#|⠀ ⋆ ˚｡ protector of his solitude ⠀ ⠀╱ ⠀ ⠀ I.

[tutelaris]

( 「   RP MEME :   VARIOUS KINGDOM HEARTS QUOTES.   」  | @glacierites )

‘ we shall go together. ’

“ are you certain, my lady? ”

her hands halted, half––––packed supplies momentarily forgotten. these sorts of quests were her responsibility & she had no problem with shouldering them alone. while she never would have turned jill away, she wanted to ensure that there was no expectation of her presence.

jote turned to speak to jill properly, to tell her that her company would be welcome, but it certainly wasn't a necessity if she wished to remain safe within the hideaway, but she found herself pausing the moment she met jill's eyes. there was something restless there. hidden behind the calm was a brewing tempest, ready to be set free.

it was a look that she had seen before. in the eyes of the undying who spent their lives traveling only to suddenly be stationed among their posts. in the eyes of her charge when his search for answers weight heavily on his mind but weather or illness forced them to stay in place.

in the reflection of her own eyes when she was separated from her charge.

she acquiesced without even waiting for a proper answer. the look in jill's eyes as answer enough, & jote turned back to her preparations.

“ is there aught that you need before our departure? ” the look she sent in jill's direction was bright & understanding, a smile that felt welcome among their budding friendship.

“ it would seem that we are in for quite a journey. ”

[tutelaris]

even if she had not been in tune with every minuscule movement that he made, it would have been impossible not to notice his touch. he was warm. warm enough that she could feel the heat in excess, even through the fabric that covered her skin. a shameless part of her wished that the barrier was gone, that she could feel his touch on her, however brief.

the smile that graced his features brought a sudden heat to her face, separate from the flame of his touch. yet there was a sadness in his expression that lingered. she wanted to brush the worry lines from his cheeks with her thumbs & kiss them away from his brow, but she knew that was a careless impulse & far beyond the proper conduct between attendant & ward ( though she knew that line had already been crossed, there was a difference between stepping over it for his comfort & erasing it completely ). she would have to settle for this moment of reminiscing & dropping formalities & propriety behind closed doors.

“ i simply wished to save you from one of cyril's monotonous lectures. ” she had been the receiver of many, along with most of the children who grew up in the order. the importance of training, of balanced meals, of truthfulness, of obedience. unsure as she was as to whether or not he would feel as though he had the authority to scold the dominant of the phoenix, jote had decided very quickly that she wouldn't allow him the chance.

“the first of many daring rescues. " & the beginning of her eternal loyalty to her charge but, moreso, to her dearest friend. She would protect him from anything & everything that she could, including detestable root vegetables. though her words were intended playfully, her tone grew more serious than she had intended. “ i have always taken my vow to protect you quite seriously. "

these tender and innocent moments shine like divinity through memory that sleeps in a bed cast of hell's flames . he cherishes the time she chooses to devote to him , the weightless minutes that soar effortlessly , making it feel like their time together is never quite enough . always leaving him wanting , yearning , that she might exist again by his side . but right now , he relishes in this . that is , until her usual formality is pinned to the conclusion of her sentence like she , herself , had completely forgotten their stations . reality can oft feel like a crime ; robbing them of each other .

if they could at least live their lives as friends . . . nothing more , nothing less . . . he figures he could be content , for then , they might feel free . he'll smother his love for her always in favor of even just her contentment . and as he listens to the familiar and comforting cadence of her voice does she burst into a fit of giggles , reminiscent of several nights shared at one another's bedside . still , rare enough that he thinks it a treasure .

a warm smile counters the coolness of the air that holds them in it , and his own chest swells with laughter , cast from sincerity into the world , yet painful as it claws from a brutal devotion , aching beneath its crystal center . he feels the vibrations of their laughter as his hand still lays atop her leg , his thumb brushing delicately over the cotton fabric that envelops her . such sincerity lives beneath irises , reflections of the sky on a day of a peaceful past .

❛ to me , they had . ❜ he plays gently into the reprieve in her jest , his face light - hearted , but seemingly completely serious . ❛ if my trusted companion hadn't been there to rid my plate of them , my survival would have been called to question . ❜ he flashes her a knowing curve of his lips , despite the lingering sorrow of truth in the air . ❛ thank you , jote . you have saved me many times from the throes of distaste . ❜

[t-tomuras]

༺༻ ─── • 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Foxian!reader

Warnings: Teasing, fingering, slight pussyjob, nipping, slight clawing, light marking, biting, creampie

Wordcount: 3.1k

Notes: Here I am tentatively trying to dip my toes into the fandom with the dozing general < 3

Even the general has his vices, requiring moments of reprieve as he sees fit, what with the stresses of his position of authority despite how effortlessly carefree he can always appear to be. 

As does your own position, operating in tandem with the general on assignment as the Realm Keeping Commissions liaison, always maintaining an air of detached professionalism while equally being hospitable to uphold the Xianzhou’s pristine reputation while dealing with various crises simultaneously. Spine always pin straight, seeming perpetually perfectly posed from the moment you stand next to your general to the second you’re finally within the sanctity of solitude. 

Save for one other, that is, as his fingers trace down the exposed skin of your back after unclasping the fasteners on the high collar of your ensemble. 

“How do you dress yourself alone in the morning?” Jing Yuan questions on a light chuckle after shedding the ornamentation of his uniform followed by the layered top until his torso is bare before you. “It seems as though you always require aid to remove it.” 

“Then who better to supply it than the protector of the Xianzhou himself?” Cooed coyly before you spin on the balls of your feet, perfectly manicured tail sweeping the ground as fabric pools around them after it slips from your body. Stark nude as you drape yourself against Jing Yuan, reaching to loop your arms around his shoulders as he presses you into him by the small of your back. The soft flesh of your full chest crushed to the hard planes of his own, wasting no time in increasing contact with him as your lips seal over his own with a barely subdued hunger.

A kiss that’s returned with fervor as you’re walked backwards to his elegantly decorated mattress, too big for one man to occupy. Adorned with all the comforts one could crave, only complete when he lays you in it; so it’s fortunate you’ve come to warm it more often as the man that holds you works to soothe your worn bodies and sate shared salacious needs.  

Between the satin sheets and crushed velvet comforter you can truly see how tense he typically is as it translates into the passion you like to believe transcends a ‘mutually beneficial’ exchange between the both of you. You could convince yourself of it with the way he devours you in private if you caught the lingering glances in public, but always with your back turned or caught in conversation with other political figures and offworld visitors alike. 

Even so he likes to take his time with you, generous with his foreplay and typically you relish it but it’s been a long day of nonstop interaction. 

Whining into starving kisses when your general takes your wrists in one broad palm to halt you in the process of undoing his belt and shedding away the final layers of clothing that separate you from carnal contact. 

Writhing beneath him in a vain attempt to free yourself before his free hand is pinning your hips to the plush pillowtop while slotting himself between your spread legs. Close enough to feel the heat of his body but not enough to truly experience it even as you arch into the kiss. 

Eager tongue breaching the seam of his lips with a mewl, goading Jing into indulging in you, if even slightly. One hand still holding fast to both of yours, keeping your arms above your head while the hand at your hip slides beneath your body. Aiding in your arch as he caresses the small of your back, sinking slightly as he trails kisses from your lips, over your jaw and along your throat. 

Open mouthed and wanting, urging your thighs to reflexively clench at his sides, groaning when the only contact to your quickly dampening folds is his lower abdomen. Slicking the tantalizing trail of hair from his navel to his pelvis before Jing Yuan finally affords you with some reprieve. 

Touch blazing when calloused pads from years of finely honed swordplay roll over your sensitive bud. Melting easily into Jing Yuan’s touch as your hips twitch upwards, jerking needily and it births a softened expression on handsome features, neglected cock tenting his trousers as your pretty voice grows in volume. 

Soft whimpers crescendoing into sweet mewls in time with the slick clicking of your cunt as he preps you. Giving you just enough to feel good, to loosen up in more ways than one, but not tip you over the edge, not yet. 

Fixing you with a relaxed gaze as he props himself up slightly, fingers gliding through steadily soaking folds for thick digits to tease at your entrance. Prodding lazily until a well timed buck of your hips paired with a frustrated noise from plush lips forces his fingers to fill you.

Sighing out in relief even as he chuckles at your impatience, momentarily conceding to you now as he curls his fingers perfectly into that spongy spot that has you seeing stars the infinite cosmos could never compare to. Well versed in your body by now as he pumps his fingers expertly but he keeps the friction to your clit from the heel of his palm to a minimum. 

Winding the coil in your lower belly gradually while you’re steadily consumed in an inferno from meager kindling. Taunting you with release and you know it the moment your lidded gaze flits to his. 

Years of working closely with the man has allowed an ease in understanding his motives, you could read him like a book by now. Rolling your hips up into his hand and you can feel Jing Yuan pull back slightly before you click your tongue at him. 

Grasping at his wrist tightly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the amused quirk to his brow before you force yourself to soften. Loosening the knit of your brows to look more pleading than frustrated as you cup the general's cheek, pad of your thumb swiping affectionately over the mark that decorates the outer corner of his eye. 

“Kiss me,” a suspire of a sound as you sit up slightly while letting your fingers caress along his jawline before tilting his chin up. Leaving him to chuckle under his breath before chasing your lips, caging you beneath him as you lay flat amongst his pillows once more. 

Knees falling further open as if to make more room for him before your fingers fiddle with the copious buckles securing the harness like belt to his pelvis. Fumbling to undo the final clasp as his tongue swipes over your own, supplying a whine of annoyance for him to swallow when his hand rests over your increasingly frustrated fingers. 

“Require assistance?” Voice bearing a teasing lilt as he, much to your relief, effortlessly undoes his belt and pushes down the layers of his bottoms before lowering himself to you. Flushed tip gliding through your folds to coat himself in your wetness, rutting slowly into you with shallow rolls. Each rock leaves you twitching with every sweet kiss to your clit until your thighs wrap around his hips and the movement finally has Jing Yuan catching on your entrance. 

Sighing at the feel of him, thighs tensing as if that alone could hold him in place as your fingers press insistently into his latissimus muscles. Mewling slightly as he dips for a kiss, uttering a low “so eager,” against your lips. 

“You tease,” it could almost be taken in admonishment if a pleasured purr didn’t taint the tone. 

“I savor,” exhaled on a stolen gasp as he finally sinks into you, stretching you slowly. Staying true to his comment as he fills you inch by inch, broad palms pushing down on your hips as you arch from the mattress up into him. 

Finally tipping you over the edge for the first time tonight as he buries himself to the hilt, velvet walls convulsing sinfully around his cock as he drags his hips backwards slowly. Glancing down at where your bodies are joined to admire how you take him, relish the creamy rings that coat the base of his cock before your ankles hook at the base of his spine. Digging your heels into the toned flesh insistently, silently pleading for more.

Wrapping your arms around him in an embrace as you cling to Jing Yuan, rolling your lower body in time with the slow strokes he gives you but it isn’t enough. Shuddering breath along the shell of his ear, panting and whining while you try to hasten the pace but Jing Yuan has always been one for leisure. 

Chuckling into your own ear as he uses one arm to stabilize himself on the mattress while the other holds you to him. Low coo’s of ‘I’ve got you, slow down’ in contrast to your breathless ‘faster Jing Yuan, more.’ 

Frustration mounting when you feel the general flex corded muscles and expend a modicum of strength to keep you from bucking haphazardly and hastily into him. 

Leaning back just enough for golden irises, alight in the night, to drink in the desperate furrow of your brow and needy pout to pretty features. Softening him with the display so easily as the pad of his thumb swipes over the apple of your cheek before leaning down for another kiss as his arms lips beneath your back to press you into him. 

There’s an inherent tenderness to the action, the slow meld of his lips to yours before his tongue breaches the seam to taste you once more. Every encounter from the very beginning with Jing Yuan has been the epitome of intimacy and typically you reveled in it but tonight you’re starving. 

Evident in how you nip at his lower lip, pulling it away playfully before releasing it only to chase the contact again. Amusing Jing Yuan in the process, softening him as your hands splay over his broad back and knees climb higher as they frame his tapered waist now. Pelvis angled to feel each stroke deeply enough to steal air from your lungs, rip gasps from kiss swollen lips that leaves your general curious of just how delectable you look for him now. Urging him to pull back and bask in your pleasure, momentarily distracted as he appreciates the view. 

It allows you the opening to thrust your weight into his, allowing you to roll your bodies and switch the position. Straddling Jing Yuan now and his surprise fans the flames of your hunger, chasing his lips as your palm pushes into his shoulder. Pinning him to the mattress as you inhale deeply, exhaling with a throaty groan of relief as you rise and fall on his cock in a pace you have easier control of. 

But even still, his hands find the natural curve of your body, resting them leisurely as his head falls back into the mound of pillows.

“You seem especially worked up today.”

“Why would you think that, General? Could it be that I already had a tight schedule before receiving more work thanks to your delegation?” Your usually sweet and placating tone takes on a slight hiss as your nails dig into his shoulder blades, threatening to break skin as his hips slow in the methodical rhythm. Leaving you to emit a noise of complaint when even your attempts at bouncing to maintain the build of pleasure proves fruitless, resorting to pouting with agitated flicks of your ear. 

“Oh so you’re angry with me, is that what this is?” Clicking your tongue over his glib tone before a much more vocal whine rips from your throat when broad palms force your own hips to still. 

“Yes, I am angry and you’re doing well to exacerbate the feeling,” finally fixing him with a glare he thinks is precious as your delicate digits uselessly pry at his calloused ones.  

He gives a haughty face, handsome features fixed with that placating gaze he uses to diffuse the Grand Diviner as if that’ll melt away the scowl that pinches at plush lips. Eyes rolling at how Jing Yuan only chuckles at you now, the sound growing more boisterously as you swat away the hand that grips at the base of your tail and runs down the expanse of it affectionately. 

Adding a teasing, ‘so fierce’ when your ears pin backwards and your lip snarls. Writhing in his hold for a moment and your lids flutter at the fleeting friction applied to your clit. Grinding slowly until a shallow breath shudders from your lips, a gasp broken by a moan following suit as the hands at your hips drag you along his pelvis. Aiding the movement for a moment before your general is adjusting to sit up, pressing at the small of your back to keep you close to him as he does so. 

“Forgive me, little fox,” husked against the apple of your cheek as he moves in languid strokes, methodically and pointedly to reach all the places that make you twitch involuntarily. 

Jing yuans forehead nudging against your own, nose brushing yours and his lips a hairsbreadth away from your own. Humid puffs of breath mingling in the minimal space but he pulls away when you mean to close the gap, interrupting you with a cooly insistent, “forgive me.” 

“Fine,” your reply tinged with the slightest bit of exasperation before he’s muffling your clipped ‘forgiven.’ Swallowing the sound to keep for himself as he cups the curve of your skull. Limbs now lax with no intention of inhibiting your pursuit of pleasure. 

Whatever he did now, save for holding you still completely, would give you stimulation regardless. Bouncing eagerly and earnestly on his lap as your head lolls back, palms splayed out on whatever sculpted surface of his skin you could reach as pitchy keens tumble from your lips so much more effortlessly now. 

Feeling the telltale coil of your impending climax wind tightly in your lower belly and you chase the feeling, pelvis jerking into Jing Yuans. Racing to rapture and he doesn’t stop you now, makes no move to slow you down at all and relishes in how much noisier you become. 

Airy moans and soft babbling of his name slip from your tongue before you’re lost in the euphoria. Gasping sharply as the coil gives way and the feeling is so intense you think your vision blurs, not realizing the pearly tears that have gathered in your lash line are the cause. 

Nails digging deeply into your generals back as he fucks you through the high, rutting up into you with equal fervor. Filling the room with a cacophony of lewd squelching, the wet slap of skin, low growls and sweet ‘ah ah ah’s’ punctuated by hurried bounces. 

Until you show no signs of stopping, sure to coast into overstimulation and he’s well aware of what that does to you in the afterglow of your coupling. Leading to strong hands gripping more insistently to hold you to his body; his own climax could wait for now. 

Using his strength to halt your movements and threatening to ruin your return to rapture but you voice your displeasure less petulantly than before. Usually rounded pupils now narrowed into slits as your head snaps back to Jing Yuan's face. Confusion marring his face, hand rising to push hair from your face and his lips parting to explain himself before your fingers knot into long ivory locks. Yanking with enough force to angle his head to the wide and expose porcelain skin to sink your teeth into the sensitive flesh of his trapezius muscle.

Surprising the both of you that births a harrowing moment of clarity from the craze. Not from the deep groan that rumbles in his chest and reverberates against your own or the way he grips you with a near bruising force.

But from the following warmth that fills you full and how Jing Yuan’s biceps flex and tighten around your body while his own suddenly seizes. Turning his face to tuck his nose into your throat as his hips jerk up into your own for sticky seed to paint your walls in pearly ropes. 

Pulling a pleased hum from you as the fingers knotted in his stylishly disheveled locks loosen to move higher and rake soothingly at his scalp. Grinding slowly, rolling your lower body in languid circles to work your general through his sudden climax. Milking him for all he’s worth as you nudge gently at him, thoroughly enjoying how, in moments like these, he’s the most pliant. 

“Oh? That’s new,” giggling softly, voice a sweet coo that bears no real tease to the man, considering you quite liked his reaction. 

Now moving to brush your lips against the charming mark that adorns the outer corner of his eye as you follow the sculpt of his skull. Smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as his thumbs dig into the spaces where your legs connect to your pelvis, kneading small circles as Jing Yuan works to steady his breathing. 

The heaving of his broad chest gradually slows to even draws by the time you reach his throat, tongue swiping to taste the saline of his tacky skin and feel his thrumming pulse beneath your wet muscle.  

Another tinkling giggling sounds in the space between you as your innocent lapping turns to teasing nips dotted between insistent suckles in order to marr pristine alabaster. Earning a groan from Jing Yuan as his jaw tilts upwards reflexively, lolling slightly as you cradle his jaw opposite of your affections. 

Only satisfied with your work when you can already see the beginnings of bursted blood vessels bloom in the shape of your lips. Sighing as your litter him with more loving kisses as your general adjusts your positions, finally laying down to bask in the post coital bliss. 

Only moderately lamenting the loss of that full feeling you only ever receive when you’re alone with him. 

Taking a moment of reprieve yourself as you stare up at the ceiling before you feel Jing Yuan flex to pull you closer to him. Leaning up yourself to lean against his torso, drumming your fingers along his chest before tucking stray strands of starlight locks behind his ear. 

“I wish you the best of luck explaining the budding bruise near your Adam's apple, General.” 

“I’m certain the Realm Keeping Commission wouldn’t mind loaning me their most competent and dutiful administrator for all my delegation needs.” 

Caressing his jaw lovingly, body now free of the day's tension as your mold into Jing Yuan’s side. Silent for a full moment before your nails poke gently into the soft flesh of his cheek as you press into his skin and angle his head to meet your gaze, “don’t push your luck.” 

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Sometimes I see reviews about D&W where people think Worst Wolverine's backstory is super lacking. That they expected something epic like how Mysterio tricked Logan to slaughter everyone in the Old Man comic run.

But that plot, at least to me, doesn't make The Worst Wolverine. It probably makes the Most Tortured Wolverine -- the story of a man slaughtering his own family with his bare hands because he was mind controlled. Which inevitably created a power vacuum so gigantic that the world basically collapsed as supervillains take over the world.

But the title of Worst Wolverine should belong to the Logan that completely abandons his most important moral value: to be the protector.

Sure, he tends to be nomadic and at times self-isolates, but at his core he truly knows what it means to be a pack animal: to be a part of a cohesive family unit, rely on others, be a guardian for the weak.

In a literal sense, a common backstory for him was that he just fucked off from human society after he mutated to live with a pack of wolves. He turned feral, but they also taught him about the importance of community.

Even if you aren't a fan of the wolf background (which I AM because I think it's funny and dramatic as hell), there's other stories where he got taken care of by the Blackfoot Tribe and Lord Ogun before somehow winding up in the Weapon-X Program. Then, the Hudson family rescued him and helped him gain his humanity back after the adamantium experiments. He joined Department H, and sometime after, he found his place with the X-Men.

My point being that past or present, Logan has always belonged to a family. He needs it -- his human AND animal side both need it. He's not meant to be a creature of solitude. When he is, it's a form of punishment that he inflicts upon himself because he doesn't feel worthy to be around the people he loves or he's worried about hurting them. Or it's something inflicted upon him -- aka he's been captured and is being experimented on.

So what does all this tell us about Logan's moral code? He cares deeply for others because it's in his nature to be a part of a pack and he will do anything to protect them.

He's very caring towards animals (ex. looking after wolves that took care of him, mercy killing a bear in The Wolverine, and saving the horses in Logan). He tried to save Silver Fox's life when Sabretooth attacked her. When his wife Itsu was murdered, he relied on the advice of Lord Ogun to get vengeance for her with the Muramasa Blade. He joined Department H and Alpha Flight because he owed the Hudsons so much after re-acclimating him to society. He stayed with the X-Men because Charles gave him a home, family, and purpose outside of being a weapon. He enabled him to be the good man that he is by not only using his powers for the good fight but also being a teacher for the students.

As a character, Logan was created to reflect the archetype of the cowboy/samurai with the morals of honor, integrity, and justice. He's also not afraid to be judge, jury, and executioner for the people he loves. He's a man of action.

So what is the antithetical? A man who dishonors himself by not taking his job seriously. A man of inaction who abandons those he loves. A man who doesn't seek justice but wallows in regret and guilt.

And what did the Worst Wolverine do?

He let his fondness for drinking harm his work. While he was drinking at a bar, a group of humans invaded the X-Mansion and killed a large part of the staff, students, and X-Men. He entered a berserker rage where he murdered the invaders AND innocent people. He tarnished the legacy of the X-Men.

The title of Worst Wolverine doesn't go to the man who got brainwashed and killed without knowing. The title goes to the Logan who killed indescriminantly and didn’t want to stop.

He chose to walk away when they called out for him. He went into a beast state that made the public completely turn against the X-Men in just one night. Instead of making up for his sins, he just went back to the bar -- the very thing that killed his family. He did everything he could to go against his morals of honor, integrity, and justice.

He was a man who failed his family.

THAT'S what makes him The Worst Wolverine.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 3

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦"

summary: After the incident, where past traumas resurface and threaten to unravel your fragile sense of security, Joel steps in as a protector. His presence becomes a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 3

masterlist of the series!

Previous | chapter 2

Next | chapter 4

The night when Jamie took your virginity by force felt like the moment the light within you was extinguished. It was as if the divine spark that once illuminated your soul was snuffed out, leaving behind a darkness that clung to you like a second skin. The purity you had cherished as a good Christian girl was shattered, and in its place, you felt an overwhelming sense of dirtiness. It was as if you had been marked, branded with an invisible scarlet letter that only you could see, yet you believed everyone else could see it too.

The past two months had been a relentless descent into a personal hell. You had become a ghost of your former self, your once vibrant spirit now a flickering ember. Physically, you were a shadow, your body wasting away as if your soul’s torment had seeped into your flesh. The weight of your violation bore down on you, leaving you with no desire to eat, to engage, to exist. Every day was a struggle against the ever-present feeling of disgust, the conviction that you were tainted beyond redemption.

In the eyes of others, you felt exposed, as if the sin of that night was etched into your very being. It was as if the words “dirty slut” were emblazoned across your skin, a silent condemnation that followed you everywhere. No matter where you went, the eyes of judgment seemed to follow, their silent accusations piercing your already wounded soul.

At school, you had withdrawn into yourself, a stark contrast to the lively girl you once were. You spoke to no one, even when you went to church, you avoiding Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. After class, you would rush home, seeking refuge in the solitude that had become both your sanctuary and your prison. Only Joel knew the truth of what had happened that night, and he had been your anchor in the storm.

After that night, you stayed at Joel’s. He had been nothing but gentle, his touch a stark contrast to the violence you had endured. He cleaned you up, gave you a bath, and ensured your privacy by standing near the tub with the curtain drawn, only intervening if you needed something. The care he showed you was the kind of protection you had longed for all your life. His presence was a balm to your wounded spirit, his protectiveness a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you.

The morning after, you insisted on walking home, despite Joel’s offer to drive you. Your house was nearby, but in your daze, you had forgotten to inform your parents where you had been. As you walked through the front door, your father’s fury was immediate. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous roar. "You didn’t tell us you were staying out. Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"I stayed at Ellie’s," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "If you don’t believe me, you can call Joel."

Without hesitation, your father dialed Joel’s number. You stood there, heart pounding, as Joel answered. "Yes, she stayed with Ellie here last night," Joel confirmed, his voice steady. He kept his promise not to reveal the incident with Jamie, but your father’s anger was far from assuaged.

"Even so," your father raged, "you didn’t inform us. What’s next? You’ll become a whore, wandering the streets? Is that what you want?" His words cut deep, each one a dagger plunging into your already shattered heart. He berated you about the virtues of Christianity, reminding you of the sanctity of purity and obedience.

"You need to understand the importance of your faith," he lectured, his voice a relentless drone. "You must remain pure and obedient, not fall into sin like this."

You stood there, numb, the weight of his words adding to the already unbearable burden on your shoulders. The guilt and shame threatened to overwhelm you. Every word felt like another chain, binding you in your own personal hell.

"Take off your shirt and face the wall," your father ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

With trembling hands, you did as he said, the shirt you borrowed from Ellie slipping to the floor. You turned to the wall, feeling the roughness of the paint against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness you craved. Your father took his belt, the leather a familiar implement of punishment, and began to strike.

Each lash was a searing reminder of your perceived sins, each word of his condemnation a nail in the coffin of your spirit. "This is for your disobedience," he spat, the belt cracking against your skin. "This is for the whore you’re becoming."

You bit back your cries, the tears streaming down your face silently. You were too exhausted to scream, too broken to protest. The pain was overwhelming, but it felt deserved. In your mind, this was God’s punishment for your unholiness, a penance for the dirtiness you couldn’t wash away.

Your mother watched from the doorway, her eyes filled with helplessness. She didn’t intervene, just as she never had. Instead, she retreated to the living room, turning up the volume on the gospel music to drown out the sound of your father’s anger and your silent suffering.

With each strike, you closed your eyes, the pain coursing through you like fire. You envisioned yourself as a fallen angel, wings torn and bloodied, cast out from the grace you once knew. The purity you had cherished was gone, replaced by a deep, unending shame.

When it was over, you collapsed to the floor, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pain. You felt like a martyr, bearing the weight of your father’s righteousness, the gospel music a cruel hymn to your suffering. You were unworthy, unholy, and the punishment was your penance.

As you lay there, tears mingling with the cold floor, you prayed. Not for forgiveness, but for strength. "God, if You’re listening, help me endure this. Help me find a way to survive." Your prayer was a whisper in the storm, a desperate plea from a soul that had known too much darkness.

In that moment, you understood the depth of your isolation. Your purity was gone, your light extinguished, but a spark of defiance remained. You had survived this night, just as you had survived Jamie. And somehow, you would find a way to keep surviving, to reclaim the light that had been stolen from you.

***

The days that followed were a blur of silence and shadows. You moved through the house like a ghost, your presence barely acknowledged by your parents. Your father’s words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of your perceived worthlessness. Every glance in the mirror revealed the invisible brand of shame you felt etched into your skin. You had become a stranger to yourself, lost in a labyrinth of guilt and self-loathing.

At school, you withdrew further into yourself, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Ellie noticed your absence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. The weight of your secret was too heavy to share, the fear of judgment too great. You walked the halls with your head down, each step a reminder of the burden you carried.

A month had gone by, and now it was Sunday. The weight of another church service loomed over you. You had managed to somewhat regain a semblance of normalcy, but the shadows of that night continued to haunt you. Despite the slight improvement, you had been avoiding everyone, including Joel. His calls went unanswered, and you took alternate routes to avoid passing his house. The shame you felt was overwhelming. You had developed feelings for Joel, but you believed he would never want you now that you felt so dirty.

Joel, on the other hand, was deeply worried about you. His concern grew with each passing day. He would occasionally ask Tommy if he had seen you at church, but Tommy’s answers never provided the comfort Joel sought.

The night before Sunday, Joel decided to visit Tommy and Maria with Ellie, hoping to have a casual movie night. He needed an excuse to ask about you without raising suspicions.

As they settled in the living room, Tommy was setting up the movie. Joel took a seat next to him, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. Ellie and Maria were chatting in the kitchen, preparing snacks.

"So, how’ve things been?" Joel asked, trying to keep his tone light. "Busy with the kid, I bet."

Tommy chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, you know how it is. Little one keeps us on our toes. What about you? How's work been?"

"Same old, same old," Joel replied, leaning back in his chair. "Ellie's doing good in school, keeping me busy with all her activities."

Tommy smiled. "That’s good to hear. She’s a great kid."

Joel nodded, then took a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation. "Yeah, speaking of kids... you seen Gibson girl around lately? Maybe at church? Haven't seen her passing by my home."

Tommy frowned, scratching his head. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at church either. And she's usually always around."

Joel tried to keep his voice casual, not wanting to raise suspicion. "Right," Joel answered, but his thoughts were far from the conversation at hand. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind—the pain in your eyes, the way you had avoided him, the way your voice trembled when you last spoke. Every unanswered call, every sight of your empty path gnawed at him, filling him with a deep, gnawing worry.

He replayed that night over and over, the way you had clung to him, the way he had tried to provide comfort without crossing any lines. He had never felt so helpless, so desperate to protect someone, yet so unsure of how to do it. His heart ached with the thought of you suffering alone, believing you were dirty or unworthy.

"Joel?" Tommy's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Joel blinked, realizing he had completely zoned out.

"Huh? What?" Joel said, shaking his head to clear the fog of worry. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Tommy gave him a curious look, tilting his head slightly. "I was asking if you wanted more popcorn, but you seemed a million miles away. Everything alright?"

Joel forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety that churned within him. "Yeah, sorry just got a lot on my mind. But yeah, more popcorn sounds good."

Tommy didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it go, standing up to refill the bowl. Joel watched him go, taking the moment to gather himself. He needed to find a way to reach you, to make sure you were alright without raising too much suspicion. The worry gnawed at him, a constant presence in the back of his mind.

As the movie continued, Joel found it hard to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, hoping that you were finding some measure of peace, even as he felt his own slipping further away.

As the sun rose on Sunday, you prepared yourself with a painstaking precision. The morning light seemed to cast an unforgiving glow on your efforts, illuminating every detail of your attire and makeup. You adorned yourself in a soft yellow dress, a stark contrast to the stained white dress you had left behind—a symbol of a past tainted by invisible scars. Your hair was styled meticulously, and a light touch of makeup tried to mask the weariness in your eyes. It was as if you were trying to paint over the shadows that clung to you, hoping that the brightness of the yellow might somehow wash away the stains of your recent past.

Your father was adamant about you joining the service, and the pressure of his expectations weighed heavily on you. The town would be present, as it always was for these occasions, their curious eyes a stark reminder of your recent absence. You could feel their gazes, and you braced yourself for the inevitable scrutiny. The anticipation of stepping into the public eye once more was almost suffocating.

When you arrived at the church, you noticed Tommy and Maria’s car parked nearby, a sight that barely registered in your anxious state. But as you turned, your heart seemed to freeze. There, behind Tommy’s car, was a familiar truck—a vehicle you hadn’t expected to see in such a context. It was Joel’s truck.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Joel had decided to return to church after years of absence. The scene before you was a tableau of mixed emotions: the congregation’s whispers, the look of surprise on Tommy’s face, and your father’s exuberant welcome of Joel. The church buzzed with curiosity, and every eye seemed to turn toward Joel and the unexpected presence he brought with him. Your father’s enthusiasm was palpable as he greeted Joel, his gestures warm and welcoming. Tommy smiled, clearly pleased to see his brother, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming urge to disappear. The thought of facing Joel was almost too much to bear. The last time you had seen him, everything had been different. The thought of him seeing you in your current state, a mix of shame and unresolved feelings, was unbearable. You moved swiftly to avoid his gaze, slipping through the crowd like a wisp of smoke.

Joel's presence was a silent declaration of concern and hope. His return to the church was more than a gesture; it was an effort to reconnect, to understand why you had vanished so abruptly from his life. He couldn’t risk coming to your house and questioning your parents directly, as that would have been too conspicuous. Instead, he chose this public setting, hoping it might offer a chance to see you, to gauge your well-being without drawing undue attention.

Tommy and Ellie had been startled by Joel’s decision to attend church after all these years. To them, it was an unspoken mystery, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit with the past patterns they knew. Tommy’s curiosity was evident, though he kept his questions at bay, respecting Joel’s unspoken wish for discretion.

As the service began, the room was filled with the familiar hymns and prayers. The sounds of the congregation’s voices blended into a backdrop of solemnity and devotion. You sat through the service, your mind a turbulent sea of emotions, while Joel’s presence at the back of the church was a constant, heavy reminder of your own turmoil.

Joel, despite his own feelings of discomfort in this sacred space, kept his gaze low, trying to remain unobtrusive. His concern for you overshadowed the solemnity of the service, his heart aching with the desire to reach out, to offer solace, but restrained by the fear of overstepping. The echoes of the sermon, the rustle of prayer books, and the collective murmur of the congregation seemed distant, as if you were trapped in a bubble of your own distress.

After the Sunday service, the church transformed into a space of community and fellowship. Tables were set up with an array of homemade dishes, and the congregation gathered for a communal meal. The aroma of comfort food filled the air, mingling with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of plates. It was a time for members of the congregation to connect, share news, and strengthen their bonds.

You moved through the gathering with practiced grace, helping your mother and father arrange the food and interact with the attendees. Your smile was a well-practiced mask, concealing the turmoil that churned beneath. You greeted old friends and acquaintances, your responses polite but distant. The effort to maintain this façade was exhausting, but you felt it was necessary to avoid further scrutiny.

As you made your way to the storage room in the church, a quiet refuge away from the bustling hall, you found yourself alone. The clamor of the gathering seemed a world away, and the space was filled with the scent of dust and old paper. You were organizing a stack of donation boxes when you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching.

Turning around, you saw Joel standing in the doorway. His presence was like a sudden storm cloud on an otherwise clear day—unexpected and overwhelming. He looked at you with a mixture of concern and apprehension, his rugged face lined with worry. The weight of his gaze was almost palpable, and it seemed as though he was struggling to find the right words.

“Hey,” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The usual gruffness in his tone was softened by the underlying worry.

You shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by his appearance. “Joel,” you managed to reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions welling up inside you. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Joel looked around the small room, as if searching for the right way to start the conversation. “Yeah, well,” he began, his gaze falling back on you. “I’ve been—” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been worried about you. Haven’t seen you around much. I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of his genuine concern. Joel was a man of action rather than words, and his struggle to articulate his feelings only highlighted how much he cared. He took another step closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of how you were really doing.

“Joel,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “did you come to church just for this? I’m fine. Really.”

Joel’s expression softened, but his concern remained palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you, and you’ve been avoidin’ me. It’s not like you to just disappear. I need to know—are you really okay?” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his worry. You looked away, struggling to find the right response. “I’ve just been dealing with things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed some time.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening. " You’ve been missin’ from school, from church, from everythin’. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been keepin’ your distance."

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, the truth of your situation pressing heavily on your heart. “I'm fine, Joel” you said, struggling to keep your composure.

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into his features. “Why’ve you been avoidin’ me?” he asked, his voice a blend of urgency and care. “You can’t keep runnin’ away from this. You keep pushin’ me away.”

You felt a sharp pang of guilt at his words, your heart twisting in your chest. The shame and the weight of your feelings made it difficult to meet his eyes. “I just—” you began, your voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to see how... broken I am.”

Joel’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and tenderness. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not broken. You’re still you. You don’t have nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, yet the weight of your shame still felt suffocating. You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “But I’ve changed,” you said, your voice cracking. “I feel like I’m not who I was before. I feel... dirty. Like I’m not even me anymore.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he noticed the tremble in your voice, the tears that began to fall. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, reassuring embrace. His touch was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the cold grip of your shame.

As he held you, Joel let his guard down, something he rarely allowed himself to do. The strength in his arms was a shield against the world, a sanctuary where you could momentarily escape the torment you had been living through. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, provided a grounding comfort. This was more than a physical embrace; it was a silent promise of protection, akin to the way he had once shielded Ellie and Sarah.

“It’s alright,” Joel murmured into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not your fault, it's not your fault. Everything's gonna be alright, babygirl."

His words were like a balm to the raw wounds of your spirit, yet the weight of your emotions still felt heavy. You could sense the sincerity in his voice, a quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the tumult of your inner world. In his embrace, you could almost imagine the weight of your shame lifting, if only for a moment.

After a while, you slowly pulled away from Joel’s comforting hold, grateful for his presence. “Thank you, Joel,” you said softly, wiping away the remnants of your tears. Joel, ever the pragmatist, decided to lighten the mood with one of his characteristic jokes.

“You know,” he said with a crooked smile, “cryin’ like that might just mess up your makeup. And we wouldn’t want you lookin’ like a raccoon now, would we?”

His playful jest brought a genuine smile to your face, a rare and fleeting moment of joy. Joel’s eyes softened as he saw you smile, his own expression a mix of relief and affection. “That’s right, like that, doll,” he said, his voice warm.

He gently cupped your face, his rough fingers brushing away the last traces of tears. “You’re stronger than you think. Just gotta give yourself some credit. You ain’t broken, not by a long shot.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached, and your mother appeared at the doorway of the storage room. Her cheerful voice cut through the tension. “Sweetheart, what’s taking so long? Did you find everything?”

You and Joel quickly pulled away from each other, making a show of straightening up and wiping your faces. “Umm, yes mother, I-I found it,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Your mother’s eyes fell on Joel, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Joel? What are you doing here?”

Joel cleared his throat, trying to mask the unease in his voice. “Hey, Evelyn, I, uh, just looking around the church again. Almost forgot how it looks from the inside, you know? It’s been a while.”

Your mother, ever the bubbly personality, clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! We’re so glad to see you back. You know, you should come more often. It’s always nice to have you around. It’s been such a long time!”

Joel nodded, his eyes flicking back to you with a hint of concern. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Just felt like catching up with old times.”

Your mother beamed at Joel, her enthusiasm unwavering. “Well, that’s fantastic. You must join us for some of the refreshments afterward. It’s a potluck today, and there’s plenty of food. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

Joel gave a polite smile, trying to hide his discomfort. “Sure thing. I’ll stick around for a bit.”

As your mother continued to chat with Joel, her cheerful demeanor filling the room with a lightness that contrasted sharply with the earlier tension, you took the opportunity to discreetly collect yourself. You adjusted your dress and smoothed out your makeup, trying to regain your composure.

Joel, noticing the change in your demeanor, shot you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to your mother.

Your mother excuse herself to go out but lookback to you, “Oh, sweetheart, I almost forgot. We need help with the setup for the refreshments,”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, I’ll take care of it, Mama." and she went to outside.

You and Joel moved outside too, where the atmosphere of the church’s potluck was in full swing. The laughter and chatter of the congregation filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked goods and savory dishes. Joel, despite his unease, tried to adapt to the social scene, engaging with the women who flocked to him. He was a striking figure, with his salt-and-pepper beard and intense brown eyes that had a rugged charm to them. The women, clearly drawn to his distinguished appearance and the success he embodied, tried to catch his attention, though Joel’s discomfort was palpable. He offered polite smiles and brief responses, all the while his gaze frequently wandered back to you.

You moved among the congregation, offering refreshments and engaging in small talk, your presence like a breath of fresh air amidst the busier, more boisterous interactions. To Joel, you appeared as a serene vision—an innocent beauty despite everything. There was something ethereal about you, a delicate grace that made you stand out among the crowd. Your yellow dress seemed to shimmer with a soft glow, as if capturing the very essence of spring's first light.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you, the sight of your genuine smile and the way you interacted with others tugging at something deep within him. You were like a lone daisy in a field of wildflowers, untouched by the wilting sun. His admiration for you was undeniable, though it was mingled with concern and protectiveness.

Suddenly, as you were handing out refreshments, he noticed a boy approaching you. He moved with a kind of familiar swagger, and Joel’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized him—Jamie Lee. The sight of Jamie sent a shiver down Joel’s spine, and a protective instinct surged through him. He watched, tense and alert, as Jamie neared you.

Jamie’s presence was like a shadow falling over your radiant light. Joel’s gaze hardened, his focus narrowing. He could see the unease in your posture, the way you instinctively took a step back. The fear in your eyes was palpable, and it made Joel’s fists clench at his sides.

Joel, unable to stand idly by, started making his way towards you. His movements were deliberate and calculated, every step driven by a fierce determination to protect you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions before turning back to Jamie. The confrontation had left a bitter taste in your mouth, and you approached him with a cold, composed demeanor.

Jamie, noticing your icy response, shifted uncomfortably. “Hey,” he started, his voice trying to sound casual but laced with an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to, you know, I was just—”

"Get off from my face," you said quietly doesn't want to make a scene.

amie’s face twisted into a desperate mask of fear as he took another step closer. “Look, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just... just listen to me. I didn’t mean to—”

“Get off from my face,” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper but sharp as a blade. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to push him away, but Jamie persisted, his fear morphing into a desperate, unsettling urgency. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Jamie’s panic grew. He began to reach out, trying to grab your arm. “You don’t understand. I need you to—”

Before he could touch you, Joel’s imposing figure appeared, his presence radiating a quiet, intimidating authority. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, the protective instincts within him coming to the forefront. “What’s goin’ on here?” Joel’s voice was steady, yet carried a dangerous edge that made Jamie freeze.

Jamie’s eyes widened in recognition. “Mr. Miller!” he stammered, backing away slightly. “I—uh—”

Joel’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the fear and distress on your face. He took a step closer to you, his body language radiating both calm and control. “Gibson, you alright?” he asked softly, his voice a reassuring balm amidst the tension.

You nodded, though your face was pale and your eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “Yes, I’m fine. Just... I need to go," You trying to gave Joel a smile and then walk away continue what you were doing.

Joel watched you walk away, his protective instincts still simmering beneath the surface. Once you were out of sight, Joel turned his full attention back to Jamie, his expression hardening.

“Hey, Jamie,” Joel said, his voice low and controlled. “How’s your old man? Still keepin’ busy with the firm?”

Jamie seemed to relax slightly, though his eyes still flicked nervously between Joel and the direction you had gone. “Uh, yeah, he’s doing alright,” Jamie replied, trying to sound casual. “Still busy as ever. You know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze was unwavering, a subtle intensity in his eyes that Jamie seemed to sense but couldn’t quite place. “And what about you? What’ve you been up to lately?”

Jamie fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, just... you know, school and stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

Joel nodded slowly, maintaining a calm exterior while his mind worked through his options. “Right, right. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around. Thought I’d come back to the old church, see how things are goin’.”

Jamie’s eyes darted nervously. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he said, his voice faltering. “So, uh, what brings you back? I thought you hadn’t been around for years.”

Joel’s smile was tight, the warmth of it not quite reaching his eyes. “Just felt like it was time to reconnect. Thought I’d check in on the old place, you know?"

Jamie seemed to relax a bit more, although his discomfort lingered. “Yeah, well, it’s good to see you,” he said awkwardly. “Things are... different, but you know how it is.”

Joel’s gaze remained steady, a quiet storm of thoughts behind his calm facade. “Yeah, I know how it is,” he said, his tone measured. “Well, Jamie, I’m glad we had a chance to catch up. I'll see you around,"

Jamie’s face was a mask of confusion and relief as he nodded quickly. “Yeah, see you around, Mr. Miller.”

As Jamie walked away, Joel’s eyes followed him, a thoughtful frown settling on his face. He knew there was more beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover it, but for now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze returning to where you had disappeared. He knew that protecting you and making sure you felt safe was his priority now. The façade of casual conversation was just that—a façade.

Joel watched you slip away from the crowd, a cloud of worry settling over him. His thoughts were a maelstrom of concern and determination, but before he could follow, he was waylaid by several familiar faces. They were eager to catch up, their questions and greetings a barrier he couldn’t easily cross. He tried to be polite, nodding and offering half-hearted responses, all the while his mind remained focused on you.

Meanwhile, you navigated the church grounds with a heavy heart, your steps driven by a desperate need for solitude. You approached your father with a feigned urgency. “Papa, I need to leave early. I have a test tomorrow and I need a book from the library,” you said, your voice trembling slightly but with a determined edge.

Your father, engrossed in the after-church festivities, waved you off with little more than a distracted nod. “Alright, just be back before dark,” he called after you, his attention already shifting back to the conversation he was engaged in.

With a sigh of relief, you made your way to the edge of the church grounds, your thoughts a tangled mess of despair and shame. The path to the lake felt like a journey through an emotional wilderness. Each step seemed to echo the emptiness inside you, the trees and underbrush closing in like the walls of your own confinement.

As you walked, the weight of your thoughts felt like an oppressive fog, obscuring any sense of clarity or peace. The forest surrounding the path seemed to mirror your inner turmoil��dark, tangled, and impenetrable. The chirping of distant birds and the rustling leaves became a muted symphony to your solitary reflection, their sounds like distant whispers of a world you felt disconnected from.

Reaching the lake, you sank down onto the grassy bank, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on your shoulders. The water’s surface was a mirror of your own fractured soul—rippled and distorted, reflecting the tangled mess of your emotions. You fished out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a flask from beneath your jacket, your hands shaking slightly. The cigarettes were a crutch, a way to cope with the stress that had become almost unbearable.

Lighting a cigarette, you took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the air like a wisp of your own troubles being released. You retrieved the flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the whiskey you had managed to sneak away. The warmth of the alcohol spread through you, a fleeting comfort in the midst of your turmoil. It was a bitter solace, a way to dull the sharp edges of your pain, but it never truly erased the deep ache within.

The lake, now dimming in the encroaching twilight, seemed to embrace your solitude. Its surface reflected the last rays of sunlight, shimmering like scattered fragments of hope amidst the darkness. You leaned back, the grass beneath you soft and cool, the calmness of the lake providing a deceptive sense of tranquility.

As you looked out over the water, your thoughts drifted like the gentle ripples across the lake’s surface. The recent events played out in your mind like a series of shadowy figures, each one a reminder of how your life had spiraled into this moment of isolation and despair. You clung to the fleeting moments of numbness provided by the whiskey and smoke, trying to drown out the crushing weight of your reality.

Joel, meanwhile, managed to extricate himself from the crowd of well-wishers. His concern for you was a constant pull, a magnetic force guiding him towards you. As he scanned the area around the church, his eyes caught sight of your disappearing figure, and he felt a renewed urgency to follow.

The lake stretched out before you, its surface a placid mirror reflecting the fading light of day. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds seemed like distant echoes compared to the chaos in your mind. You lay on the grass, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath you, and the weight of Jamie Lee’s presence still heavy on your soul. Each ripple in the lake's surface seemed to mimic the turbulent waves of your thoughts—crashing, receding, only to rise again with relentless force.

You had managed to slip away from the crowd, the world around you feeling far removed from the comforting isolation you sought. As you stared out over the lake, the thoughts of Jamie’s unwelcome reappearance, the haunting memories, and the crushing fear of being trapped in this endless cycle of pain and shame twisted through your mind. You were desperate for a way out, a new beginning, a place where you could shed the weight of your past and start anew. But for now, all you could do was lie there, the whispers of the forest around you a faint consolation against the storm within.

Then, breaking through the oppressive silence, a voice reached you. "Thought I found you here."

The sound of Joel’s voice was a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. You turned slowly, your heart pounding as you saw him emerging from the trees. His presence was a tether to reality, grounding you amidst the chaos. His gaze was soft but intense, filled with a concern that seemed to pierce through the veil of your anguish.

Joel walked over to you with deliberate steps, his expression a mix of determination and empathy. He settled beside you on the grass, his body language a silent promise of protection and understanding. The familiarity of his presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the stark contrast between your own inner darkness and his unwavering support.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with genuine worry.

You didn’t immediately respond, the weight of your emotions rendering you almost speechless. The silence stretched between you, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between your fractured state and his steady presence. Joel’s eyes, dark and intense, held yours with an unwavering focus, as if trying to read the secrets written in your sorrow.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I keep trying to run away from it. But every time I think I’m getting away, it all just catches up with me.”

Joel’s expression was a mix of deep concern and frustration as he watched you struggle to keep your composure. “I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of earnest reassurance.

As Joel reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flinched as though struck, your body reacting involuntarily to the touch. Joel pulled his hand back, a flash of confusion crossing his face. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone gentler now. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly shook your head, trying to mask the truth. “It’s nothing, Joel. I’m fine,” you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your distress.

Joel’s eyes narrowed with concern. It was clear to him that there was more to your reaction than you were letting on. “You’re not fine,” he said firmly. “You're hidin' something, let me see your back,"

“I’m fine, Joel,” you insisted, trying to back away from him. Your voice was steadier now, but your heart was racing.

Joel’s face was set in grim determination. “No, you’re not. If you don’t show me, I’m gonna keep pushin’. I can see it in your eyes—you’re in pain, and I need to know why.”

When you continued to resist, Joel’s frustration reached its peak. “You gotta trust me,” he said, his voice harsh but filled with a desperate edge.

Unable to bear his insistence any longer, you shouted, “Joel, stop! I said I’m fine!” The raw pain and fear in your voice were undeniable, and Joel’s eyes softened for a moment, but his resolve remained unshaken.

Joel’s expression hardened. “I’m not lettin’ this go,” he said firmly. He gently but firmly reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it down further to expose the scars on your back. His movements were deliberate and careful, but his eyes were filled with a cold intensity that brooked no argument.

As he revealed the cruel marks etched into your skin, his anger became more apparent. His gaze swept over the scars—long, angry lines, some still raw and others faded but no less painful. Each mark told a story of suffering, and Joel’s jaw clenched in response.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his voice strained with barely controlled rage. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his tone growing colder with each word. “Who did this to you?"

"It's... It's my father," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. The confession felt like a stone lodged in your throat, its weight choking you.

Joel closed his eyes momentarily, fighting to contain the storm of anger threatening to erupt. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw working as he muttered curses under his breath. The fury simmering just below the surface was palpable.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “How long have you been dealin’ with this?”

“Since forever,” you said quietly, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your admission.

"Does your mother know?" Joel asked, you nodded.

“My mother knows, but she’s too scared to do anything. It’s... ironic, really. Just a few months ago, he was giving advice to Tommy about parenting, acting like some holy figure, but he's nothing but a hypocrite.” You try to lighten up.

Joel’s face contorted with a mix of disbelief and disgust. He stood abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive.

You scrambled to your feet, desperation gripping you. “Joel, where are you going?! please,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t do anything. Please, just let it be. This is my fault. I made him angry. I deserve this. Please, don’t make it worse. I can’t handle more trouble.”

Joel’s gaze was intense, his anger still visible but mixed with concern. “Are you fucking crazy?!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the still lake. “This ain’t your fault!” His outburst was raw, his frustration spilling over.

You flinched, your body instinctively drawing back from the intensity of his anger. The sudden surge of emotion was overwhelming, and you could feel the fear rise in your chest, a cold shiver racing down your spine.

Joel’s expression softened as he saw your reaction, his own anger faltering in the face of your fear. He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough but gentler now. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just... seeing what he’s done to you...”

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know, I know, Joel,” you whispered. “I just don’t know how to handle this. I’m scared, and I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Joel’s eyes, usually so guarded, now reflected a rare vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared,” he said, his voice softer, like a steady hand in the darkness. “I’m here for you."

The night air felt colder, but Joel’s presence was a warm, unspoken promise. His rough exterior hid a well of compassion, and though he struggled to find the right words, his actions spoke volumes. He gently pressed his forehead to yours, their breaths mingling in the space between them. “I’ll keep you safe,” he vowed, his voice a low murmur. “I promise,"

The contact of his forehead against yours was a silent, grounding connection. It was a gesture filled with the weight of his resolve and the depth of his commitment. The orange sky seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to the two of you in that fragile moment of solace.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with confusion and vulnerability. “Why are you helping me like this?”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching for the right words. He honestly didn’t know, not really, why he felt this way. Why the protective instinct was so strong, why his heart ached with a depth he hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t like his feelings for Ellie or Sarah; it was different, an enigma wrapped in the folds of his hardened exterior. He was trying to piece it together, to make sense of the emotions that seemed to defy all his usual defenses.

Inside your head, the sensation was equally foreign but profoundly powerful. It was as if, for the first time, you were standing on the edge of a cliff, gazing at an ocean of comfort and care you had only ever dreamed of. The feelings you had longed for, the protection and the tenderness, were now here, enveloping you like a warm, protective cocoon. The stark contrast between this new sense of safety and the pain you had endured made the emotions even more intense.

Joel’s presence was like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon that cut through the darkness of your fears and insecurities. The connection between you was electric, a thread that wove itself into the very fabric of your being. It was as if every touch, every glance, was an echo of a deep-seated need for solace and understanding. In his gaze, you found not just protection but a promise of something more, something you had never allowed yourself to fully believe in.

As the sky deepened around you, the intimacy of the moment became undeniable. You wanted to close the distance, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours, to make this bond even more tangible. But there was a hesitation—a barrier of years and experiences, a chasm you weren’t sure you could or should cross. Joel was older, a figure who had always seemed out of reach, yet now he was the focal point of a desire that was both thrilling and terrifying.

In your mind, the longing was like a fragile flower blossoming in the dark—a tender, delicate thing that had been waiting for the right moment to bloom. You felt a pull toward him that went beyond mere comfort; it was a magnetic force that drew you closer, promising a kind of connection you hadn’t thought possible.

You wanted to kiss him, to bridge the gap between what was and what could be, but the uncertainty lingered. Would he reciprocate, or would the age difference and the complexities of your feelings stand in the way? The desire was there, shimmering like moonlight on still water, but you were unsure if this was a path you should walk or a dream too fragile to grasp.

Joel's presence was an anchor, grounding you in a moment of clarity and vulnerability. The depth of what you felt for him was new and frightening, like navigating a starless sea in search of a shore you hoped existed. In the silence that followed, you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, a testament to the complex dance of emotion and need that neither of you could fully understand but both could feel.

Driven by the raw need to bridge the chasm between what was and what could be, you made a sudden, bold decision. You leaned in, closing the distance between you with a desperate and trembling kiss.

The moment your lips met his, Joel’s eyes widened in shock. He had not expected this, and for a heartbeat, he was paralyzed, caught between instinct and confusion. It felt like an electric jolt had surged through him, awakening something deep and primal. His heart raced, and his breath hitched as he processed the reality of your kiss.

But as the shock wore off, something else stirred within him—a burgeoning need that mirrored your own. The kiss, so raw and honest, ignited a flame that Joel had long kept buried under layers of grief and stoicism. He felt the world narrow to just the two of you, a universe where the complexities of age and propriety faded into insignificance.

Without fully realizing it, Joel responded with a fervor that surprised even him. His hands cupped your face gently but firmly, drawing you closer. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and passionate, a dance of newfound desire and connection. It was as if each touch, each movement, was a revelation, a discovery of a shared longing that neither of you had fully acknowledged until this very moment.

Joel's kiss was eager, almost desperate. The way he pulled you closer, the intensity of his touch—it was as if he was trying to anchor himself to this fragile but profound connection. His initial shock gave way to an overwhelming need to reciprocate, to explore the emotions that had been unearthed by your bold move.

For both of you, this kiss was a turning point, a leap into a new realm of intimacy and understanding. It was more than just physical; it was an acknowledgment of the depth of feeling that had been building between you. The night around you seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for this moment to solidify into something undeniably real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty. Joel’s gaze was softer now, his eyes reflecting a blend of awe and desire. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender.

“Doll,” Joel said, his voice a rough whisper as he pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry, Joel.” The realization of what had just happened washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling vulnerable and uncertain.

Joel shook his head gently, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his tone firm yet tender. “It’s okay. you're alright, you'll be fine, I promise."

You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The sky was growing darker, the first hints of night casting long shadows across the lake. You knew you needed to head back before your father’s anger took a new form, a punishment you feared more than the quiet storm that had just passed between you and Joel.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip warm and steady. “Do you want a ride back?” he asked, his concern evident.

“No, it’s alright,” you replied, shaking your head with a small, weary smile. “Just… go back to the church. Say goodbye to everyone, Joel.”

Joel hesitated, his expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. “Alright,” he said, but before turning to go, you couldn’t help but add a touch of humor to lighten the mood.

“Hey, are you gonna become a regular at the church again?” you said, forcing a grin. “You’ve been MIA for years, and now you show up just to connect with me? What’s next, a testimonial about divine intervention?”

Joel chuckled, the sound a rare and genuine escape from the weight of the moment. “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” he replied with a wry smile. “But maybe I’ll drop by once in a while, if only to make sure you’re still alright.”

You both shared a brief, understanding smile. It was a fleeting but comforting connection amidst the chaos of emotions and revelations.

Before parting ways, Joel gave you a warm hug, his embrace firm yet tender. He pulled back slightly and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a gesture that carried more warmth and affection than words could convey. It was a promise, a silent vow of protection and care, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of his own feelings.

“Stay safe,” Joel said, his voice gentle but earnest. “I’ll see you around.”

As Joel walked away, his figure blending into the shadows, you turned and began your journey back home. The cool night air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that Joel had left behind. The path ahead was dimly lit by the moonlight, each step resonating with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

In your mind, the night’s events replayed like a vivid dream. The touch of Joel’s hand, the tenderness of his kiss, and the tangled emotions you felt were all swirling together, creating a new and unfamiliar reality. You felt like you had crossed a threshold, where the lines between safety and danger, affection and fear, had become blurred.

The lake, once a silent witness to your sorrow, now seemed like a distant memory. It was as if you had left it behind, stepping into a new world where the echoes of the night and the promise of something different lingered like a soft whisper.

As you entered your home, the weight of the night’s revelations settled heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like a delicate balance between the pain you had known and the uncertain hope that now lay ahead. Today had ended with its own kind of twilight, a space between the darkness of the past and the uncertain dawn of the future.

[vinesinmyheart]

Balance Once Realized

Once, I was expected, overdue from my mother's womb.

Her languishing tears fell over an empty bassinet, cursing me out of her.

I was already too much,

Already not enough, before my lungs took their first breath.

One, I was a tiny girl, crafted of feelings and music,

Too sensitive to be just right.

Abandoned by the mother who'd once yearned to hold me close,

A trembling, anxious heart, my only friend.

My only protector.

I hadn't been enough for my father;

Only alcohol and self-destruction were his friends.

I'd never be right at all for my mother;

She'd never choose me. I wasn't the life she’d wanted.

I was made well aware:

I'm not good enough, I'm too much.

I learned in those days, the age when we're molded into vessels of human nature,

I would never be enough,

I would always be too much, so odd to everyone else.

Otherness burned into my pain like a tiny hand on a hot stove,

Until I befriended the loneliness, who knew I wasn't the right amount,

Who hurt and exhausted me.

The solitude and it’s pain were my constants,

Unlike anyone else.

As a woman,

I tried so desperately to be just right.

Just enough for my husband,

I danced on eggshells in lingerie.

I strived to be all things to my children. Exhaustion chased me,

A hound with a scent,

I often stumbled,

Wrecked by the expectations.

Yearning to be loved, longing to be just right for someone.

Never was I right. Not once.

Now I see myself, alone by choice.

Am I enough now? Am I too much?

Perhaps, but by whose standards?

Perhaps, I am too much.

It’s possible the oceans and deep seas of emotion that I swim freely in are too intense for some.

Maybe I'm not enough,

Not scaling mountains,

Or being a boss bitch,

Or sometimes even leaving the house,

Or getting out of bed.

I live so actively in my mind.

For me, I'm just right.

I enjoy a day spent in the alleys of my curiosity.

These days I’ve lost my taste for the excitement of acceptance.

Take me as I am, or leave me,

I am just right, with or without you.

A balance once realized can never be forgotten.

- E.M

[overcatic]

vedic astro observations pt. 4 (aries-centric)

1. aries is the loneliest sign in the zodiac. they tend to be on their own for the most part of their life. they have this “puppy” energy and childlike charm that attracts people to them, but the arians love their solitude. this is especially true for those with an aries ascendant or moon.

2. an interesting fact about aries is that the natives of this sign are either born with a brother (a twin) or have a brother that is really close to them — or, in some cases, have a male friend with whom they form a brotherly bond.

3. it is especially rare to meet an aries woman who doesn’t have a masculine counterpart — a male “twin” of some sort. this is especially prominent for those born under the star of the divine twins, ashwini.

4. aries natives have a special affinity with animals, especially horses and dogs. dogs are represented by mangal (mars), the lord of aries; while horses are surya (sun) which finds its height of exaltation in aries.

5. cats are venus, dogs are mars. bringing a cat into your home will enhance your venus (happiness, comfort, sensuality, luxury, play). while a dog, man’s best friend, will enhance your mars (protection, guard, safety.)

6. sidereal aries have undefeated “chill” energy. despite being ruled by mars, the fiery planet of action and anger, they’re naturally indifferent towards the matters of other people — unless they’re directly involved.

7. mars loves the moon. mars is the protector of the land (earth); the moon is the land. mars is like the loving child who wants to protect and serve their mother; a display of pure love and loyalty to the divine womb (the fertile earth within the woman). this energy is beautifully prominent within aries, and greatly terrifying in scorpio.

8. aries is the pinnacle of freedom. it is the freedom of mind, body, and soul. a natural explorer; a traveller; a loner. the aries native believes that life is an individualistic journey that is to be experienced alone. but, eventually, they meet their cosmic counterpart that the divine has sent to be their companion and closest friend.

9. aries is perceived as “childlike” and pure by most people. this energy is especially loved by sagittarius, the cosmic optimist. the sagittarius archer, a natural-born loner and traveller, tends to appreciate the loyalty and honesty which the aries exudes; thereby valuing their friendship and choosing them to be their companions throughout their journey in life (and beyond?).

10. aries and sagittarius are so cosmically intertwined, i’ve noticed. to me this relationship is like the hunter (sagittarius) and his loyal dog (aries). a beautiful and bountiful connection always occurs between these two.

note: i know that, in some cultures, it is offensive to compare someone to a dog — but i believe that those who are in harmony with the divine’s creation will not take offense. once you have defeated the ego, all creation becomes equal to you — and part of you.

namaste xx <3

[nahoney22]

🌺 Foxglove Commander Fox 🌺

Garden Wishes

X female senator reader

word count: 1.3k

🌸 💐 Flower Fic Event 💐 🌸

Just a cute little event with Clones and some Flowers me and some of my moots decided to do on discord for @arctrooper69 birthday today! 🎉 🌸 🌺 Check the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see more! 💐

warnings: None, fluff, reader wearing a skirt, catching feelings.

Others involved with this event are (will add links to there fics once posted💜):

🌸 @arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

🌸@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

🌸 @totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

🌸 @dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

🌸 @l-lend - Wolffe

🌸 @jedi-hawkins - Kix

🌸 @moonstrider9904 - Howzer

“It’s a lovely day, wouldn’t you agree, Commander?” You muse, enjoying the sun's warm caress on your skin. Your question is directed to Clone Commander Fox, who trails a few steps behind you as you stroll through the Senate Gardens.

As a Senator, moments of peace and solitude are rare and precious and for you, it’s best spent admiring the diverse plant life. Though Commander Fox, your assigned protector, doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“It is, ma’am,” he replies curtly, his lack of enthusiasm evident. You decide not to press him and continue your walk with a playful roll of your eyes.

Pausing by a bush adorned with tiny white flowers, you crouch carefully to avoid snagging your regal, albeit cumbersome, skirt. “These are some of my favorites,” you say as Fox halts behind you. “Leucanthemum Vulgare.”

“I’m not familiar with it, ma’am,” he responds, surprising you. Fox rarely speaks unless spoken to, but perhaps after weeks of close quarters, he feels inclined to converse back.

“Just daisies,” you chuckle, standing again. You notice Fox instinctively reaching out to assist you, only to quickly tuck his hands behind his back when you were fine.

Continuing your walk, your feet eventually tire, and you opt to sit on a nearby bench while Fox stands awkwardly beside you. “You can sit with me, Commander,” you suggest, patting the space next to you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must remain vigilant to protect you,” he replies, giving you a nod and you can’t help but wonder what expression lies behind his helmet.

“I doubt anyone will attack me here,” you say, though Fox’s squared shoulders suggest otherwise. “...or do you know something I don’t?”

He clears his throat and gazes down at you, his eyes meeting yours through the visor. “All Senators are at risk, ma’am. However… your advocacy for Clone rights has made you a target in certain political circles.”

You shrug. “If they want to shoot me for it, so be it.”

“Ma’am, please don’t say that,” Fox winces, looking away and shaking his head. He seems to want to speak freely, but refrains.

“Thank you for protecting me,” you say gently, shifting your gaze to the vibrant flowers that soothe your nerves. “I can’t think of another Clone I’d rather have by my side to appreciate these gardens.”

Fox tenses beside you. “Y-you’re welcome,” he stammers, a rare but endearing lapse in his typical stoicism.

You both settle into a peaceful silence, though you wondered how Fox is faring. Often, you ponder whether he enjoys these quiet moments with you or would rather be back in his office. You recall the amusing sight of his brothers stuffing countless empty caf cups into a corner when you first visited him, and the strain in his voice and stiff body language betrayed his embarrassment over the discovery of his caf addiction.

You just hoped it wasn’t because he was exhausted.

“So,” you begin, snapping out of your worried thoughts, “you’ve walked with me in these gardens plenty of times now, Commander. Is there any particular plant, flower, or tree you like?”

Fox turns his head towards you, tilting it slightly, which you find unexpectedly adorable and you scold yourself mentally for thinking so.

“I’m afraid my answer will bore you.”

You give a wry smile. “I’m sorry, you probably have more important things to be doing, I’m sure.”

“Taking care of you is the most important thing to me,” he says almost sternly. The way he says it sounds almost desperate, not just dutiful. Realising this, he adds, “as it is my current job.”

Clearing your throat, you turn your gaze away, hoping he doesn’t notice the tips of your ears burning with a blush. “I see.”

He nods simply, but after a moment, he sighs slightly. “There is, uh, one flower that catches my eye every time we come here actually.”

You look back at him, surprised. “Really? Which one?”

“It’s over there in the corner to the right.” He nods in the direction, and you stand, asking him to show you.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure if you’re serious. But judging by your smile—something he has grown rather fond of—he nods and leads the way.

You stop in front of a flower bed filled with a mix of pink, purple, white, and red flowers—tall and breathtaking, and quite familiar to you.

“I believe these are Digitalis purpurea,” you say, leaning forward to inhale their delicate fragrance with a soft smile. “I can see why you like them, come to think of it.”

He nods slightly, pleased to have a name for the flower, even if he wasn't going to try to pronounce it. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” you say with a smirk as you turn to him, “it’s also more commonly known as ‘Foxglove.’”

“Oh, really?” he asks, genuinely curious, and you nod in confirmation.

“Quite the coincidence, don't you think?” you add, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Fox seems taken aback, the irony not lost on him. “Yes, quite the coincidence indeed.” His voice is softer, and there's a hint of a smile in his tone that you wholeheartedly wish you could see.

Fox admires the flowers once more before his eyes drift to the ground where a small bunch had been either knocked or blown off. He bends down and picks them up, then without thinking, holds them out to you. “Would you like these?”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, looking at the outstretched flowers and then at him. “Oh,” you say pleasantly, reaching out and taking hold of the slightly battered and broken stems, “thank you, Commander.”

But you notice that he doesn’t let go at first, instead focusing on the way your fingers brush against his. You feel your heart skip a beat as you both look at each other, neither of you willing to let go. This had to stop. This was completely inappropriate. But yet…

“Senator, Commander Fox.” A voice interrupts you both, and you almost gasp as you quickly let go of the flowers and turn to see who has interrupted this—if you could even call it—moment.

“Thorn,” Fox acknowledges, his attempt to sound composed betrayed by the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

“You are both needed inside. I did try to comm you, but I, uh, must’ve not gotten the signal.” Thorn's tone carries a hint of amusement, and you feel a rush of nervousness and fluster. Did Fox feel the same awkwardness you did?

You glance at Fox, who gives a curt nod to Thorn. “Understood. We’ll head there immediately.”

As you walk back towards the Senate building, you can't help but replay the moment in your mind. The gentle brush of his fingers against yours, the intensity of his gaze behind his visor—it was so unlike the stoic Commander you had come to know.

“Thank you, Commander,” you say softly once the two of you were alone again, glancing at the flowers in your hand. “For the flowers.”

Fox nods, his voice steady but tone also softer than usual. “You’re welcome.”

Later that day, you receive word that you are needed on a different planet for urgent Senate business. As you prepare to leave, you find yourself thinking about Fox and the moment you shared in the garden. An idea forms in your mind, and you act on it impulsively.

Before you depart, you make your way to Fox’s office. It's empty, as he's likely out on duty. You place the flowers on his desk, arranging them neatly. Beside the flowers, you leave a small note:

‘Hopefully you will protect these like you protected me until I come back, Fox.’

And signed with your name. Not just Senator.

With one last glance around the room, amused to see his caf cups still there, you quietly slip out.

When Fox returned to his office that evening, confused with the days events and how he was feeling about you, he never realised he would experience missing someone. Yet as he reads the note you left and looks at the flowers, he does something strange. He pushes his steaming caf to the side and instead, lets the memory of you and the scent of the Foxgloves relax him.

He would not tell the others, but he could not wait for another stroll in the gardens with you.

Masterlist is pinned 😊

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @thiswitchloves9904

@whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @the-bad-batch-baroness

[sugar-grigri]

Nayuta must become the big sister

I think what's especially interesting to note in chapter 154 is Nayuta's failure to use the right tactics.

Denji raised Nayuta correctly, emphasizing going to school, trying to control her possessive outbursts while being extremely present for her. In short, he nurtured her, giving her the protection he hadn't enjoyed as a child himself.

Although Nayuta knows her own nature and instincts, and is not naturally altruistic, she still looks at herself in a certain way: from society's point of view, and from her own, she is a child.

What I'm trying to say is that it's not insignificant to have Makima reincarnated; we could very well have had Nayuta, already an adult, because she's a devil who doesn't grow up. Nayuta already seems to grow up much faster than humans, so Fujimoto could very well have decided that a demon, especially a knight of the apocalypse, should already be born as an adult.

She grew up more quickly, and by the time Denji had finished devouring Makima, she already had the appearance of a 4/5-year-old child.

Fujimoto made Nayuta a child, because it's this state of being that makes her a control demon so paradoxical. Indeed, if Makima was so powerful, it wasn't just because she was older; the fact that Denji had killed Makima didn't change anything in terms of the fear one can feel of control.

What affects Nayuta's power, capable of controlling only 3 people at a time, is the way she conceives herself.

Makima was so powerful because she occupied a fairly high hierarchical position among public hunters, just as she had unquestionable authority over her agents. What's more, the government assigned her an objective of a universal nature: to protect all mankind from evil things. This role of universal protector, albeit a protective one, naturally places Makima, the control demon, in the role of guardian, humanity being as harmless as obedient puppies. The only thing Makima couldn't feel superior to was Chainsaw Man, for he is the entity that provides the means to pursue her universal goal of protection.

The key to Nayuta's fate is the fact that she has been loved and pampered by Denji. She makes it clear: it's natural for a demon to kill humans. Which, on the other hand, indicates that it's completely unnatural and almost unnatural for a demon to love and be loved by a human.

To have been loved, to have been happy, enabled the control demon to understand other ways of relating than pure domination, whereas Makima didn't understand human relationships, to the point of being moved by a hug, so unattainable for her.

Nayuta understands the nuances of relationships, just as she claims not to be the leader of powerful public officials but a mere child, which always places her in an inferior position to her enemies. That's why she's less powerful: to be in control, she needs to feel superior, which she can't easily do when she sees all these adults surrounding her so vehemently.

She focuses more on her social role as a child to be protected than as a demon attacking head-on. She still adheres to her role as a child, she's not obsessed with CSM because she can't reach him, he's now in her inner circle, she doesn't have a universal goal such as protecting the humanity like Fami suggested, she just wants to go to school.

In short, the control demon no longer wants to control, no longer needs to, or when she does, it's out of sheer necessity. The fact that she's weaker was Kishibe's objective when he gave custody of the demon to CSM, to make the control demon more human, more childlike, to avoid this exponential need for control. In short, the fact that the Control Demon's supreme objective is to be loved has contained its power, because its objectives have been achieved.

We can see how love is an unnatural thing, because it limits a demon who should be supreme through his solitude. For Nayuta's sake, to get out of her situation in chapter 154 would be to have a crisis of ego, and I think that symbolically it's not out of the question that if Nayuta abandons her role as a child, she'll grow up brutally. For a demon, appearance and age are simply a question of positioning in society. Makima had chosen to take on the appearance of a femme fatale to enable her to manipulate more effectively.

A soft voice, an attractive appearance to encourage us to lower our guard, the better to control coldly.

This is also why Barem is so dangerous to her: he's big-boned, aggressive and very tall, so he can be naturally frightening to a child. If Nayuta wants to control him and regain the upper hand, she mustn't see herself as a child with a gun pointed at her head. That even when assaulted, even when held at gunpoint, she's still in full control, that despite the chaos, she's still superior.

It's no coincidence that it's a gun that's pointed at her. Guns are fatal for humans, but for demons, especially the most powerful ones, they don't mean much. Nayuta doesn't need to be afraid of a gun, she needs to embrace her demon nature.

And she's on that track because protecting CSM, rather than being protected by him, means she can now play the role of a big sister.

What's more, she needs to get to know her own need for violence and cruelty. Chaos isn't what she likes, this chain of violence and combat isn't what she desires, because what she wants is cold, absolute control, where all she gets is unfailing obedience, people falling into line, not men with spears fighting each other in a primal manner.

She has been brought up by Denji, adopting his mannerisms and his way of speaking, but she also needs to distance herself from this fraternal figure in order to be herself.

All this leads me to say that the Knights of the Apocalypse, by moving away from what they are, are THE ONES who bring about the apocalypse, which is totally obvious, hence their name.

By loving something abnormal for the demon of control, by falling in love with his worst enemy for the demon of war, by wanting to save humanity to better eat what it produces for the demon of famine... show how they are all affected by humanity, to the point of putting aside their demonic nature.

Think of it as a kind of broken balance, which leads the eldest, the demon of death, to intervene. Why? For death represents absolute equilibrium; no one can escape it, it is an absolute rule from which it cannot be dislodged, it is an inevitable and firm end. Common to all species.

So she intervenes, to pull the ears of her little sisters Nostradamus' prophecy doesn't predict the apocalypse - in fact, it predicts that it will be triggered by the Knights of the Apocalypse, who have set out to protect mankind from the apocalypse. It may sound complicated when you put it like that, but the idea is to reinforce the idea of inevitability: protecting mankind from the apocalypse isn't a rebellion, something that can work; on the contrary, Fami's plan triggers it because she denies her nature. It's a losing game.

When I say that Nayuta needs to be a little more Makima again, it's not just for her own good, it's also for the good of humanity, and I find that ultra interesting: it's necessary for the antagonist we got rid of in part 1 to return, at least partially, in part 2.

But she mustn't go back to being that obsessive protector, she must simply resume its role as predator. Mankind needs predators: with the evolution of technology, it thought it could challenge its food chain, but paradoxically it needs to be bruised by demons to survive, since the balance of the world is at stake.

It's all the more symbolic that Barem and Fami use the wrong strategy: like Prometheus, they give fire to men via contracts with the fire demon, reinforcing the idea of evolution to escape its nature. It's even more symbolic that many weapons serve this project, such as Miri, the demon of the whip and the spear, hybrids linked to this civilisation.

It's absurd for the demon of control to argue that she's just a child. If she wants CSM to escape, she must also allow him to free himself from his role as big brother and protector. And the answer to this question was given by Fumiko, who didn't realise that dogs and Meowy weren't just animals. What she should despise is certainly not her own family.

Humanity is nothing more than pets, and this realisation is the key for Nayuta to become herself again.

[kckt88]

For whom the bell tolls.

Summary:

After the death of her younger brother, Vaelarra plots to sneak into Kings Landing and take the life of the one responsible - her husband Aemond.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Plots/Scheming, Language, Kissing, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Blood, Character Death, Includes Epilogue.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C VAELARRA VELARYON (& JACAERYS VELARYON x VAELARRA VELARYON).

Word Count: 6778

A.N - Alternate version of Where Water Meets The Sea!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond sat alone in his chambers, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows across the room. His fingers digging into the wooden arms of his chair.

The fire’s warmth did little to chase away the coldness that had settled deep within his bones. His thoughts turning to his wife, Vaelarra, and their son, Aenys.

He could still see Vaelarra’s face, twisted in anger and hurt, the day he had her and Aenys locked away in their chambers. He had believed he was doing the right thing, helping to secure the throne for his brother Aegon, instead of the named heir Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he thought of Ser Erryk, the knight who had, freed his wife from her confinement and allowed her and Aenys to escape King’s Landing on the back of her dragon, Cannibal, with the two of them now safely ensconced on Dragonstone.

Much had changed since he had last seen his wife.

The blood of her brother Lucerys now stained his hands, a dark reminder of the confrontation at Storm’s End. He could still hear the scream of terror as Vhagar, had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

He knew Vaelarra would never forgive him for what he had done.

No longer would she gaze upon him with love and call him her gēlenka zaldrīzes. (Silver dragon).

He would never get to enjoy the feeling of her combing and braiding his hair and he certainly wouldn’t get to hear her whisper Issa vēzos se qēlossās as they made love.(My sun and stars)

The bond they had shared, once so strong, was now irrevocably broken. She would hate him, and he could not blame her. He was a kinslayer, a cursed title that would haunt him forever.

The fire crackled, a log collapsing into embers. Aemond’s grip on the chair loosened, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating mantle.

Crowning Aegon had cost a heavy price, and in the solitude of his chambers, he faced the true cost of his actions.

The love of his wife and son, all sacrificed on the altar of his own making. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting a harsh glow on the reality he could no longer escape.

Meanwhile, on Dragonstone, Vaelarra stood around the painted table, her gaze fixed on the intricate carvings that detailed the lands of Westeros.

Beside her stood her father, Daemon, his presence a formidable pillar of strength. Her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, stood nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Her grandmother, Rhaenys, stood silent but strong, her gaze as unyielding as the sea. A small number of lords loyal to her mother were also gathered, their faces etched with worry and resolve.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Vaelarra’s heart ached, her thoughts a tumultuous storm of grief and anger.

“Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-”

The door creaked open, and she gasped as her mother, Rhaenyra, walked into the room. Dishevelled and unkempt, Rhaenyra looked like a shadow of her former self.

She had spent the last ten days searching for the remains of her son Lucerys, her desperation and sorrow evident in every step she took.

In Rhaenyra’s grasp was a piece of Luke’s shredded cloak. The sight of it caused Vaelarra’s breath to hitch, a quiet sob escaping her lips.

The room seemed to close in around her as she stared at the tattered fabric, a physical reminder of her younger brother’s tragic end. Her heart twisted and broke, the pain of loss almost too much to bear.

Her grief slowly began to morph into something darker, something colder. As the reality of Luke’s death settled over her, Vaelarra’s sorrow turned into a burning hatred. Her husband, Aemond, the father of her child, was responsible for this.

The man she had once loved with all her heart had brought this unimaginable pain upon her family. The love she had once felt for him was now tainted, twisted by the betrayal and the blood on his hands.

Her eyes hardened, the tears drying as a steely resolve took hold. She would avenge her brother. The man responsible for Luke’s death would pay dearly for his actions.

Vaelarra clenched her fists, the knuckles turning white.

The image of Aemond, once a source of joy and love, now filled her with a burning desire for vengeance.

Vaelarra swore silently to herself that she would spill the blood of the one responsible, that she would make Aemond pay for the agony he had caused.

“Your council stands at the ready Your Grace” said Daemon placing his hands on the table “I will fly to Harrenhal at your command and set our toe hold in the Riverlands”.

“Your Grace, my lord husbands blockade of the gullet moves into place, all seaborn travel and trade to Kings Landing will soon be cut off” said Rhaenys her voice firm.

“I-I want Aemond Targaryen” exclaimed Rhaenyra, her fists clenched.

As Rhaenyra walked away from the table, her face streaked with tears, Vaelarra looked at her father, their silent glance was worth more than a thousand words.

Later that night Vaelarra sat with her mother, in silence as they awaited the arrival of Jacaerys, the grief over losing Luke etched upon her face, her eyes that had once sparkled were now dull orbs, staring at the wall, the only movement she made was breathing.

The sound of the door opening distracted Vaelarra, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Jace.

Tired, and pale. But he was alive and he was home.

Vaelarra rushed to her brother and held him tight, her face buried in his neck.

“Thank the gods, your safe-” whispered Vaelarra softly as she felt Jace’s arms encircle her waist and hold her tight.

“Sister-“ muttered Jace, his voice small.

Vaelarra placed a kiss upon his brow and released him from her hug, only for Jace to take her hand and refuse to let go.

“Your Grace-Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale” said Jace.

Vaelarra looked at her mother who nodded silently.

“-And Lord Cregan Stark, h-has promised-“ said Jace his voice wobbling as he struggled to contain his grief “-Two thousand men-”

Rhaenyra slowly rose from her seat and made her way towards her children, she paused for a moment before she pulled them both into her embrace.

Jace couldn’t contain his grief a moment longer and he cried, swept up in the in the arms of his mother and sister.

Vaelarra and Daemon stood on one of the balconies of Dragonstone, the salty breeze tugging at their cloaks as they gazed out over the turbulent sea. The sky was painted with hues of deep orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient fortress.

Vaelarra's jaw was set, her eyes burning with determination as she turned to face her father.

"I have a plan-to see an end to this fucking war before it gets worse" she began, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of fierce resolve. "I will sneak into King's Landing and slit Aemond's throat. He deserves to pay for what he's done, for what he's taken from us."

Daemon's invisible brows furrowed, a mixture of concern and scepticism flashing in his eyes. "And what if you fail?" he asked, his tone gruff. "What if you’re caught before you even reach him? You’re talking about sneaking into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold. The risks are too great-we have already lost two children, one of them by the hand of that one eyed cunt, and I will not lose another"

She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "I will not fail. I am not some weakling woman. I am blood of the dragon, and I will see justice served for Lucerys. I know the Red Keep; I know the secret passageways. No one else can get close enough to Aemond."

Daemon sighed, his worry for his daughter evident. "You are my oldest child, Vaelarra. I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. If something were to happen—"

"Nothing will happen," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I am the only one who can do this. Aemond will never suspect me. He won't see me coming."

They stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Finally, Daemon nodded slowly, though his eyes were still filled with reluctance. "If we are to do this," he said quietly, "then we will do it together. I will not let you face this danger alone."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, gratitude mixing with her determination. "Together, then," she agreed.

Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will plan this carefully. Every detail must be perfect. We cannot afford any mistakes and we cannot under any circumstances tell your mother”.

Vaelarra nodded, her resolve unshaken. "I understand"

Under the cover of darkness, a small rowboat glided silently toward the docks of King’s Landing.

Cloaked figures huddled within it; their faces hidden from view. Vaelarra and Daemon, having paid for their clandestine passage, stepped onto the worn wooden planks of the dock. The muffled sounds of the city night surrounded them: distant laughter, the clatter of horse hooves, and the faint murmur of conversations.

Vaelarra pulled her cloak tighter around her, the hood casting deep shadows over her face. Daemon, equally concealed, motioned for her to follow.

Together, they slipped into the labyrinthine streets of King’s Landing, keeping to the narrow, less-travelled alleys. Heads down, they moved swiftly and quietly, their boots barely making a sound against the cobblestones.

The city, even at night, was alive with activity. Beggars huddled in doorways, their eyes tracking the cloaked figures warily. Vaelarra and Daemon pressed on, their hearts pounding with the tension of their mission.

The familiar stench of the city, a mix of refuse and sea air, was almost comforting in its predictability.

They arrived at an unassuming wall, overgrown with ivy and seemingly forgotten. Daemon reached out, fingers brushing against the stone until he found a hidden latch. With a quiet click, a portion of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark passageway leading into the depths of the Red Keep.

Daemon turned to Vaelarra; his expression hidden but his concern evident in his posture. He handed her a finely crafted dagger, its blade gleaming even in the dim light.

 “Be careful, Vaelarra,” murmured Daemon, his voice low and urgent. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Vaelarra took the dagger, the weight of it both reassuring and heavy with the responsibility it carried. She met her father’s eyes, the shared determination between them a silent promise. “I will be back,” she whispered, her voice unwavering. She stepped forward, embracing Daemon tightly.

As she pulled away, Vaelarra took a deep breath and disappeared into the darkened passageway. The air inside was cool and musty, the narrow walls pressing in on her as she moved forward. Daemon watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of pride and dread. The shadows swallowed her form, leaving him alone in the silent night.

He closed the hidden door behind her, his thoughts racing as he positioned himself nearby, ready to act if needed. The city’s noises faded into the background as he focused on the task ahead. Vaelarra was strong, capable, and determined. She was blood of the dragon. And though the path she walked was fraught with danger, Daemon knew she would face it head-on, driven by the need for justice and vengeance.

Inside the passageway, Vaelarra moved with purpose, the layout of the Red Keep etched into her memory.

Each step brought her closer to her goal, the dagger a cold reminder of the deadly mission she had undertaken. She was not just a sister seeking vengeance; she was a dragon, and she would see her brother avenged, no matter the cost.

Vaelarra moved silently through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep, her footsteps barely a whisper against the cold stone floor.

The walls, lined with cobwebs and the dust of years, seemed to close in around her as she navigated the narrow, twisting corridors.

Several times, she was forced to stop, pressing herself against the rough stone as maids and guards passed by, their conversations muffled but clear enough to keep her alert. Each time, she remained undiscovered, her breathing steady and controlled.

She made her way toward Aemond's chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

As she approached the secret entrance, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The small door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a few candles casting long shadows across the walls. Scraps of discarded parchment littered the desk and floor, a testament to Aemond's restless thoughts.

Vaelarra picked up one of the pieces, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled words. She saw her name, written and crossed out multiple times.

Aemond must have attempted to write to her, to find the right words to explain his actions. But how does a kinslayer express his remorse?

The sound of movement outside the main door made her freeze. She quickly moved behind a heavy curtain, her breath shallow and silent.

The door swung open, and she listened intently as the unmistakable sound of Aemond's footsteps filled the room. He entered slowly, the familiar rhythm of his gait sending a shiver down her spine.

She heard the soft thud of his leather jerkin being removed, followed by the clinking of his weapons as he set them aside.

From her hiding place, Vaelarra watched silently, her eyes never leaving him. He moved with a weary grace, his back to her as he approached the desk.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of his guilt and actions pressing down on him. He paused, his hand hovering over one of the discarded parchments, before letting out a sigh and turning away.

Vaelarra's grip tightened around the dagger, her mind racing with the memories of what he had done. The image of Lucerys, her younger brother, flashed before her eyes, fuelling the fire of her anger and sorrow. She remained unmoving, a predator observing its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aemond moved toward the bed, oblivious to her presence. Vaelarra's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the resolve that had brought her here. She knew what she had to do. For Lucerys, for her family, and for herself, she would see this through.

Vaelarra hid the dagger beneath her cloak, her fingers gripping its hilt tightly as she stepped out from behind the curtain. The soft rustle of her cloak was enough to alert Aemond to her presence.

He spun around, his eye narrowing as he scanned the room for the intruder. Before Vaelarra could react, he moved with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior, seizing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs, her vision blurring for a moment. Aemond's grip was ironclad, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her in place.

He reached out with his other hand and yanked down the hood of her cloak, his eye widening in shock as he came face to face with Vaelarra.

"Vaelarra?" gasped Aemond, the surprise evident in his voice. For a moment, the fierce determination in her eyes gave him pause.

Aemond's grip loosened slightly, confusion and a flicker of something else—remorse, perhaps—crossing his features. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Vaelarra’s heart raced, the weight of the dagger beneath her cloak a constant reminder of her mission. She stared at him, the man she had once loved, now her enemy. "I'm here for justice, Aemond," she replied, her voice steady despite the pressure on her throat. "For Lucerys."

Aemond's face contorted with pain and regret, but he did not release her. "You don't understand," he began, but Vaelarra cut him off.

"I understand enough," she spat, her eyes burning with a mix of hatred and sorrow. "You killed my brother. You betrayed everything we once had."

Aemond's grip tightened again, his internal struggle clear. "I never wanted this," he said through gritted teeth. "But this war—it has taken everything from us."

"It didn't take Lucerys from us," Vaelarra hissed, her fingers inching closer to the dagger beneath her cloak. "You did that."

Aemond's eye locked onto hers, the room filled with the tension of their shared history and the weight of their choices.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls as they faced each other.

Vaelarra pulled off her cloak with a swift motion, laying it carefully on Aemond's bed while ensuring the dagger remained concealed beneath its folds. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury.

Without warning, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room.

Aemond's head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening from the force of the blow. He turned back to her, a mixture of shock and anger in his eye, but Vaelarra didn't give him a chance to speak.

"You usurped the throne, helped to steal my birthright, and the birthright of our son. Aenys would have been king, but you took that from him. You murdered Lucerys. You killed my brother!" hissed Vaelarra, her voice low and filled with venom.

Aemond's expression twisted with pain and regret, but Vaelarra continued, her words a torrent of anger and betrayal. "You were my husband, the father of my child, and you betrayed us all. You sided with Aegon, you chose power over family, and now, look at the ruin you've brought upon us. You took everything from me, from Aenys, and for what? A throne built on blood and lies?"

"Vaelarra," Aemond began, his voice breaking, but she cut him off, her eyes filled with tears of rage.

"No, you don't get to speak," she snapped. "You don't get to explain or justify your actions. Lucerys is dead because of you. My brother is gone, and the blood is on your hands. How could you? How could you do this to us?"

“Larra-“ muttered Aemond.

"He was an envoy! He was a child-“

Aemond's face twisted with pain and frustration. "-So was I when Luke carved my eye out of my skull!" he shot back, the rawness of his voice revealing the deep scars the event had left on him.

Vaelarra's eyes blazed with a mix of rage and sorrow. "So that's what it was—revenge? What happened on Driftmark was an accident!"

Aemond stepped closer, his expression hardening. "An accident Luke was never held accountable for—he never even apologized," he said, his voice low but intense.

Vaelarra's breath hitched, her anger giving way to a profound grief. "He was a child, Aemond. A scared, impulsive child. And you-you slaughtered him for a mistake made in fear."

Aemond clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I didn't mean to kill him," he admitted, his voice strained. "But the anger, the humiliation I carried all these years-it consumed me. And when I saw him at Storm's End, it all came rushing back."

Vaelarra's shoulders sagged, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. "I loved you, Aemond. I thought-I thought that we could be different. That we could rise above the hatred”.

"I never wanted this," Aemond said, his voice cracking. "But the world we live in, the choices we've made-they've brought us to this point. I am sorry, Vaelarra. Truly, I am."

Vaelarra shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Sorry won't bring Luke back. It won't ease the pain."

Aemond's eye burned with a mixture of anger and anguish as he stepped closer to Vaelarra, his voice rising with the intensity of his emotions. "How do you think I feel, Vaelarra? My eye is gone, my face permanently scarred, and my own father, didn't even bother to defend me. He publicly chose his favourite child, Rhaenyra, over and over again."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, a flicker of empathy breaking through her anger, but Aemond pressed on, his voice trembling with the weight of his pain.

"All through my life, Viserys never bothered with me, Aegon, or Helaena. Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your father would probably have preferred it if you and your siblings had never been born? To feel like an afterthought, a mistake he regretted?"

“-Aemond”

"You had your mother; your brothers, and you’ve had three fathers in your life. You had a family that loved you. But for me, every day was a reminder that I was unwanted, unloved. And then, when Luke took my eye, it was as if the last bit of hope I had for my father's approval was ripped away."

“-And you think that excuses your actions, that it some how absolves you of your sins” snarled Vaelarra.

"Why did you come here, Vaelarra?" asked Aemond, his voice a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Why risk so much to stand before me?"

Vaelarra's gaze was unwavering, her voice steady but laced with raw emotion. "I had to stand in front of you," she said. "I had to look you in the eye and see for myself if the man I loved still existed, or if he had truly become the monster who killed my brother."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, and he took a hesitant step toward her. "And what do you see?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vaelarra's eyes filled with tears, her expression a mixture of heartbreak and resolve. "I see a stranger," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "The man I loved would never have hurt me in such a manner. He promised me, on the day we wed, that things would be different. That we would forge our own path, away from the bitterness and bloodshed of our families. And all you've done is start a war, a war that has torn us apart and taken everything from us."

Aemond’s face crumpled, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Vaelarra, I—" he began, but she shook her head, silencing him.

"No," she said firmly. "You made your choices, Aemond, and now we all have to live with the consequences. Lucerys is dead. Our son’s birthright has been stolen. And you have become a monster."

Aemond's eye glistened with unshed tears as he reached out a hand toward her, but Vaelarra stepped back, her resolve unyielding. "I came here to see if there was any trace of the man I married left within you," she said quietly. "But I see now that he is gone, replaced by someone I can no longer recognize. Someone who values power over family, ambition over love."

Aemond's eye filled with desperation as he stepped forward, taking Vaelarra's face gently in his hands. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he looked into her tear-stained eyes.

"Vaelarra," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you. I have always loved you. Please, don't abandon me. I need you. I am so sorry for all of it."

“Aemond-“

He kissed her tear-streaked cheeks, the salt of her tears mingling with his lips. "Forgive me," he pleaded between kisses. "Please, forgive me ābrazȳrys. I can't bear to lose you” (Wife).

Vaelarra's resolve wavered, her heart torn between the love she still felt for him and the pain of his betrayal.

Aemond pressed his lips to hers, the kiss filled with a desperate need for forgiveness and redemption.

For a moment, she resisted, her body stiff with the weight of her grief and anger. But as his kiss deepened, she felt the familiar pull of their bond, the shared memories of love and passion.

Slowly, her resistance melted away. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding him close.

In that tender embrace, Vaelarra allowed herself to succumb to the bittersweet illusion Aemond's touch offered—the illusion of a fleeting moment frozen in time, where the weight of betrayal and the horrors of war could momentarily be set aside.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the warmth of his embrace, in the familiar scent of his skin that once brought her comfort.

For a brief, fragile moment, she pretended. Pretended there was no war tearing the realm apart, no blood staining his hands. Pretended that Aemond hadn't betrayed her, hadn't shattered the trust that once bound them together.

In that moment, they were simply husband and wife again, sharing a stolen fragment of peace amidst the chaos.

She brushed her lips against his, tasting both sorrow and love in the tender kiss they shared. Their bodies pressed together, seeking solace and familiarity in each other's arms.

For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist—the Red Keep around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond backed Vaelarra towards the bed, their hands pulling at each other’s clothes, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra he shoved her onto the mattress.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelarra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelarra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelarra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelarra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelarra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelarra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelarra; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelarra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelarra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus-” whispered Vaelarra as she writhed against him (Please).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelarra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaelarra can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelarra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

Aemond lifted Vaelarra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelarra.

“That’s it-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Vaelarra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Vaelarra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelarra arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the chambers.

“Fuck. Larra-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelarra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelarra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid on the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Vaelarra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelarra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it Larra, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelarra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond.

Vaelarra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelarra.

“-FUCK” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The chamber was filled with the aftermath of their lovemaking, the air thick with a mix of passion and lingering tension.

Vaelarra sat atop Aemond, his chest rising and falling beneath her, his singular eye closed in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his softened cock still nestled inside her.

She watched as he basked in his pleasure, his cheeks tinged pink. Their recent intimacy had not made her waver in her decision to do what must be done.

Discreetly, Vaelarra reached for the dagger still hidden within her cloak. Her fingers curled around the hilt.

"I hope your seed will take root within me once more," Vaelarra whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the stillness.

Her hand caressed his cheek, fingers tracing the lines of his face and perfectly shaped lips as if trying to etch his face into her memory forever.

Aemond's eye opened, meeting hers with a mix of regret and longing. "I hope so too," he replied, his voice husky with emotion as he placed a hand on her stomach.

"A part of me will always love you, Aemond," Vaelarra confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

She met Aemond's eye one last time, searching for any remnants of the man she had loved, but finding only the shadow of a broken oath and shattered promises.

And then, with a swift and decisive motion, she plunged the dagger downward.

Aemond's eye widened in shock as the dagger was driven deep into his neck.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of agony and farewell, he didn’t move, he didn’t try to push her off, he seemed resigned to his fate as his arms had remained by his side.

Vaelarra then pulled the dagger free, the metallic scent of blood filling the air as it seemingly spilled without an end over them both, the red of Aemond’s blood a stark contrast to the white cotton bed sheets.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Aemond's body went limp beneath her, the weight of his lifeless form a stark reminder of the irreversible choice she had made.

As she stared at Aemond’s lifeless body the tears she had held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers of grief.

Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, each breath a painful reminder of the life she had taken and the love she had lost.

After Vaelarra had composed herself as much as possible, she began to dress and pull on her cloak, her movements slow and deliberate, after she had finished she pulled a sheet over Aemond's lower half, a final gesture to preserve his modesty in death.

As she leaned over him, she ran a trembling finger down his sculpted face, her touch gentle despite the weight of what had happened.

Aemond's singular eye had remained open and unblinking, the sapphire that replaced his missing eye was glinting in the low light of the chamber's fire.

With a steady hand, Vaelarra carefully removed the sapphire from the empty eye socket, her touch lingering for a moment on the cool surface. She placed the gemstone inside the pocket of her cloak, a keepsake of the man who had once been her husband, now forever lost to her.

Before leaving, Vaelarra pressed a kiss to Aemond's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment in a silent farewell. She pulled up her hood, concealing her tear-streaked face, and turned towards the secret entrance that led out of Aemond's chambers.

Just before departing, a resolve settled within her. She picked up Aemond's sword and dagger, feeling their weight in her hands.

With practiced efficiency, she fastened the belt around her waist, securing the weapons close to her body.

As she slipped through the secret passage, leaving behind the lifeless body of Aemond, Vaelarra knew that her actions would reverberate through the realm but whatever happened she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Vaelarra moved swiftly through the labyrinthine passageways of the Red Keep, her heart pounding with a mixture of sorrow and grim determination. Each step echoed in the dimly lit corridors, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her shoulders.

Finally, she emerged into a secluded chamber where Daemon, stood waiting anxiously. His face softened with relief as he caught sight of her, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Vaelarra allowed herself a moment to lean into his embrace, seeking solace in the presence of her father amid the turmoil of her emotions.

"I was worried-" Daemon murmured against her hair; his voice thick with concern. "I feared they had caught you."

Vaelarra pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze with eyes that held a mix of weariness and resolve. "-A son for a son" she replied softly, her voice steady despite the lingering tremor in her hands. "-Aemond is dead."

Daemon's expression shifted, a complex blend of emotions crossing his features. He noticed the blood staining Vaelarra's clothes, evidence of the deed she had carried out. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his pride and sorrow mingling in the depths of his eyes.

"You have done what needed to be done, Vaelarra. You are true blood of the dragon." murmured Daemon, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

Vaelarra felt a swell of conflicting emotions at her father's words—pride, relief, and the weight of the path she had chosen. She nodded solemnly, grateful for his understanding and support.

"You took his weapons," Daemon observed quietly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and understanding.

Vaelarra met his gaze steadily, her own eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I took them for Aenys," she explained, her voice steady despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "One day, when he is old enough, he might want to have them. They belonged to his father."

Daemon nodded slowly, a solemn acknowledgment passing between them. "A fitting keepsake," he murmured, his voice filled with a sense of finality.

Turning his attention away from the grim reminders of the past, Daemon looked around the secret entrance. "Let us leave King's Landing," he said firmly. "Now that Aemond is dead, it won't take them long to discover his body. We must not be here when they do."

Vaelarra nodded in agreement, a sense of urgency settling over her as they made their way swiftly through the darkened streets of King's Landing, their steps hurried yet purposeful.

The weight of their actions hung heavy in the air as they navigated towards the shores where their small rowboat awaited them. They moved with silent determination as the sound of bells ringing echoed throughout the city, signalling the discovery of Aemond's body.

As they reached the dock where their boat and it’s row man waited, moving along with the gentle waves, Daemon's arm instinctively wrapped around Vaelarra's shoulders, drawing her close as they climbed aboard and took a seat.

Neither Daemon nor Vaelarra spoke as they drifted further and further away from King's Landing.

Their silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts, each lost in their own reflections on the events that had transpired.

Daemon's grip on his daughter tightened subtly, a silent reassurance of their bond amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead.

In the years following the events that reshaped the realm, peace gradually settled over Westeros under Queen Rhaenyra's reign.

With Aemond dead and Vhagar no longer a threat, under Daemon's leadership, the Black army swiftly secured King's Landing, paving the way for Rhaenyra to ascend the Iron Throne unopposed.

Aegon conceded the conquerors crown and was granted a pardon, he and Helaena chose to travel across the narrow sea to Essos and found a new home in Pentos where they could live out their days in peace with their three children.

Meanwhile, justice was meted out to those who had conspired against Rhaenyra. Otto Hightower, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong were all found guilty of treason and faced the ultimate consequence.

Alicent Hightower, while pardoned, remained confined within the Red Keep, a reminder of the cost of ambition and betrayal.

Under Rhaenyra's rule, those who had bent the knee to Aegon were given the opportunity to pledge their loyalty to her rightful reign, solidifying her hold over the Seven Kingdoms.

Stability returned to the realm as Rhaenyra worked to heal the wounds left by the war.

Nine moons after Aemond's death, Vaelarra gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Aemma.

Two years later, she married Jacaerys, finding love and companionship once more.

Together, they were blessed with a son named Lucerys and a daughter named Viserra, their family growing amidst the newfound peace.

As years passed, Aenys, now eleven name days old, successfully claimed Vhagar as his own.

The ancient she dragon, once bonded to his father Aemond, readily accepted him as her new rider, forging a new bond that echoed through history.

Aenys spent much of his youth honing his skills in the training yard, his prowess with the sword remarkable.

His long sword that once belonged to his father, with a sapphire now embedded in its hilt, became a symbol of his lineage and inherited talent.

In the wake of war and turmoil, life in Westeros moved forward, shaped by the choices, and sacrifices of those who dared to fight for their beliefs.

Through it all, the legacy of House Targaryen endured, bound by blood, dragons, and the ever-changing tides of history.

-

A.N - Jace was never betrothed to Baela in this story and please let me know which version you prefer, this or Where Water Meets The Sea.

I like to create different versions of similiar stories that I have written as I like the what if possibilities..

[tutelaris]

( where flowers bloom, so does hope | @opyre )

he's picked a red and gold petaled flower from rosalith during his travels and pressed it in a journal , that it might not wilt 'fore it reaches jote's hands . and he sits aside her , stilling himself into a position of serenity in order to appear as collected as possible when presenting her with such a gift . he does not say what it is for , nor does he speak much on the feelings involved in the matter , instead , opting to open the page and break their silence with its art , " i thought of you when i picked it . " he smiles , delicately tracing the flattened stem , " it is called the treasure flower . they used to grow outside the castle . "

SHE HADN'T SPENT much time on the castle grounds as a child. much of her days had been spent in lessons. learning ceremony, history, & lineage. the undying served from the shadows, & she had been no different. perhaps that was why the first time she saw the castle gardens had stuck with her even now, so many years later. it had been late spring, with the flowers in full bloom, & only a stern reminder to behave herself had stopped her from giving in to the childish desire to pick a few of the colorful blossoms.

jote visited the castle a few, precious times after that. & each time she savored the view of the flowers as if a part of her had known that she would lose the sight forever. often the flowers would appear in her dreams of the only home she'd known before joshua's side. dreams of returning to a peaceful rosaria & watching the flowers bend & twist with the wind at her leisure.

but none of that was on her mind this day. it had become difficult enough to keep herself focused on her task once she'd realized what day was upon them, there was no room for wayward thoughts of a lost home. luckily there was much to do as she prepared for the next leg of their journey, with many opportunities to pull her back to the task at hand.

poultices, ingredients, replenished armor, & medicines. only once their traveling bags were near full did she give into temptation ( & joshua's insistence ) & allow herself a break. she sat comfortably in a small field. flowers, cool colored & healthy despite the blight that crept closer by the day, surrounded them. jote, always tuned into joshua, noticed him beginning to rummage through his pack despite her eyes on the horizon.

her head only turned when the journal entered her peripheral vision, & her eyes landed on it as a questioning sound left her lips. in return, her charge said nothing, simply opened the journal to a page that contained a sight she'd thought she'd only see after they had accomplished the impossible.

a treasure flower, he called it.

“ i remember. ” her guard had been dropped by the surprise, & she moved closer to him, sitting just at his side. her fingers brushed gently over the petals, taking in the details that had faded from her memories with time. “ i used to sit & watch them for hours when we visited the castle. after what happened at phoenix gate, i thought––––. ” but, that didn't matter now. she would not spoil such a kind gift with melancholy thoughts of the past.

“ i'd like to see them again, someday. when things are...better. ” when the blight was gone. when ultima was a distant memory. when the boy blessed with the blood of the phoenix could live a life without balancing the life & death of the world on his shoulders. she had to believe that such a day could come.

jote's head rose to look properly at joshua &, for the first time, noticed how close they had become. in a moment of selfishness, she did not move away.

“ thank you, your grace. i will cherish it. & it will serve as a wonderful reminder. ”

though it was no treasure flower, she found herself picking one of the pale blue flowers in reach. he regarded it for a long while in silence, smiling when she did finally speak anew.

“ a reminder, ” her voice was all but a whisper as she tucked the flower behind his ear. “ of the world we wish to create. ”

[i-woke-up-at-4am-for-this]

Otter Neuvillette

Neuvillette x GN!Reader

Summary: There is one secret about Neuvillette that no one in Teyvat knows: he has the remarkable ability to shape-shift into a cute sea otter. This unique ability is a reflection of his deep connection to water and his desire for moments of solitude and peace.

One fateful day, as you collect data on plant species along the coast, you come across a disturbing scene. A lone sea otter, under attack by Fontemer Aberrant Crabs, struggles for its life.

A/N: This is my first time writing ^^

On an idyllic day in the tranquil Beryl Region, you were leisurely gathering data on the local plant species. The gentle rhythm of your exploration led you to the shoreline, where an unsettling sight unfolded before you. A lone sea otter, besieged by a group of menacing Fontemer Aberrant Crabs, fought desperately for its life. Without a second thought, you sprang into action, unaware that this seemingly ordinary otter concealed an extraordinary identity—the very Chief Justice of Fontaine, Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

Approaching the scene, you raised your voice to divert the crabs' attention away from the distressed otter. "Hey!" you shouted, flinging rocks towards the aggressors to protect the otter. As the crabs retreated into the ocean, you cautiously approached the otter, who had huddled into a protective ball, concealing its face with its paws.  "Hey there, little buddy," you whispered soothingly, crouching down to its level and tenderly caressing its head. With gentle strokes, you comforted the otter, who responded with a soft chirp, its eyes filled with gratitude.

Concerned for the otter's well-being, you inquired, though fully aware that animals couldn't comprehend human language, "Where's your family, buddy?" However, your attention was soon drawn to the otter's wounded arm, a clear reminder of the recent struggle. "Oh, you poor thing," you sympathized, "Let me tend to your injuries before you swim back home." Scooping the otter gently into your arms, you made your way back to your nearby campsite, your heart touched by the vulnerable creature in your care.

Settling the otter on a soft blanket at your campsite, you meticulously cleansed its wounds with a clean cloth, offering solace and relief from its pain. The otter seemed to find comfort in your presence, nuzzling its body and face against your hands as you tenderly attended to its injuries.

"Are you hungry, little one?" you inquired, rummaging through your supplies and offering a raw fish. To your surprise, the otter seemed uninterested in the fish but eagerly eyed a plate of sandwiches you had prepared for dinner. "You prefer a tuna sandwich, perhaps?"

The otter's eyes widened with anticipation upon spotting the tuna sandwich, and it chirped with enthusiasm, extending a paw toward the plate, as if imploring you to share. With a warm smile, you obliged, offering the otter the prized sandwich, which it eagerly devoured. It was evident that this was a particular culinary delight for the otter.

Even after savoring its meal to satisfaction, the otter continued to nuzzle and seek your companionship, its eyes conveying a heartfelt desire to remain by your side. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soothing glow across the landscape, you contemplated the otter's silent plea, tempted to let it spend the night alongside you.

"Hmm... You still need time to heal," you mused, gently petting the otter, your fingers tracing its unique features, "Maybe you can sleep with me. It's dangerous for you to be out alone at night." While your heart longed to keep this adorable creature with you, your conscience reminded you of the importance of wildlife preservation. "Animals belong in the wild, and I think I could get into trouble if I keep one for myself," you sighed, resigned to your role as a temporary protector, "Oh well, I'm going to cuddle with you to my heart's content tonight, my little baby!" With that, you bestowed a gentle kiss upon the otter's fluffy cheek.

The otter responded with an affectionate nuzzle, its whiskers fluttering with delight. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you and the otter nestled against each other, lulled by the soothing sounds of the ocean.

Morning arrived, and you woke up feeling a weight on your chest. Groggily, your hand began to explore the unexpected presence, and you muttered, "Baby, you feel so heavy." Your eyes snapped open as your fingers encountered smooth, silky hair, not fur. To your astonishment, you discovered the Chief Justice, Monsieur Neuvillette, lying on your chest.

Gasping in disbelief, you opened your eyes to behold the Chief Justice, his supple body nestled within your embrace. His expression mirrored your shock, a deep shade of crimson flushing across his face. "Er... it's.... It's not what it looks like," he stammered, his gaze shifting away in embarrassment. He struggled to find words to explain the unexpected situation, his composure faltering. "I... um... I..."

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. "Monsieur Neuvillette? Why are you here?" you inquired, staring at the Chief Justice, utterly perplexed. He still appeared flustered, and you urged him to collect his thoughts.

Recalling that you had tended to an injured otter, not the Chief Justice, and not recalling any alcoholic consumption, a wild idea crossed your mind. "I know it sounds crazy, but... were you the otter I saved yesterday?"

The Chief Justice furrowed his brows, his face reddening. "Ah... you remember?" he admitted with a quiet sigh. "Yes, I was indeed the otter you saved yesterday." He confessed, his embarrassment palpable. "It was an accident. I thought I'd just transform briefly to calm myself down, not expecting you to actually..." He stuttered awkwardly.

It was a revelation beyond your wildest imagination—the typically stoic Chief Justice harboring such an adorable and unexpected secret. You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "It's fine; I only did what was right," you assured him. However, the proximity of his body atop yours was causing a different kind of fluster. "Um... Monsieur Neuvillette, do you need something to cover yourself?" You averted your gaze, your cheeks now sporting a deep blush, and it was then that you both realized the rather compromising position you were in.

With a light chuckle, Neuvillette acknowledged his state of undress, his own cheeks flushed. "Er... ah... y-yes, please," he replied, turning away to search for a cloth to preserve his modesty. Once found, he hastily draped it over himself, providing a semblance of cover. He let out a sigh of relief, rubbing the back of his neck, his nervousness still evident. "Ahem... th-thank you."

It became apparent that Monsieur Neuvillette had no immediate intention of returning to the Court of Fontaine. "You're welcome to stay here a bit longer until your injuries heal," you offered, extending a welcoming smile.

Neuvillette's expression softened, a small smile gracing his lips. "If it's alright with you… I'd like to stay a while longer to finish recovering, that is" he admitted, his tone still somewhat awkward. The allure of your tranquil campsite seemed to be drawing him in, despite his official duties.

You patted the makeshift bed, inviting him to join you, and Neuvillette accepted the gesture, his body sinking into the mattress. He smiled, letting out another sigh of relaxation as he gazed up at the sky. "It's remarkably peaceful here," Neuvillette remarked. "Much better than my office at the Court of Fontaine." He sighed deeply, a sense of calm enveloping him. Your proximity offered a sense of peace that contrasted starkly with his usual courtroom environment.

As you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around him, Neuvillette's heart raced with a strange mix of emotions. He felt both comforted and unsettled, unable to fully comprehend the feelings that had arisen within him. His eyes met the serene horizon, and he sighed, trying to make sense of it all.

"It's hard to believe that even in your non-otter form, you're still quite adorable, Monsieur Neuvillette," you whispered, closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Neuvillette blushed once more, his heart pounding in his chest as he lay beside you. The warmth of your embrace filled him with both comfort and a newfound sense of vulnerability. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment, not fully comprehending the depth of his feelings. As he closed his eyes and drifted into slumber once more, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for this unexpected connection.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Meow (Ch-4)

Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: He had spent an entire millennia in solitude, waiting for her to come back to him, bearing this curse that was a constant reminder of his ignorance, his mistake, and his guilt. He had forgotten how fate had always been cruel to him, punishing him for all he had done, and so be it, meeting her in the 21st century should have brought him joy- there was only one problem, his love for her may not have decreased a drop, but she may love Poofy more than she ever loved him.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 15k

Est Read Time: 1 hr 15 min

Warnings: death of a major character, abuse, war, PTSD.

Rating: Mature

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Masterlist I Chp-3

He watched her walk out of the room, making sure to close it behind her, giving him some form of space, though he could hear the way she let out a sigh, so she was still afraid- no, perhaps uneasy at best. Well, he did leave some impression on her, invading her home, taking up her private quarters for two weeks, having her take care of him, such carelessness, San, it was not like you to burden such a delicate flower- visibly scoffing at the train of thought he huffed, laying back down as his head collided with the soft pillow breaking the blow, honestly, he had wanted it to hit hard enough to knock him out, for the way the Moon had fated him with a human was as exhausting as the time she had blessed him to be the protector of this land. However, he now preferred the latter any day. The more important and disturbing question that lingered at the back of his mind was the fact that neither of his brothers had looked for him during this time. Well, usually, he wouldn't let them wander around alone, especially in unknown areas that Yunho had not mapped, but he did feel like they could've sent the wolves to look for him. Or maybe they did and he didn't know? What if they couldn't find him?

The door slid open, causing him to close his eyes, and pretend he was asleep, he was still cautious of her, she had yet to prove her innocence. She may have been only taking care of him to gain a favour or his trust, only to exploit him later, or worse, ambush him, betray him, shattering the heart that had now begun beating for her- oh this was going to be a problem, he huffed, trying to keep his eyes closed and expressions relaxed.

She walked in with the tray, mindful of her robes, glad she had worn the light pastels with the gold highlights, a good first impression is important. Making her way around the bed she placed the tray on the small table, turning to face him, only to find him asleep.

"Oh...my, he must still be tired," she whispered, leaning closer to expect the damage, her original plan was to change the bandages after he finished eating, but since he was asleep now, she could just do it whenever he woke up. Her ears picked up his little huff, eyes flickering from his shoulder to his face, was he in some form of pain? Shifting ever so slightly she moved a bit closer, closer to his head, with deft fingers she brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes, noting the shift of expression when she gently carded her fingers through his hair, actually she was trying to aim for his kitty ears, but she needed to take it slow.

He bit his lower lip at the gesture, trying to control himself, his body had begun to respond to her actions, it was no longer following his will and that scared him. He knew that around your other half instinct would often take over but she was not aware of their 'fated relationship', what if he ended up losing complete control and giving into his desires, one which were infatuated by his heart and burning passion for her. Perhaps he should open his eyes and scare her away again, the further she stayed the bet- a loud purr emitted from his throat, causing his eyes to snap open as she froze, fingers still in his hair, giving him a sheepish smile- though the fear swirling in her eyes almost gave her away- almost.

"What...are you doing?" A strained whisper broke past his lips, finally shattering the silence as he tried to even out his breathing, his purrs growing louder when she began to scratch below his ear, petting him like a cat, "My apologies...but you have really cute ears...Poofy."

Clearing her throat she slowly pulled back, praying to the Moon that he did not notice her flushed face, truth be told she had never laid eyes on a man more beautiful, so alluring and charismatic. He intrigued her, made her turn back to the curious little girl she was, the same girl who found Yuyu hiding behind the bushes at their home, who brought Yuyu to meet her mother and forced him to become her playmate- but there was something different about Poofy, the way his piercing gaze lingered on her, she could feel the way he was scanning her, sizing her up, drinking in her presence when she had first introduced herself, it was...different.

He gripped her wrist whilst she was about to pull back, maintaining eye contact, admiring the way her face was near his, pretty sure with a tug he'd have her fall on top of him- perhaps another time. Slowly bringing her hand back to his head he placed his hand on top of her, letting out a quiet purr before closing his eyes, "You may proceed, tiny human."

Smiling at the gesture, she tried to ignore the tingling sensation of his hand on hers, he was so warm, she'd never really held hands with anyone before- technically this wasn't holding hands, well in a sense, oh god, this intimacy was going to driver her insane. Was it common for his kind to be this physical, Yuyu would always hold her hand too, well then, Yuyu was Yuyu, he was different, he was sweet and playful, and he was one of the few important people in her life- was.

That night she found herself sitting on the futon, back pressed against the wall, her fingers in his hair, playing with the strands, caressing his ears, with his head in her lap- truth be told she didn't remember how or when he'd way onto her lap. Still, he was snuggling closer and his loud, soothing purrs were lulling her to sleep, it had been long since sleep had come to her on its own, often she'd need to drink her sleep-inducing drops, prescribed to her ever since that day, without them she would lay on her cold, large bed for hours, listening to the silence, letting the bitter reality of her meaningless existence prick at her bones, tempting her to take matters in her own hands often. Still, then she would remember the promise, too afraid to take any action that might ruin the chances of her ever reuniting with Yuyu. Her fingers danced across his hair as she looked down at him only to find him staring back at her, causing her breath to him, he was...so...shameless, not an ounce of unease swirling within his brown orbs, staring up at her shamelessly, like he had every right to do so, he was doing it again, he was trying to read her, study her. She didn't want to break eye contact, but she was amazed and appalled by his audacity, the proximity and intimacy had her heart hammering against her ribs, bouncing around, yet, he was so calm, so relaxed and so warm, her eyes flickered to his lips, not wanting to look at him anymore, only to notice his lips slightly quirk upwards, before he spoke, "You think a lot, tiny human, your thoughts keep you awake and they're keeping me awake."

"You really are rude, Poofy." She huffed, only to squeak when he nuzzled his face in her lap, trying to push him off but he glanced at her, "Is this how you treat your patient, Princess of the East?"

Princess? She never told him- how? What?

"How do you...know?" She whispered, only for him to sigh, reaching for her hand that had stopped on his head, gently shaking it causing her to jerk out of her daze, she never knew she stopped it, only to start again when he sighed sleepily, "A conversation for tomorrow, Princess of the East, for now, tend to my wounds."

She could only shake her head in response, he really was something else, so closed off yet so clingy, like they had known each other for millennia, maybe if they had, things might have been different for her, for Yuyu, for her mother.

The Moon really did give her another Poofy.

.

The next morning, she had woken up by a loud snore, eyes snapping open at the volume, how could someone snore so loud- oh heavens. Her face warmed up at the thought of it, unfortunately, she couldn't even blame the sun, squinting at the light as she made her down the vast field. With her basket in hand, she was busy making her way to the other end of the field, near the trees, in need of some willow catkins, his wound was healing but the inflammation was still there, which is why she had made her way out of the cabin early in the morning, well because of that and the fact that if she had continued to lay on top of his chest, she would have combusted- not only was it extremely unladylike of her do to so, she has no memory of snuggling up next to him, all she remembered was him falling asleep in her lap and she had rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes for just a second.

A rustle from behind the bushes had her freezing up, she slowly turned her head to glance at whatever hid behind, only to let out a small squeak when a giant brown bear slowly walked out, though his eyes bore a form of gentleness she had barely seen before. She had no plans of getting mulled by a bear today, so she followed what all the books on survival she had read taught her, stay still, and pray to the Moon that the beast lose interest in her and leave. Though after ten minutes of standing there, unmoving she felt the sudden urge to sneeze- oh no. With an ungraceful sneeze, she fell backwards, the flowers cushioning her fall but before her, the bear stalked towards her slowly, and like the scared little girl she was deep down inside she sat there, closing her eyes, hoping it’d be quick. Though it never came, cracking open an eye she found its head stuffed in her basket, and that’s all it took for her to decide that this was the best time to escape.

Slamming open the door to the cabin she ran inside, not even bothering to close it, only glancing behind her to make sure it wasn't following her, then colliding with another body, with a squeak followed by a loud thud she gasped, pushing herself up on her hands, only to come face to face with a frown.

"I admire your brave advances Princess, but I believe I am not your type." He smirked, fingers twitching to grab hold of her, though he held himself back. Truth be told he had been looking for her as soon as he had woken up, and although he couldn't find her, he had decided to do something else, snoop around.

Unfortunately, if one were to break in, they'd find nothing out of the ordinary, other than the fact that this belonged to a peasant, a peasant woman, which is why mid-searching his goal had changed, to find all the places someone could break in from, especially given the knowledge that a woman lived here alone. This was not a safe arrangement for any woman, let alone one of her statures. Eleven, in total there were eleven places within this cabin where someone could break in, he needed to talk to her about it.

Apologising she slowly moved off him, only to lay on the floor, trying to calm herself down as she stared at the ceiling, lying next to him, she was too scared even to register his joke, too scared to ask him how he was feeling or how he had even moved? There were no bears in this part of the forest, hell, there were almost no predators in this part of the kingdom, that's why they had moved her here right? Not only because they wanted her to stay away from political matters but because it was safe too, right? They'd never...harm her?

He sat up quietly, turning his head to find her blankly staring at the ceiling, well, he could hear the little voices, squeaking around, but he was unable to make out any form of coherency, perhaps he still had a lot to learn from Hongjoong and Yeosang, the two could read thoughts, probably knit a whole gown with them and the person wouldn't have picked up on it- if he had actually listened to Hongjoong's lectures he could've plucked out these thoughts feeding off her life force, draining her serotonin- alas, that was not a trait he possessed and using words was always a quality possessed by Yunho or Wooyoung, but if he were to try...for her...just for her- wait, why should he try for her, what has she ever done other than saving him? More importantly, she is a mere mortal and royalty at that, a proper, spoiled, pompous and arrogant creature, of course, she would be no different from those who had visited their temple, demanding the land and its beauty- pitiful creatures of ignorance,  starting a war to take back what was never there's, this false sense of power than consumes them disgusted him, they disgusted him and she disgusted- his eyes flickered to meet her meek gaze, to notice the rosy hue spreading across her cheeks, licking her lips as she sat up, staring at him, before mumbling, "Are you...hurting, Poofy? You're scowling?" 

Truth be told she had stopped thinking about her family problems as soon as he had gotten up, somewhat proud of her medicinal skills, he was healing and he was healing quickly, sure, his supernatural powers had helped speed up the process but she was glad that she could be of use, of use to someone at least. Another new occurring issue however was the way he'd look at her, his eyes would be so serious and cold, a story untold swirling within his dark orbs that were often fixed on her face, her form and perhaps even her soul, but that never scared her, because with this cold stare accompanied a pout, one that would have her giggling inside, she had never seen a man so masculine yet so...cute? 

"I'm..." he tried to focus on the distant noise radiating from her, but it had begun to fade away, he had noticed this the first time she had introduced herself to him, every time she'd be sitting quietly the noise would grow in volume and frequency, often resembling the shrieks and howls of the demon fleets he fought off with his brothers at the brink of dawn, the trials the Moon had put them through to prove their worth, which is why he was often like this around her, though he could feel no ounce of satanic residue off her, what was more concerning how when she would become to converse with him, they'd quickly disappear into nothingness. Instead, he'd be staring at a warm, calm presence, just carefree in motion and living, much like how he noticed about the field sunflowers, swaying side to side as the wind would lovingly caress them, easing away all their frustration and worries, leaving them to look up at the sun and bask in its glory, just like that she'd smile at him, as tranquil as the summer sea, waiting patiently for him to speak his mind, "I'm just a bit hungry, Princess. "

That is exactly how the War Chief found himself back on the futon, in front of him a table filled with food for him, though he eyed her coming and leaving the room with more food only for him to grab hold of her wrist when she was placing a cup of juice, "Either eat with me or stop bringing more food."

She flinched at the contact, something he noticed but didn’t react to, nor did he loosen his grip, only tugged her down, making her sit near him. Clearing her throat she slowly moved to increase the distance between the two, but sat there with her hands on her lap, looking at him eat quietly, “Is it good?” she asked, trying to strike up a conversation, she had begun to follow her mother’s recipes, although no one at home would eat them, which is why she wanted his opinion, perhaps she could be able to make food like her mother did, the same food that attracted Yuyu to their palace.

“I haven’t had meat this tender in a while,” he cleared his throat, putting down the chopsticks, “I’ve been on my own for months, making rounds of dark patches, so I cook whatever I can hunt or just have a small snack,” turning to look at her quizzical look he sighed, “Dark patches are concealed areas, after the great war the earth was divided up, land was sectioned, our maps were rendered useless, now there are three types of territories-

“Oh, I know that.” She cut him off before quickly covering her mouth, dipping her head as an apology, “My apologies, please continue, that was out of my place.”

True, she knew, she had a lot of knowledge about the kingdom, before and after the great war, but the war had happened centuries before she was born, though she could read, her mother had taught her how to, and she could write as well, a quality her father disapproved off, especially after she had begun to show interest in the way the kingdom worked, from political matters to military actions. Truth be told, the war had always fascinated her, to think the human army had fought off the beasts that roamed the land freely, she too much like everyone else had believed them to be beasts, ones cursed by the Moon, even though her mother had often convinced her how that was untrue, she did not believe her mother’s claims and chose to believe what her ancestors and her father both talked about, how the beasts were pure barbarians that destroyed all that came in their way, or at least she thought she believed it till she had met Yuyu. Unfortunately, she was now afraid that her sudden interest would offend him, having him dismiss her like her father or brothers did, that very thought led her to bow deeper, an apology at the tip of her tongue but he cut her off.

“What are you doing, Princess?” he asked, out of genuine curiosity, this little human was definitely interesting, the Moon had really searched hard to find a cracked nut for him- so much for being the Moon’s favourite, “Why are you apologising? It has been long since I’ve met a human who knew about the history of the world, continue, I want to know if what you know is closer to the truth or have you been fed by the corrupted version?”

She peaked up from her lashes, noticing how he gave her a reassuring smile, before slowly sitting up straight, clearing her throat, unsure if he was serious, or not, but deciding to continue anyway, “Centuries ago, the land was split into three portions; man, beasts and demons. Humans were well, normal and unimportant, mortal beings such as me, we were at the bottom of the food chain, not directly linked to the Moon, but were under her supervision nonetheless, for she loves all the living equally,” he smirked at her statement, well, she did love the living, but he was definitely her favourite, “then came the two who were either cursed by the Moon or blessed, originally, human scriptures held the truth about the two clans, the Lurkers, those who were cursed by the Moon, often man or beast turned into Lurkers, they held within them essence of dark magic and were fuelled with the same passion of demons, and then the second clan was on top of the pyramid, the beasts, also…known as the guardians, such as yourself, you were blessed by the Moon, given traits similar to an animal that became your spirit, I knew one who was a canine, back then he was a puppy, I know not who or what he is now and …you’re the second guardian I’ve met.” She smiled at him, proud when looked at her with a look of sheer surprise, truth be told he was impressed by her knowledge, which pushed her to continue her little history lessons, “Now our scriptures hold lies, truthfully I used to believe them, choosing to ignore my mother’s stories, she had knowledge of the original scriptures hidden in the palace, our current scriptures claim how the beasts and Lurkers attacked humans, but the truth is that the Lurkers and humans worked together to bring down the guardians to take their lands and they almost did, until they turned on each other, the guardians used this as an advantage, they say that day the sun and the Moon stood together in the vast sky, the two dragons, lunar and solar guided and protected their armies below, one that was led by the Canidae, one that was led by the Ursidae, and one that was led by Felidae- they say the Felidae was the strongest batch, led by a giant black beast, its fur was as dark as the silent, deadly sky but its golden eyes were as bright as the piercing sun, some say it resembled a panther, that day the guardians won, but once again chose to honour the Moon’s decision of choosing them as the guardians, putting forth the request of showing mercy upon the Lurkers and the humans, so the humans were banished from certain areas, though they held more land now, and the Lurkers were…cursed into becoming goblins.”

She looked up from her hands to face him, to only squeak at how close he had moved to her, he was very much in her personal space, and again, instead of letting her move back, he gently pinched her chin, forcing her to face him as he studied her, “Tell me, princess, you know so much about us, yet you were afraid at the sight of another guardian today?” Her face contorted at his statement, she had met no other guardian today she had met no one else at all, no one but the bear- a small gasp escaped her lip as her curious eyes met his mischievous gaze, letting her pull his hand away as she gripped his wrist, whispering, “The…bear…but how did you know I met…someone?”

He let her hold onto his hand, somewhat surprised by how she didn’t pull back, perhaps she had not realised it, usually, she’d pull back like she was repelled by his presence, “I saw you leave with a basket, you came back empty handed and scared, the look in your eyes was not one held by a woman being chased by a man, I have saved many women as such as usually they are in fear of those bastards following them, you were not which meant it was a creature you thought was not smart enough.”

“Oh my…” letting go of his hands she covered her face with her hands, letting out a shaky breath, mumbling to herself, “What if they think I’ve done something to you- I was so scared, usually no animals come around here, the East is covered with the forest, but no actual animal life, if you have noticed, so I- especially not predators such as that- I am so sorry, maybe I should’ve talked to it-

He cut her off by pealing her hands off her face as he held her cold hands in his warmer, larger hands, “Who was it?”

“A…bear.”

“You met…” he paused for a moment, eying her, he still didn’t trust her enough to let her in, soulmate or not, that issue was still to be decided, “Jong,” he decided not to tell her his real name either, “ that is his animal spirit, I believe they sent him to look for me, as you know I was out cold for two weeks, before that, I had been out on my own for months, but I would send letters often.”

“I see.” She sighed, only to realise he was holding her hands, clearing her throat as she slipped out of his grasp, she got up, only to trip off his tail and squeak as she fell onto his lap, glaring at the way he smirked at her, truth be told he was still put off by the fact that she was a human, but her knowledge about the truth may have peaked his interest, that and the cute reactions she’d give when he’d tease her were of clear amusement.

“Very funny,” she huffed trying to move but he wrapped his arms, around her, making her squirm, “S-stop, this is in-inappropriate!”

“Aww, but I thought you liked sleeping on my chest” he chuckled, before it turned into a boisterous laugh at the way she whined, pushing off him trying to hide her blushing face. Ironically it was not her who had snuggled up against him the previous night, but when he had woken up, he had noticed the uncomfortable position she was asleep in, sitting there with his head on her lap, which is why he had helped her lie down, only to end up staring the futon with her, but her constant whimpering and small cries had him wrapping his arms around her, forcing the bitter thoughts away, trying to follow the method taught by Yeosang, to pluck away all the negative thoughts and memories, at least temporarily so she could sleep in peace, he was mindful enough to not interfere with her memories, choosing to respect her privacy, her past was a secret only for her to hold, he knew and respected that.

He let go of her, laughing when she mumbled how annoying she was, and declaring her exit with a, “You need to rest, I’ll clean everything up.” For a princess, she sure did live a domestic life. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, watching her stack up the dishes, taking in her side profile, he’d be lying if he were to say she was not one of the most beautiful creatures he had laid his eyes upon, perhaps the most beautiful human for sure- or was this feeling a result of her being his other half?

“Poofy?”

“Hmmm?” his eyes locked with hers, taking in the insecurities swirling within her gaze.

“You- you won’t disappear right?”

He took a moment to process her question, watching how she bit her lip, staring no longer at him but at his tail, then at the plates. Perhaps he took a minute too long because as soon as the silence began to grow, she cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady and gave him a small smile, “Forget what I asked- I’ll go bring your ointment-

“I will not.”

The way his words cut her off had her expressions relax, her typical faux smile turning into a thin line, as she stared at him, trying to take in any signs of insincerity, but she could find none, or perhaps he was too good at hiding them. At the back of their minds, both knew he had to go, she had no idea about ‘the one’ and he had yet to decide if he deemed her worthy to be her other half, even if the Moon had dedicated her to him.

.

“You- seriously you lost her?” Hongjoong sighed, looking up from another scroll to find the man staring at the floor, acting all guilty, of course, he did not tell his king how he had gotten distracted by the catkins in the basket she had left behind.

“I fear Jongho needs a good beating.” They heard a little chirp, causing the youngest to roll his eyes, and snap back, “I lost her because she has no scent you fool.”

That statement led Yeosang to look up from his book and finally speak up, "What do you mean?" He asked the youngest, every individual had a personal scent, perhaps she was masking hers somehow, "Was it masked?" 

Jongho shook his head, tossing the basket to Yunho who caught it, staring at the weaved basket, trying to find any traces of her, but he couldn't, odd, he clearly remembered her having a particular sweet scent as a child, one that had lured him to him- like of sugar syrup.

Mumbling something to himself Yeosang walked out of the chambers, leaving the rest confused, though Seonghwa sighed, before looking at Hongjoong warily, "I told you she's no good, we don't even know what condition he's in, what if he's hurting? What if she's torturing information out of him?"

.

"CAN YOU PLEASE STOP! THIS IS PURE TORTURE!"

He wailed, causing her to roll her eyes at him, ignoring him as she spread the ointment, snorting when he hissed like a cat at her. "How can someone as big as you cry like a child? It barely even stings." She chuckled, pulling her hand back when he sat up and glared at her, resting on his right elbow, "How can someone as pretty as you cause so much pain?" He finished before his cheeks flushed at his confession, eyes meeting hers for a split second before both averted their gaze, he cleared his throat and laid back down quietly, while she continued to spread the ointment on the healing stitches.

"I-I'll be gentle..." she whispered, not looking at anywhere but the stitches, though she felt him relax under her touch, earning a meek, uncharacteristic, "Thank you."

.

Yeosang slid the door open with such force that everyone in the room felt the tremors within the wall, "Look." He huffed, walking in, his blonde locks shining, emitting a warm glow - it had been a while since they'd seen his aura, watching him in his angelic glow, this was either good news or perhaps horrible news.

He walked up to the center of the room and placed a plant pot on the table, painted purple, it was San's. The once dirt-filled pot now had a little sunflower standing in the centre, its small petals glowing, much like the healer, "That's why you can't find her scent," he turned to Jongho, but much like everyone else the youngest was staring at the tiny flower in awe, the bittersweet reality seeping in, San had found his other half, and she was human.

"She...oh." Seonghwa's eyes snapped up at Yunho, taking in his defeated look, an irritable feeling bubble within him, San and Yunho had a stupid, juvenile bet, which one of the two would find a soulmate first, to be their 'one', although he never assumed San's one would be linked with Yunho, wonders of fate were still above her comprehension. Nonetheless, this foolish cat and dog race may prove to be troublesome.

"Wooyoung" his voice boomed, even Hongjoong felt the intensity of his thoughts, something was bothering Seonghwa, it had been for a while, not only did he send San to a dark patch without backup, but he had been the first one to notice his lack of letters as well, what was he looking for? Truth be told, although both the king and his advisors were dragons, one with the heart of the dear Moon and the other with the heart of the mighty sun, he never understood Seonghwa well enough to pick up on his little side quests, to him he was a mystery, much like the endless sky.

"Hmm?" He perked up at the call of his name, looking away from the little flower to the eldest, taking note of his glowing eyes, before letting out a tired sigh, "Fine, I'll go look for him..." he turned around though the firm grip on his shoulder had him wince as he mumbled an, "And talk to him."

.

Washing the last dish, she placed it on the rack, shaking the water off her hands before staring outside through the window, sighing as she welcomed the cool breeze, she loved nights like these, not a cloud in sight, only the stars twirling around their mother, the Moon, all watching down on her, keeping her safe, keeping her sane. 

Sighing she leaned against the sink, thinking back to how Poofy had called her pretty. Truth be told, she was often complimented on her looks, though most compliments seemed superficial, either trying to appeal to her father or for some political agenda, though both were completely pointless, for her father she held no worth, she was useless, and in terms of political control- well, she wouldn't be sent to this cabin out in the middle of nowhere if she were of any use or value, now would she? She was called pretty by only one other person before, Yuyu, and although she had felt the depth of his statement, felt the admiration, what she felt today was different- the way her heart had fluttered around in the cage of her bones, she felt her entire face warm up, and she knew for a fact that her hands were shaking after that statement, especially against his skin. He had decided not to speak to her after that, perhaps a guardian such as himself wanted nothing more with a mortal like her- technically he too was not immortal, sure he was centuries old but guardians too had a lifespan, only the longest out of the three species. Even when she had whispered how she was finished, he only quietly thanked her before looking the other way and mumbling, "I would like to rest, leave tiny human." He had stopped calling her Princess as well, she really did wonder why.

He lay there staring at the ceiling, the embarrassing memory of his confession flashing before his eyes, causing him to jerk himself back to reality and hiss in anger. On a serious note, he couldn’t believe he let it slip, it was just so out of the blue, especially when she was teasing him, her growing confidence around her was somewhat causing his self-control to slip out of his grasp and although he was somewhat enjoying it, he could not give himself the leverage of this love for two reasons; she was a mortal, she would grow old and would need constant companionship, as a War Chief who was also a guardian, he was always busy, always gone for war or for mapping quests, he could not provide her with the constant love and affection she...deserved? Or could she provide him with the undying devotion and time he was entitled to- though deep down he knew the only issue was the time given to them, not the love, if she was giving him her attention when they were mere strangers, perhaps she would shower him with more. The second and more pressing matter was that she was royalty, human royalty and humans had an innate sense of selfishness rooted within them, so what guarantee did he have that she would not leave him for another more powerful or she would not deceive him? Would she not be more loyal to her own kind? Her own father? Her siblings or even her nation, if she were to attain the throne. She had the wisdom and knowledge, and with a few years of grooming, she'd be fit to take the throne. With a huff he turned his side, taking in a deep breath but he instantly regretted it, she had laid here beside him the night earlier, her scent was all over the place, and his pillow was the epicentre at the moment- shit.

.

"Ow." She hissed, putting the needle down, apparently, the embroidery was harder than she expected, that and the giant slash in his vest left by the dagger was more of a nuisance.  Frankly, she was surprised how he never asked for where his clothes went, not his vest or coat, now that she got a closer look she could see the small crest imprinted right below the collar at the back of the coat, an infinity symbol, with a diamond on the centre- was this real? 

A little chirp caught her ear, followed by the nearby rustling of leaves. Usually, she wouldn't sit out on the porch, but the weather was just perfect tonight, and his constant, loud snores kept on reminding her of his alluring presence. Placing the vest on her lap she looked around, the few lit lanterns were not enough to show her what lay beyond the porch, normally she was afraid of the slightest of sound, any and everything would scare her, the dark, the violent wind, any storm passing by would have her shivering under the covers, especially when she was sent away to the cabin for long periods, such as this, it was never a pleasant experience, but then ever since he had arrived, it would feel as if the sun had finally decided to step out from behind the looming, dark clouds that were slowly suffocating her, as if she finally had something to turn to, to look up to, to bask in the glory of someone so warm, someone so soft, someone so safe, someone so - another chirp had her stand up, and slowly walk towards the end of the porch, stepping onto the final step before she'd touch the dirt path, a lantern in hand.

"Wh-who is it?" She called out, only to be met with silence, "I- are you...one of them?" She asked again, at this point she didn't know who she was calling out, but something at the back of her mind kept reminding her that it didn't matter because he'd come to rescue her, the Moon would bear witness to that. 

Something moved beside her causing her to squeak, and move the lantern towards the source, only to find a pair of golden glowing eyes, her breath hitched as she took a step back, only to realise it was a fox. She had never seen one up close, a small gasp escaped her and she moved closer, before stopping when it flinched, emitting a growl, only for her to clear her throat, "I-I won't hurt you...are you...are you here for Poofy?"

At the name the fox visibly looked confused, she could even make out the small frown he had, his tail tapping against the dirt, only for her to chuckle, "He won't tell me his real name, I need to know if you're actually one of them or an animal- I don't want to disturb him otherwise."

The fox moved closer and she froze, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Her worries died down when she felt him boop his wet nose against her hand, ducking his head so she could pet his head, which led her to giggle. "Wow, your fur is really soft" she mused, making sure to scratch behind his ear, which led his tail to tap faster, "You're really affectionate, aren't you? Poofy didn't even let me pet him for around three weeks of being here."

The fox pulled back and looked at her then at the cabin, letting out a chirp, he moved to slowly push her with his head causing her to gasp, "So pushy, all right, all right. I'll go get him." With that, she picked up her things and turned to give the waiting pretty fox one last look, before going inside.."Poofy?" She knocked before entering the room, making her way into the dark room, rolling her eyes at the sound of his snores, he was one heavy sleeper. Moving closer she reached for his head, slowly scratching below his ear, causing him to purr, stirring awake when she leaned closer to whisper, "Poofy, your friend is here to see you."

Cracking open an eye he whined, "Who is it?"

"A fox."

"Stay here." Instantly he sat up, causing her to yelp and fall back on her behind, looking up at him in utter shock, "What? Why? I thought-"

"No." He leaned closer, before grabbing her face, squishing her cheeks lightly, enough for her to whine and try to push his hand away. 

"Have you forgotten what state you found me in? Hmmm, Princess, when you found not a cat, but a man on your bed?" His smirk deepened at the way her eyes widened at his question, face flushing at the flashback of how when she had come to check up on the cat the next morning, she had almost screamed at the top of her lungs, on her bed lay a man in the nude- oh.

"Mhmmm, now be a good little princess and stay here." With that he let go only for her to cover her face with her hands, whining and complaining about bringing up a topic she had not touched on purpose, she had been trying to avoid it, even going as far as stealing one of her brother's pants for him- though she had to mend it, turns out guardians are bigger in size than an average man.

.

Closing the front door behind him he stepped out, his bare feet padding across the wooden porch, only to stop at the top of the three staired staircase, staring at the fox sitting at the opposite end.

"Took you all long enough." He huffed before tossing a sheet at the fox, watching it land on its head, only for it to chirp and whine, shaking it off, before looking up at the man with some sort of guilt- the foxie face as he'd say, a much better look than the puppy dog face, most would agree.

"Put that on, nobody wants to see a naked Wooyong."

"Especially her? Hmm, Poofy?"  

A pleasant smile graced his features as his brother stood where the fox once stood, tying the sheet around his lower half all tight, though San would've preferred if he had draped it over himself completely, he had brought a fairly large sheet, there was no need to show skin.

"Especially her." 

Wooyoung let out a giggle, "So it's true, she really is the one, huh?" He smiled, though it soon morphed into a frown at the way his brother was staring at the Moon, "What's wrong, Sannie?"

Typical Wooyoung, to delay the task handed down to him, only to deal with the emotional turmoil his brothers were going through, perhaps that is why the Moon had assigned him with the role of a subordinate and not a leader of any kind, though he was more than happy to take it, nature had always been his companion and he would happily spend his days lounging around in the sun, rolling around in the grass or even dipping into the crystal cool lake for a swim than being part of any other war.

 Sighing he walked closer to his brother, gesturing for him to follow. The two had begun to walk down the dirt path, into the very sunflower field where she had found him, on the brink of death. They needed to have the conversation away from the cabin, away from prying ears. "She is...but she is human...and she is royalty, a princess. She possesses the knowledge about the truth, but...I fear I- she might betray us, all humans do and-'

"Is that all you fear, San?" The younger one asked, turning to a sunflower, admiring the way nature worked, the sunflowers here were bigger, the head of the flower was as big as his hand, while the flower in San's pot was still small, was it to grow and bloom when their love would too?

"I," pausing for a moment he shook his head, "Of course, that's all, humans have been a source of worry and perhaps this is only a test the Moon has given me, to check if I can resist and stay steadfast to her truth."

"Then why haven't you come back yet?"

His question caught him off guard, watching the younger one with a look of scepticism, what was he implying, "Are you...questioning my loyalty, Wooyoung?"

"No, but I need to know why you are pretending to be sick, your tail and your ears, this is all for show, isn't it? I don't think it would take a War Chief, The War Chief of the Guardian Army, blessed by both the Moon and her brother the Sun, more than a month to heal, now would it Sannie?" He turned to look at the taller man, listening to the silence around them, on his way here he had noticed how no other life form but flora existed, no animals or insects, none, it was unnatural, it was as if a certain presence was keeping them away and he was sure this had been happening long before San had arrived, he was also sure that San had noticed this, but chose to ignore it. Within a second his nails morphed into claws, stabbing into the large sunflower, instantly earning a growl from the man in front of him, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" With that he ripped off the head, turning to look at the growling beast only to be tackled by him onto the ground as his grip tightened around the damaged flower, while the latter squeezed his throat, hissing at him, "Don't hurt the flowers."

"Why?"

"You know why!" His grip tightened as he yelled.

"She knows Yunho."

Immediately his grip loosened, slowly moving off him, features morphing back to a calm state, "What?" He breathed out, thinking back to how Yunho, when he was a mere healing pup, would escape from the temple, coming to the human world where he had befriended a human girl, for a long time he'd claim this human was his other half, though all of them would dismiss the thought, passing it off as a joke.

"She....come home Sannie, Seonghwa is calling for you, talk to Yunho, sort it out, I-" his fingers loosened the grip on the flower, "There's a sunflower growing in your pot...Yeosang wants to see you to- they're all worried about you, I'm worried about you." He sat up, staring at his brother who was sitting on his knees, staring up at the Moon, he was about to call him again, until he noticed the way his shoulders were trembling, and how he was biting his lip, trying to contain the overflow of emotions, of the confusion and frustration."Let's go home, Sannie."

.

"Poofy?" She sighed, slowly sitting up, and looking around the room. The sunlight blocked by the curtains was the only way she realised how late she had slept for- wait she was in her bed? Pushing the covers off her she stumbled out of the room into the small hall, "Poofy?" Calling out once more she looked around the cabin, before walking out barefoot, slamming the door open and onto the porch, squinting at the sudden increase in brightness, the sun sure was happy today.

"POOFY?!"

Her calls were becoming more frantic, more desperate, her small steps turning into sprints as she ran down the sunflower field, calling out his name. He couldn't leave like that, he said he wouldn't, also he wasn't healed yet! He was still sick and- she stopped at the sight of her sheet on the ground, a shaky breath escaping her as she knelt down to pick it up, only to spot a crushed sunflower head next to it. Her gut twisted at the sight of the poor flower, reaching for it instead as she cradled it in her hands, looking at it with blurry eyes, whimpering out a quiet, "There, there, you're safe now, you're not hurting anymore, you're loved."

.

"You can stop kneeling you know-"

"No. Let him, it's his punishment after all." Seonghwa scoffed from his seat, eying the way their king was pitying the overgrown, spoiled, obnoxious cat- not once did this foolish child think of how worried he was. How he was worried he was hurt, lost or worse, no instead, he was busy trying to mingle with a human-

"Since when did Seonghwa get the throne?" A deep chuckle resonated in the room, causing the youngest to raise his head off the floor, giving him a small smile, though the healer earned a scoff from the advisor.

"Sit up, lover boy, we need to talk." He said patting his shoulder as he placed the purple pot on the table that divided Hongjoong and San. Taking a seat on the cushioned floor beside the War Chief, "So, explain yourself, though I'd skip the erotic detai-"

"Nothing as such happened, Sangie." San quickly cut him off trying to ignore the way the king was now frowning at him, "I swear I didn't do anything- we didn't do anything!" He clarified quickly, "I'm not an idiot."

"I doubt that." Seonghwa mumbled causing Hongjoong to interject, "Enough. Please, can we please get to the bottom of this before this gets any more frustrating?"

"Okay, so this," Yeosang moved the pot closer to San, "Is what grew overnight, so, tell me, what happened that this happened overnight and don't lie or hold back important information." 

San looked at him and then at Hongjoong who encouraged him to continue, watching how everyone had entered the chambers, including Yunho, though he remained at the back and sitting next to the door quietly. He had been lost in thought since the day they had found out about San's soulmate.

"I was attacked by two of the Xikeys, came out of nowhere." He began only to be interrupted by Mingi, "Two small goblins? They caught u off guard, how?"

"Bet he was staring at a butterfly." Wooyoung snickered, causing the light laughter to resonate, only once it died down they were met with silence, all eyes turning to the War Chief who was staring at his hands, blushing like a tomato.

"For the love of- Demote him. Please." Seonghwa huffed, running his fingers through his silky locks, trying to calm himself down, "Are you serious?"

"I-it was a blue monarch butterfly, it's been so long since I've seen one." He mumbled before pouting at Hongjoong, "There were so many of them, and - and there was no other animal there, like the forest was empty, surrounded by flowers and these butterflies so I was confused about that too, it's awfully silent there." 

"He's right." Wooyoung added, only for Jongho to add, "About both things, there are no other animals there and it is deathly silent. What was in that area before the human kingdom took over the land of the East?" He turned to Yunho, all of them, except San, he was still staring ahead, not yet ready to face the map maker. 

"I'm not sure, I think it belonged to an old Lurker, Azmer if I remember correctly." He announced, noting how everyone was quietly staring at him, "I'm not sure where San went to particularly, perhaps that area wasn't under his rule, but-"

"Azmer was the only one of the ten Kings of the Lurkers, it's said that he refused to part take in the war because he believed all three nations could live in harmony." He sighed, only to lock eyes with San, who was now staring at him. A playful smirk graced the map maker's face, "What's wrong Sannie? I'm sure she would have told you if you asked her, "What did you learn about her in the past month?"

"Yunho..." Hongjoong warned, picking up at how the feline of the group was growling, turning around in all his pride as he stared at the mapmaker slouching against the wall from his cushioned seat.

"I did not want to learn anything about her-"

"Then why were you still there?" He cut San off, "You don't want her as your other half either, she's been through enough rejections as is and-"

"Funny, she mentioned a puppy who disappeared, I guess you rejected her too." He smirked, observing the way the colour drained from the other's face,  frankly, this puppy's smile had been a pain ever since he had come back.

"At least she remembered me."

"Yet, I'm the one she's paired up with-"

"You don't deserve her!"

"And you do, mutt?!"

"ENOUGH"

The hall went quiet, both Wooyoung and Yeosang exchanged a look, then glancing at Hongjoong, who was staring at Seonghwa, his fangs poking out, as he walked towards San and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer, "You were gone for a month, you wasted a month, risked our defence like and learned what? Nothing?" He hissed, feeding off the fear emitting from the younger ones' eyes, as the lunar dragon turned his head to the map maker, "What do you know?" the timber of his voice having Yunho dip his head in obedience, he tossed the War Cheif aside, watching him fall back onto the floor as he reached for the flower pot, fingers caressing the petals before his elongated nail clipped off a petal, earning a whine from the panthers. His emerald orbs flickered towards the Guardian, who was now kneeling once more, bowing to the lunar dragon, "P-please, my liege, do not hurt her." He whispered, his forehead pressing against the carpeted floor, hands fisted beside his head, no pride present within his being, something everyone noticed in the room. The War Chief had been known for his pride and prejudice, yet here he was, begging for - well, he didn't know either, perhaps he was just begging for love, to be loved, to share the ample love he had within him, to feel whatever he'd read about in those little stories he'd read as a kitten. 

"Seonghwa..." Hongjoong sighed, noticing his little kitty-cat trembling in all his mountainous glory, though he knew when his brother, the dragon birthed by the Moon, was much softer than he was deep down, though his anger knew no bounds, something the Solar dragon feared.

 "Yunho." Hongjoong turned to the map maker when his brother ignored him, not out of spite, but because he was too busy trying to read the man before him, he could sense the inner turmoil, he could tell this fool was holding back, perhaps he too would have done the same in this situation, but he should have been able to see past his emotions, to look at the truth objectively, not to let his emotions get the better of him, San had never neglected his duties, he had never let anything distract him.

"She's....Azmer's granddaughter." Yunho sighed, eying Mingi who gasped but quickly covered it up with a cough- the action had the youngest two choke on a laugh, earning a glare from the green-eyed serpent, quietening them down.

"San, did you...find something odd about her?" He finally asked the man who was still kneeling with his forehead pressed against the floor, it somehow bothered him how readily San was willing to throw away all he had for her, yet he knew nothing about her if he was not devoted to the Moon, he would've said that she had made a mistake, blessing San with an angel in disguise.

"Get up," Seonghwa mumbled before going back to his original spot, against the window, staring out at the setting sun, knowing that Mother would disapprove of him treating his brothers like this, she'd talk about mercy and lecture him about compassion once more.

Sitting up on his knees he placed his hands on his thighs, facing the room, his eyes not meeting a single pair that was on him, "She has nightmares...almost life-like, " he sighed, thinking back to how she was whimpering in her sleep the night she had slept next to him, she would struggle against the sheets, trying to rip out of his grasp when he had tried to calm her down, only to end up using magic to settle her unease, "There are voices, she hears them while she's awake too and they only stop or die down when I speak to her or when she's not sitting in silence....at first I thought I was imagining things, then I thought she was a witch but...they're always around her, it's so noisy, "he mumbled, a wave of guilt splashing over him as his eyes widened for a split second, something noticed by Hongjoong and Yeosang who shared a look.

"What is it San?" Hongjoong asked, leaning closer to the table, "What did you just remember?"

"She..." he turned to look at Yunho, "made me promise...not to disappear."

"She has Lurker blood." Yeosang finally intervened, walking over to where Seonghwa sat, looking out at the pale purple sky before reaching for a scroll on the shelf beside the window, "Lurkers turn the way they are because they are cursed, while the Moon wanted to show them mercy, her brother, the Sun believed they should be punished, so each Lurker is doomed to hear the screams of not only their ancestors but the victims' as well," opening the scroll he placed it on the table to show to Hongjoong, however, everyone had hudled around the king, a small smile gracing the King's lips, regardless of the seriousness of the matter.

San was reading the scroll when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, causing him to turn his head and meet Yunho's apologetic gaze, one he returned with a small smile.

"I...had to use the spell you taught him," he turned back to Yeosang who nodded, raising a brow, "Funny, how you said you'd never need it when I was teaching you."

"So, she's a Lurker, stay away from her, or kill her, either way, the king will use her for her own benefit." 

The harsh words had the War Chief biting his lip, trying to keep in the growl. Shaking his head Hongjoong finally stood up, and turned to look at his advisor, "Advice that advocates war and violence is not what a king needs, your personal grievances are noted, but San can not deny the path the Moon has chosen for him."

Seonghwa turned to face the king, a scowl gracing his angelic, handsome features, "Fine, my advice is he goes, but as a cat, she should not know he is there. He had his time with her and learnt nothing about her, observe her from afar." With that he stormed out of the chambers, his silk robes tailing behind him, swishing like his actual tail, slamming the door behind him.

San turned to look at the sighing King, only to pout at him when he raised an eyebrow at his War Chief and then the rest of the council, "All of you, prepare for San's quest- and please do not do anything that would put us or.... her at risk."

.

Taking in the fresh air he sighed, his elbows resting against the window sill as he looked far ahead at the forest below, the Moon watching him from above. Truthfully, he had missed his room, his soft bed and covers, his personal space- but oddly enough he missed the small futon of her more, his softer bedding was not warm enough, it did not carry her scent or her warmth, his room seemed too big for him now, too bland and empty. Seonghwa was right however, he knew nothing about her, but how knowledgeable she was, well informed, well, she could stitch and sew, she knew how to cook and clean, she even knew how to create her own medicine- she was very soft as well, warm too, her skin felt so cold against his, like the cool splash of water in the burning heat, was this enough to claim he knew her though?

A knock on the door had him turn from his place of brooding, watching it open as a familiar face stepped in, with a smile, in his hand he carried a plate of apples, "Yeosang said these are special, he grew them in his garden with Jongho, they'll help replenish your strength. "

With pursed lips he nodded at the taller man, gesturing towards the small table at the other end of the room before turning back to look outside. 

Yunho sighed at the way he was ignoring him, honestly, there was a point when these two were inseparable, but perhaps as they grew older, the feline turned more quiet, more reserved, perhaps even more shy than he claimed not to be, Yunho was the opposite however, the mapmaker was completely different. Ever since he was a young pup, he’d be adventuring around and about, even when they were mere children, young soldiers of their respective armies. Hongjoong did say they were different because Yunho belonged to his army, the Solar Dragon, while San was part of the Lunar Serpent’s fleet.

“Why did you leave her?”

His question caught the mapmaker off guard, having him quietly stand next to the man, closing his eyes when he felt the win caress through his hair lovingly, truth be told he loved nights like these, cloudless nights where the Moon would shine bright on them, watching their every move with her tender love.

“I…had no choice.” He whispered, opening his eyes to look ahead at the endless sea of dark green, the forest, the land that was under Hongjoong’s kingdom was more than what the Lurkers and the humans had combined.

“What do you mean?” San asked, turning to face him, trying to take in more information, perhaps to find something that would ease his guilt, “She looked…she feels…is it because she still likes-

“She never liked me Sannie,” he turned to him with a small smile, “Never like that, otherwise her little flower wouldn’t be grown in your pot.”

“I didn’t mean to-

“I know,” he cut off the feline, who was somewhat ashamed to look at him as if he had taken what belonged to the pup, “I know you didn’t, I never doubted that. When I had met her, she hit me with a stick, right over here.” He pointed at the top of his head, “I was growling at her before that- she was a real menace you know, the eldest of the four siblings, she was supposed to attain the throne after her father…”

“I don’t think she’s getting it now though, they’ve tossed her into this cabin…no one even comes to check up on her- she’s all alone, where is her mother?” he sighed, walking towards the table he sat down on a cushion, picking up a golden apple, Jongho and Yeosang had been trying for a while, to grow the ancient golden apple of health.

“She…passed away, a few days after I stopped visiting her.” He rubbed his palms together, walking over to sit opposite to him, taking an apple of his own, “When I met her, she followed the same story her father had told her, she was a vile child, I actually met them by accident, my paw was stuck in the fence and I first thought she had come to help me out, but she stood there with a stick, pointed at me and,” snorting he split the apple in half, eying how San was listening to him intently, like a curious kitty, “She ‘ordered’ me to become her pet, and I refused by growling, for which she hit me with the stick, it went on for around 20 minutes until her mother popped up out of nowhere. Bless that woman, she saved me…took care of me.”

Nodding at him San looked at his hands before letting out a chuckle, “She’s…different now, very shy…very timid and so scared, it’s like she’s just barely hanging on.” He could never imagine his little sunflower as a child like that, to him, she would always be the gentle-natured angel that found him, at the brink of death.

“When I transformed back she had threatened to report me, even threatened her mother, that was the first time I saw her mother angry, she had really…knocked some sense into her- I even met Azmer once, he used to come to teach her magic, though it was almost similar to the kind Yeosang possess, she could heal, she could grow, she even understood nature- though I used to think that part was a lie, until I plucked out a flower once for her, and she had started crying, full on sobbing about how the flower cried to her about how I hurt it,” he sighed, turning to look up at the Moon out of the window, “honestly, I started liking her the day she said that, she was still a menace no doubt, but her grandfather and mother put in a great amount of effort to mould her for a better queen, my lov-” he paused when his ears picked up the way the other man’s breath hitched, “admiration for her increased when Azmer told us about the prophecy, a child of human and Lurker, would bring peace across the land, tying all three nations together, the child would be offered to a guardian,” he turned to face San again who was staring at him in shock, truly amazed, so the Moon had not blessed him randomly, but this was a prophecy, “That’s why, for a long time- well, until today I thought it would be me.”

“But…I…” he paused for a moment, trying to form a coherent sentence, one that was not too insensitive, “Is not that a child of damnation?” He knew Yunho knew what he was talking about, a similar prophecy surfaced many years ago, “A child of a Lurker and human would cruse the land, bringing chaos among the guardians, wreaking havoc across the three nations.”

“It’s a… double-prophecy, if…as Azmer said, she was to choose the path of the Lurkers or one decided by the humans, such as her father, she would be fulfilling the Yin prophecy, if she were to take her own path, she would be fulfilling the Yang prophecy- for which she was promised a sincere other half, one who would stand by her to no end.” He sighed, standing up as he dusted his hands, eying San who was looking up at him curiously, “Go to her, observe her like Seonghwa has told you, not because we don’t trust her, but so you can see how much her mother and grandfather groomed her, how she is going to fulfil the Yang prophecy and what better partner to have than the great War Chief, the Moon’s blessed soldier, my very best friend and dearest brother…you.”

San sat there silently, letting the gravity of the situation weigh down upon him, slowly her actions and her insecurities began to make sense, and her promise, she had lost Yunho whom she must’ve assumed was her other half, perhaps his arrival had helped her realise it was not Yunho, but him, for whom she was meant to wait be-, his head snapped up at the door, words coming out quicker than he could stop them,

“Why did you leave her?”

Yunho’s hand was on the doorknob when his question had him freezing in spot, a long sigh broke past his lips that settled with a frown, “One of her brothers, Lauster, overheard us one day, and he reported it to the father…the king. The king had exiled the old Lurker, and a few days later news broke that their grandfather had died…supposedly attacked by a group of goblins, the queen was devasted and horrified, she had made me promise to protect her daughter when I’d grow older but also told me not to return until I was strong enough…so I did.” His forehead pressed against the cool mahogany as he closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay, clearing his throat so his voice wouldn’t betray him, only San was no fool, he could tell what was going to come next was horrible, “The next day…the Queen took her life- I…I know that’s not true, that’s why she doesn’t stay at the palace for too long, she hides in that cabin, you think she is banished there but that’s her safe haven. Her mother would tell her how Azmer’s cabin could protect her from those who’d want to harm her, one way or another, perhaps that’s why they cannot get rid of her, though the Lurkers in her mind, the ones leaching off her soul was something even Azmer couldn’t control,” he opened the door before whispering, though he’d know San could hear him with his sharp hearing, “Her other half- well, you already told us you could stop the voices, make sure they never get to her, San.” With that he walked out, gently closing the door behind him.

San slowly got up, walking over to his cupboard, opening the cupboard he reached behind his clothes to take out a small box, from within he took out a red handkerchief, staring at the cloth his thumb stroked the small embroidered sunflower at the corner,

‘Why is it always a sunflower?’

‘Hmm…because they're warm and pretty, Poofy, they are easy to grow, they adapt well and always turn to the light, the darkness can never attract them.’

‘You know, just an; I like sunflowers, would’ve worked too.’

‘You can be real mean sometimes, you know that Poofy.’

So, that’s what she meant, she grew the flowers herself, she wanted to be surrounded by the light, she wanted to be surrounded by the warmth that was promised to her, the warmth and light that would pull her out of the claws of the Lurkers within her, and he was supposed to provide her with that help, yet, he had abandoned her- not anymore.

.

Three days, he had been watching her for three days and all she’d do was sleep, clean, eat and repeat. There were moments of the day when she’d stay in the washroom, in the tub a bit too long so he’d have to go up to the window, and discreetly open the windowsill with his paw, to peak in, only to find her crying in the wooden tub. At night she’d sit in front of the mirror, brushing her hair in silence until the tears would begin to slowly cascade down the apples of her cheeks, dripping onto her silk gown, to say that he had not wanted to jump into the room to pull her into his arms, or into the tub to squeeze out all the pain and agony would be a lie, yet, this time he had decided to obey orders, to obey Seonghwa. Even Hongjoong had told him to stay out of her way, to stay hidden in the shadows so he could observe her, to note any abnormalities, perhaps she had put up an act for so long while he was at her residence, though his notes so far just told him she was a sad little girl being tormented by her thoughts, thoughts that he could push away if the dumb king and his dumber advisor had not instructed him otherwise.

It was not until the seventh night, that he had decided to take matters into his own hands, to make his presence known, at least to some extent. Her nightmares had become too extreme, he had thought of intervening that night, but before he could step into her room through the open window her shrieks had him flinching, waking herself up. What horrified War Chief was how she ran towards the kitchen, slamming open a drawer to take out a knife, taking in a few deep breaths she pulled up her other hand, staring at her wrist, her eyes void of any emotion as she mumbled to herself, "There, there, you're safe now, you're not hurting anymore, you're loved."

But before the edge of the knife could touch her skin something crashed in her room, causing her to flinch, letting the knife go in the process, flinching once more when it clattered against the wooden floor. Sighing to herself she rubbed her eyes with her palms, mumbling a curse she walked back into her room, only to find the window completely open. She turned to her cupboard which was slightly ajar, oh no, was someone inside? Perhaps she should have listened to Poofy when he was lecturing her about the safety measures, she should take to ensure no one breaks in. Grabbing the nearest object, a cane- oh, her grandfather’s cane, perhaps this cabin really was alive, always protecting her, well it better protect her now. She slowly walked towards the cupboard, slamming it open and swinging the cane around like a blind woman, hitting everything she could- only to calm down after a minute and realise she had been yelling and beating nothing but her own clothes- oh. Grumbling to herself she marched over to the window, slamming it shut then locking it, stupid wind, turning around she looked at the bed, only to gasp, before her, on her bed, laid spread out his uniform, Poofy’s uniform, particularly the coat she was working on when he had gone, with the half-embroidered sunflower across the gash on the cloth.

“Poofy?” she called out, looking around before quickly opening the window again and looking out for any signs of him, only to be greeted by her usual sunflowers, nothing unusual- wait, her eyes widened at the realisation, they were not facing the sky where the sun would smile down upon them, no, her flowers were turned to face the forest, right across from her, the entire field of flowers, the sunflower heads were facing the evergreens that separated her cabin from the rest of the world. He was here, he had to be.

That night she had no nightmares, instead she had dreamt of her grandfather and mother, both having tea in this very cabin, sitting on the porch as they stared at the sunflowers under the sun. Perhaps the thoughts inside her head could sense his mighty presence too, perhaps they did fear him after all. She had woken up a bit better that morning, putting in the extra effort of bathing in scented water, picking out her prettiest outfit, and her hair brushed and styled to perfection, ironically, the cathead pin had found its place back in her hair, the bell chiming with every move.

Since that day, she would sit on the porch during the day, somehow making sure all of her time was spent outside, tending to the flowers, cleaning around with the door and windows wide open, not a care to spare, because he would protect her, he was bound to. She’d even sit outside when the sun would ease into the sky, tending to his torn coat and vest, making sure to stitch it up well. At night, before finally retiring inside the cabin, she would place a plate of warm food, looking around the sunflowers, trying to spot two pointy ears or at least a tail, but she never could, yet, every morning she’d come outside to find the plate empty, and beside it a little gift, once it was a small origami heart, the next day it was a flower crown made from her sunflowers, she was please to know how the flower had allowed him to use them, telling her how this mysterious man filled with admiration and what they called love would use nimble fingers to skilfully pluck them out. Another day it was a purple silk ribbon, one she began to wear in her hair each day.

By the next full Moon, his gift for her the next morning had her fall to her knees, a silver pendant with a sapphire heart, placed neatly in the handkerchief she had given to him. She had run across the entire field that day, to look for him, wanting to find him, to confront him, yell at him for abandoning her like that even though he had promised to never leave, yet she could not find him, not a tailor pointy ears in sight. Out of spite, however, that night she had left him no meal, and next morning she had woken up to no gift, much to her disappointment, what was his problem!? Why was it so difficult to communicate with him? And just like that the meals stopped and so did the gifts, the only things that remained were that she would no longer suffer from nightmares and she was still trying to fix his coat, only this time, she no longer did it outdoors, fine, if he wanted to play hard to get, she could give him the silent treatment too.

.

San sighed, sitting on top of the branch usually gave him a good view, of not only the field and cabin but the window inside as well, it was a pleasant view, a view he truly appreciated, making him thank Mother Nature, making him thank the Moon-

“You’re a real perv, aren’t you?” the deep voice had him flinch, quickly standing in battle stance only to scoff at the taller man before shoving him off the branch, watching him land on his feet, following in behind.

“It’s my view, not yours.”

“San, I don’t think watching her bathe is anyone’s view”, Mingi sighed, rubbing his neck, of course, the idiot would be doing this, he was greedy and perverse when it came to attention as well, “So,” he decided to change the topic, “How is it going? Seonghwa and Hongjoong don’t know, but Yeosang sent me to check up on you, is everything okay?”

Sighing the man shook his head, rubbing his face, “She’s giving me the cold shoulder…she knows I’m here and-”

“How?”

He turned to look at Mingi, “Look, before you say I wasn’t allowed to do so, she was…she was about to do something reckless okay and I had to stop her somehow so I made my presence known and I helped her with her nightmares, that led to another thing and…she left me food so I left her gifts, it- it's like an exchange policy you know! It’s a cat thing- I think dogs do it too and then she stopped so obviously I stopped but I guess she’s mad about that?” He finally stopped to look at the librarian who was looking at him with great disgust, “What?”

“San…women…well…I…you’re an idiot.”

“Thank you, I’m sure your books make you very smart.”

“They do, they also teach me to communicate.”

“What?”

“Talk to her, you buffoon,” he sighed, before turning around, “Talk to her before you or she does something else that’s beyond stupid, listening to Seonghwa or Hongjoong for matters of the heart is idiotic, the dragons have been blessed by the love of all, including the Sun and the Moon, they didn’t have to earn it, like us, like you…or like her.” With that the man walked into the forest, disappearing behind the dense trees, a distant howl being the only sign of his departing presence.

.

Sighing to herself, she hung the fixed suit onto the handle of her cupboard, admiring her work, the large sunflower on the shoulder smiling brightly at her, much like the littered, smaller embroidered sunflowers, trailing up into his breast pocket on the left side. She had originally thought of just fixing the gash, but with the time she had, her creativity had gotten the best of her, which led her to give his clothes her little touch. Not that he’d know, since he had almost disappeared once again, her only assurity of his presence was that the nightmares had stopped, so perhaps he was still around, or maybe she had just outgrown the Lurkers within her?

The sound of a loud knock caught her attention, who had come to visit her at this hour? Walking out of her room she walked towards the door, Azmer’s cane in hand as she called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s us, you leach.”

Of course, it was midmonth, the time when her father would send either her brother or brothers or sometimes the royal guards with the food rations, sometimes clothing if needed, often she’d prefer the presence of the last option, at least the guards showed her some respect.

Opening the door, she moved aside, watching them enter like this cabin was theirs to claim. Lauster walked in with all his faux glory, his robes dragging across the floor as he stared around the cabin in disgust, “Really sister, if I were you, I’d get hitched, this filth is no place for someone related to us.” Pulling back a chair he sat down cross-legged, eying the way his sister stood with the cane, “Is our useless sister now a limp?” earning a chuckle from the younger two.

“No, but if you’d like I can turn you into one,” she smiled at him, earning a scowl, then she turned to the other two, “And I’d appreciate it if you’d show some respect, Jinju, don’t you think so, Maghroor?”

The younger two looked at their brother who scoffed, before snapping his fingers, “You really think you’re getting the throne aren’t you?” Maghroor stood up, slowly walking into her room when Lauster continued, “Haven’t you heard the news sister dear, father had come up with a great proposition, you are to be wed to the son of the first king of the Lurkers, I heard Ghalazat is a great guy, all big and strong- heard he breaks girls like you easily-

“Are you out of your mind?” she asked, walking closer to him, only to be stopped by Jinju, standing tall in front of her, “You really think we’re afraid of you sister? Father cast you aside the moment you let that whore of a mother we had and Azmer fool you with their little fairy tale.” The youngest hissed, leaning closer to her, only to bounce back, his hand on his stinging cheek as he sucked in a breath, glaring at her, with blurry eyes.

“Choose your words wisely, weasel,” the androgynous tone of hers caused the second oldest to freeze in spot, to scare her was part of the plan, but this was something they had not prepared for, deep down they were unsure of what she would do if the Lurker within her won. She was their father’s favourite not only because she was the firstborn or because she was smart, but she was the only child of his who was part Lurker, and although he had tried three more times, none of his sons had inherited the gene.

“C-come now sister, we were only joking.” He laughed, pulling back his youngest brother, “No need to get upset, I’m sure Jinju would apologise if you were to ask, he never meant to call Mother a whore.” He smiled, trying to calm down his sister who was frowning at him, glaring at them.

“No, I think he was right.” The third voice intervened, as Maghroor stepped out of her room, smirking at how the colour had drained off her face, her voice switching back to its usual octave, a whisper breaking through, “No…”

“Hmmmm? What was that?” He asked, dangling the coat in the air, “Come on whore, use your words, we know you can.” He smirked before tossing the coat to the eldest of the brothers, watching the way her eyes widened, almost afraid they’d break something, “Do you know what this is, brother?”

“No,” Lauster frowned, grossed out by the embroidery, “Who does this belong to, hmmm? Sister dear?”

“Put that back,” she hissed, moving closer, only to be slapped by the youngest, with greater force than she had used, causing her to stumble against the chair and fall onto the ground, as she stared up at Lauster with blurry eyes, too focused on Poofy’s clothes to care about the pain, that is until Jinju grabbed her by the hair, tugging on her strands, causing her to let out a strangled cry, “He asked you a question, wench.”

“None of your business, I said put it back-”

“Oh…I’ve seen this crest before”, Lauster hummed, turning to Maghroor, “This coquette’s been sleeping with the enemy.” Maghroor let out a faux gasp before turning the vest around in his hold, clucking his tongue at the crest, “You’re right brother, and here we were, giving our angelic sister to a noble prince, do you think he’d want a filthy, used slu-

“That’s not true!” she yelled, struggling against the youngest, finally shoving him off as she ran to her brother, wanting nothing more than to protect her work, to protect her dignity, a part of her wish if Poofy was here, he could come save her, but the fact that his clowns had been here, tormenting her only meant she was wrong, it was never Poofy, perhaps some homeless thief or a goblin fooling with her.

Her thoughts came to a halt when a blunt force knocked the air out of her lungs, causing her to fall to her side, the throbbing pain in her head made her vision blurry, and the ringing in her ears echoed as the blurry figure of her brother crouched down to look at her, brushing away the hair from her face, before gripping her cheeks hard, “Then why do you have this, hmmm? You sneaky little liar.”

“What punishment is given to a liar I wonder?”

“Oh brother, don’t you mean a whore?”

“True, true, Lauster, Maghroor is right, she is a whore that has been lying to the king, what punishment do you think is fit for something as unworthy and useless as,” the youngest paused, only to press his foot against her back, causing her to let out a muffled sob, “our filthy eldest sister.”

“Perhaps we should cleanse her before she is given to Ghazalat, I’m sure he’d be fine with a whore that can’t speak.” Maghroor suggested, tossing the vest onto the floor, as he walked towards the hearth, using the shovel to scoop out a good amount of burnt wood, admiring the simmering amber ashes, “For all the lies she has told her kingdom.”

“Mark her with our crest.” The youngest cheered, pulling out a dagger, before reaching down to rip a portion of her gown, exposing her back, their menacing laughter echoed when she covered herself, ensuring none of her chest was exposed, only for him to press his heel onto her back, pushing her crouching form onto the floor, laughing when she let out a strangled cry, pleading them to stop, “For bringing dishonour to her kingdom.”

“Let’s add one more,” Lauster hissed as he met her glare, her tear-filled eyes boring nothing but hatred, “I’m sure her husband-to-be wouldn’t mind a blind plaything, he shouldn’t have to suffer the same agony we did, that arrogant look she gives us,” he hissed, pulling her up by her hair, knowing her arms were busy covering herself so she couldn’t put up a fight, “This look of arrogance and pride you hold, sister, is it worth it? Is it worth the guardian you whore out for in the night?” he raised his palm, waiting for the youngest to place his dagger on his open palm, waiting for his sister’s response. She had never allowed them to torment her like this, to abuse and belittle her, her arrogance and self-pride had always been far too important for her, not changing her ways even when her father had pleaded with her, standing there in the meeting of the royals, demanding to end the war, embarrassing her king, her kingdom, yet when asked to apologise she only escaped to the cabin, promising the man she’d take over once he was dead- but she couldn’t now could she? No, this plan of his was wonderful, Lauster had been told by a Xikey of the great Prince who was looking for a match, one that would help him fulfil the Yin prophecy, this way, he’d get rid of her and obtain the throne, he thanked every entity out there when his father, the king had agreed.

“Well, sister, is he worth it?” he asked, shaking her head, pulling her back to consciousness when he noticed she had almost slipped into unconsciousness, only to be met by that fierce gaze once more,

“He is…I’d rather die than betray, San.”

“So be it.” He snarled, making sure to teach her a lesson she could never forget, his figure radiating with glee at the sight of her eyes closing in defeat, her mind racing back to him, Poofy no- San.

.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

[primeofprimes115]

Overwhelming Burden - Supergirl x Male Reader

Note: Fluff 🥰 and Angst 🥺

I've just read the Zero Hour 30th Anniversary comic #1 not long ago and... Honestly, it's such a good comic, biggest highlight for me is seeing Supergirl wearing a black suit with the silver S on the suit and cape, the silver belt, bracelets and black gloves (In the comic, there's instances where she's wearing black gloves or not which is a little weird but in this imagine, she'll be wearing black gloves, another image will be shown in the imagine later of her wearing black gloves) are a nice addition as well... And pants! Best suit I've seen in a while.

This is a world where Superman is dead, dead after his fight with Doomsday and where Batman never came back because he's broken, so pretty much retired and Batgirl is Gotham's Knight now while Supergirl is Metropolis's protector. Diana Prince is no where to be found so Donna Troy is the new Wonder Woman also. They what would be the New Trinity in those words.

Supergirl in this comic however is supposed to be Matrix aka Mae Kent, but DC for some reason wanted Kara Zor-El/ the original Supergirl to be mentioned in this rather than Matrix Supergirl which is a little odd but I'm not complaining. Spoiler for those but Donna named dropped Supergirl as "Kara" in the comic, so... I suppose it's Kara Zor-El, again it's a little odd, ain't complaining, I honestly don't mind.

So in other words... This imagine is inspired from this. Hope you enjoy!

Credit also goes to @bisupergirl for the pics!

Metropolis, once a city that was defended by a man who revolutionized the way Aliens were welcomed on Earth, a man that changed the world with more superheroes making their debut, along with the added threat of supervillains and those that had an agenda against him. He was a man who only found out he was in fact an Alien once he found out where he really came from.

His parents, Ma and Pa Kent, aka Martha and Jonathan, once told him he came from the stars one day, crashing down onto Earth in a small pod not far from where they lived in their farmhouse, and finding a newborn wrapped in a red cloth that would be used as his cape when he grew older to become...

Superman.

He inspired many, became Earth's Champion, defended Earth and Humanity from many threats, though he couldn't always do it alone, he eventually had allies that formed the Justice League that vowed to protect Earth from any known threat known to Humankind.

Clark Kent of the Daily Planet and from a little town called Smallville, Kal-El of Krypton, Superman, the Man of Steel, Man of Tomorrow, once an icon, a hero, a loving Husband and son to all that loved him.

He was once the fabled "Last Son of Krypton" until one day, that changed... When another pod came crashing down onto Earth, holding a young blonde haired girl, who was petrified, confused, unaware of how long it has been after being in hypersleep for many years, sent from her planet of Krypton alongside her cousin, before her pod was knocked off-course.

Kal didn't know at the time, but the arrival of this girl changed his life forever and for the better, this girl was his cousin, Kara Zor-El, who would later become Supergirl and wear the same colors and family crest, one that Clark learned more about from Kara, all about the House of El, their family, his and her parents... Some he already knew from the Fortress of Solitude that was created by the Kryptonian crystal that he put into the ice in the North Pole.

Things were going very well with Kara's introduction to Earth, adopted by the loving Danvers family, she took the name "Linda Lee Danvers" to blend in and hide her powers, though at times she wasn't great at controlling them, she was taught how to.

From going to Earth school, to meeting the one guy that she befriended, the boy named Y/N, which the two eventually began to fall for one another during high school, becoming somewhat high school sweethearts. Clark supported the fact Kara found someone she liked, someone to keep her on her toes when unexpected, she eventually introduced Clark to Y/N, letting him know of the other secret they hadn't told him yet. Their Kryptonian heritage which was a big surprise to the young boy at the time, she even took him on a flight to convince him further.

Around this time, Kara being 16 years old, she debuted as Supergirl, cousin of Superman. Embracing the whole Girl of Steel part of herself to defend her new home from enemies alike. Sporting a blue top with a red skirt and gold V-shaped belt, a short red cape with a golden S on the back as opposed to wearing the same S on her top with a red background just like her cousin, showcasing the House of El sigil proudly.

At first, the world wasn't sure how to accept Supergirl, but eventually not long after, they did with Superman's help. Kara was more happier than to be both Linda Lee Danvers and Supergirl.

But... Not everything is forever...

With some years going by and now with Kara have been Supergirl for three and a half years...

A Doomsday descended upon Earth... Many heroes answered the threat and couldn't stop it without cutting losses.

It was Superman who saved the day... But at a heavy cost...

His own life, succumbing to his wounds and the world fell silent once the news broke out.

Earth's Champion... Superman... Had been confirmed dead, giving out his life to fight Doomsday, the fight was nothing more than brutal and destructive, Metropolis was wrecked and battered by the events.

His death hit many heavily, Kara especially. There was supposed to be a surprise for Kara, before Doomsday came to be, but Y/N called the surprise off, in exchange to grieve, knowing it wouldn't be the right time to propose to the girl he has always loved.

In honor to grieve her cousin's death, Kara made the decision to change up her suit and colors, now sporting a black top, long cape and pants, with a silver V-shaped belt, bracelets and the S and shield, colored silver, even on the back of her new black cape had the S colored in silver, also supporting black gloves over her hands. The bracelets both have a diamond shaped sigil on the front, even the belt too, unlike her previous suit.

No longer blue, red and gold. Just a black and silver look, the world took notice of this change, seeing a black and blonde blur zoom past on multiple occasions throughout the world, it didn't take long for people to know it was Supergirl, now having a wardrobe change since the last time she appeared on camera months ago.

Some asked why? The obvious answer was simple... Coming from her.

"To honor my cousin" she said nothing more after. She refused to take anymore questions about anything else, it was nothing but a bother to her.

She became Metropolis's new protector, Earth's New Champion and part of the new Justice League that was put into place, post Doomsday and Superman's Death within a year later.

Kara was well known to he amongst the newer Wonder Woman and the Batgirl that has taken over Batman's duties after he mysteriously "vanished" when more forces played behind the scenes in that regard.

Meanwhile, still being Supergirl, her lover, Y/N, now loving Husband, having gotten married a few months ago, remained behind as the ever-loving House Husband, in their now shared apartment building, every day and night when Kara came back from her duties as Supergirl, he'd be the one greeting her when she came back.

But as of recently... Kara's been barely getting home than usual, skipping lunch dates, dinners, her usual work before she quit and the two had a fairshare of arguments then and there about the issue, as mostly every married couple eventually argues over something.

This morning was no different, it was the same as usual, Y/N always said that her being Supergirl didn't had to always be a thing, he wanted her to be Linda Danvers for a day or two, but she kept refusing the idea, Supergirl was needed day and night, it was her duty, her vow to fill in Kal's shoes.

Y/N made the argument that Superman wasn't always needed and this only infuriated Kara further, where their argument turned a little more heated. Y/N hated arguing with her about this, this was the first ever heated argument with her and he felt bad bringing it up. Kara was still hurting about Kal's death. There was one thing he did say that was true...

He felt neglected by her now, he hadn't been hugged by her in the last few weeks... Or even kissed by that matter and he missed having her lips on his

Kara was nothing but frustrated and moody mostly in the last few months, the last time he ever saw her smile much was during their wedding day and the entire week. It was like something switched off in her that caused her to be like this.

Could it be that something has happened? Something so bad, it's keeping her awake at night and not as the forgiving girl she was before?

She wasn't a Girl-Scout, but there was times she was, and it rarely shows today.

Y/N spent all day to himself once more, still thinking back on the argument he had with Kara this morning before she left, getting groceries, doing the laundry, keeping an eye on their cat, Streaky, before he eventually began to relax for the day. Not having to do any online work since Kara quit her Human job.

He sat on the couch, his Playstation controller in hand, playing a story-driven game before he paused it to go grab a drink.

His mind was still on the argument they had this morning, his eyes caught onto the plate of food, covered by tin-foil, dinner that was made for Kara for when she would come back at the usual time but again... She hadn't come back yet.

Y/N knew not to worry much, but it became increasingly hard for him, he loved her so much, despite the arguments they've had since getting married.

But he was worried, he was worried that she was beating herself up over everything that's happened, and it showed in her face, her body language.

The pair haven't kissed or hugged in the last two weeks and he missed being held, being kissed, being flown by her, he misses the old Kara, the old Supergirl...

The old Linda Danvers he fell in love with...

Just as he poured some fresh OJ, Y/N heard a pair of boots land on the wooden flooring by the window. He briefly looked to see Supergirl, his wife, who had seemed to look like she had been tossed around and thrown into the surface of the sun yet again, nothing more than usual.

His heart swelled to see her, but it hurt knowing she was probably still mad at him. He knew he wasn't wrong, but he just wanted to patch things up, like a normal married couple would.

"You're back" he stated the obvious with a lowered tone, but a tone she could pick up with her super hearing. "I... I was beginning to worry, but... I'm glad you're okay" he gave a little smile at the corner of his lips but it soon vanished after taking a sip of his drink.

Supergirl hadn't said anything back to him, she only looked at the TV to see what he had been doing in her absence, before noticing Streaky as she shakes her long, black cape, wiping off dust particles.

'Ugh, gonna have to get that cleaned up' he mentally noted before taking another sip from his drink. "I made dinner again, it's cold now but I ca-" a whooshing sound interrupted him and he was met by Kara who had zoomed up close to him after looking him in the eyes, completely surprising him. He almost dropped his glass of fresh OJ once she zoomed up at him in a nano-second.

"K-Kara?".

There was nothing but pain and hurt in her eyes before grabbing the sides of her cape and lunged her arms around him, wrapping her cape around him also as her body began to quiver and tremble.

She dug her face into the crook of his neck and her breaths became shaky, Y/N could only stand there with a surprised look on his face as Kara... The Girl of Steel, his wife, Supergirl, had began to break down emotionally from what it sounded like.

Then he could hear her sobbing into him, little sobs of sadness washing over her as she clung onto him hardly but gently, not wanting to let go just like any other time he'd tried to hug her.

"Y/N" she mumbled with a shaky breath into his neck, her messy blonde hair tickling the side of his face. "I-I-I" she couldn't speak her words, sadness overwhelming her as tears flushed down from her closed eyes that began to soak the T-shirt's fabric on his shoulder, crying even harder by the minute.

Y/N wrapped his arms around her figure quickly, who was clinging onto him like she was holding on for dear life, he accepted the hug he longed to get from her, it broke his heart hearing her sob and cry, feeling his shoulder getting wetter by the minute from all the tears she was shedding. Her words coming out trembling and mumbling nonsense

"Oh, Kara" Y/N cooed to her, rocking a little left to right while feeling the warmth of Kara's long cape wrapped around him and her, her arms holding him into place while a hug carried out.

"I-I... I'm so s-s-sorry!" she cried harder into him, her sobbing getting more prominent as Y/N tightened his arms around her, even his breaths began to get shaky at this moment, he felt her words hitting him in the heart. "I-I".

"Sshhh, i-it's okay" he cooed to her softly.

"N-N-No! I-It's not o-okay!" she denied that fact, struggling with her words still, but Y/N understood what she meant.

Yes... It wasn't okay, he could clearly see and hear it, with a crying Supergirl in his arms, also embracing him with her cape wrapped around him to cling onto him as she cries and sobs, overwhelmed by drowning dread and grief.

He always had a feeling eventually Linda/Kara L/N would be overwhelmed with this, mostly overwhelmed with the burden of being Earth's Champion twenty-four-seven, since Superman's death, she's been nothing but mostly Supergirl the entire time, the only acception she wouldn't be her superhero self was at the wedding and the week following that with the honeymoon.

"Let it all out, it's okay, my Sunshine" he cooed further though he stumbled on his wordings, calling her by a nickname he had for her, one she hadn't heard in a while which made her sob harder. "Let it all out" he told her once again, letting the broken Girl of Steel cry on his shoulder, just like he once told her that if she needed a shoulder to cry on, she's got him.

He could remember the days when they were in high school, remember when they were fifteen years old, he'd stop by the Danvers's place to hang out with Linda and her two other friends that she made in class, he remembered getting to know them better since he had different classes from them, and only a few classes where he and Kara would be seated near each other, often not sitting next to one another.

The days where he first began to crush on Linda, he found her the most adorable and smartest girl in the world, to him? She was everything he wanted. He didn't have much friends, most were into edgy stuff, which didn't match his tastes.

But Linda? She was into anything, she was cool to him, smart, had a sense of humor, was fun to be around and was pretty defensive for him against his bullies, once publicly embarrassing one of them by flipping him over her shoulder, on the verge of breaking the bully's arm, potentially ruining his placement for the basketball game coming up that time.

Once everything had calmed down, along with Kara's sobbing, and apologies were made about all the arguments they've been having, the two pulled back from the hug and kissed, lips-to-lips for the first time in two weeks, a kiss both surely had been missing, a long kiss between them with their lips slowly smacking off each other in a slow dancing way.

His hands caressed her cheek with his thumbs swiping away at any stray tears that fell down from her eyes which they did once they began to kiss, Kara's cape still wrapped around him and herself, not even thinking of letting go any time soon.

"Y/N" Kara broke the silence after the long kiss they had, the kiss she could clearly see that Y/N had been dreading for, a kiss of closure in other words. "I... I thought about what you said this morning, and... You're right, I have been... Neglecting you as of recently" she painfully admitted, her voice croaking as she spoke.

"No, no. I was wrong to say that" Y/N backed down from what he said, taking back the hurtful thing he said this morning. "I shouldn't have said that in the first-".

"No" she interrupted. "It's the truth. All I've thought since..." a pain arose in her chest as she felt it flare up from what she was about to say, struggling to speak a little.

"I don't think you need to say" he told her, knowing what she was going to say, as it was clear as day...

She took the burden of being the next Symbol of Hope, the carry on the shoes and burden that Superman alone carried with him through his actions and heroism, Supergirl was a role model to most, if not, all people as expressed through her actions and words alone. She didn't want to be like her cousin, she wanted to be her own person.

She once admitted to him the fact she was scared she'd end up losing herself because of the fact that there could be one day he might die and she'd have to pick up where he left off being Earth's Champion, but Clark gave her sound advice. Like him...

She had family and friends to help her carry the burden if she struggled, to carry on without him if he were to die, which happened.

"I visit that statue every day" she sniffled, looking into Y/N's eyes still. "Wishing he'd be here today still, wondering what it would be like to have him around again" she closed her eyes and sighed with a sadness that could be seen in her face. "I miss him... So, so much" she croaked.

"I know, I miss him too" he laid a finger under her chin and raised her head so he could look into her eyes, tears forming her eyes once more before one fell down onto Y/N's thumb. "But you're not alone, Kara. Being Supergirl twenty-four-seven hasn't done you good, you look stressed and tired, which is concerning considering Kryptonians don't get tired from what you've shown" he made a valid point across to her, but she seemed to have heard it before.

"You sound like Babs".

"Do I know?" he chuckled. "Well... If I was Barbara, I think she'd also be correct".

This prompted to make the Girl of Steel smile just a little, which was enough for him to point out with a little smile back at her.

"There she is, there's the smile".

"Don't ruin it" she groaned.

"I'd never" he smiled, giving out a little laugh that was a little contagious for Kara, a soft laugh escaped her before it died down, with her sighing next.

Y/N pushed a strand of Kara's hair behind her ear, seeing the other half of her face that was hidden by her golden hair. "I think... You should take off the suit and Supergirl" with his eyes he traced out the House of El glyph on Kara's chest. "...could use a good break for a little bit, you can have someone else fill in for you, clear your mind a little with me" Y/N suggested to her, though he knew she wouldn't like it, now that things had been settled between them, he wouldn't lose his chances.

And Kara knew it...

"I can heat up your dinner, or you can probably use your heat vision since it's quicker than the oven" he snorted, getting a faint laugh out from Kara while she smiled, his face brightened up again noticing it. "And we can also... Cuddle on the couch, put on a movie of your choice, not my pick because you know I'm picky" he suggested further.

"Or..." Kara unwrapped her arms off him for a moment before wrapping them back around, only around the crook of his neck this time around with her cape billowing slightly behind her due to the window being open still on a cool windy night. "I can take you on a flight?".

"Ohh" Y/N caught himself between two hard choices. "Hmm... Maybe tomorrow you can take me on a flight, how about that, Sunshine?" he answered.

"Deal" she nodded before smiling a little more, finally answering after a minute. Deep down he was right from earlier when she thought about it, her being Supergirl twenty-four-seven has done her no good, it put some strain on the relationships she's got with her loved ones, her adopted family especially and Y/N, who love her all the same, she had a prior visit to them before coming back, wanting to reconcile which was as emotional as it was already.

"It's your favorite, by the way, from your adopted mother's recipe" he smiled as Kara x-rayed the plate with the tin-foil over it, spotting a Lasagna and coming from him, it was Edna Danvers recipe of her Lasagna.

"I thought I smelled something familiar" she noted while looking at the plate.

"Go on" he gestured his head toward the plate.

"You want some? There's plenty left for us to share" she offered, unwrapping her arms off him and began to walk up to the plate.

"Nah, I'm good" he declined politely.

"You sure? In case you end up eying it up anyway" she smirked, taking off the tin-foil gently though unnecessary to do it gently.

"I had like... Maybe two plates earlier, cooked a bit too much, I'm full still" he gestured. I'll wait on the couch for you, gonna turn this game off and that".

"Okay, Love" she nodded and smiled before she looked at the food, her eyes soon lit up red before she quickly heated up the food with her heat vision, heating it up to the right temperature, just for her.

Taking the plate, she saw her Husband save his progress and switch off the game, she had a little fond memory of him kicking her ass at a fighting game when they were younger, back when things were simpler when Clark was still alive.

"Y/N" Kara broke the silence yet again.

"Yes, my Sunshine?" he answered.

"I love you, I really love you, you dork. Always remember that" she smiled once again, stabbing her Lasagna with a fork that was left on the table next to the plate earlier before taking it to her mouth to savor the taste of the food.

"I love you too, Linda L/N" he smiled back at her, her face noticeably brightened as she strolled over with her plate of food in hand... 

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 4078

[athina-blaine]

you can't carry it with you if you want to survive (Nimona 2023) Chapter 2

Summary:

With their Queen deceased, no heirs, their Director terminated, three-quarters of their holy protectors retired, and their walls gone, the kingdom had called upon the scion of Gloreth to lead the way.

-

“The Director lied to you, Ambrosius. She used you and she hurt you. None of that is your fault. Why can’t you see that?”

Ballister reached out his hand, freezing when Ambrosius recoiled.

“I guess I’m just not as forgiving as you are, Bal.”

Rating: Mature Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ambrosius Goldenloin & Nimona Chapters: 2/4 Chapter Word Count: ~6.1k Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Anxiety, Guilt, Self-Neglect, Ergomania, Post-Canon, Established Relationship

Chapter 2

Remember your training. Remember who you are.

We are born to protect this kingdom.

Thankfully, we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us.

Refilling his glass, Ambrosius reclined in his chair as far back as the wooden frame would allow, running a hand through mussed hair. The office’s temperature had grown intolerable after only a few sips of the dark liquid, and so the top buttons of his uniform lay undone, exposing his throat and sternum. A few more sips, and he imagined he’d be tempted to roll up his sleeves and kick his feet up on the desk, boots and all.

Just considering it sent a roguish thrill coursing through him. Even in solitude, Ambrosius seldom permitted himself to sink into such a state of dishevelment. Every morning he’d stick to his routine—hair styled, face done, freshly shaven—even on rare days when he'd had no obligations but to otherwise laze about his apartment.

Ballister had teased him for this. He’d needle Ambrosius time and again, asking why bother waking up so early to groom himself when Ambrosius had confessed he hated mornings. On one occasion, he even went as far as wrestling an amused Ambrosius back into bed, pleading with him to enjoy a few more hours of sleep for a change.

At the time, Ambrosius had conceded. They’d only been dating a few months at that point, and it had taken embarrassingly little persuasion to convince a smitten Ambrosius to forgo his usual routine and curl back under the cozy covers. The next morning, however, while Ballister still slept, he rose at his usual hour to start on his hair.

It’s just what Ambrosius did. He’d never given it much thought beyond that. He’d developed the habit as early as primary school, recalling with fond warmth the mornings his mother would let him play at her vanity, mimicking her and her serene elegance. Ambrosius had been quick to fall into a morning routine of his own, smoothing out blemishes and tending to his brightened hair.

After all, even as a child, he’d understood the importance of maintaining appearances, even if—

Is something on your mind, Ambrosius?

… I’m fine, Director.

—even if, internally, he felt like his entire world was falling apart.

[Continue on AO3]

[Chapter 1]

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Crown

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, violence, mention of the murder attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, verydark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she felt such happiness and such relief as when she saw her mother, alive, smiling, standing in her chamber. She dreamt of it in solitude, heartbreakingly trying to come to terms with the fact that she would only see her and convey everything she wanted to tell her in the next life.

Instead, she could burst out crying like a little child, find herself in her arms again, smelling her wonderful, calming scent, her hands stroking her head and her back. For a long moment she couldn't calm down, sobbing loudly, apologising to her for everything, babbling about how scared she was, how much she was suffering, how she was dying every day at the thought of not protecting her.

When she calmed down at last she sat with her on her bed, realising that someone must have led to this miracle, that something had happened that had completely escaped her attention, that there was someone else in the coffin or no one at all, that someone had helped her flee.

"I helped the Prince escape when he was a child. He offered to help me run away if I secured my brother's support for him. When he found out what your father wanted to do to me, he arrived at his call." She said calmly, stroking her head, and she swallowed loudly, remembering that Vhagar's real name was Aemond, that he had taken her on the table a moment ago, her thighs sticky from her moisture and his seed.

All this time he knew her mother was alive.

I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep.

She's free now.

She stared in disbelief at her mother's lap, realising with a rapidly beating heart that he had never said that he had killed her.

That he had never lied to her.

She felt a wave of heat, a wave of gratitude, of devotion, of tenderness surge through her body. She thought she would do anything for him, that she would never repay him for this miracle that had just embraced her with his arms. She lifted her gaze, recalling with fear her younger brother, the fact that he was officially the heir to the throne.

"What about Loras?" She asked in a trembling voice, her mother stroking her head reassuringly and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"He has seen me, he is in shock. My brother remains with him in his chamber so that he is not alone, but for now he cannot leave. Before the coronation, he will have to give up his rights to the throne in front of everyone, agreeing that you should become Queen instead." She said calmly, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, hugging her face to her chest, hiding in her embrace as she had when she was a child.

"…are you willing to do it? Marry him?" She asked uncertainly, and she nodded.

"Yes."

That night she waited impatiently for him, knowing he would come, knowing what she wanted to give him. She surprised him with her directness and initiative, the low groans of his pleasure as her mouth clenched and sucked on his manhood made pleasant shivers run through her, her walls throbbing greedily around nothing.

Both of them were surprised at how quickly she managed to bring him to the edge, his noises were full of desire and vulnerability and when he came in her mouth with a loud sigh of pleasure as she swallowed bravely everything that came out of him, wanting him to be satisfied with her.

When she released him from between her lips with a loud splat and looked up at him from below she noticed that his face looked completely different − he was panting loudly, shuddering, stroking her hair, his healthy eye wide open, his lips parted, his length still twitching, swollen from his fulfilment.

"− you will make a fine Queen −" He whispered with some kind of recognition, and she felt his words deep between her thighs. He pushed her wanting her to lie on her back, clearly planning to spend the whole night with her, but she stopped him with a movement of her hands, tightening them on his shoulders.

"− no − no, we can't −" She whispered pleadingly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

There was nothing she wanted more after seeing her mother whole and healthy than to give herself to him, however, if she was to become his wife, she could not allow him to do so.

He furrowed his brow, shocked, looking at her in disbelief.

"− are you mocking me? − I have no intention of pulling it out of you all night −" He said dryly, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer − she squirmed quietly when she felt him rub his manhood between her thighs, an amused smirk appeared on his face when he felt how wet she was.

"− you fucking want this −" He hummed; she tightened her hands on his tunic, shaking her head.

"− I want this − but the court will think I am your whore − I will never be respected by your side − is it not enough that I am the daughter of a traitor? −" She asked in a trembling voice and saw that he froze, looking at her in shock, his lips tightened into a thin line.

"− I will kill with my own hands anyone who dares to insult my Queen −" He hissed. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek − she saw him hesitate, his gaze softened slightly.

"− I ask this of you as your future wife − let us not spend the night together until our nuptials −" She whispered, stroking his scar with her fingertips − she heard him sigh heavily and curse quietly, furious.

He stood up, tying his breeches, staring at her with a clenched jaw and she raised herself up on her elbows, covering her thighs, looking at him gratefully.

"You're going to finish me off, woman." He said with annoyance, and she swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze. She felt his fingers grasp her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Tomorrow, you will accompany me during my council with the lords. You will stand by my side when I tell them of our decision. Do you understand?" He asked coolly, and she nodded, feeling hot in her heart at the thought that he really wanted this.

He really wanted her to be his wife.

The next day, new servants walked into her chamber, looking at her with trepidation, apparently afraid that if they offended her she would tell everything to the dreaded One-Eyed Prince, who would cut their throats.

In silence they helped her to dress and combed her hair − even though she should be wearing mourning, she put on a light navy blue gown with exposed shoulders and long red sleeves reaching to the ground, her and her future husband's colours.

In accordance with his wishes, she was led into the small council chamber, where lords loyal to him over the years as well as those who had joined him later were seated at the table − she was relieved to see her uncle and her mother among them.

This time, as soon as she spotted her future husband sitting at the head of the table she bowed humbly, causing the conversation to fall silent.

"My King." She said softly and lifted her gaze to him − his sapphire now covered by a black eye patch, his healthy eye looking at her with satisfaction and contentment. He nodded at her.

"Come closer, my Lady." He said in a firm, dry voice, and she headed towards him obediently, surprising most of those gathered by the fact that she stopped beside his chair − Criston Cole moved restlessly, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Conquering a city and regaining the throne is one thing, however, maintaining it and keeping the peace is another. The simplest way to appease the terrified citizens, in my opinion, would be a union between the feuding families, heralding a new beginning. That is why I have made decision to take Lord Walford's daugther as my wife and that she will be crowned with me during our nuptials." He said lowly − an uproar and dissenting voices echoed around her, her heart beat hard in horror as one of the lords stood up and pointed a finger at her.

"This is treacherous blood, my King. It passes from generation to generation, it cannot be trusted. Send her back to the monastery, my daughter would be a more suitable candidate for your wife." He said looking at him with outrage, however her future husband's face remained impassive and indifferent.

"I declare my will, my Lord, not to ask your opinion. Have you supported me only to have me marry your daughter? Will you turn against me if I do not?" He asked coldly, with emphasis, wanting to push him to the wall. The man swallowed loudly, shaking his head.

"No, of course not, my King, however you must not be fooled, she will want to avenge her father and put her younger brother on the throne, she…" He didn't finish as a fiery argument broke out around her − her uncle stood up from his seat, furious, saying that it was thanks to him that they had taken over the city and he didn't wish anyone to speak to his niece in such a way − the other lord said he only did it because he wanted to be King himself.

"Why would I want to avenge my father?" She asked, looking straight into the eyes of the lord who had insulted her earlier − the man fell silent surprised that she had the courage to interrupt the men's discussion and interject.

"Because I believed he ordered my mother to be killed? Because if it wasn't for our King I would have took my own life? Because my father wanted to sell me like a mere whore to whoever would offer more?"

She asked in a trembling voice, a tense silence fell around her.

"I wanted nothing more than his death. Our King can attest that when I realised that my, what I thought at the time, ghost had connections to your cause I offered to help the Prince and do whatever he wanted, if only he would agree to spare my little brother's life. I told him this without knowing who was hiding under the mask."

"You could have done it because you sensed something was coming and wanted to warn your father!" Said one of the men, slamming his fist on the table.

"That's enough." Growled their King, but she wasn't about to leave that comment unanswered.

"If I loved him so much, why didn't I warn him? Why, after discovering the shelter under the bed in my mother's chamber, did I not inform him that the Prince might have taken refuge there, that he had survived?"

Silence answered her − the lords looked at each other uncertainly with grim faces. She heard her future husband sigh heavily, running his hand over his face.

"I appreciate your devotion, my Lords, but my decision is not negotiable. Let us proceed with the details of the coronation so that we can get it over with. I understand your concerns, fear not, you will fill your purses with gold."

Despite the extreme distrust and coldness with which her husband's decision was received, it looked as if his allies must have struggled to accept it, seeing that he was taking it seriously, not wanting to lose out in his eyes, hoping for close and important positions in his future council.

She watched from the sidelines with the ease with which he set them up like pawns on his chessboard, seeing exactly what they wanted, the greed and vanity behind their grand words of allegiance.

He knew that he could not trust them completely, that he had to control them.

Even though he didn't have a mask on his face, he somehow put it on in front of them, not letting any of his emotions or thoughts come to the surface that he didn't want to share with them.

She saw his greedy, thirsty gaze, knew he was dying of rage and irritation, struggling to keep his promise not to go near her since that night.

He craved her and couldn't touch her.

When the day of the coronation finally arrived her maids prepared her bath in the morning, dried and combed her hair, helping her put on her beautiful new black and red gown, a gift from her future husband, the colour of his house.

She felt a kind of pride when she noticed that the shade suited her − her dark hair contrasted with the ruby long sleeves, her hair partly pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, partly loose, flowing down her bare back.

She walked out of the fortress for the first time in weeks, accompanied by guards, and was led to the carriage that would take her, escorted by Criston Cole along with her mother and her brother, to the temple where the nuptial and coronation ceremony was to take place.

"Do you remember what you are supposed to say?" Their mother asked Loras, correcting his robe, also the colours of red and black, proof that he too was from now on relinquishing his father's lineage to his new house.

"Yes." He muttered, looking at her in horror, pale, his large, dark eyes glazed over from tears. "If I say all this, won't they cut my throat?"

She pressed her lips together at his words and reached out with her hand, grasping his fingers, squeezing them, looking at him tenderly.

"No one will hurt you again. I will become the wife of a Prince, and then a King, and you will retain the title of lord and inherit the estate that once belonged to our father. Everything will be as it should be." She said calmly, for the first time sincerely believing that their lives would finally be at peace, that her husband would keep his word.

When they arrived there were crowds of onlookers waiting around and in the temple itself, horrified people not knowing what to think about what had happened, watching them in silence.

Her younger brother was led onto the podium with their mother, much to their consternation − she heard shouts that it was a miracle, that the Queen was dead. Her mother placed a hand on his shoulder as he began to recite what he had been ordered to say.

"I, Larys Walford, as the son of a traitor, renounce my claim to the crown in favour of its rightful heir, Prince Aemond Targaryen, and my sister, his future wife, retaining by their grace the title of Lord." He said in a trembling, childish voice from which she felt a tightening in her throat.

He came downstairs, standing behind her, heading with her to the entrance, where her uncle was waiting for her to lead her inside instead of her father. She grabbed his arm and nodded that she was ready.

When they went inside all eyes were fixed on them, but for some reason she felt no fear or panic. All she looked at was the man who stood in front of the huge altar, behind him the tall windows through which the sun fell, illuminating his pale face, his eye patch, his long, almost white hair.

He stood upright, proud, prepared for this moment for many years, confidence, calmness and determination beaming from him − she saw that he swallowed hard at the sight of her, a barely visible grimace of satisfaction and contentment on his lips, from which she felt heat in her lower abdomen.

He craved not only the crown, but also her.

It was all about to become just his in the eyes of the gods.

Her uncle gave him her hand, which he grasped in his own, looking down at her, his gaze seeming soft to her despite the coldness, her fingers tightening lightly on his skin.

"We are gathered here to unite, bless and anoint these two people entrusting the fate of us all into their hands. Do you, standing here before the face of the gods, wish to join in holy matrimony of your own free will?"

"Yes." They both replied in a confident, clear, calm voice.

"Have either of you, standing here before me, made a commitment to someone else that might stand in the way of this sacred union of marriage?"

"No." Again they both answered, she saw his gaze change with each passing moment, as if he was slowly realising that this was really happening, that they were just becoming one.

"Therefore, I, the envoy and servant of the gods on earth, call upon you to take an oath:

In the face of the gods and all assembled witnesses, I vow that what was empty becomes full, what was broken becomes whole, and what was separated becomes one, now and for all eternity.

They said with difficulty. She felt tears gather in her eyes with each word, her throat tightened, their fingers clenched on their hands − she saw his lower lip tremble slightly.

There was a complete silence around them that made her hear their accelerated breaths perfectly − they let go of each other's hands when the priest ordered them to face him and kneel.

She closed her eyes as he anointed first his forehead and hands with holy oils and then hers, while saying that by the will of the gods they would rule this kingdom.

She heard Ser Criston Cole take a black steel crown, adorned with rubies, from the altar and walk over to her husband, placing it on his head. He went back and took another crown from it, which was in the form of a diadem with ringing ruby beads − when he placed it on her head it would fall on either side on thin strings, connecting to each other at the back.

Her husband stood up, and she rose with him, Criston Cole shouting behind them.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!" His lordship cheered, and behind them the other assembled people began to chant, simple folk who had watched everything from afar.

Loud applause echoed all around them, and she thought that people, like her, were relieved at the thought that the worst was behind them, that perhaps there would be peace at last.

They returned to the fortress on horseback so that all those gathered could see them − she rode a little way behind and heard the people shouting her name, calling her their queen, running after her.

She looked at them with some kind of emotion, remembering how they had thrown flowers at her feet when she returned alone to the keep, thinking that her mother was dead.

They were welcomed in the fortress with a huge feast of dancing and revelry, seated behind a large wooden table, receiving congratulations from the lords and their families along with vows of allegiance, which they accepted with a nod.

She knew they were both dyingly exhausted and dreamed only of rest and respite. Her husband did not ask her to dance, however, she did not mind.

She felt no need to do so, although to her surprise, she was filled with contentment.

She looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye − he was sitting with his profile to her listening to the words of another of the lords, the black crown on his head looked noble.

It seemed to her that he was born to wear it.

When at last they were able to retire to bed, her husband ordered her to go with him to his chamber, so she did so without a word of objection, and her servants followed her.

He watched sitting in a chair as they helped her to take off her gown, trying to remove the diadem from her head first, however, he immediately protested.

"No. The diadem is to stay." He said coldly, in a slow respectful movement pulling the crown off his head, placing it beside him on the table, looking at it thoughtfully.

Her servants walked out when she was finally left in just her nightgown, closing the door behind them − her husband raised his eyes at her, his gaze expressing displeasure.

"Shall I rip it off you?" He asked lowly, so she pulled at the ties of her nightgown and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall lightly to the floor.

She saw her husband-king lick his lower lip involuntarily, seeing her naked body at last in the candlelight, able to admire her shamelessly without having to rely solely on his sense of touch.

He rose slowly from his chair with a creak of wood, approaching her unhurriedly, towering over her. She shuddered as his hands ran gently over her shoulders, up to her neck and cheeks, a pleasant, warm shiver passed through her even though she was cold.

He surprised her when he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, barely rubbing against them without giving her a full kiss. She sighed in delight as she felt his familiar touch and scent, her fingers ran over the soft skin of his cheeks reciprocating his caress.

She moaned quietly as he grabbed her with his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips greedily pressed against hers in a loud kiss as if he were tasting the fruit − they both gasped as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively.

"− I'll lick you good down there before I slide it into you − hm? −" He murmured running his nose over her cheek and she felt her insides throbbing hard at his words. She nodded quickly, running her fingers through his hair impatiently, looking up at him pleadingly.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her hips and lifted her with ease, walking with her towards the royal bed that had once belonged to her father, and his father before that.

She sighed as her warm body collided with the cold sheets, her husband taking her thighs in his hands and spreading them in front of him, looking down at her with slightly parted lips.

"Mmm."

He murmured, and then leaned over her, nuzzling his face into her warmth between her thighs, with shy, tentative movements sliding the tip of his tongue inside her, teasing her deliberately, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips, her body arching backwards as his nose rubbed against her bud.

"− please − please, my husband −" She mumbled out, feeling her whole body burn with desire − for the time he hadn't visited her she had satisfied herself with her own hand, but it wasn't the same − she needed and wanted only him. She heard him hum with satisfaction at her words, watching her reaction with contentment.

"− so impatient − I was thinking only about this listening to those fucking fools −" He muttered between one lick of his tongue and the next, making her body tremble in his hands.

"− about what I'm going to do to my wife tonight −" He breathed out − she moaned loudly, surprised, clasping her hands in his hair as his tongue suddenly burst deep inside her.

He began to eat her like a starving man with a loud click of their mixed moisture, the tip of his tongue rubbing and pressing the spot inside her from which her walls throbbed wonderfully, her hips began to push desperately against his face.

"− my King − right here, yes, please −" She was panting and whimpering with pleasure when she felt the shockingly intense fulfilment shake her body, waves of heat flowing through her one after another − she was writhing in front of him, thinking only of the fact that he was her King and she had just come on his face.

She heard him sigh in contentment, with slow, lazy flicks of his tongue licking off everything that flowed out of her.

She looked at him with misty eyes when she heard him rise up on his knees, wiping his face with the back of his hand, reaching up to clasp of his tunic, staring at her as if he was about to devour her.

"− as your King and husband, I swear to you that you'll fall asleep and wake up with this inside you −" He murmured with a grin as he untied his breeches, releasing his hard, swollen erection, its tip glistening from his own wetness.

She spread her thighs obediently in front of him as he leaned over her, placing one hand at her head, the other guiding the fat head of his cock against her entrance, still throbbing from her fulfillment, and he pushed into her, a moan of delight escaping from their throats.

He slid deep into her with one sure thrust and immediately began to slam into her, panting loudly along with her, imposing an intense, fierce pace, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with the loud click of her juices.

"− oh gods, yes − fuck, I've missed this −" He breathed out, rooting into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, sliding into her with ease − she reached her hand up to his eye patch and pulled it off in one sure motion, startling him completely.

He groaned low as she grasped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face to hers, their lips colliding in a sticky, loud kiss, their bodies hitting each other fast and hard.

"− yes − please, yes, fuck me, my King − I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours −" She mewled meeting each of his thrusts with the bucking of her hips, one of her hands clamped down on his buttock allowing him to pound into her harder. She could feel him twitching all over, close to fulfilment after such a long separation, her insides sucked desperately at his cock, wanting to keep him inside her.

"− gods, stop clenching − stop, oh, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck −" He muttered before fulfilment shook his body and his hot seed spilled inside her − they were both panting, looking at each other with misty eyes, trying to prolong this sensation with the motions of their sweaty bodies.

She sighed quietly as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, pulsing hard, still moving inside her with involuntary rocking of his hips.

"− you are made for me −" He sighed in relief, his voice filled with calmness, as if stating a fact he had read about in some book.

"− you were born to be mine −"

______

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