#“so this is how it feels to be rescued by a prince”

[miragecounseling]

AH YAY ! I haven't been the mosttt involved in game this year, but I've been creating nonetheless :-)

(tw for sa/trafficking mention)

SUBJECT 5YLV4R1: Formerly an Inquest test subject. They were found near death and "rescued" by an Inquest researcher and taken back to Sandswept Isles. Their captor initially planned to use them for a lab assistant of sorts, but when they realized the horrors the lab contained and questioned their captor, they were sent to the same fate as those trapped within... until their escape. They might be hellbent on escaping alive, but does that mean they can't take a detour or too to ensure some Inquest don't get to leave alive as well?

T/W FOR SA/TRAFFICKING !!

ADELINE NYX: The diviner, the all seeing, the cursed. Do you know how it feels to once be revered, loved, and respected by your peers for the gift once said to be bestowed by the Six themselves? To be able to see one's future, to help avoid catastrophe and protect against attacks is a gift unlike any other. Until her gift shows the beloved crown Prince attacking women; foreigners brought in to satiate his twisted desires. 'The kind no one would miss,' he whispers to his advisor, his trafficker, with a sick grin. No one believes her. They call her a heretic, say her mind's been corrupted. She begs for someone, anyone to believe her. They drag her to the town square and string her up, left to be food for the crows. As they tie her hands, another vision swallows her mind and the words spill off her tongue. At first no one listens, but as she repeats the lilting message, the townsfolk go quiet.

The name held only in threats to bad children to get them to behave, in scary stories told around fires, in whispered hushes as they recount his murderous wrath... She sings it. He is returning. He is coming for them all.

ADRASTUS THE INESCAPABLE: technically I've had him / his design for years but he's sat with no Lore the entire time lmao so I've officially made him a lovesick villain who has come to rescue the love of his life that doesn't know she's his yet :)

I did this last year and it was pretty fun. So let's do it again.

Not that you need a reason to talk about your characters, but I know some people can be a little bit shy about holding their kids up to the sun and going "Look what I made!". Reblog and show off any characters you made this year. Tell us their story, why you made em, where they fit in to your Tyria!

<3

[pinkkittysaw]

PROMPTIS IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED!!!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[mcytegg]

do you think it was second nature for subz to save zam? to be his protector yet again, after all of this time? its been years since hes done it and their relationship has changed so much— with things like betrayals, paranoia, and fighting on opposite sides ensuring they have never been what they once were.

and yet. and yet. subz still came; zam called for him at his lowest point of this season, when he needed someone the absolute most bc he was once again all alone, it was subz who saved him and protected him from the person who was hunting and killing him repeatedly— and isnt that achingly familiar?

[sphnyspinspin]

New wing design alert✨

[transformers-bold-bright-brisk]

!ART DUMP!

Been sprucing up m concept art for my continuity and even a bit of shading/lighting techniques✨

[emeyuko]

Don't mind me

Just collecting otps having the moment™️

[xamaxenta]

Please please please tell me you have more crown prince Ace and dragon nerd, whisperer, encyclopaedia Sabo. It's so beautiful and amazing and everything I didn't know I needed. Please.

Yea I do 👌🏽

So Luffy does want the red dragon but Sabo strikes them a deal, red is a temperamental beast and will need to be monitored, Luffy also needs to form a bond with him before there can be any form of purchase made, no bond no sale thats how their business works

Dragons are prideful, stubborn and intelligent creatures and where they do not want to go, no one could possibly force them (except maybe Sabo but he’s a very specific case)

So Koala sets up what they call the training period, hopeful Dragon owners will come to visit their chosen Dragon in order to form an initial bond, if all goes well then it might even transform into a riders bond, its specific magic only Dragons wield

Luffy curious asks what a rider’s bond looks like and Sabo doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt to show the silvery blue sheen scaled pattern seemingly tattooed over his chest and down his ribs

Ace looks away if only for privacy, Sabo naturally doesnt mind if he does look, maybe he’s a little put out he couldn’t draw the eye of the handsome older prince

Koala smacks him on the arm and scolds him for not giving them any further warnings before stripping off the absolute heathen, Luffy oohs and aahs over the mark like “why over your chest tho?”

“Helps me feel closer to them. It can be anywhere honestly, most riders like to contain it to their arms, for easy identification, each mark is unique to the rider.”

“So it could be on your butt then.” Luffy says bluntly and Ace startles, hisses at his little brother to remember his manners when Sabo laughs, bright and airy, the noise carries in the small office and Ace can’t help but feel a little jealous at how free he sounds.

“Yes, there probably is some poor sucker out there with a rider bond mark on their butt.”

“Where’s yours?” Luffy turns to Koala who turns on her seat to the side and lifts her hair out of the way to show off a gleaming turquoise scale pattern running down the side of her neck and the back of her spine.

“How does the bonding work?” Ace still doesnt fancy Luffy being around such a volatile animal at such a formative age, in his opinion he’s too young but according to Koala and Sabo, red is roughly the same age as Luffy in human years which would help greatly in understanding one another.

“Mostly like any other animal, we supervise Luffy and red together, have Luffy shadow Sabo during dragon training, let them exist together and get used to each others presence. that sort of thing,” Koala says reassuringly

“But with extra steps.” Sabo adds on in a not so reassuring way, he still hasn’t closed his shirt, dusty white fabric frames his athletic shape prettily and Ace swallows and maintains his gaze above clavicle level.

“Define the extra steps,” Ace crosses his arms and tries to keep his voice level and not accidentally pitch it down in that apparently threatening manner he was often to do when it came to protecting Luffy.

“Dragons are crazy smart, they can see and understand a lot of things humans can’t, they’re not like other herd animals that can be broken in, you have to earn their respect.” Sabo explains glancing down at Luffy to make sure the little prince was payin attention.

To his pleasure, Luffy listens raptly, head cocked to the side with his nose crinkled up in concentration. Its clear he has his heart set on red and Sabo would do anything in his power to have them secure a bond. And only because he knows his dragons deserve good riders, he doesnt have any other ulterior royal motives standing in the room to persuade him.

“So they’re just like people and should be treated in the same way.” Ace surmises, thoughtfully, which if this was the case wouldn’t be hard at all for Luffy who had charisma in droves and already had the entire palace eating out of the palm of his hand.

“Yeah!” Sabo exclaims enthusiastically, leans over the desk separating them within the office, sharp teeth bared in a wild smile, “you got it your highness, not many catch on as quick.”

He looks like he wants to say so much more but Koala straightens up from her perch on the edge of the desk.

“Sabo,” Koala’s voice takes on a more stern tone, “now is not the time.”

“The time for what?” Luffy asks innocently and Ace watches curiously at the look Koala throws at Sabo briefly, equal parts exasperated, annoyed but mostly afraid.

He says nothing.

“Nothing, motormouth, I’ll end up sending you to sleep with all the dragon facts, little prince.” Sabo replies easily, but his mismatched eyes still hold a chilling fire within them that was most definitely ignited at Ace’s comments.

“But i wanna know” Luffy whines, endearingly but Ace shushes him nonetheless, they were guests.

“All in due time little prince.” Sabo says cheerfully, he finally starts buttoning up his shirt again, much to Ace’s relief, the dragon rider mark had been… distracting to say the least.

“I think North should be rested enough to take you out on a test flight.”

As if on cue, the sapphire scaled dragon rears his head up and pokes his muzzle in through the open office window, huffing smoke through flared nostrils.

The noise of delight Luffy makes may only be a sound canines would be able to hear

[dirt-str1der]

yk every time i see a post about somebody wishing bad things on another person i think ‘dirt-strider to kiryu’ you’ve broken me brain

You see a post thats like i want to stick him in time prison so that he gets so bored he starts breaking his own bones to get even a hint of stimulation and its tagged me at kiryu and you scroll down and its a post thats like i want to feed him chips from my cupped hands like a wild stallion and its also tagged me at kiryu also hiiiiiiiii

[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x Ransom! Reader

Summary: How would the Arcane characters react if the reader was held for ransom?

Characters: Jinx/Powder, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Sevika, Silco and Licker (mention).

Warning: Slight cursing and suggestive themes/implied sexual themes.

A/N: I literally got the idea for this request from Helluva Boss, particular episode 6 of season 2. I hope you all enjoy this though, I know I did!

Powder/Jinx

“You have who?! Where are they?!… You want me to pay you for them? Oh I’ll pay you alright!”

Jinx doesn’t take the idea of you getting hurt lightly. She already is super overprotective of her little trinket, so when she heard that you were being held for a price, she wasted no time grabbing Pow-Pow, Zapper and a bunch of chompers to aid her in her “heroic rescue” for her princess/prince. As soon as she is where you are held, you don’t have to see her to know she’s there for you. Don’t expect any talking, just laughter and hollers followed by gunfire, screams for mercy and explosions.

Before you know it, the Loose Cannon is standing in front of you, pulling you into the tightest hug ever and dressing your face with kisses. She will ask you countless questions while freaking out, beating herself up over you being in such a position. But when she feels you touch her and assure her you’re okay, she’s on cloud nine. As soon as she laces the area with bombs to blow it to kingdom come, she’s back at her hideout, being super affectionate and touchy the entire night. Don’t expect anyone to be touching you for months unless they want their head blown off.

Violet “Vi”

“… What?… You… You just pissed off the wrong woman.”

First word that you were kidnapped, Vi wasted no time hunting your captors down and beating them to a bloody pulp. The woman is like a bull seeing red knowing you were somewhere cold and scared away from home and her arms. So until you were back to her, anyone was able to get a personal greeting from the pink haired fighter. Vi is pretty merciful, but in situations like this, she isn’t afraid to push the envelope by giving life threatening injuries to the bastards that hurt you.

When she found you, she didn’t bother asking any questions or giving any money to your kidnappers, unless they counted a mouthful of fists and kicks as payment enough. When she’s done with her punishment, she’ll immediately scoop you into her arms and take the both of you back home, where she checks you for injuries and asks if you are okay. Please comfort her. She may act all tough and cool, but the situation scared her due to thinking she lost you just like everyone else. As soon as she knows you are alright, she’ll promise no one will ever do that to you again.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“You kidnapped Y/N? Why would- Who do you think you are? You better let them go right now!”

Caitlyn was used to people being kidnapped on the job, having to save them or negotiate with criminals for their safety. But she would have never imagined such a thing happening to you of all people. When she was told you were being held for ransom, she understandably panicked before taking deep breaths and thinking of how to get you back to her. The enforcer can easily scrounge up the money for you to be freed, because you were more important than any coin that reaches her pockets.

So when she arranges a meeting with your kidnappers and finds you so scared, she finds it hard to stop herself from grabbing you and making a run for it. If the kidnappers pull a fast one on her though, all bets are off and bullets are flying. When she has you back, she will watch you like a hawk and be on the defensive for a while. But if you assure her enough that you are okay, she will lighten up. On the bright side, after the incident she’s more romantic and spends more time with you in and out of work.

Viktor

“Look, I’m sure we can talk about this. I’ll get you the money, just. Please don’t hurt them…”

Viktor beat himself up when he heard you were taken away from him for monetary purposes. He just doesn’t understand how he would let this happen- How he would let someone easily take you under his nose and put you in harm’s way?! He could’ve waddled in his sorrows, but he couldn’t. He had to save you and he had to act fast! It would hurt him, but he would ask for assistance from Jayce and the council if he can. And if they can’t help him? Well. Maybe it was time to break out those so-called dangerous machines Heimerdinger warned him against using.

When he finds you, he’s wasting no time trying to negotiate a way around matters so you could be freed. And if those negotiations don’t go according to plan, then he’ll use his machinery and his brain to outsmart the criminals into freeing you. When you are back together, he’ll just. Hold you. Like you are a precious gemstone. He’ll promise you this will never happen again. No one will ever lay their hands on you again…

Jayce Talis

“Is this supposed to scare me? If anything, you should be the one scared- Do you know who I am?!”

Jayce does not take threats lightly, especially when it comes to his family, friends and his loved ones. As soon as he was told you were held for Ransom, he let his anger and determination to get you back fuel him to do anything to send a message and bring you back to safety. You will immediately know your boyfriend got the message because in a matter of hours, enforcers are barging into the area you were held like they were entering a war, shooting, punching and slamming anyone who got in their way from their goal; You.

And Jayce is in the middle of it all, swinging his hammer without remorse before running to your rescue as your knight in shining armor. As soon as you grab his hand, he’s walking you back to his place casually through the enforcers destroying everything in their sights and leaving a message for the assholes that took you; Never. Ever. Touch the councilman’s lover. Don’t expect to go anywhere without guards following you if Jayce isn’t, whether you want to or not. Jayce just can’t take the chance for you to be taken again. Is it extreme? Yes. But it was worth it.

Sevika

“Ransom? Seriously? Please, that’s nothing. And I’m about to show you why.”

When it comes to ransom, Sevika wasn’t new to having her friends or past lovers be kidnapped for money. So when she heard you were being held hostage, she casually grabbed her poncho, fixed her arm for a brawl and headed outside to round her co-workers up. When she found you and the ones that took you, she wasted no time kicking in the doors and sicking her co-workers on everyone before she made her way towards you after knocking some skulls in. She’ll ask if you are okay and especially check you for any injuries before grabbing you and joking how you found yourself in this predicament.

The fight rages on as soon as she places you outside for safety. Saving you wasn’t enough. No, she needed everyone to know that when someone messes with you, they have to deal with her and the rest of Zaun. When everything is over and done, Sevika will take you both back home and treat any injuries you want before kissing your cheek and simply talking as if you weren’t kidnapped to begin with. If you think she doesn’t care, then hoo boy. The way she’ll treat you that night in bed will make you think otherwise.

Silco

“Hmm… If I were you, I’d beg for mercy when I get there…”

Silco is never one to be threatened because he’s always the one making the threats. Hearing about you being held for Ransom made him immediately go on the move to round up Sevika to follow him in bringing you back to him. If he gets there and doesn’t find you anywhere, he will deliver a silent signal to bring the house down. But if you are present, then he won’t need violence to be delivered by his Right Hand. He’ll just need to put the fear of gods into your kidnapper.

He’ll paint them a picture of how he’ll find their families and let them listen to the melody of their bones breaking. How he’ll have Licker carve paintings into their bodies and let them choke on their own blood as they beg for mercy. What do they think of that? They wouldn’t like that at all. As a matter of fact, they would hate it so much that they would release you and fade from existence right there. As soon as you are back to Silco, he’s going to take you back home as if this was only a minor inconvenience. But as soon as you two are behind closed doors, he can’t help from keeping his hands to himself and make promises against your skin.

If you have any requests for Arcane, X-Men '97 or Blue Eye Samurai, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay safe, stay hydrated and have a good day!

[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[pomefioredove]

may I please request Headcanon of the overblot gang + Adeuce when a reader that’s normally very sweet and shy goes absolutely apeshit and TEARS INTO some bully, absolutely roasting the hell out of them please? Thank you :3

of course anon!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ going apeshit!!!!

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

being the magicless newcomer makes you a favorite target for some of Night Raven College's less kindly students.

your loved ones know this, too, so when a group of brutish first years approach, they're ready to defend you. except...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle had seen them coming towards you and already had his hand on his magical pen

how stupid of them to pick on you in his presence

a week or two without their heads would serve them well

but before he can even step between you and the ruffians (very gallantly, I might add; he had it all planned out in his head),

you just...

...oh

even he blushes at the profanity you spew

he didn't even get to scold them

...then you turn back to him with that same sweet smile as if nothing had happened

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace had actually been the first student to get an earful from you

once at the beginning of the year, and never again

now, he takes great pleasure in watching you verbally eviscerate the other students

it's a... guilty pleasure, we'll say

and Deuce knows not to intervene

he tried... once

after all, he's been in your place before

nothing's better than the feeling of putting some snob in his place

BUT OF COURSE, that's the old Deuce

...he just lets you go on because he knows he can't stop you

...not because he's enjoying it. obviously

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

and here Leona was, thinking you were some helpless little herbivore...

but can you blame him?

you're always so... cute

skipping around Savanaclaw, all happy to be helping out Ruggie and Jack after practice...

you were bound to run into trouble, looking like an easy meal

he almost feels... bad for you...

but before he can step in and tell the freshies to buzz off, you...

damn, you've got a mouth on you

you switch up real quick on them, and they scamper off to go lick their wounds

color him impressed...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul was on his way back to the dorm when he heard you shout

you sounded... upset

and as much as he would like to, he can't just walk by and let you get bullied

damn sympathy...

so, he follows the sound of your voice, ready to intervene... on...

...nothing

a group of embarrassed freshman run past him, scattering in the opposite direction

he steps around the corner

and there you are, perfectly fine, if not a little winded

...of course

and he didn't even get to be your hero... tch

"Always full of surprises, aren't you? Just don't give Floyd any of those new words to use,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it's none of his business... it's none of his business...

until it is his business

Jamil wouldn't have come running to your rescue like some prince

but he is in the middle of a civil conversation with you!

how insulting! honestly!

those freshmen must take him for some kind of witless fool

just this once, he'll teach them not to disrespect him...

of course, he doesn't even get a word in

he's never seen anyone so...

so...

...brutal

your insults are poignant, your tone sharp and dangerous, your usage of puns perfect...

you're like a work of art

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil has no problem with putting others in their place

and he has a particular dislike of the brutish, arrogant students at NRC

he can actually sense their unwashed presence in the hall before he sees them

one little snide comment and...

...oh...

oh, my

you verbally tear them to shreds, insulting everything from their shoes to their posture, their cowardice, even their own insults

...goodness

he's going to have to have a talk with you about your language later

but, for now...

...he's enjoying this little performance of yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia starts the most heated discourse over his faves and biases online, but this is different

this is real life

and the second he can feel a shift in the atmosphere, he's hiding behind you

you can handle it yourself, right? you've done it before!

honestly, he has no clue how you deal with the normies at this school

delusion, probably

he'd die if anyone talked to him the way they talk to...

...NEVER MIND!

you're using words he hasn't even heard in real life

even he is freaked out

you can get real scary when you want to, huh?

...maybe he'll just stick with you for now...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he actually kinda sorta wanted to defend your honor...

he could be your fairytale prince!!! he could!!

it's the gentlemanly thing to do, anyway

and, better yet, he wouldn't even have to say anything! just one glare from him and the perpetrators would run screaming

...the one benefit to his reputation

but, of course,

you are not as innocent and weak as you seem

and he can't help but feel... impressed? with your ability to defend yourself

after this is all over, he'll have to joke that you should join his guard

[flos-obsessivus]

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder"

Introducing my Yandere Prince OC Lilian!

Inspired by Sleeping Beauty and Tangled, please take care of him<3

The beloved prince from the Rosen kingdom, also known as the "Lily of the deep valley"

Blessed with the magic of song and beauty by his fairy godmothers, and cursed by Maleficus to death but was fortunately changed to eternal sleep.

Dreams of being able to get out of the castle and visit other kingdoms, though his parents never let him, as they are too protective of their only child, especially after being blessed when he was little.

Though everyone in the kingdom loves him, nothing made him feel as if he belonged there.

Which caused him to gravitate towards romance books and fairytales

Oh how he dreams to find his knight in shining armour or his true love that will take him far far away from this suffocating kingdom.

The graceful prince, the sweet flower, the blessed child. He is known by many but none see him outside his title and beauty.

But YOU did, YOU saw him for who he is, only YOU saw Lilian behind his beauty and voice, only YOU respected him and his wishes.

YOU, the princes childhood friend and advisor, his first love, his only desire. YOU taught him what it's like to be normal, to not force himself into a role expected by the whole kingdom, to be able to experience love outside obsession...

How stupid of him to expect a knight when his true love holds a pen and not a sword, when his beloved uses words and not iron, when their only protection is a book and not armour.

His parents knew the moment he asked for you as his Advisor, it would be impossible to be rid of you, not when their beloved prince is oh so fixated on you.

So when he got kidnapped by Maleficus, you are sent down by the king and queen to retrieve him alone. As a sacrifice or as bait, you do not have the time to ponder when a large black dragon appears before you, his voice deep and threatening.

As an advisor you are not expected to learn how to fight, so you walked up the stairs to the tower to face Maleficus and tried to talk your way into getting Lilian back.

Unfortunately, you are only human and so weak against a powerful fae, so you got stuck inside the tower with the prince.

Oh well, at least you didn't get killed by Maleficus, you only wish that the rescue would be faster though.

But, it seems like Lilian doesn't mind being stuck with you in the tower, he seems happy to be able to spend time with you without getting cut off by random people.

But uh... It's been a while since you met other humans hasn't it?

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Our sweet sister ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond has been waiting for years to marry his favourite sister, Aegon agreed it was the only way of keeping her close of making sure she only belonged to them. But her being given away to a dornish prince changes everything.

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, targcest, murder, threesome (my first), making out, mastrubation, grinding, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, titty sucking, creampie, switch Aegon, dom Aemond and Aegon being drunk as always.

Word count: 3.3k

The early morning rays shone through your window in the Red Keep as your handmaiden finished up with your hair. She always had a need to have your hair perfect, not one strand out of place. With some pins she adjusted the headpiece with the sheer black fabric and green and gold details. Your mother, Queen Alicent, could arrive any moment with your twin sister Heleana, to pick you up for prayer at the sept. 

You absolutely despised it but you could never disobey your mother. You were her favourite daughter after all. She always tried to get close to Heleana but you knew your twin preferred to keep her distance from everyone. Even though you were twins, you didn’t really look alike. Both of you of course had the silver hair and lilac eyes of house Targaryen but your facial features were different from hers.

The door opened and your mother and sister entered your chamber. “My dear, how did you sleep?” Alicent asked as she adjusted your headpiece a bit, at which your handmaiden frowned. “Fine, shall we leave?” You stood up and Alicent stopped fussing with your hair, following you out instead. Strolling through the halls with your mother and sister in front of you, Aemond walked passed giving you a small smile. To which you mouthed a silent “Help me”, he chuckled as he gave you one last sympathetic smile over his shoulder. 

You thanked the gods the morning passed swiftly, for you were already on your way back to the Red Keep. When you reached the door of your bedchamber you hurriedly went inside as your handmaiden stood at the ready for your, often daily, dragon ride with Aemond. She helped you quickly change into your dragon riding attire. You and Aemond have always been extremely close, always there for each other, both the favourite children. But ever since Aemond started to grasp for more power, he started to lose the favour of his mother, her now fully turning her attention to you. 

Your eldest brother, Aegon, had never been much loved by your mother. And because of your maturity and grace, he started to cling to you instead. This was the root of your complicated but deep connection with your older brother, everytime he got scolded or drunk he would turn to you. Now this used to be in an innocent way but lately the winds started to shift, Heleana was more distant from him then ever, his mother had just been ignoring him and his father on the doorstep of death. You hadn’t seen him yet today, so you assumed he was still asleep, you would check on him later. 

As for now, you would take to the skies with your other brother. You couldn’t admit it but the way people were terrified when the two of you flew together made you feel so powerful. Yes the two biggest dragons of the realm were a godly sight indeed. You claimed Vermithor, The Bronze Fury, at age ten and two. That evening at Dragon Stone with your family was an interesting one. Everyone either preparing for bed or still drinking and talking was disrupted by the notice of your absence and the terrifying screeches and roars from the Bronze Fury below. Your mother demanded you to be rescued at once, for Vermithor was known to be relentless and fierce, having not accepted a rider after the old king died. But you were much like the dragon when it came to fierceness, you weren’t afraid. And so when the guards, dragon keepers and your family arrived at the cave where the dragons resided. You stood there, in your nightgown, hand on Vermithor’s nose. After years the Bronze Fury had been claimed... by a little girl.

Aemond joined you in the training yard where your horses were waiting to take you to the outskirts of the city, for Vermithor and Vhagar were both too big for the Dragon Pit. You were both quick to mount and race through the city to get to your dragons. When you arrived, Vermithor and Vhagar were both resting next to each other, they too, formed a close bond, as they only had each other outside the dragon pit. Both of them lifted their heads and grumbled and roared at the sight of the two of you, knowing they could fly with their riders again. You both climbed on your mounts and took to the sky, frightening the shit out of towns beneath you. 

It felt good to be with Aemond, natural but powerful at the same time. You knew his desperate want for the throne but that still couldn’t change how you saw him. By the time you came back the sun had begun to set and you both knew supper would be soon. So you returned with your brother to the Red Keep where two guards were waiting to take you to the dining room. As you both entered your mother wore a disapproving look on her face, she didn’t like the two of you flying for so long but when it also cut into her time with her family she really got annoyed. “You stink of dragon.” She began. “We only just got back mother, time gets away from us on dragon back.” Aemond defended. You took your seats next to each other, Aemond to your right. Aegon to your left. Heleana to his left. Her head down as she mumbled to herself. Aegon slumped in his seat as always, probably already drunk and waiting for supper to end so he could sneak out to his whores. 

There was a tension in the air, your mothers and grandfather's eyes were on you. Only then did you really take in your mother, teary eyed, red cheeks, looking down. Weird. You thought, you looked at your grandfather, the hand of the king, questioningly. “You are twenty years old already,” He began, you still looked at him confused but deep down you knew where this was heading, again. “For 4 years I have been searching for a good match for you, I have tried again and again to match you with someone you could grow to like, maybe even love and yet, you refuse them.” Otto stood up from his chair, “Alas, I have had enough. Your father, sadly, cannot make these decisions anymore, so I have. Now an opportunity has arisen, one that I have been waiting for.”

“House Martell is looking for a fine lady to marry their second son, prince Robyn. I sent a letter a while ago and they have agreed to accept your hand.” Two hands slammed on the table as Aemond stood up in rage. “You will do no such thing! She is a Targaryen princess! She will not be married off to some Dorne cunt!” He yelled, you could only look down. You knew this day would come, where they would be fed up with your defiance and force you to marry. But it seemed your brother would not give up without a fight. 

What you didn’t expect was for Aegon to stand up as well. “My sister is the most beautiful and fine Targaryen princess of the realm, I stand with Aemond. You will not marry her off to some plain man of house Martell.” You were taken by surprise, Aemond’s reaction was expected but you didn’t know Aegon cared so much too. Otto Hightower leaned slightly over the table. “She will marry him, he and his family should be here on the morrow. End of discussion!” He sneered. You stood up and left without a word. You went to bed that night knowing your calm, easy life in King’s Landing was alas over. Aemond however, thought otherwise. 

After everyone had gone to bed he was still awake, mauling over the dinner. In a fit of rage at the memory he left his chambers and almost ran to his older brothers. He could hear the disturbance inside yet he did not care, not when his beloved sister was about to be sold off like a broodmare. He passed the guards and pushed open the door. Aegon's bedchambers were completely destroyed, cups, tapestries, pillows, blankets were everywhere, glass and wine splayed on the grounds and walls. Aegon was standing over a small table that used to hold his wine. “Brother.” Aemond urged. Aegon looked up, his eyes bloodshot and fist balled up. “There is only one way to stop this, to keep her here.” Aegon didn’t even respond, he just nodded. They were very different from each other but they both had one thing in common, they loved you.

You woke up from a restless sleep to the entire Red Keep in disarray, you could hear shouting and arguing from inside your bedchamber and just as you were about to open the door. Heleana entered your bedchamber, hands covering her ears. You knew if Heleana looked to hide with you, it was bad. “What is it? Hel, what happened? Tell me.” She looked at the ground and muttered. “They’re dead.” Fear struck your heart as you thought the worst, her children? Your brothers? “What?! Who is Heleana?” You grabbed her hands and sat her down on your settee. “House Martell, at least, the prince and his father. Qoren Martell is now to be their new king.” You couldn’t help but smile. “How did they die?” Heleana finally looked at you, “They say Aegon and Aemond left in the middle of the night. No one could stop them as Aegon mounted Sunfyre and Aemond mounted Vhagar, they burned them on the Fork Road until nothing but ashes were left. Grandfather is furious as you might have heard.” 

That was the end of a short betrothal between you and the prince of Dorne. It took two weeks for things to finally calm in the Red Keep. But the two brothers' plans to keep you here were not completed. Sure their enemy was dead but it would be sooner or later the hand found a new match so they had to make sure you couldn’t marry. You were sitting in your bedchamber on your settee, in your nightgown, your long silver hair down while reading a book about The First Men. When all of a sudden your bedchamber creaked open, as you looked up from your book both Aegon and Aemond entered your bedchamber. You weren’t allowed to speak to them, for two weeks you hadn’t been able to leave other than to pray by your mothers request. You couldn’t help but smile as both of them entered with a mischievous grin on their faces. You also noticed the guards outside were gone. 

“You know you aren’t allowed to be here.” You said closing your book. They didn’t say a word as Aegon went and sat down on the settee in front of you, while Aemond settled next to you. “For two weeks we have lived in agony of not seeing you, not speaking to you. But as you know, Aegon and I have taken matters into our own hands. You, are ours. And we will do anything and burn anyone to keep you here.” Aemond spoke as he moved your hair behind your ear, placing a featherlight kiss on your neck making your eyes flutter shut. A fire started to burn inside you, heart thumping in your chest and a tingling feeling in your abdomen. When you opened your eyes you saw Aegon looking at you through half lidded eyes, his lips parted as you noticed a bulge in his pants. You weren’t stupid, you knew what sex was and you knew what they wanted and oh did you want it too.

“You, I think, know how we can keep you here. If your innocence is ruined, you’ll have no choice but to marry Aemond. You’ll stay here and have his children and of course you can keep taking care of me as well, right sister?” Aegon spoke, now standing up and moving to sit at your right side. You could only nod as Aemond groaned and moved his hand up your thigh, while Aegon grabbed your chin and smashed his lips on yours. Moving his lips feverishly against yours. Teeth clashing, tongue entwining and hands moving to rip off any clothes that were on you in the first place. Aemond finally had you bare next to him as his hand moved between your thighs, his lips and tongue moving over your neck. You moaned in Aegon's mouth, even your filthiest fantasies couldn’t compare to the real thing.

“Need you so bad mommy.” Aegon whined against your lips. You could hear a faint chuckle from Aemond who now used two fingers to tease your wet folds. “Listen to him, you haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already begging for it.” You couldn’t even speak as Aegon refused to stop kissing you. Aemond now circling your clit with his fingers making your free hands grip the fabric of the settee. Aegon started to remove his own clothes while never leaving your lips as Aemond paused to take off his as well. Both men now in their breeches, their hard ons evident between their legs. The effect you had on them made you feel like a goddess. You had them wrapped around your finger and they had you wrapped around theirs.

Aemond moved off the settee and kneeled between your legs, you looked down at him as he undid the clasp of his eyepatch, the sapphire in his eye socket twinkling in the candlelight. Aegon moved his lips down towards your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling on it like a babe. Aemond started to kiss between your thighs moving further until he reached your aching cunt. Tongue darted out as he began to lap at your folds. You could barely breathe as pleasure consumed you. Aegon sucked and licked at your breast hungrily, holding the other in his hand and using his right hand to pull down his breeches enough to free his cock. As Aemond continued to eat you like a starved man making you moan and whine, Aegon started to pump his cock, eager for that pure bliss. "Fuck- mommy-" Aegon mumbled.

Both brothers groaned and panted against you, Aemond now palming himself through his breeches. He couldn’t help it, he was too impatient. Precum started to leak from Aegon’s tip, he moaned and whined around your nipple. You couldn’t take it anymore, the erotic sounds, the feeling of one brother fucking you with his tongue and the other sucking on your breast while he was pleasuring himself, with a gasp and a plead you reached your peak. Seeing spots of how hard you squeezed your eyes shut. Your thighs clamping together around Aemonds head, which he forced right open before he stood back up. You hadn’t even noticed he removed his breeches as well. His cock stood proud, also leaking from the mere sight of you bare before him.

Aemond eyed Aegon hungrily, also seemingly turned on by the noises he made. Not to mention the sight of him at your breast while fucking his own fist. Aemond pulled Aegon of your nipple by his jaw and forced him to face his brother, before pulling him in a harsh kiss. Aegon made a strangled noise at the action and stopped pleasuring himself to hold the back of Aemond’s head, not wanting to let go of him. Then Aemond pushed his knee between Aegon's legs right against his hard cock. 

Aegon gasped against his brother's lips, you whined at the sight, never had you seen such an erotic scene before you and you were begging the gods to not let it stop. Aemond didn’t stop there but started to move with more pressure against Aegon’s cock, capturing his moans in his mouth. Aegon removed himself from Aemond’s lips for a moment. “Please- don’t stop- feel so good.” He mumbled. Your hand unconsciously slid down your body, touching yourself was the only way to relieve that nagging ache that returned again. But to Aegon and to your surprise, Aemond did stop. Making Aegon whine at the removal of the contact. “On the bed, both of you.” Aemond commanded, and both of you scrambled towards your bed. 

Aemond followed, positioning you like you weighed nothing. Putting you on your hands and knees, commanding Aegon to move towards your head while he stayed behind you. Aegon knew exactly what Aemond wanted and already held the base of his cock to smear his precum across your parted lips. Aemond grazed your other lips with his cock, smearing your arousal around. He reached out his hand to Aegon. “Spit.” Aegon did as told immediately and let his saliva drop onto his little brother's hand. Which Aemond used to coat his cock making it easier to breach your maidenhead. Aegon entered your mouth and hissed at the feeling, somehow this was better then any whores cunt. His sister and his brother sharing the bed with him was better than a thousand whores. 

You softly sucked on Aegon’s cock while Aemond pushed the head of his into your cunt. You whined around Aegon while Aemond sank further into you, a shuddering breath leaving his lips at the feeling of his sister's tight hole around him. He had waited so long, feeling sure that the two of you would be wed but that day never came, and it would never unless he took the matter into his own hands. Moans, gasps and panting filled the moonlit room, it was almost an ethereal sight. Three silver haired bodies becoming one. When Aemond felt you relax and Aegon started to carefully fuck your mouth, he started to move as well. Wanting nothing more than to fill you with his seed that would hopefully take root so he could finally make you his wife and mother of his children. "Oh mommy feels so good-" Aegon whined.

As your moans grew louder, Aemond started to fuck into you harder. Gripping your hips so he could move you against him as well. Aegon was the first to finish, being already so pent up and horny he didn’t last long in your warm wet mouth. With a gasp of your name he filled your throat with his cum, fingers entangled in your hair for support. He pulled his softening dick out and laid down next to you catching his breath. Aemond started to now pound into you like a wild animal, it seemed as if he was so lost in pleasure he couldn’t hear or see anything else but you. Aegon however, with a clearer mind, sat up and moved closer to you. Letting his hand trace your body to where you and Aemond were connected. 

Moving his fingers until he found your clit, you confirmed with a moan. He let his fingers rub against your sweet spot adding to the pleasure of your building orgasm. You pleaded for more, and Aegon started to move his fingers in rhythm with Aemond. This was all you needed, all you needed to scream out their names while gripping the sheets in ecstasy. Your walls clenched around Aemond, making him see stars. Aegon removed his fingers and watched in awe as his brother fucked you relentlessly. 

However Aemond’s thrusts were getting sloppier. And his cursing and groaning made it clear he was about to peak as well. With a couple of final thrusts he came hard. Making sure to go as deep as possible, he spurted his cum right against your cervix. Surely filling your womb with his spent. Giving you a couple of lazy trusts he made sure to be completely milked empty before pulling out. Letting himself fall on the bed next to you so he could pull you against his side. Aegon, not wanting to be left out of it, crawled against your other side, cuddling up next to you. What you didn’t notice, was how the door was accidentally left ajar. Your brothers made sure the entire Red Keep knew of your bedding. Surely they can’t deny Aemond his sister now?

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

[luveline]

Same hotch sister reader anon here Jade!

I think I have sent this one before like recently only, idk whether you have seen it or not so I will request again

The reader gets injured (I'm a sucker for injury troop) and Aaron and Spencer worry and Spencer also has to lift the reader. Please write if it's not too much 🥺

Aaron tells you two or three times not to do it. “Just wait,” he says, standing behind you with his hands hovering over your back. “Seriously, I’ll ask Morgan.” 

“How can you host the party without glasses?” 

“I can assure you my guests aren’t going to miss a glass of wine for the first ten minutes. Don’t make me grab you.” 

“I can reach!” 

“I can reach, too, it’s not about height, it’s about–” He gasp loudly as your stool wobbles. “Sweetheart, get down. I’m not kidding.” 

You grab the stem of the last glass and pass it down to him. “Stop worrying! I told you I could do it and I did.” 

And you’re right, you passed him each of his glasses without smashing any, as promised. You are not expecting the top of the stool to feel so slippery as you try to get down, nor are you expecting to lean forward and pop your face on the cabinet glass. You whack your chin, lose your footing, and slam down on knee before Aaron can catch you. 

There’s a silence. Two hands on your shoulders. “Honey…” 

“Just say it,” you groan.

“Well, I told you so.” 

The doorbell rings. “Ah, fuck,” you say, curling into yourself as everything throbs. 

“It’s okay, come here.”

“Go get the door.” 

“No, they can wait, just let me help you up.” 

“If you love me, you’ll leave me to die here.” 

The doorbell rings again. “Aaron!” Dave calls from the other side. “Shall we let ourselves in?” 

“It’s locked,” Aaron says to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wave him away. Honestly, you’re not okay, having fallen hard enough to knock the wind from yourself and hurt your knees and chin. But you’re happier to recover by yourself before his friends get here and spot you all crumpled. 

The problem arises when you can’t get your knee to listen to you. It tingles painfully. It did take all your weight as you fell, which likely stopped you from breaking your arms, but wasn’t kind to your joint, it seems. You push yourself onto your butt and sit there, unsatisfied, and, embarrassingly, waiting to be rescued. 

Aaron’s kind, thankfully. He takes Dave to the living room, and sends the second arrival your way. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, frowning at your strange position on the floor. 

You pout at him. “Spencer, I’ve fallen and my knee won’t work.” 

“You fell?” 

Any nonchalance falls away. Spencer scrambles onto his knees beside you to look you over, curls falling from behind his ear into his eyes as he encourages you back. “You fell?” he asks again, confused. 

“Off the stool.” 

“Off the– What were you doing?” 

“Just grabbing the glasses for tonight!”

“Morgan could’ve done that.” 

“Can you please help me up?” you ask, very much wanting to move on. 

Spencer is a slight man. Not without muscle, but also no weightlifter. To his credit, he doesn’t make helping you seem above his abilities as he wraps an arm behind you and tucks the other under your legs. He lifts you enough to get his hand at the small of your back, and you use your now one good leg to stand. 

Spencer manhandles you a little, which is new. Hosts you to the couch, and lets you down gently. He does need a big breath when he’s done, but besides that, he’s like a Prince Charming having rescued you from your own demise. “Okay?” he asks, both hands at your waist. 

“It hurt bad.” 

“Can I see it?” 

By picking you up, he has earned the right to get you undressed, and you tell him so, his cheeks turning pinky-red as he rolls up your jeans. 

“Swollen,” he says. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You grimace. “I’m so embarrassed I don’t really know what to say. Do you think we can postpone the party?”

Spencer smiles at you, the sort of smile you can only give somebody when you’ve seen almost every part of them, and found yourself still in love by the end of it. He smiles at you like you’re made of pure gold. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna nurse you back to health.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course I am. I’m gonna fix it, but first I was thinking I could kiss your chin better? You have a dark spot coming.” 

You touch it, tender, surprised, “I do?” 

Spencer leans up to peck your chin, just shy of the coming bruise. “You do. I’ll get you some ice.” 

[wheneclipsefalls]

Tawtute Sickness (A Precious Drabble)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine Human Reader

This one shot is from the Precious series. It can be read alone but reading the Precious origin story gives a better experience and context.

Summary: There is still so much that Ao'nung does not understand about Sky People so with your cycle running off track, he is in for quite a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit talk of menstruation, talk of blood, hormones, hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, dominant Ao'nung, interspecies relationship, aged up Ao'nung, crying, self doubt, insecurity, protective Ao'nung, swearing, PMS, sexual themes, etc.

A/N: This is just a random little fun something I thought of when I was on my period. Nothing like a silly fantasy to help one cope:)

Adult Ao'nung pic by @cinetrix

Another cramp rolls through you mercilessly. With a groan you stuff a handful of stolen popcorn into your mouth. Surrounded by a small parade of stuffed animals atop your bed and drowning in the charm that is Mr. Darcy, there is no better place to take refuge. Your period has sprung into action earlier than expected but you’re proud of how things have been handled. 

It had taken copious amounts of bribery to convince Norm to deliver an excuse to Ao’nung as to why you can’t see him for a bit. Although double his age and even in possession of an Avatar body, Norm has always crumpled slightly under Ao’nung’s presence. Even as his visits have become more frequent at the outpost. The sight makes you giggle, no matter how hypocritical that is considering you too were anxious in his company for the first few weeks here. 

Despite the time that has passed since feelings were shared between the two of you, there is still a level of intimidation and intensity that comes with Ao’nung’s visits. He is never shy when it comes to sharing his opinions. Half the time it is hard to tell what will come out of the Metkayina male’s mouth next. Although, there are ways to identify the mischief that dances in his ocean blue eyes before. 

And neither is he bashful when it comes to sharing his particularly ravenous intentions with you. You would not be able to count on both hands the amount of times you’ve tried to swat his hands away while the two of you are in public. Not that it deters him. With a potential mating on the way it’s clear that the Metkayina prince views you as his own. Even in the extreme heights of embarrassment you can’t resist the wonders that he bestows upon your body. Always leaving your heart pounding at your rib cage and red face tucking under his chin afterwards. 

So in a way, you can’t blame Norm for never growing accustomed to Ao’nung’s company.

Regardless, the alibi has been sent and you’ve foraged for the proper snacks and feminine supplies to get your through. Now all that’s left to do is tuck into your room like a locked away princess in a tower and survive the next five days. Everything is going according to plan despite the sudden arrival of ‘Aunt Flow’. And in a few days you will be back snuggled in the impressively bulky arms of a certain Metkayina male. 

With a sigh you snuggle deeper into the plush surface. Despite the risk of stains you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of wearing one of your favorite pajama sets. It’s a dusted pink shade of silk that reminds you of the vintage film Sleeping Beauty. With the soft trim of purple lace along the sleeve and shorts hem, you feel like a delicate princess waiting to be rescued. Perhaps a foolish and even childish way to cope but it’s easier to get through the pain when you blur the harsh lines of reality into that of day dreams. 

However, it seems reality will not be kept out for long.

Or at least, Ao’nung won’t be.

You hear his pounding footsteps before he even reaches your hallway, the faint echo of Norm’s protests doing nothing to stop that determined rhythm. Norm scatters away once Ao’nung has pushed your door open, with a little too much force that makes you cringe. It’s an under evaluation of his strength luckily and not rooted in any real malice. Not when his eyes now narrow at you with a playful reprimand as his tail swings. 

“What have I said about avoiding me, precious?” He clicks his tongue, hands atop his hips as you scramble further under the pillows and stuffies. 

You feel foolish for thinking this plan would work but now that Ao’nung is here you are ready to do whatever it takes to conceal your embarrassing condition. 

“Not to.” You cake the tone over with sweet innocence and an even more tooth rotting smile. As always it’s done with a certain level of hesitancy, your nerves getting the better of you when his bulking frame is taking over your doorway. Still, you’ve learned there are special ways to soften Ao’nung’s composure. 

He takes a few strides into your room, effectively prompting you to scoot back further towards the headboard. 

“Hm, so then why is my precious sevin tucking away from me? I’m starting to think you crave some discipline, paskalin.” That sharp curve of a devilish smirk looks stunning along his turquoise lips. And like the true traitor she is, your pussy flutters at the sight. 

It’s not fair for him to waltz in here with bedroom eyes and chest still adorned with a hunting harness and weapons. Not fair when your body is literally punishing you for not being pregnant and Ao’nung offers himself up on a silver platter for your nature’s carnal desires. And especially not fair when pieces of those curling strands have fallen from his bun and lay across his collarbones to leave drops of salt water. 

You are in no state to be making plans. And definitely not finding ways to coerce the stubborn prince away from something he wants. 

“I’m just not feeling well, Ao’nung. Didn’t want to make you sick.” 

Ao’nung scoffs at the idea, borderline offended that you would even consider that a possibility. With your delicate state it seems laughable to him that you would be capable of passing on any sort of sickness to him. 

“Such a fragile thing.” He steps forward with the roll of his eyes. “Do not worry, I will-”

His sentence cuts off as sharp as the jagged rocks on the westside. Now at the foot of your bed, his nostrils flare visibly. Your stomach tangles in despair, already anticipating where this is going. 

“You’re bleeding.” He states, dark tone barely giving you a chance to register his words before he is rushing to your side. Ao’nung crawls onto the bed without  a passing concern for the screeching of the bed frame under his weight. Within seconds his large frame is towering over your own smaller body until you are wedged into the corner.

“No it’s nothing really. Well I mean I am bleeding but not in the way you think…or well it’s…” The rambling doesn’t reach his ears, ocean eyes searching over every inch of you to find the injury. Trepidation settles at the looming embarrassment that threatens to follow as you desperately squeeze your thighs together. 

Fighting against Ao’nung massive hands that clutch your shoulder and hips to turn you is useless but you can’t resist trying. And then his eyes snap downwards and with it your last shred of hope signed away. A look of utter horror contorts over his face as he stares down at the thin shorts just barely covering your panties. 

A beat of silence ensues. 

Face now the shade and temperature of a raging bonfire you struggle to think of a response through the fog of humiliation. 

“How…” The sound is barely choked out from his lungs. It’s a rare sight to see Ao’nung speechless, every ounce of playful banter wiped clean. And if the circumstances were any different, as in not having that dread painted across his face at the reveal of your bleeding vagina, then you would be tempted to enjoy seeing the mighty male so caught off guard. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your plush hips. It’s clear that his head is struggling to come back online and process what devastating news he has uncovered. 

“Well you see-” Your voice unfortunately seems to snap him out of whatever daze he has been in, his body moving into action before you can even finish your sentence. 

“I will take you to my mother.” Perhaps the most terrifying sentence Ao’nung could say as he starts trying to pull you into his arms. Embarrassment bleeds into panic. A sense of anxiety bounces between the two of you as he rushes to scoop you up and bring you to the healer’s tent and you grasp at anything to keep from being met with the most intimidating woman on the planet in this condition. 

“No wait! Ao’nung it’s fine. I’m fine.” It’s not much use when he already has your wiggling figure dragged to the end of the bed with just one hand around your ankle. It traps you underneath his body in one swoop. 

“You are bleeding.” Ao’nung reiterates, sharp canines coming to show with a slight hiss. “Mawey tawtute, she will know what to do.” He nods firmly, but there's a crack of hesitance in his voice. As if the reassurance is really there for himself than anyone else. You’ve never seen Ao’nung so serious before, nor this panicked. 

Your pleas for release mean nothing as he quickly gathers you into his arms. Panic and humiliation work in tandem to wrestle you into a state of utter panic. And working more on instinct than real thinking you do the one thing that will grant you freedom.

You grab a fistful of curly hair and yank. Hard. 

Dropped back onto your plushy bed as Ao’nung lets out a pained hiss you scramble for the one place you might be able to hide. It’s painfully obvious and stereotypical but your closet is the first and only place you can think to escape the handsome male. The door bangs shut, encasing you in the darkness surrounded by frilly dresses and tickling lace. 

You grasp the handle with all the determination your exhausted body can muster. Ronal is a wonderful healer and exquisite leader but quite literally the last person on the planet you would want to witness your embarrassing, very stupidly human, condition. It’s likely that similar to her son she too would not know about human menstruation. 

It’s gross. You feel gross. Your entire body aches and as Ao’nung starts to yank on the other handle tears are already welling up in your eyes. From what emotion exactly you haven’t the faintest clue but the weak reaction brings a pit of annoyance into the mix too. Because of course all it takes is your concerned boyfriend who is just trying to help, to put you into another crying fest. This would be the third one this morning. 

It seems that whatever god created humans was far less kind than Eywa who at least had the decency to keep women from suffering monthly in the name of procreation. And with that thought in mind, anger comes to intertwine as well. 

“Ao’nung stop! I’m not injured!” A rough shout that is anger more directed at your current situation than hands that now swing the door open. 

The Metkayina male however is more than peeved now too. He isn’t about to take no for an answer as he hooks a thick arm around your midsection to pull you out. 

“Stop struggling.” He growls. 

You're halfway to the doorway of the bedroom and Ao’nung is anything but deterred by your babbling about how it is normal, just a tawtute thing. So your mouth makes a decision before your brain can approve it. 

“It’s because I’m not pregnant!” A shout loud enough to echo down the outside hallway and freeze the Metkayina prince in place. 

What a stupid thing to say. A terrible terrible mistake, you decide as you wiggle out of his grasp to glance up at his face. Now having rendered the male speechless twice in five minutes you feel slightly guilty. And humiliated. Along with disgusting, angry, tired. In fact you may as well feel every emotion under the sun with the way your chest squeezes painfully. 

“I’m not hurt. I’m not in need of healing. It’s called menstruation. Yet another wonderful thing about being a human woman. Where my stupid vagina decides to bleed every month because there is no fucking baby in me!” Your screeches make Ao’nung’s ears pin back, your chest heaving with the effort as tears rocket down your cheeks. You can’t find it within yourself to care that this is the harshest language Ao’nung has ever heard from you. Not when sobs are already crawling up your throat and tears blurr the view of the towering male before you.

The same male that is beautiful beyond belief. The same that has somehow found some interest in you. And now the same that has yet another gross reason to rethink being with a human. 

“So no I’m not hurt but I am…am…” Trembling lips crumble into a pout. Ao’nung’s tail curves. “I am miserable. Cramping. Tired. So fucking sad because this is the seventh time I’ve watched Pride and Prejudice because I can’t find the other earlier remake of it. And angry because I’ve already ruined a pair of pink panties. The ones with the clouds…that…that took me hours to make and…and I’m so disgusting!” Ao’nung’s eyes are blown wide enough to push his hairless brows into his hairline. “There’s blood everywhere! And I fucking hate it! And…and..my sleeve got caught on the doorknob earlier-”

Strong arms gently pull you until your cheek meets the warm skin of his abs. That simple action is enough to break the dam barricading your emotions. Now in a full meltdown, you paint his swirled skin with your tears and the racketing sobs fill the room sporadically. It feels nice to have something to hold onto, small fingers squeezing his hips as you break down. 

Minutes. Hours. Years. There is no recalling how long the two of you spend in that position as you unleash every torturing feeling from your chest. What you do know is that those large hands drawing up and down your back eventually soothe those sobs into small hiccups and then finally into short sniffles. 

“You’re not hurt.” Ao’nung checks again, calmly breaking the silence. 

“M’not hurt.” You mumble against his skin, soon thereafter mourning the loss of contact when Ao’nung carefully shifts you backwards. Disappointment does not linger for long, however, when a set of turquoise thumbs brush away the tears falling over your cheeks. 

Although his expression appears to be nothing related to anger, it’s difficult to decipher what exactly the Metkayina prince is thinking. A part of you wishes to not even venture to guess but that train of thought has already left the station. Another wave of embarrassment floods as you imagine just how ridiculous you must look at this moment. Eyes blotching and red as you cry over a simple natural process that is nothing in comparison to that of which the Na’vi go through to maintain everyday village life. Hiding away from your boyfriend in a sea of stuffed animals and stuffing yourself with popcorn as your way of throwing a pity party all while Ao’nung is still dressed in his hunting gear.

No doubt he has been up since dawn. Fulfilling both physically and socially draining duties to keep the clan running smoothly, in preparation for his time of reign. Ao’nung is everything you are not. You knew it within the first few minutes of meeting him. Perhaps he is not always the most patient or humble, but he is brave. And tough. Oh so mighty and resilient in taking on whatever Eywa throws his way. 

How much worse do you appear when coming from that perspective? Still dripping in salt water and spear leaning against the doorframe, what compels him to want to spend time with a whiny thing like you?

“Stop crying.” Large hands bracket the sides of your head as he works to keep up with the dropping tears. 

And you wish you could. 

You wish you could be more like the mighty warrior in front of you. Years have proven you to be nothing more than a small child that can not let go of her toys. Drowning in day dreams as your silly way to cope. 

That truth spins despair back into full swing. You feel even more guilty when Ao’nung pulls you back into his embrace, because who are you to warrant such affection? It’s clear that he deserves someone so much more and yet you selfishly accept the feel of his strong arms encircling you because it makes you feel safe. Because it allows air to properly enter your lungs again at a normal speed. 

When Ao’nung takes a knee to match your eye level, you twist to veer away from those crystal-like eyes. The Na’vi doesn’t give you much of a chance as he manhandles you back into place,his tongue clicking in disapproval, so he can look you over properly. 

“My poor tawtute.” He coos at you, as if addressing a lost juvenile creature without its mother. “Mawey, oeyӓ paskalin.” [Calm, my dear]  And before your brain can register the sweet nectar of his words, larger lips are pressing against your own. The light flutter of your heart is recurrent as he patiently works to deepen the kiss. It’s different from those that fill your passionate nights of lovemaking. Ao’nung patiently pulls you into that bliss until you are melting against him. 

Heavy eyes stall in opening once Ao’nung has pulled away. 

“Bring your mask.” Ao’nung intstructs abruptly. 

“What?” 

He has already risen to full height, a large hand resting along your spine to urge you towards the door. Unbothered by your confusion, he takes a well needed sip of air from his own dangling mask. When he does catch a glimpse of your expression he pauses before a smirk tugs at his lips and his tail bats playfully. 

“And your bunny of course.” He eyes the discarded toy with lips pulling back just enough to reveal sharp canines. “You will feel better once you are home.” 

And suddenly you are no longer confused. It should have been obvious, this most recent topic of argument between the two of you. No matter how fascinated Ao’nung is by your well decorated room he stops at nothing to coerce you to abide in his marui. He has been caught more than a few times even openly smuggling things from your room in the scheme of planting it in his home like bait for his prey. 

“Ao’nung no. I can’t come over tonight. Not like this.” 

Those hairless brows knit together as he sweeps over your frame once more. It’s clear he finds no flaw in your condition that would prevent you from letting him steal you away to his home. 

“And besides I have everything I need right here.” You scramble back over to your bed and begin explaining the little nest you have created for yourself. “Pillows for the perfect position, stuffed animals, snacks, and in another twenty minutes Mr. Darcy is going to confess his undying love for Elizabeth.” It’s clear that the last indication is lost on him as he follows your point towards the small tv. 

It’s not his first time observing the thin rectangle that plays moving pictures but it still manages to catch his confused attention each time. His lips curl back and faces squints with an utter look of disgust. The fact that the characters speak in Sky People language never helps to spark an interest for him. 

“I’m fine right here, Nung. I promise.” Your soft smile when you perch to sit atop the covers is only met with a scowl. The difficulty in explaining this to Ao’nung is yet another reason you had originally planned to hide away alone until this nightmare had blown over. “Go back to your duties. I’ll be happy here.” 

And that is the tipping point for Ao’nung. What is meant to come off as reassurance instead has his hairless brows pinching together and large hands settling over his curved hips. 

“You’re staying here for mester darsee.” It’s difficult to take his misplaced anger seriously when he struggles to pronounce the few English words. 

“No, Ao’nung that is not-”

“Fine. I will stay.” His massive body is already climbing onto your poor bed before you have another chance to protest. He continues to mutter under his breath. It’s a messy sprawl of annoyed curses and something about you not needing a Mr. Darcy. The giant Na’vi pouts even as he pulls you close to curl his body around yours. 

It’s wrong to keep the future Olo’eyktan to yourself like this but watching him sulk like a giant cat is too amusing to pass up. And then there is the comfort that comes with having Ao’nung wrapped around you like a dragon protecting his hoard, so you decide to be selfish. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck and a large hand spans over your abdomen. As he rubs soothing circles into your lower stomach you swear the heat and motion alone is better than the battery powered heating pack. The cramps don’t evaporate away but they settle into something more bearable, especially when your favorite scene finally comes onto the screen and you snuggle closer to your ridiculous lover. 

Slowly throughout the movie Ao’nung’s hand come to explore south into territory that would have Mrs. Bennett passing into an early grave. That confident exploration is a stark contrast to the simple touches exchanged between your favorite characters, but it holds the same passion. The same tension that has your thighs clamping together in defense against his devious fingers. 

You can feel the way his lips curve into a smirk against your ear. Period hormones are your sworn enemy as you are caught between fighting him off in sheer embarrassment and finally letting his hand slip underneath the band of your pretty shorts. 

“Don’t worry, oeyӓ tawtute. Next month I will do better.”

The sudden comments has you taken aback. .

“Do better at what?”

“Giving you my baby.” He casually states, unbothered by the way you freeze and struggle to take in oxygen. “This Sky Demon sickness won’t come for you when you are filled with my seed.” 

And like a silent promise, his thumb swipes over your lower stomach just as his fingers breach the band of your panties. 

I hope you enjoyed this little musing. I can't wait to carry out some of the other plans I have for these two. If you enjoyed it too please please let me know. I can't tell you enough how much hearing your feedback and comments means to me (anonymous or not).