; some sources have hinted that this long friendship had sexual undertones; however, the now-published correspondence between the two men strongly suggests that this was not the case.

Poulenc's life was one of inner struggle. Having been born and raised a Roman Catholic, he struggled throughout his life between coming to terms with his "unorthodox" sexual "appetites" and maintaining his religious convictions.

Poulenc was profoundly affected by the death of friends. First came the death of the young woman he had hoped to marry, Raymonde Linossier. While Poulenc admitted to having no sexual interest in Linossier, they had been lifelong friends. Then, in 1923 he was "unable to do anything" for two days after the death from typhoid fever of his 20-year old friend, novelist Raymond Radiguet, Jean Cocteau's lover. However, two weeks later he had moved on, joking to Sergei Diaghilev at the rehearsals he was unable to leave, about helping a dancer "warm up."

In 1936, Poulenc was profoundly affected by the death of another composer, Pierre-Octave Ferroud, who was decapitated in an automobile accident in Hungary. This led him to his first visit to the shrine of the Black Virgin of Rocamadour. Here, before the statue of the Madonna with a young child on her lap, Poulenc experienced a life-changing transformation. Thereafter his work took on more religious themes, beginning with the Litanies à la vierge noire (1936). In 1949, Poulenc experienced the death of another friend, the artist Christian Bérard, for whom he composed his Stabat Mater (1950).

Poulenc died of heart failure in Paris on 30 January 1963 and is buried at the Père Lachaise Cemetery.

1917 – Alfred Freedman (d.2011), who was responsible for removing homosexuality from the list of mental illnesses, was born in Albany, New York. After earning his undergraduate degree at Cornell University in 1937, Freedman graduated from the University of Minnesota Medical School in 1941. He began an internship at Harlem Hospital but left before completion to enlist in the United States Army Air Corps. He left the service having attained the rank of Major.

After initially studying neuropsychology, Freedman trained in both general and child psychiatry, undertaking a residency at Bellevue Hospital. He became the chief of child psychiatry at the SUNY Downstate Medical Center, a post in which he served for five years, before becoming the first person to serve full-time as the department of psychiatry Chairman at New York Medical College, a post which he held for 30 years.

In 1972, Freedman was approached by the Committee of Concerned Psychiatrists, a group of young reform-minded doctors, who encouraged him to run for the presidency of the American Psychiatric Association. He won the election by 3 votes out of some 9,000 that were cast.

In his position as president, Freedman immediately supported a resolution offered by Robert L. Spitzer to delete homosexuality from the list of mental illness diagnoses. On December 15, 1973, the APA's board of trustees voted 13—0 in favor of the resolution, which stated that "by itself, homosexuality does not meet the criteria for being a psychiatric disorder" and that "We will no longer insist on a label of sickness for individuals who insist that they are well and demonstrate no generalized impairment in social effectiveness."

LGBT rights organizations have hailed this decision as one of the greatest advances for gay equality in the United States. Freedman himself believed that passing this resolution was the most important accomplishment of his one-year tenure as president. A second resolution called for an end to discrimination based on sexual orientation and the repeal of laws against consensual gay sex.

Alfred Freedman died in Manhattan on April 17, 2011, following complications after surgery to treat a hip fracture.

1946 – Jann Wenner is the co-founder and publisher of the music and politics biweekly Rolling Stone, as well as the current owner of Men's Journal and Us Weekly magazines.

In 1967, Wenner and Ralph J. Gleason founded Rolling Stone in San Francisco. To get the magazine off the ground, Wenner borrowed $7,500 from family members and from the family of his soon-to-be wife, Jane Schindelheim. In the summer following the start of the magazine, Wenner and Schindelheim were married in a small Jewish ceremony.

In 1995, Wenner found himself in the middle of a media storm when it was revealed that he was leaving his wife Jane after more than 25 years of marriage and had become involved in a relationship with Matt Nye, a former male model turned fashion designer. Wenner's outing, which may or may not have been at his own instigation, seems to have had little effect on his business empire, but it inspired a number of accusations regarding an alleged "Velvet Mafia" of powerful closeted gay men.

Although it had long been rumored that Wenner's marriage was an "open" one and gossip of his bisexuality was widespread and had been mentioned in gay magazines, in 1995 he was publicly outed—on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, no less—when the newspaper revealed that Wenner had left his wife of 28 years for Nye, a considerably younger man who was a former Calvin Klein underwear model.

Rumors of an alleged conspiracy to suppress the news began to circulate. Several journalists reported that the so-called "Velvet Mafia"—a coterie of powerful media, entertainment, and fashion executives who are reputedly gay—had threatened to pull advertising from any publication that wrote about the breakup.

1977 – John Gidding is a Turkish-American architect, television personality, and former fashion model.

Gidding was born in Istanbul, Turkey to an American father and a Turkish mother. He lived in Turkey until moving to the United States for college after attending Leysin American School in Leysin, Switzerland. He graduated from Yale University in 1999 with a BA in architecture, then the Harvard Graduate School of Design with a Master's in architecture.

At Yale he sang a cappella with The Society of Orpheus and Bacchus, and choral music with the Yale Glee Club, and at Harvard he sang with the Harvard-Radcliffe Collegium Musicum. He was voted one of "Yale's 50 Most Beautiful People" in 1999 by Rumpus Magazine, one of "Boston's 50 Most Eligible Bachelors" by The Improper Bostonian in 2002, one of "Atlanta's 50 Most Beautiful People" by Jezebel Magazine and as one of Atlanta Homes and Lifestyles's "Emerging Talent: Twenty Under 40" in 2008.

He is openly gay and, as of August 2013, married to dancer Damian Smith.

Gidding started modeling in 2000 as a graduate student, performing runway shows for Armani, Gucci, and Hugo Boss before being represented by Wilhelmina Models in New York City. He's also been on the covers of numerous romance novels.

Gidding moved to New York City where he started John Gidding Design, Inc. after working for two years as a landscape architect for Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates.

Gidding's start in television was with the ABC Family TV show Knock First, where he and three other designers took turns making over teenagers' bedrooms. Designed to Sell (Giddings' previous show from 2006 to 2011) was canceled in early 2011 but still airs repeats on HGTV, and Knock First is still running in syndication internationally.

He is currently best known for being the architect-designer on Curb Appeal:The Block where his team spends $20,000 on improvements to the exterior landscaping of chosen homeowners. Less expensive touch-ups are done for 2 or 3 nearby neighbors' homes to improve overall neighborhood property values.

1990 – Michael Sam is an American football defensive end. He attended the University of Missouri, where he played college football for the Missouri Tigers football team for four years. Recruited by a number of colleges, he accepted a scholarship with Missouri. He was a consensus All-American and the Southeastern Conference Defensive Player of the Year as a senior.

Sam is the seventh of eight children born to JoAnn and Michael Sam, Sr. His parents separated when he was young. As a child, Sam watched one of his older brothers die from a gunshot wound. Another older brother has been missing since 1998, and his other two brothers are both imprisoned. A sister who was born before him died in infancy. At one point in his childhood, Sam lived in his mother's car. He was once accidentally maced by police who were arresting one of his brothers.

Sam argued with his mother over playing football, as she did not agree with those pursuits. Sam often stayed with friends while in high school; the parents of a classmate gave him a bedroom in their house and had him complete household chores. Sam is the first member of his family to attend college.

After completing his college football career, Sam publicly came out as gay. If he were to be signed by a National Football League (NFL) team, which analysts think is likely, he would become the first active NFL player to have declared his homosexuality publicly.

In August 2013, Sam took the opportunity of a team introduce-yourself session to inform his Missouri teammates that he was gay, and found them supportive. He avoided talking to the media to avoid addressing rumors of his sexuality. He came out to his father a week before coming out publicly. The New York Times wrote that his father, a self-described "old-school ... man-and-a-woman type of guy", said "I don’t want my grandkids raised in that kind of environment." His father told the Galveston Daily News that he was "terribly misquoted", though The Times maintained that he was quoted "accurately and fairly."

On February 9, 2014, he announced that he was gay in an interview with Chris Connelly on ESPN's Outside the Lines, becoming one of the first publicly out college football players. If he is drafted in the 2014 NFL Draft or signed by an NFL team as an undrafted free agent, he could become the first active player who was publicly out in NFL history. Though he was projected as a third- or fourth-round pick in the NFL Draft, anonymous NFL executives told Sports Illustrated that they expect Sam to fall in the draft as a result of his announcement. Those statements caused National Football League Players Association executive director DeMaurice Smith to respond that any team official who anonymously downgrades Sam is "gutless". From jail, his brother Josh said "I'm proud of him for not becoming like me. I still love him, whatever his lifestyle is. He's still my brother and I love him."

On February 15, Sam returned to Missouri with the Tigers football team to accept the 2014 Cotton Bowl championship trophy at a ceremony held at the halftime of a Missouri Tigers basketball game at Mizzou Arena. It was the first visit to his alma mater since he came out as gay. Anti-gay activist Shirley Phelps-Roper and about 15 other members of the Westboro Baptist Church, an organization widely considered a hate group, protested his appearance. Students organized a counter-protest numbering in the hundreds if not thousands, assembling a "human wall" in front of the protesters.

In May, 2014, Sam was drafted by St Louis Rams. He celebrated with a kiss for his boyfriend Vito Cammisano at an NFL draft party. The kiss went viral.