#Gambling Den Desire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpxxstan · 7 months ago

Note

i’ve just finished reading your wonwoo!fics from the 550 followers event and i decided i need to request something myself because they were just TOO GOOD

given that, i thought about police officer!wonwoo (or mingyu, i wouldn’t mind—) who’s like super handsome and hot and all but also super nice and helpful and loves cats and—

and maybe he’s living in the same neighbourhood as y/n and they just feel drawn towards each other? idk, i’m not really good at making up scenarios 😭😭

it can go both ways, starting fluffy and then get smutty or angsty, everything’s gonna be fine <3

all i know is that i need to read something from you again 🫶🏼🫶🏼

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST! so firstly, I apologise if I disappoint you because instead of wonu, I did mingyu, because I had this wildest fantasy about him but I hope you like it still!! And I also added a few twists in the plot, because I wanted to spice it up a bit. I really pray you'll enjoy my version too!

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the content of this event here!

also, thank you to everyone who's interacted with the event <333 your enthusiasm is so so much appreciated! the event is still on till the end of this month so you can still send in requests, my inbox is open hehe :) also to those who have sent in requests, T_T i am SOR SORRY for making you wait but honestly i am trying my best :((( i will answer your request as soon as i can, thank you for your patience <3

genre: strangers to lovers, police and criminal au, smut, fluff, neighbours au

word count: 5k words

warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT police officer!mingyu, discussions of illegal racing, gangs, criminals, criminal activities, gambling (but nothing is explicit except the racing activities). smut warnings: unprotected sex (please please do not do this irl), almost public sex, oral (m. receiving), making out, usage of pet names, size kink, mingyu's a perv for reader

It's been six months since Mingyu has shifted to this town, and he's not regretted it a single day. it's a wonderful, quaint little town, on the edge of the city, that's close enough to the hustle but far enough to not be a site for trouble. The people are lovely and they've really accepted him with a full heart- the old ladies who bring him their delicious cooked food during his lunch breaks, the young boys who follow his gym routine meticulously, the mothers who either shamelessly flirt with him or try to set up their children with him, the fathers who pat his back proudly after a long day of work, the children who run around his clean police station with curious eyes.

After his busy five years in his posting at the city, this feels like heaven to him. He had joined the force in his craving for adrenaline and his innate nature of being helpful to everyone had driven him deeper into the profession. But he's twenty-seven now, and maturity has dampened the fire within his soul, although not his desire for social peace and justice- hence his choice to shift here.

It's not a town renowned for crime, and most of his days are peaceful with minor reports of petty theft or pickpocketing. But Mingyu has his fair share of excitement- being on the outskirts of the city, the edges of the town are less tame than the heart of it. It's a den for many gangs- all linked by the illegal racing grounds outside the town. Mingyu doesn't have any way to reach the gangs- they're being pursued by the force in the bigger cities with far more resources than sanctioned to his police station. But he tries to ensure the gangs and their dirty business doesn't get into his town. And Mingyu has his hands full with it.

But being busy keeps Mingyu happy. He's loved by the townsfolk and he's found a kind of peace here, different and yet beautiful. It's a slow town, and he's fallen into a routine that's good for his slowing-down body and his slowing-down mind.

So it's been a long, long day of work and at the end of the week, he's tired and ready to fall into his bed after eating anything that's in the fridge. But when he's walking up the stairs of his apartment building, his eyes meet a scene that's out of routine.

"Hello? Can I help you?" Mingyu walks up quickly as he sees you struggle to pull up two suitcases up the stairs, along with the clearly heavy rucksack on your back. "No! Thanks, no, I'm fine." "Please allow me, I live right here on this floor." And Mingyu casually picks up the suitcases, with a smile on his face. He doesn't miss the ways your body relaxes instantly and your eyes light up. "Umm, I'm here on this floor too. Just moved in into 309." "And I'm in 311. Right across your flat!" "I'm so happy to meet a neighbour already. I'm Y/N." "And I'm Mingyu."

And Mingyu feels the exhaustion of the day wear out when he sees your whole smile- not a tight-lipped smile, but the one that shows your teeth and your dimples. Well, dimple. There's only one big dimple on your left cheek, and it's a beautiful smile that stays on Mingyu's mind long through the night after you disappear into your flat and Mingyu goes into his own.

Mingyu doesn't know why he's suddenly choosing to skip his daily gym routine in favour of a run through the town at 5.30 am (nearly an hour before he's ever woken up in his entire life). Maybe one day he wakes up at 5.30 to use the washroom but spots you leave the building in your jogging shorts and earplugs. He joins the dots and his body joins them too- safe to say, he couldn't sleep again that morning. And neither the morning after that, because he's determined to join you on your run.

You don't talk much except brief interactions, and your speed is much faster than him, but he doesn't mind the exhaustion. The wink you throw him every time he lags behind and the bottle of water you offer him right after you drink from it too is enough motivation for him to keep running. Of course it helps that you compliment the way his muscles strain through his tank top and Mingyu's chest blows up even further with pride.

And it's so subtle, but Mingyu feels you slowly open up more to him.

It's in the won't you come in for coffee? I make a mean iced coffee.

It's in the I was shopping for groceries and brought you cooking oil, since you were asking for it yesterday. I thought you may not have had the time to go for shopping, since you're so busy at work.

It's in the see this magnet? my baby cousin made it.

And Mingyu goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame. He's drawn to you when he decides to take you out (for a friendly afternoon outing, he calls it officially, but internally he's treating it as a date). He's drawn to you when you show him around the veterinary where you work. He's drawn to you when he sees you eating ice cream on his couch after he's cooked dinner for the two of you. He's drawn to you when you barely touch his arm and tell him that you really like all your neighbours and the entire community in the town is great, but you're especially glad to have found Mingyu because he's one of the only people here who's near your age. And he's drawn to you when you smile for him, that rich, dimpled smile, after he tells you that you're exactly the friend he's been looking for since he's come here.

After that, Mingyu doesn't know what happens in what order. Do you kiss him first? Or does he kiss you first? Do you climb into his lap? Or does he pull you onto him? Do you bite his lip when his hands wander down to your ass that he's been eyeing for weeks now on every morning run? Or does he bite your lip when your hands weave through his hair? It's a blur, and when you pull back for a breath, your lips swollen, the first button of your shirt open, and a hickey already blooming near your collarbone, Mingyu knows only one thing. How he wants. Wants you. Wants more. Wants now-

"Mingyu, I- I don't know how to say this... it's not like I didn't like this. And I- I- umm. Maybe I should leave? Because if I stay I won't be able to hold back and I want to think about this a little bit?"

And oh, your eyes are so wide and so pretty, and the skin of your arms feel like butter under his touch, but he lets you go. He lets you walk away, a shy smile on your lips. He lets you kiss him on his cheek once before disappearing into your own flat, and Mingyu shuts the door and takes deep breaths as he leans on his door.

He's ready to give you all the time in the world to think, but he's sure that he's already yours. He just knows at the end of it, he needs to make you his too.

"Hello, darling."

The tone on the other end is unmistakable, and Mingyu sighs. "Don't try to seduce me, love. It's not gonna work." He's said this before, but the message clearly hasn't gotten through. The honey voice drawls on in a painfully slow pace, "You're late tonight. What's up?" "I was busy," he huffs, his heart still beating fast from making out with you a few minutes ago.

"Busy? Unbelievable." "A police officer can't be busy? Is it so unfathomable?" "No. What's unfathomable is that Kim Mingyu is off his routine. I wonder if there's something new... or someone new?"

The voice laughs, and Mingyu knows it's friendly prodding. His relationship with the person on the other side of the line might be anything but friendly but it's yet again become a part of his routine, and at least the friendly banter breaks the monotony.

"Are you jealous that I talk to women apart from you?" Mingyu smirks, knowing two can play this game.

"I'm jealous that she's taking up my time. You have to show her what's her place, really."

"Don't be rude love. You know I've got my ears on your voice only. Now, tell me if you have any news."

"Oh, getting straight to the point, I see..."

"Oh come on!"

The voice becomes serious instantly. Gone is the sexy drawl, and it's replaced by crisp words that are music to Mingyu's ears. "I've heard Taffy's gang making some noise in the borders. You might wanna come and look at it once for yourself."

"Do you have any more information?"

"Nothing much right now, officer. Look, I'm holding up my end of the bargain but you've got to be patient."

Mingyu groans. It's not good news, and it's certainly not enough news. But he'll take a look himself to make sure he understands the graveness of the situation correctly.

"Okay. When should I come? Tell me when Taffy's men are lurking around the area?"

The voice shifts again into a teasing, seductive tone, making Mingyu jerk at the sudden transition.

"Come tomorrow? Race night."

"Yeah no that's not happening. I'll-"

"Tomorrow, babe. Wanna see you race. A big boy like you likes his fast bikes, don't you?"

The thought of racing sends a spike of adrenaline rushing through his veins, but he knows this is illegal. It's one thing allowing the leader of the races to become his informant so that he can keep an eye on the circuit as well as get key pieces of information that remain hidden to the legal eye. But it's an entirely different thing getting into the centre of the mess himself and be involved in it.

And yet, a part of him wants to feel the thrill again. Tonight, after years, he felt that adrenaline rushing through him when you'd tugged at his collar and kissed him repeatedly. Fuck. It had felt good, hadn't it? One night won't matter, will it?

"I'll be there."

"Fantastic. Can't wait to see you, babe."

Mingyu doesn't see you the next morning. He waits outside your door at 5.30, but doesn't knock, hoping you'll come out eventually. But you don't. He doesn't spot you through the rest of the day either, and it makes him worry. But he's decided to give you your space and time, so he will be patient... at least for one more day.

It's a Sunday so Mingyu has a half-day at work. When he's back from work, his mind is still all over the place. Should he even go to the race tonight? He's raced a bit back in college days, but everything pretty legal. Nothing like the den of vice he knows he's going to walk into tonight. But he also knows that this is the best way for him to infiltrate through the layers of middlemen that stop information from reaching his ears.

By the time 8.30 comes around, there's no text from you. Instead, there's a text from his informant, saved under the codename of layla (he knows it's not her real name, but he doesn't care enough to ask about it).

I'll see you at the circuit tonight, darling. Don't be late.

Mingyu's heart speeds up. Is it wrong to feel excited right now? As a conscientious police officer, he should definitely not feel excited. But as nothing more than a man, he feels his blood become warm at the thought of meeting the woman behind that voice he's spoken to for almost three months now. He's almost 100% sure the voice isn't generated by a voice modifier or AI, but it's also impossible for that to be someone's real voice, so there must be some pitch changes or something along those lines. Nevertheless, their conversations has often made him wonder about the woman herself.

She's a shadow- no one really knows who she is. But about four months ago, when she'd called him up herself to supply information in order to buy protection for herself and her racing infrastructure, Mingyu had yielded instantly by weighing his priorities. And since then, he's tried endless times to put a face to the voice, but it's been a search in vain.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he's gonna see the face for himself and put all his wandering thoughts to rest. Thoughts late at night after a particularly long phone call with his informant, that made him wonder whether the flirting was real or all for show. Wonder whether the woman herself would be as sexy as the voice. And wonder what kind of woman she must be in order to be capable enough to singlehandedly run an entire illegal racing system.

Fuck it, Mingyu thinks, after seeing the clock strike 8.45 and still no contact from your end. He wears a black tank top along with a black leather jacket- intending to fit right into the crowd he expects to see there. He just hopes there's no one else there who'll recognise him. And he certainly hopes nothing will happen to make him regret this decision for life.

You're such a fool, Mingyu, he thinks to himself. You're such a fool for thinking you'd fit in.

Mingyu may be just twenty-seven but he doesn't feel young at all when he sees the crowd at the race. The people here must be of his age, but they all seem so different from him. Perhaps it's because his job has taken away his youth that he'll always feel perpetually distant from even people of his own age.

And so Mingyu stands there awkwardly, stiff amidst a crowd of half-drunk and half-high people, wearing colourful headbands and smearing eclectic neon colours on their skin. He feels out of place- and yet, a part of him wishes he could fit in. He wishes he could have enjoyed his youth like this- on the edge of the other side of the law. He wishes he could have lived like this for even moment of his life- beyond academics, beyond career, beyond mere survival.

"Hi beautiful, looking for someone?" A woman with a cigarette between her fingers strolls up to him. Her hair is flying in the wind, exposing the tattoos all over her skin.

Before Mingyu can say anything, the crowd around him suddenly erupts in loud cheers, and she quickly pulls his hand and drags him towards the centre of the entire crowd. He sees two bikers mount on their bikes- exquisitely reworked to glow in the dark. A woman hops up on a platform in the middle of the two bikers and lifts a gun towards the sky. And as the crowd counts down, she shoots the gun right after 1 and the two bikers zoom out into the blackness ahead, the crowd going wild with cheers for the biker they support.

The scene makes Mingyu's skin feel alive too- the sheer speed of the two bikes, the sound of the engines revving and the general merriness around him induces adrenaline to flow through his veins. When he turns to look at the woman next to him, he sees her looking at him with a curious smile on her face. "Umm, I'm... I'm not really here for the race."

"You're not? Layla told me you would be." The smile on her face deepens, and Mingyu gasps. "You know Layla?" "I do. But that's not important. Let's get you on a bike, hmm?" Mingyu's somehow missed to noticed how her hand's still on his arm, gently stroking his bicep over his jacket. "No, really I don't want to." She steps right up close to him, "But you can try once, pretty boy." Her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks, but Mingyu doesn't care. "I don't want to try." "Let loose for one night." "I'm not here for fun. I'm here for work-" The woman in front of his laughs. "Yes Layla said that too. Don't worry, she's going to work. But only after you race against her."

Mingyu feels his heart speed up. Race against Layla? Fuck. Now, why does that sound so tempting? It makes him only more curious to meet his informant, because why must she make herself so mysterious?

"Are you her friend?" Mingyu knows that this woman is not Layla, because the voice doesn't match by miles. This woman here has a lisp in her voice, unlike Layla's clear diction, and no amount of pitch changing or machine alterations can change that (Mingyu knows that the hard way).

"I'm her sister. Well, kind of. Now, no more questions pretty boy. Next race starts in a few minutes. Let's get you on a bike!" And Mingyu finds himself in no position to protest as the woman drags him away without hearing him anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Mingyu finds himself on a beautiful beast of a motorbike, his entire body drunk on adrenaline. There's so many people he's never even met before, but they're hyping him up. The attention-whore in him goes crazy at the cheers. There's coloured smoke being released into the sky, and Mingyu wears his helmet to prevent it from clouding his eyes. And finally when the smoke fades away, he sees his opponent standing along side him.

Layla.

Fuck.

Still no face to the voice in his head, but it's still an enigmatic visual that draws Mingyu in and reels his mind. He watches the way her black latex pants hug her long legs as she swings her legs over her bike. And he watches the way her helmet covers her face but her hair's still flying in the air. There's something still mysterious about her, and yet so oddly familiar.

But before he can say or do anything, the crowd begins the countdown, and in a second, the gunshot goes off. And Mingyu zooms ahead, revving his engine from 0 to 100 in a moment, a smile spreading on his face as the excitement of the speed injects itself in his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Layla take a spin around the corner of the racetrack, her stable figure undeterred by the sharp turn. Mingyu may not be a professional, but it's not the first time he's racing. He's done this before and he can feel that familiar thrill returning, as he picks up speed and makes up his mind to defeat his worthy opponent.

It's a long and winding course, but to Mingyu it feels like a few minutes only. The cold night air hits his body and makes him feel like he's flying. Soon the ending flag is in sight, and he sees Layla speed up, hunching over her bike, determined to get there first.

But at the last minute, she steps back, her posture loosening as she sits back and watches Mingyu whizz off ahead of her.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath. Knowing she let him win easily hurts his ego, and he slows the bike down as they drive into the nothingness of the deserted roads ahead. When he finally comes to a stop, he gets off the bike and sees her stand a few metres away from him, her helmet still on her head stretching her legs.

"Hey! Layla! You let me win! I would've won anyway- fair and sq-"

Layla spins around and takes off her helmet, her hair whipping across her face, and Mingyu finally sees the face behind the voice.

"Y/N?" Mingyu's eyes are wide, his brain running as fast as his bike was a short while back, as he tries to connect the dots.

The voice is unmistakable, now slightly higher in pitch, and Mingyu wants to kick himself as he realises how big a fool he's been. "We finally meet, Kim Mingyu." There's a beautiful smile on your face, one he's not seen before. There are other things too- there's a nose pin on your button nose, making your features look sharper, and a necklace hanging off your neck, which is odd since he's never seen you wear jewellery before.

"Y/N? H- wh- how?!"

You don't answer him. You simply walk towards him, your hips swaying and Mingyu groans at the sight of your pretty legs in those tight pants. Fuck him for not recognising that ass sooner in spite of being obsessed with it for weeks.

"I thought I should come clean to you, officer, before you make any choices." You casually slot yourself between his legs, as Mingyu leans back against his motorbike. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

He thinks he's a fool for not finding out more about you before falling for you. He thinks he's a fool for maintaining a contact with someone as dangerous as La- you. And he thinks he's a fool for finding you even sexier after discovering this persona of yours.

And he thinks he would be a fool with regrets for all his life if he lets go of you now.

So Mingyu grabs onto your hips, and pulls you closer.

"You've got me by my balls, baby. Got me eating out of your hand. And you know I happen to like it. So it doesn't matter what I think, love. What matters is what you think." His fingers rub against the skin exposed as your crop top rises up as you dangle your hands around his shoulders. You laugh at his words, pressing even closer to him, the air between you two turning to electricity. "It doesn't matter what I think either- because I'd fallen for you ages ago when I first saw you around in town. The new, dashing police officer, Kim Mingyu, enquiring about gangsters and fending himself off prying old ladies at the same time. Since then I've just wanted to make you mine." Mingyu's heart hasn't stopped thumping loudly all night, and at your confession, his body tingles with a dangerous feeling.

"Glad we're on the same page, baby."

"This is my office," you whisper to him in between kisses as you drag him to a shady-looking room at the back of the building that's on the edge of the racing circuit, now deserted because everyone's busy at the races. "Office?" Mingyu giggles, because the term is ridiculous. The place is anything but an office- with the way dishevelled boxes are just stacked everywhere, and instead of desks there are more pool tables and boxes of alcohol. It's a small, dingy place, and the single tubelight at the end of the corridor flickers every other minute, but it's a vibe. Mingyu's not unfamiliar with seedy places in his line of work, but it's so novel to think this is where you truly work.

But fuck him if he doesn't think it just makes you hotter. Because there's something about you being the boss of a pack of hundred delinquents associated with even more hardened criminals that makes his dick chub up real quick.

Like it is right now, when your hands make quick work of removing his jacket and throwing it on the floor as you touch his bare muscle. Mingyu carelessly runs a hand through his hair as he sees you push him onto a chair on a desk that's in your office, the room lit only by the mercy of the distant tubelight and the moonlight streaming in through the window panes. "Fuck, you're so big Mingyu. Let me blow you? Please? Wanted to do this for so long." Your eyes are so pretty as you bend in front of him, fingers lazily rubbing into the tent in his pants, making him hiss. "Go on, baby. Whatever you like. Fuck, but kiss me once more."

And you do. You taste like berries, and Mingyu loves it. Mingyu knows he's got it bad, but he doesn't care. You're on your knees and you want to blow him, and if this isn't the mental image to which he's jerked off for days now, he'd be damned. So he pushes you down in between his knees after kissing you to his heart's content, and you quickly take off his pants. "God," you almost drool and Mingyu whimpers when you take off his boxers too. "You're so fucking big, Gyu. Never seen such a big, pretty cock," you say reverently, as you pump it and it twitches in your hands. Your eyes go wide when you lick it and fit your mouth barely against the tip, and Mingyu throws his head back and moans. He's not going to last long, if just this much has got him feeling like this.

Thankfully, you don't tease him much, eager to feel the heavy weight on your tongue too. So you take him as much as your throat allows, and Mingyu feels himself on the brink of heaven. When you bob your head a couple of times, Mingyu reaches down to tug your hair back and you moan around his cock. The vibrations send him over, and he cums into your mouth even as you continue to suck him. When you finally pull off with a pop, another squirt from his dick leaves a string of white cum on your lips and Mingyu feels himself getting hard again.

"That was so hot baby. You're so hot," he says, as he picks you up from the floor and on the desk. It's so easy for him to manhandle you like that, and you pull him close quickly. "You're hotter, Gyu. Can't tell you what fantasies I've had about you in these last few months." Mingyu smirks, his hands removing your beautiful pants, and spreading your thighs apart as he feels his way through your folds. "Umm? Really? Now don't be a bad girl, and tell me what you've thought about me."

You open your mouth to say something but then Mingyu pinches your clit, and any words fall away as you moan out loudly. Your hands steady themselves on his biceps as Mingyu begins to finger you painfully slowly- to the extent that he can hear the squelching sounds, and it drives him crazy.

"Tell me, Y/N."

When your breathing slows down as you feel Mingyu driving two fingers into you at a steady pace, his eyes fixed on yours, biting his lip in concentration, you tell him softly.

"Before I shifted into the flat... I wondered what you'd be like from up close. Because I'd only seen you from afar. And after hearing your v- aaah- voice, it just got worse." You feel Mingyu stretching you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly as he kissed your neck.

"And then when I did shift in... fuck. It was so hard to not give in to you. Whenever you looked at me with your puppy eyes and y- y- your smile- ah, fuck I'm g- gonna cum, Mingyu!" You scream as he fingers you through your orgasm, and he licks his fingers clean once you come down from your high.

"Then who asked you to not give in to me?"

"I wanted to make sure you'd like me in real life and not judge me simply as an informant." Your simple, vulnerable words take his breath away, and Mingyu pulls off your top in one go. "Fuck, you're so cute baby. I'd like you in every form, in every life. You drive me crazy, do you know that?" And Mingyu knows that now, as you hold on to his shoulders as he enters you in one go. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. Tighter than your pretty mouth, fuck." He's trying so hard not to cum right now, but as you grip his hair and moan filthily, a stream of curses falling off your pretty lips, Mingyu lets his adrenaline take over. And he thrusts into you without any hesitance, hips moving fast, his balls heavy as he slams against you again and again. The desk creaks, and you pant in his ears, begging him to go harder, and Mingyu can feel the way your pussy clenches him at every thrust.

"Gonna cum, Gyu. Please-" Your nails dig into his nape, and it drives him over the edge. When you come along with him, there's a sharp buzz spreading through his body and he feels like he's gone to heaven.

He holds you close like that for the next few minutes, unable and uninterested in letting you go. When you both finally feel the high subside, you look up at him, a hazy smile on your face. "I really like you, Gyu. I hope you can like me too beyond who I am in this racing circuit. Trust me, it's.... it's not my entire life. I am a person bey-"

He kisses you quiet. "Stop explaining yourself." You try to protest, but he kisses you again. "You know Y/N, I think I liked you from the first day I met you. And I get what you're saying but... trust me. Fuck. I don't know how to say this. But safe to say if I thought you were amazing as Y/N? I think you're absolutely the epitome of perfection as Y/N plus Layla. So hot, so gorgeous, and I love every bit of you."

And then there's that single-dimpled smile again.

"I also like the nose pin. Why'd you take it off?"

You giggle, "Didn't want it to be a deal-breaker once I had my mind set on you."

Mingyu kisses your nose at the pin itself and you shiver in his arms.

"Nothing about you can be a deal-breaker, baby."

226 notes · View notes

mikaela-the-slut-expert · 1 year ago

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hello hello!! i was rereading the sunshine p2 headcanons, and i read a part that said “it’s not even the worst he’s done, you’re just that type of person in bed.” and it made me wonder… so what’s the worst san lang and xie lian has done to m!reader?? and what triggered them to be so horny towards reader? something reader said or wore? or was the two talking amongst eachother and had ideas?

i hope you’re taking care! i remember once you said you’re in school, so i hope that’s going well too!!💗

☀️anon

Sunshine headcanons 3

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

Thank you for waiting so long💕

I'm continuing off the sunshine reader headcanons for this

If the gif isn't Tgcf ignore it because the Internet sucks ass I'll fix it later

I did this at school 😊

I'm putting it in headcanons since there's multiple questions but just tell me if this isn't what you meant

Made up scenarios

There might be slight misinformation remember when Hua Cheng had the weird rut thing? Yeah I'm using that, but my details might all be messed up.

Ignore grammar mistakes

Maybe OOC

If you do not like these things do not read this.

NSFW, slapping, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, edging, choking ahead!!!

Sunshine headcanons part two

Sunshine part four

____________________________________

Xie Lian and San Lang have done plenty of things to you!

Of course you've enjoyed it

San Lang likes to bully you so of course the things he's done have been more rough.

San Lang likes to edge you, or overstimulate you. It just depends on his mood

He'll do it for hours too.

Each time he makes sure you're crying and babbling. If you're not then San Lang doesn't think his job is done.

San Lang's favorite things is to fuck you dumb

Whether it be in bed, or over a calligraphy table, or in the gambling den, even over an alter!

His goal is to make your vocal chords raw and your legs shake.

San Lang makes sure by the end of the night that your poor cock can't cum anymore and you're all emptied out

So after a long time of making you wait, or pushing you over the edge many times you obviously start to squirm.

It's a natural body reaction that San Lang enjoys to see but he doesn't appreciate when your hands reach him and attempt to pause his ministrations.

(Obviously he would stop if you said your safe word or seriously wanted to stop)

Which leads to something else he enjoys.

Bondage!

San Lang loves, loves, loves to tie you up in pretty red ropes so that you can't escape him

It just does something to him, to see you tied up like that.

Like if you wanted to you seriously could break out of them but you enjoy being good for him and being pretty for him too.

San Lang won't get physically rough with you, he isn't one to hit you or spank you.

He likes to watch though

Xie Lian is mostly the gentle one, you both are gentle.

That doesn't mean he can't be rough though

If you're in the mood to get physically aggressively that's Xie Lian's domain.

While San Lang would rather not put you in serious pain, Xie Lian knows you want it and it's in a safe space.

He wouldn't ever purposely hurt you either, this is only in the bedroom.

So Xie Lian surprisingly enough is the one who will slap you if you get too mouthy, or spanks you if he thinks you deserve such a punishment

Your guy's sex life didn't always look like this.

It used to always be vanilla and gentle. Which of course you all enjoyed but everyone was hiding deeper desires

It started more with Xie Lian and San Lang talking

You aren't assertive at all so of course you didn't make a peep about your own feelings

Xie Lian and San Lang had just been making ideas of their own, they aren't dumb

They just decided to keep it to themself for now until there was an opportunity to discuss a more complex bedroom life

Their plan of smoothly introducing you to this failed very quickly when Hua Cheng went through one his strange rut things again

Xie Lian doesn't know why but he had been planning on taking care of it himself.

He's dealt with it before and he's sure Hua Cheng doesn't want you to see him like this

Especially when Hua Cheng rarely remembers what happens

Well that didn't go as planned either, when you accidentally enticed Hua Cheng

Honestly it's all your fault (jk)

Xie Lian had left for a literal 30 seconds before he could hear thumps in the room.

It was an accident on your part, you had come home with a new outfit you wanted to show your lovers

Some pretty robes you got from the ghosts

You were very pretty but the robes were obviously meant for more vulgar work. Not that your oblivious self knew.

So when you decided to show Hua Cheng how you looked, his rut-adled brain jumped on you immediately, pushing you into the bed and ripping the many layers off

Which was unusual for Hua Cheng, who was usually patient and waited for you to carefully disrobe.

So when Xie Lian went to go check what was going on it was already too late🤷

Hua Cheng already had you pinned under him and your poor, ripped up robes were now just scattered cloth on the floor.

So that's how your bedroom life changed.

After that night of aggressive, and endless sex you decided you white enjoyed it

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng enjoyed it too

🦊🪷

"A-Lang, A-Lian, I'm home!" You call, walking into Paradise Manor. However your lovers don't answer, do you decide to just go to the bedroom. Unknowingly for you, you've just passed Xie Lian in the kitchen, and your lover can't warn you about San Lang. Woops. Your first mistake of the night.

You continue on to the bedroom. You had been out most of the day. Xie Lian and San Lang ushered you out of the house, so you decided to hang out with your ghost friends. The women were absolutely adored with you and wanted to dress you up. The women's work was to try and attract the attention of men to have sex but you were friends with them anyways!

They're quite chaotic and fun to be around. They dressed you up in some of their robes. You know how you looked. Enticing, pretty, sexy, etc. The point was you wanted your lovers to see you. Why wouldn't you show them? You're dressed up so pretty for someone's attention so of course you want your lovers to be the ones to give you such attention. Your second mistake of the night.

When you open the bedroom door, you find only Hua Cheng in the room. You don't remember seeing Xie Lian anywhere else in the manor so maybe he went out? "A-Lang what are you doing all alone in the bedroom?" You hum.

Your voice immediately drags Hua Cheng's attention. His head snaps in your direction and then you see his eyes roaming over your form. He never replied and he only looks at you like prey. You should've run them but that was your third mistake. You just watched your lover stalk closer to you and stay where you are instead.

If Hua Cheng is a fox, and Xie Lian is a ferret, you're definitely a rabbit. You just freeze in place, staring at him. Hua Cheng lightly runs a hand over your cheek and he just looks at you for a few seconds. The silence is broken when he's suddenly grabbing you by the elbow and showing you down in the bed. He doesn't even say anything just low grunts and growl like sounds come up from his throat.

You yelp in surprise. Hua Cheng has never done this. He's always careful and even hesitant to touch you but something has changed. Before you can ask what's happening or try to move out of under him, Hua Cheng rips your robes. "S-san Lang, wait just a minute?!" You shriek and blush. You try pushing back, and attempt to sit up but Hua Cheng shoves you on your back and forces you under him.

Xie Lian finally decides to see what's going on and quickly finds the two of you. He blinks in shock. He never saw you come in. Also your situation right now is shocking as well. Xie Lian is quick to move Hua Cheng back and off of you, using rouye to keep him in place. Xie Lian at first though you might've been scared. After all you've never seen Hua Cheng like this but you're actually, shamefully hard.

You're blushing and shut your legs, trying to hide but you can't when Xie Lian has already seen. You don't know why you're turned on. This should be scary and frightening but that's the opposite of what you're feeling right now. The way Hua Cheng harshly forced you under him, as if he was going to devour you right then and there? The way he ripped your robes without care, because he's too impatient and wants to fuck you now?

You quite enjoyed that.

"A-n, are you alright?" Xie Lian smiles at you and walks closer to run a hand over your hair. You can only bid slowly. You're still staring at Hua Cheng who struggles a bit in Rouye's hold.

The perfect time has presented itself so why not take it by the hand? Xie Lian tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, and he leans down, pressing his lips near your ear. "Baobei, do you like this? Do you like how San Lang treats you?"

You blush and gulp nervously. You turn your head trying to move your sensitive ear away from Xie Lian's lips. His breath tickles your ear and his voice just makes you ache more. "U-uhm"

Xie Lian tried out something for himself and he grips your hair, forcing your head to stay where it is. When you moan, Xie Lian stops feeling bad about it. "Do you A-n?"

"I-I like it" you gaze at bed, too aroused to meet any of your lovers gazes. Xie Lian smiles at your answer, and sits next to you on the bed. "Would you like to help San Lang this time around?" Xie Lian looks at Hua Cheng, who's staring at both of you with a predatory gaze.

Xie Lian's hand rubs over your thigh, "Let's try it then." He releases Rouye and lets the bandage wrap back around his wrist. Hua Cheng is immediately up and moving, getting on the bed and dragging you into a rough kiss. It's different and you like it. Hua Cheng explores your mouth with his tongue, and he nips your lips until the bleed a little.

Xie Lian doesn't mind watching, he likes seeing Hua Cheng enjoying you. He leans back against the headboard while Hua Cheng decides just kissing you is getting boring. His hands find your hips and he pulls you into his lap, spreading your legs around him so you can't hide your pretty cock away from him.

Hua Cheng attacks your neck next. Biting, and sucking roughly on your skin. Hua Cheng gets more handy though and one his hands dig into the plump flesh of your ass. Another hand starts rubbing your dick. You thought it was Hua Cheng but it's Xie Lian. You can only cling to your lover and moan. "San Lang face him this way" Xie Lian switches up the position.

You're still on Hua Cheng's lap but your back is to his chest, and now Xie Lian is in front of you instead. You cling to your lover's arms trying not to tip over, but Hua Cheng pulls your knees up to your chest instead, spreading you apart again. "You're pretty flexible A-n" Xie Lian laughs softly.

You flush at his words but a moan leaves your mouth when Xie Lian starts prodding oil covered fingers into your hole. "San Lang really wants to bully you Baobei but I'll make sure you don't get hurt" Xie Lian is only teasing you though, and you really want to cum by now. You whine impatiently, as Xie Lian purposely avoids your prostate.

Your prayers are answered though and his fingers leave you empty, the emptiness is soon replaced by something much bigger though. Hua Cheng keeps your legs hiked up and he bullies his cock inside you. A cry tumbles from your lips when Hua Cheng pushes your hips down, forcing you to take all of him.

He doesn't wait for your comfort like he usually does and goes straight to thrusting his dick into. He acts like he's been starved for years! "Ah~ A-Lang please, p-please!" You don't really know what exactly you're begging him for. Whether it's to slow down or for him to keep going but he successfully wrings an orgasm out of you, and it splatters across your tummy.

You've never had the chance to have more than one orgasm in a night but that's going to change today because Hua Cheng is moving again and he's shoving your face in the pillows. Hua Cheng prefers this, he can fuck you better when your on your hands and knees, and perking your ass in the air. His cock bullies deeper into you and his hips slap hard against your ass.

Xie Lian is thoroughly enjoying himself. Your eyes rolled back and your cries muffled by the pillows. He has a better idea though. "A-n can I borrow your pretty lips?"

You only babble an incoherent sentence at him, a mumbled "yesh~" and something else. Xie Lian really only cares for the consent though. He disrobes, enough to where he can let his cock escape its confinements. Then he fists his fingers into your hair and forces you to look up at him. Xie Lian was going to try and guide you through it slowly but you immediately nuzzle up to his dick and start licking his head.

Xie Lian moans and grips tighter when you take his cock down your throat and gag. Hua Cheng's fucking only makes you take both of their cocks deeper and soon tears are running down your face and another orgasm shakes you to your core. Xie Lian takes the initiative to face fuck you. Both of them make sure your holes are never empty for too long.

"A-n you're doing s-so well" Xie Lian purrs out, he stutters from your lips around his dick though. Not that you would notice you're too busy drooling and babbling. They aren't invisible to the pleasure they're receiving from you either and it's not long until they're both cumming in you at the same time. Hua Cheng's and Xie Lian's cum both feel warm in your belly. You can feel Hua Cheng's cum drips down the back of your thighs.

They pull out of you but Hua Cheng doesn't let you go. He keeps his arms wrapped around you and tucks his face into your neck. You breathe heavily and Xie Lian wipes the drool from your chin. You sigh leaning back on Hua Cheng's chest, resting. Hua Cheng chuckles in your ear and for the first time in the night speaks for the first time. "You don't think we're done do you?"

Of course you aren't. 💕

____________________________________

I hope you like 😭🙏

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #tgcf x male reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #mxtx tgcf

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nodusomnis · 11 months ago

Text

title: ending scene pairing(s): aventurine x gn!reader word count: 8.6k+ synopsis: a perfect ending, a moment divine. two souls entwined, their destinies aligned.

In the wake of the debacle that unfolded within the confines of Clock Studios Theme Park, Aventurine found himself clashing with a torrent of memories, cascading upon him amidst the tumultuous clash with The Nameless. The encounter with the Emanator of Nihility, Acheron, added another layer to his introspection. He had not anticipated a meaningful exchange with her, let alone receiving the answers to the questions that had long haunted his thoughts, yet remained unspoken.

His mind had been consumed by his mission, driven by a desire to unearth the truths obscured by The Family's clandestine ploys. Yet, beneath it all, lay a vulnerability he had concealed, encased within layers of self-preservation.

Aventurine was a fragile soul, shielded by layers of barriers against the insecurities coursing through his veins. Each layer seemed meticulously etched into his being, a defense mechanism designed to protect his fractured self from further harm. It was as though he had been molded by circumstance, destined to endure until the end.

The specter of Death had loomed large, a tantalizing prospect of liberation from the shackles binding him in place. However, it appeared that fate had other designs, offering him a reprieve, albeit bittersweet. Aventurine had exhausted every resource, staked his final chip and his very essence, to grasp the one elusive prize he coveted above all else—freedom.

The sensation was intoxicating, a long-denied elation flooding his senses as he bid farewell to his former self, Kakavasha. With measured steps, he approached the yawning abyss, a void of darkness and uncertainty where his final gambit awaited. Here, amidst the unknown, his destiny beckoned, and it was within his power to seize it, to forge a new path toward the life he yearned for.

True death, once a tempting prospect, now held no sway over him. He had relinquished its grip on his destiny, opting instead to embrace the unknown with resolve, prepared to confront whatever trials lay ahead on his journey to redemption.

As Aventurine's resounding footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, punctuated by the gentle splashes of water with each step, a voice resonated within his mind, disrupting his thoughts like a sudden thunderclap in the silence.

"Do you believe your luck will never wane?"

Aventurine froze in his tracks. The voice, hauntingly familiar, sliced through the stillness, dredging up memories of chance encounters and shared moments in the Land of Festivities.

It was you, the enigmatic figure he had crossed paths with amidst the opulent walls of a Penacony casino, where the allure of chance beckoned like a siren's call.

In a rare departure from his relentless pursuit of his mission, Aventurine had allowed himself a fleeting indulgence—a dalliance with Lady Luck amidst the glittering lights and frenetic energy of the gambling den. The thrill of the game, the towering stacks of chips exchanged like currency in a high-stakes dance, held him in thrall.

Seated at the poker table, surrounded by fellow players, each with their own tales of triumph and despair, Aventurine reveled in the stimulating blend of risk and reward. The round table, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of fortunes, bore witness to his calculated gambit, his skillful manipulation of the odds.

For Aventurine, winning was not merely a possibility—it was a certainty, as innate to his being as the very act of breathing.

As Aventurine boldly wagered half of his towering stack of chips, each worth a staggering million, the atmosphere around the table crackled with disbelief, leaving his fellow players astounded and speechless. Unconcerned with the monetary value or potential rewards, he sought only the thrill of risk, a sensation that coursed through him like a tempestuous tide, simultaneously exhilarating and unnerving.

Confident in his own luck, he staked his fortune on the game, even with a modest hand of two pairs. Trusting in the whims of fate and the calculated odds, he remained poised, concealing the tumult of anxiety that churned within him beneath a mask of stoic composure.

Yet, beneath the veneer of confidence, Aventurine grappled with the relentless pounding of his heart, the palpitations echoing the intensity of his emotions. Clutching a single chip beneath the table, he clung to it as if it were a lifeline, a tangible anchor amidst the rumpus of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him.

"That is an audacious wager, Mr. Aventurine. Are you unequivocally committed to this course of action?" inquired the individual seated across from him, their voice tinged with apprehension.

In response to the incredulous query from his fellow player, Aventurine offered only a sardonic smirk, a silent affirmation of his resolve. "I am certain," he replied, his voice laced with a quiet confidence. "This is but the grand finale of our game—a conclusion befitting of our stakes."

"Is he not one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC? The individual notorious for his gambling addiction?"

"Yes, indeed. His name is rumored to be Aventurine."

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, whispers of his identity as one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC—a figure rumored to be consumed by the allure of gambling—reached his ears. He’s not surprised if they know him. After all, the influence wielded by the IPC was not to be underestimated, its reach extending across the cosmos, its prominence ensuring the preservation of its power and prestige. Therefore, rather than shying away from the scrutiny, Aventurine embraced the spotlight, reveling in the recognition bestowed upon him by the throngs of onlookers.

With a subtle shift of his gaze, he surveyed the faces of his fellow players, noting the flickers of trepidation that danced across their features. It was a sight that brought him a perverse sense of satisfaction, a reminder of the raw essence of gambling—the interplay of anxiety, anticipation, and despair—that fueled his very existence.

As the tension peaked and the moment of truth arrived, Aventurine and his adversary revealed their cards to unveil identical two pairs, setting the stage for a climactic showdown. However, it was Aventurine's hidden ace that tipped the scales in his favor, securing his victory in the final round and solidifying his reputation as a master of chance.

The audience erupted into gasps of awe and scattered applause, their reactions serving as testament to Aventurine's extraordinary luck and skill. Their admiration only added to the weight of his legend, reinforcing the notion of his seemingly boundless fortune.

“Do you believe your luck will never wane?”

Amidst the flurry of excitement, Aventurine's gaze intersected with where he heard the voice. There you stood, a stoic figure amidst the throngs of spectators. Your expression, devoid of the fervor that gripped the crowd, exuded a palpable indifference that set you apart from the sea of adulation.

For Aventurine, accustomed to the praise and criticism that accompanied his every move, your silent scrutiny held a weight far greater than the cacophony of voices around him. It was as if your gaze alone bore the gravity of a thousand judgments, casting doubt upon his invincible facade.

As you gracefully departed from the scene, gliding through the crowd with an effortless poise, Aventurine felt a fleeting impulse to pursue you, to unravel the mystery behind your statement. Yet, before he could act upon his impulse, the dealer's call snapped him back to reality, redirecting his attention to the present moment.

With a final glance in your direction, Aventurine reluctantly tore his gaze away, refocusing his attention on the game at hand. Though your departure left a lingering curiosity in his mind, he knew that the cards had been dealt, and it was time to play his hand.

The following day, Aventurine ventured once more into the hallowed halls of the casino, his gaze wandered across the expanse of the venue, alighting upon a figure seated at a poker table amidst a horde of eager players. In an instant, recognition dawned upon him, for there, amidst the sea of faces, sat the individual he had encountered the day prior.

Without hesitation, Aventurine strode purposefully towards the table, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected reunion. Never had he anticipated crossing paths once more with you in a city as vast as Penacony.

As he approached, he observed the scene unfolding before him—the table abuzz with the energy of the game, the players immersed in the pursuit of fortune. However, amidst the dissonance of chips clinking and cards shuffling, his attention was drawn inexorably to you, seated with an air of composed indifference despite your apparent lack of chips.

It was the same familiar insouciance he’d seen in your first meeting. How funny.

The mocking taunts of a fellow player echoed through the room, directed towards you with a mixture of derision and amusement. Despite your depleted reserves, you remained unruffled, your countenance betraying none of the desperation that typically accompanied such circumstances.

"It appears fortune has yet to favor me," you remarked casually, your tone devoid of any hint of concern.

A ripple of laughter emanated from your adversary, his jeering palpable as he sought to goad you into yet another round of play, urging you to replenish your dwindling supply of chips. Yet, you met his jests with an inscrutable gaze in the face of his provocations.

Aventurine, with a knowing glint in his eye, couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene. He was well acquainted with the minds of these gamblers, their intentions transparent as glass. It was clear they sought to deplete your remaining resources, confident in their ability to emerge victorious. Indeed, in their minds, the prospect of claiming more rewards danced tantalizingly.

"They will engage in further play," Aventurine interjected, his voice slicing through the air, commanding the attention of all present, including yourself. The seasoned gambler spared no glance for your fellow players; instead, his focus lingered keenly upon you, a fact not lost on the others.

Interrupting any potential protests, he spoke before you could voice your objections.

"Since it appears they lack anything of value to offer, why not allow me to play on their behalf instead? Care to oppose?" The challenge issued by Aventurine lingered, met with smirks and laughter from the assembled men, their eyes alight with greed.

"Well, well, well... I admire your audacity, lad. The more stakes, the merrier, isn't that right?" Their laughter cascaded like a chorus, oblivious to the fact that in Aventurine, they faced a master amongst masters in the art of acquisition.

"How naive..." you muttered under your breath, earning only a gentle touch from Aventurine atop your head, his actions eliciting a look of incredulity from you.

"Regardless, shall we proceed?"

With the deal struck, the game unfurled as the dealer meticulously distributed cards to each player. You observed with keen interest, your gaze occasionally drifting toward the blonde gentleman seated beside you. Sensing your scrutiny, he met your eyes briefly before offering a sly smile, his actions enigmatic yet intriguing.

Furrowing your brow in silent inquiry, you sought to discern his intentions, but he merely pressed a finger to his lips in response.

"Remain composed and observe," his silent directive seemed to convey.

Resigned to his inscrutable demeanor, you acquiesced, allowing him free rein. As the game progressed, the man who had thus far dominated proceedings wore a self-assured smirk, placing a bid worth half a million credits. The others hesitated, yet one figure, the notorious gambler seated beside you, sees this as an opportunity.

"Ah, now we're truly delving into the heart of the matter," Aventurine chuckled, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his tinted glasses with a light touch. "Since you seem to relish in the thrill of risk-taking, my good sir, why not elevate the stakes even further?"

His words trailed off, drawing the attention of all present once more, including yours, earning him a quizzical raised eyebrow. You couldn't fathom what he had up his sleeve, but a sense of impending audacity pervaded the atmosphere.

"If fortune favors you," Aventurine continued, his tone laced with a hint of challenge, "I shall generously double all the chips you currently possess."

Gasps and murmurs break through the assembled spectators at the grit of his offer, whispers swirling with tales of his legendary gambling prowess. But, to you, his proposition came as no surprise. You were well aware of Aventurine's penchant for daring wagers, although the sheer magnitude of this gamble caught even you off guard.

"But," Aventurine's voice lowered, carrying an air of quiet authority, as he plucked a single chip from his side and deftly flicked it across the table to the stunned recipient, "should fortune favor me..."

The chip landed in the bewildered man's grasp, his expression a mix of confusion and apprehension as he gazed back at Aventurine.

"You will forfeit all the chips you've amassed from this individual," Aventurine concluded, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at his bold proclamation, a protest bubbling at the edge of your lips.

"Hey—"

"I am the player at present, am I not?" Aventurine's tone brooked no argument, his gaze met yours, a silent reminder that he held the reins of the game.

With a resigned sigh, you bit your lower lip, restraining yourself from interjecting. After all, you weren't a participant in the game at this moment, merely an observer. And within the confines of the casino, such displays of audaciousness were not uncommon. Still, the realization that Aventurine was willing to go to such lengths to aid a stranger only added to the ever-growing meter of outrageousness you held for him.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the man across the table digested Aventurine's audacious proposition. Initially met with disbelief, a subtle transformation overtook his countenance, the contours of his features twisting into a sinister smirk. A chill of foreboding gripped your senses, a premonition of impending turmoil settling like a shadow upon your consciousness.

Amidst the mounting tension, your gaze darted toward Aventurine, seeking solace in his unwavering composure. His demeanor remained calm amidst the tempestuous currents swirling around you, offering little insight into the hand he held concealed beneath the veil of his cards. With bated breath, you awaited the revelation that would determine the outcome of this high-stakes gamble, each passing moment fraught with palpable suspense.

"Very well, let us lay bare our fortunes," the old man declared, his tone laced with arrogance as he motioned towards the deck. With a flourish, the cards were revealed, their secrets laid bare for all to see.

In a swift and decisive move, Aventurine emerged victorious, his triumph resounding with effortless grace. The cocky facade of his adversary crumbled in an instant, replaced by an expression of bitter defeat as he clutched his head in despair. With a rueful sigh, he relinquished the spoils of his ill-fated gamble, returning to you the chips that had once slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

As you and Aventurine exited the confines of the casino, the weight of gratitude settled upon your shoulders like a heavy mantle. Despite the reckless nature of his intervention, you couldn't help but feel a surge of appreciation for his timely assistance. Yet, beneath the surface of your gratitude lurked a nagging sense of wariness, a reminder of the perilous waters into which you had unwittingly waded.

"Thank you for your help back there," you offered sincerely, the words heavy with genuine appreciation. Aventurine responded with a disarming smile, though his subsequent words bore the weight of underlying intent.

"Do not misconstrue my actions as mere altruism. I acted with purpose, not without consideration for my own interests," he remarked, his tone tinged with a subtle edge that sent a shiver down your spine. "Surely, you are aware of who I am."

Closing the distance between you, Aventurine's imposing figure loomed over you, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. You felt the telltale twitch of your eyes and the tightening of your fists at your sides, a reflexive response to the palpable aura of danger that surrounded him.

"This is precisely why I avoid entanglements with individuals like yourself," you admitted, your voice laced with a mixture of resignation and apprehension.

Aventurine's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that grated against your nerves. "But in this instance, you have no choice but to engage, do you not? Now, onto the matter at hand – I seek answers regarding your cryptic statement from yesterday."

Your eyebrow arched in bemusement at his unexpected inquiry. "There was no deeper meaning to my words. I merely commented on your inherent luck, having observed your exploits within the casino since your arrival in Penacony."

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you cursed inwardly at the unforeseen repercussions of your offhand remark. Aventurine's scrutinizing gaze bore into you with unsettling intensity, seemingly searching for any trace of falsehood within your composed demeanor.

"Very well, if that is indeed the case, then I have another proposition for you," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. Your heart quickened at the implication of trouble brewing on the horizon, yet you met his gaze with steely resolve.

"And what might that be?"

"Be my eyes and ears here in Penacony," Aventurine proposed, his smirk widening into a grin that sent a chill down your spine.

The story of your unlikely alliance with Aventurine had begun. If ever the unexpected news circulated amongst the circles of Penacony, many would find it incredulous that someone of his stature, a member of the esteemed Ten Stonehearts, would place trust in a mere stranger. Indeed, to the uninitiated observer, the notion seemed absurd – a contradiction in terms that defied logic and reason. But, for Aventurine, such trivial matters held little sway over his calculated decisions.

To him, trust was a commodity to be traded with caution, its value contingent upon a myriad of factors that extended far beyond surface appearances. In his world, betrayal and deception were the currency of every world, woven seamlessly into his existence. And so, when he extended his offer to you, it was not born of blind faith or naivety, but rather a calculated gamble rooted in the certainty of his own capabilities.

He knew, with certainty, that even if you were to betray him or fabricate falsehoods in his presence, he possessed the keen intellect and astute intuition to discern truth from lies. In his eyes, you were but a pawn in his grand scheme – a pawn whose movements he could predict with precision, regardless of the facades you chose to adopt.

However, to his surprise and consternation, you defied his expectations at every turn. Despite your initial reluctance and the aloof demeanor you projected, you proved yourself to be a reliable ally – one whose resourcefulness and ingenuity surpassed his own assumptions.

How did you gather your intel, he wondered? Was it through mingling with the citizens of Penacony, ingratiating yourself into their midst to extract information like a skilled puppeteer manipulating marionettes? Aventurine pondered these questions with a mixture of intrigue and frustration, unable to fathom the depths of your strategy.

Perhaps it was a sense of indebtedness that drove you, he mused. The desire to repay a perceived debt hanging heavy upon your conscience, compelling you to fulfill your obligations despite your reservations. Or perhaps, you were simply averse to owing favors, unwilling to be beholden to another soul, even one as formidable as Aventurine.

Whatever the reason, Aventurine found himself grappling with the mystery that was you – a puzzle whose pieces refused to align neatly within the edges of his understanding. And though he may never unravel the mysteries of your motivations, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth: in you, he had encountered a force to be reckoned with – a fool, perhaps, but a fool whose strength lay in the depths of your unfathomable resolve.

In the bustling streets of Penacony, amidst the cacophony of laughter and music that permeated the air, you continued your clandestine endeavors as Aventurine's trusted confidant. With practiced discretion, you navigated the labyrinthine alleys and bustling marketplaces, seamlessly blending into the tapestry of everyday life in the Land of Festivities. To the casual observer, you were but another face in the crowd – unremarkable, inconspicuous, and utterly forgettable.

Yet, beneath the veneer of anonymity, you carried out your duties with unwavering dedication and precision. Gathering tidbits of information like shards of broken glass, you pieced together the intricate puzzle of Penacony's underworld, all the while maintaining a facade of normalcy to ward off any suspicion that may arise.

Aventurine, ever the astute observer, commended your efforts with a rare display of generosity, treating you to rounds of soulglads despite your persistent protests. You rebuffed his gestures with firm resolve, adamant in your refusal to be indebted to him once more. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of detachment, Aventurine possessed a knack for circumventing your defenses, his genuine concern and camaraderie slipping through the cracks of your stoic exterior.

For Aventurine, whose existence had long been steeped in solitude and mistrust, your presence offered a rare glimpse of authenticity amidst the sea of duplicity that surrounded him. Though he wore the mask of manipulation and trickery with practiced ease, there lingered within him a kernel of genuineness – a flicker of humanity that defied the confines of his carefully constructed facade.

Trusting others had always been a precarious endeavor for Aventurine, a vulnerability he was loath to embrace. To him, every word spoken and gesture made was a calculated maneuver, a chess move in the intricate game of deception that defined his existence. Yet, in your company, he found himself traversing uncharted territory – a realm where sincerity and trust held sway, however fleetingly.

As days transitioned into days, and days into weeks, the bond between you and Aventurine grew stronger, shaped within the crucible of mutual understanding and respect.

The vibrant hues of dawn painted the skyline of Penacony's skyscrapers in surreal brilliance, you stood alongside Aventurine at the Dream's Edge, marveling at the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before you. The scene was surreal, almost otherworldly, for how could there be a sunrise in the Dreamscape—a world where reality and dreams intertwine?

However, amidst the awe-inspiring panorama, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Why had Aventurine summoned you to this ethereal realm, away from the hustle and bustle of waking life, with no other souls in sight?

As you gaze upon Aventurine's countenance, a wave of surprise and intrigue washes over you, for the sight before you is unlike anything you've ever beheld. The ethereal glow of the sun caresses his features, casting a radiant halo around him, as if nature itself conspired to illuminate his presence.

His visage, once adorned with the mischievous curve of a smirk, now wears an expression of profound introspection. Those eyes, usually dancing with mischief, now reflect a depth of emotion you've never witnessed before—a blend of serenity and sorrow that tugs at the strings of your heart.

Gone is the cocksure grin that was his trademark, replaced by a solemnity that seems to weigh heavily upon him. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a side of Aventurine you never knew existed—a side that is raw, vulnerable, and achingly human.

Aventurine stands amidst the whispers of the breeze, his silhouette a portrait of contemplation against the canvas of dawn. His golden tresses dance in harmony with the wind, a silent symphony of nature's serenade. But it's not just the tendrils of his hair that sway; there's a subtle dance in his demeanor, a rhythm of emotions that ripple beneath the surface.

In the soft glow of sunlight, his features are painted with an ethereal hue, casting shadows that play upon the landscape of his face. There's a longing, a yearning, etched in the lines of his brow, as though he's searching for something beyond the horizon, something elusive yet tantalizingly close. His eyes, windows to the depths of his soul, betray the secrets he guards so closely, each flicker and glimmer a testament to the complexities hidden within.

You've been tethered to his side, bound by a debt that intertwines your fates in a dance of obligation and intrigue. Yet, despite the proximity, the enigma of Aventurine remains veiled in mystery. He is a man of many facets, a puzzle with pieces that shift and rearrange with every passing moment. Cunning and unpredictable, he defies easy categorization, a riddle waiting to be unraveled.

Through numerous interactions, the two of you have maintained a strictly professional relationship, focused solely on exchanging gathered information. Neither of you delved into personal matters, content with knowing only the basics about each other. This engagement is a singular occurrence, with no desire to complicate matters further. There's a firm boundary between you, each respecting the other's space and avoiding unnecessary entanglements.

In the midst of a tranquil moment, punctuated only by the soft whispers of the breeze, his voice broke the silence, drawing your focus away from the horizon. Without turning to meet your gaze, he posed a question that seemed innocuous on the surface but hinted at a deeper curiosity.

"What brings you to Penacony? Is it for leisure or some other purpose?"

Your response, delivered with a casual nonchalance, betrayed none of the complexity brewing beneath the surface. "No particular reason. Just wandering, as wanderers tend to do."

As you drew closer to him, mirroring his contemplative stance.. But it was his next words that stirred something within you, a recognition of the carefully guarded boundaries you both maintained.

"You're an enigma," Aventurine mused, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity tinged with respect. "I know nothing of your origins, your affiliations, or even the world you call home. You exist as a blank canvas against the backdrop of the universe."

His observation prompts you to turn towards him, a faint grimace touching your features. It's clear that his words have struck a chord, stirring a sense of curiosity within you that matches his own.

"You went snooping into my background?" Your words cut through the air with a sharpness that catches Aventurine's attention.

"And the idea of me discreetly digging into your background never crossed your mind?" Aventurine's tone carries a hint of amusement.

"I had my suspicions, especially considering your ties to the IPC. Knowing you, you always manage to dig up information to give yourself an edge. But I'll give credit where it's due; at least you're forthright about it, even if it does irk me."

"Right now?" Aventurine raises an eyebrow, his amusement growing.

"Yes, right now.”

"But why can't I detect any anger in your demeanor?"

"Because I'm not one to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I prefer to keep them under wraps," you explain, a sense of guardedness creeping into your voice.

Aventurine's laughter rings out at your refusal, his amusement evident in the glint of his eyes. "Unfair, isn't it? You hold all the cards, knowing who I am, while I'm left in the dark except for a mere name and your claim of being a wanderer. But how about a little game?"

Your expression twists in disdain at his transparent attempt to glean information. You see through his ploy and have no intention of playing along.

"I won't indulge your little charade just to satisfy your curiosity about me. Nice try," you retort firmly.

Aventurine's grin widens as he deftly flips a coin through his fingers, the metallic glint catching the light before he catches it effortlessly.

"Such a shame.”

Once more, silence descends between you, a tense pause punctuated only by the soft rustle of the wind. Then, Aventurine breaks the quiet again with a pointed question.

"So, perhaps you know my origin?"

As you locked gazes with Aventurine, a subtle shift in his demeanor didn't escape your notice. His voice, usually laced with confidence and bravado, now carried a hushed tone, tinged with an underlying tremor that uncovered a vulnerability you had never before witnessed in him. It was a nuance that spoke volumes, revealing a depth of emotion that contradicted his stoic facade.

In that moment, as the weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air, your gaze was drawn to his features—the striking contours of his face, the subtle symmetry that bespoke a beauty both rare and captivating. It was a beauty that bespoke his heritage, his lineage tracing back to the long-lost race of Avgins, a people now consigned to the annals of history.

The knowledge of his origins colored your perception of him, for you understood the burden he bore as one of the last of his kind. Avgins, known for their exquisite beauty and mesmerizing eyes, had long been subjected to discrimination and extinction, their very existence a reminder of a bygone era fraught with prejudice and fear.

You couldn't fault him for his choice to conceal his eyes behind tinted glasses, for you knew all too well the scrutiny and suspicion that awaited those who carried the unmistakable mark of their ancestry. In every world where difference was met with disdain, Aventurine's desire to shield himself from prying eyes was not born of vanity, but of necessity—a means of self-preservation in a society quick to judge and condemn.

And yet, even as he sought refuge behind his carefully constructed facade, there was a rawness to him, a vulnerability that transcended the barriers he had erected. In his eyes, you glimpsed the echoes of a lost heritage, the silent lament of a people erased from history, and in that moment, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you had never imagined possible. For beneath the mask of his bravado lay a soul as fragile and ephemeral as the dawn, yearning to be seen and understood in a world that had long since forgotten of the adversity.

"Yes, I do..." Your admission lingers in the air, carried away by the wind that brushes past, stirring the stillness that settled over the conversation. Aventurine's reaction is subtle, a scoff followed by a nonchalant shrug, his gaze shifting towards the towering skyscrapers that dominate the skyline.

"Not surprising," he remarks dismissively.

As you watch him, a faint blemish mars the pristine image you've always held of Aventurine. It's a glimpse of vulnerability, fleeting yet unmistakable, like a small blotch of ink on an otherwise clean canvas. It catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanishes, replaced by Aventurine's usual composed facade as though nothing had transpired.

His sudden question jolts you back to the present, breaking the silence once more. "Do you think life is meaningless?"

It's unexpected, a departure from the usual banter and guarded exchanges between you. For a moment, you're caught off guard, searching for an answer devoid of pretense or artifice.

"Well, if you ask me, maybe it is, maybe not." Your response carries a sense of introspection, reflecting the uncertainty that comes with a life spent wandering the vast expanse of the universe without a clear destination. "I've been traveling aimlessly for many years, letting my feet guide me wherever they please. In essence, I suppose you could say my existence lacks a defined purpose. So perhaps life does seem meaningless."

You pause, considering your next words carefully. "But then again, don't we all have something we yearn for, even in the midst of aimlessness? Whether it's something grand or seemingly insignificant, there's always a longing, a desire to attain or achieve something. And perhaps, in the pursuit of that something, we find purpose."

Aventurine regards you with an inscrutable expression, his eyes betraying nothing.

"What if that something is death?" he poses, his question hanging heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the conversation.

You allow the silence to envelop you, granting it the space to linger between you before offering your heartfelt response.

"If one desires death, shouldn't they cease struggling to stay alive, to preserve themselves? Why endure the effort of self-preservation if death is the ultimate desire? It seems contradictory."

You continue, your words measured yet earnest. "Self-preservation, in itself, suggests a desire to continue living, to pursue something beyond mere existence. And in that pursuit, even if it leads to death, there lies purpose. For what is life, if not a series of pursuits, desires, and aspirations?"

As you continue speaking, Aventurine's attention remains fixed on you, though his mind is a hurricane of conflicting emotions. He finds himself grappling with a sudden surge of questions, an inexplicable urge to peel back the layers of his carefully constructed pretense and lay bare the vulnerabilities he so meticulously conceals.

The landscape before him, though undoubtedly breathtaking to most, elicits a different reaction in Aventurine. Instead of wonder or awe, he feels a deep-seated unease, a gnawing sense of unworthiness that claws at the edges of his consciousness. It's as if he's an intruder in a world to which he doesn't belong, a sentiment reinforced by his own self-imposed exile from the beauty and splendor that surrounds him.

For Aventurine, the harsh realities of his upbringing on a barren, unforgiving world have left an indelible mark on his psyche. He's accustomed to a life of scarcity and struggle, where survival is earned through grit and determination rather than basking in the luxuries of a privileged existence. The opulence of his surroundings only serves to highlight the stark contrast between his own perceived inadequacies and the perceived perfection of those around him.

And yet, despite his inner turmoil, Aventurine's gaze remains fixed on you, drawn to the radiant warmth that seems to emanate from your very being. In your presence, he feels the weight of his self-imposed limitations pressing down upon him, a reminder of the vast chasm that separates him from the world above.

As you stand bathed in the golden glow of the sunlight, Aventurine can't help but feel a pang of envy, a longing to inhabit the same ethereal orbit where you reside. But deep down, he knows that such aspirations are futile, for he is bound by the shackles of his own insecurities, forever consigned to the shadows while you soar amongst the stars.

He is nothing.

He ushered you to this secluded spot, not for another mission or strategy session, but to bid you farewell. The contract that bound you together, the alliance forged through countless endeavors, has reached its natural conclusion. Every detail meticulously arranged, thanks in no small part to your invaluable insights. Now, standing before you, he prepares to embark on the final leg of his journey, a path long contemplated and now irrevocably chosen.

Meeting you, sharing in the trials of your joint mission, has been a rare pleasure. Your presence, marked by spirited banter and unwavering determination, injected vitality into the often grim landscape of their pursuits. Despite the looming risks and the gravity of his objectives, he couldn't help but relish the moments spent in your company.

As he extends his farewell, he acknowledges the uncertainty of future encounters. Though he harbors a wish for another meeting, circumstances dictate otherwise. Your captivating insights and spirited exchanges will be dearly missed, yet he remains resolute in his chosen course, prepared to confront the perils ahead, come what may.

"Well, thank you for your answers. Anyway, I brought you here to let you know that our meeting has reached its conclusion. You've fulfilled your role as my eyes and ears, and now you're free to go about your business," Aventurine stated, slipping back into his old mask—his facade.

You blinked a few times, absorbing his words. Finally, this chapter was over.

"Is that so? I'm finally free," you sighed in relief, stretching your arms with a smile. "Being around you was quite draining."

"It seems I've been a handful, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. You're insufferable. So, you're ready to part ways then?"

"I do tend to be insufferable, I won't deny that. And to answer your question, yes I am. Thanks to your intel, my plans are set. You've proven quite reliable, considering you're a wanderer."

"Well, being a wanderer does have its advantages. I can gather information without raising suspicion since I blend in with the crowd," you remarked, nonchalantly shrugging.

"You do seem rather ordinary, so you blend well.."

"Excuse me?"

As you leveled a sharp glance at Aventurine, expecting defiance or retort, you were instead met with a sight that stirred a strange sensation within you. His countenance, usually guarded and conniving, softened into an expression of genuine warmth. His eyes, usually veiled with caution, now held an openness that caught you off guard. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you had never seen before.

His words, spoken with a sincerity that resonated in the air. "How I'd love to be one. To be ordinary," he uttered, his voice carrying a weight of longing and acceptance.

You found yourself speechless, unable to respond to the exposure he laid bare before you. Despite the complexities of his past and the challenges he faced as an Avgin working under the IPC, his desire for normalcy spoke volumes about the inner turmoil he grappled with.

Your own internal conflict is mirrored in the clenching of your jaw, rendering you unable to articulate a response. Yet, amidst the silence, a silent understanding seemed to bridge the gap between you. Aventurine's earnest gaze conveyed more than words ever could, laying bare the vulnerabilities he harbored beneath his mask..

Driven by an impulse you couldn't quite comprehend, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance between you. With a gentle touch, you extended your fingers and playfully poked his forehead, eliciting a look of surprise and astonishment from him. But what followed was even more unexpected—an expression of genuine tenderness gracing your own features, a smile that reached the depths of your soul and offered solace in its warmth. In that fleeting moment, barriers fell away, and you realized that beneath the surface, you and Aventurine were not so different after all.

"You know, if you really wanted to, you could just blend in and be ordinary like everyone else," you murmured gently, finally tearing your gaze away from him. Aventurine, startled, snapped out of his trance.

"Oh, is that right?" Aventurine chuckled.

"Yeah, it's an option," you replied nonchalantly. "Anyway, I should get going."

"So soon?" Aventurine turned to you, surprised.

"Yeah, got some other stuff to take care of, and my debt to you is settled," you explained.

"You wound me," Aventurine feigned hurt, gesturing dramatically. "Our last day together, and you're leaving so soon?"

"You're not seriously trying to guilt-trip me into staying, are you?" you teased.

Aventurine smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Alright then," you said, increasing the distance between you two as you walked away. Glancing back over your shoulder, you smirked. "Once you're done with your mission, let's meet here again."

"What?" Aventurine was taken aback, still processing your words as he watched you walk away. You stopped, meeting his gaze.

"Didn't catch that? I said, let's meet again after your mission.” you said firmly, facing away from him as you delivered your final words, arm raised in farewell.

“All you need to do is survive.”

As Aventurine watched you depart, his mind swirled with contrasting emotions. Your parting words lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he feared he might never experience again. Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained silent, resigned to the path he had chosen, knowing that his decision to face his final gamble in Penacony was irreversible.

In the depths of his thoughts, a sense of acceptance settled within him. He chuckled softly, a wistful acknowledgment of the irony of his predicament. The weight of his impending fate bore down on him, yet a flicker of defiance burned within his soul.

With a shake of his head, he banished the doubts that threatened to cloud his resolve. This was his moment, his grand finale, and he would meet it head-on, whatever the outcome. As he stepped forward into the yawning chasm of uncertainty, he braced himself for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that his ultimate gamble would redefine everything.

Survival or death—there was no middle ground. And as he prepared to face the unknown, Aventurine steeled himself for the ultimate test of his mettle.

Let’s meet again, (Name).

Aventurine's eyelids flutter open, a groan escaping his lips as he gradually regains consciousness. The world swims into focus, the familiar surroundings of his hotel room greeting him with muted hues and soft shadows. Yet, despite the comfort of familiarity, a dull ache permeates every fiber of his being, a lingering reminder of the ordeal he endured in the depths of his subconscious.

As he gingerly shifts his weight, Aventurine feels the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket, each movement a testament to the toll exacted by his nightmarish journey. It's as if his very essence has been drained, leaving behind a shell of his former self, battered and bruised by the trials of his own mind.

With trembling fingers, he reaches out, tracing the contours of his hand as if searching for reassurance in the solidity of his own flesh. It's a small gesture, but one imbued with profound significance—a tangible reminder of his resilience in the face of adversity, a testament to his survival against all odds.

As the realization of his newfound freedom dawns upon him, Aventurine can't help but feel a surge of disbelief coursing through his veins. To think that he has emerged from the depths of despair, liberated from the shackles of his past, is nothing short of miraculous. With his ties to the IPC severed, he stands at a crossroads, poised on the precipice of uncertainty, yet emboldened by the promise of possibility.

But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remains clear—Aventurine is free. Free to chart his own course, to forge his own destiny without the constraints of fate or expectation weighing him down. And though the path ahead may be fraught with challenges and unknown dangers, he faces it with a newfound sense of determination, ready to embrace whatever the future may hold.

Aventurine's body protests as he pushes himself upright, the sharp pang of pain shooting through him like lightning. Yet, despite the discomfort, he manages to muster the strength to survey his surroundings, his gaze landing on the figure nestled on the sofa. At first, his mind struggles to comprehend the sight before him—a flicker of disbelief mingled with a hint of incredulity.

But as recognition dawns upon him, Aventurine's eyes widen in astonishment, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes that it's you who occupies the space in his room. The realization sends a surge of diverging emotions coursing through him, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a strange sense of comfort.

He watches you in silent wonder, your form bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, your features serene in the embrace of slumber. It's a sight that both perplexes and soothes him.

Aventurine's mind races with questions, each one vying for his attention as he grapples with the inexplicable presence of your presence in his room. Did you wait for him? Why are you here? And most importantly, why him? The answers elude him, shrouded in a veil of uncertainty that only serves to deepen the mystery surrounding your unexpected reunion.

Despite the barrage of inquiries swirling in his mind, Aventurine finds himself unable to suppress the tender smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. In this moment of exposure, your presence serves as an anchor of solace, a comforting reminder that he is not alone in this vast and unforgiving universe.

Nevertheless, Aventurine expressed gratitude towards you. Despite your indifferent demeanor towards him and your aversion to getting involved in troublesome situations, you found yourself in his room, patiently awaiting his return, even though the odds of survival were slim.

Aventurine watches as you stir from your slumber, your movements hesitant yet purposeful as you rise from the sofa and approach him with a sense of urgency. His heart quickens at the sight of you, a mixture of relief and apprehension coursing through him as your eyes meet in the dimly lit room.

Your sudden appearance catches him off guard, the lines of fatigue etched into your features a stark contrast to the serene calmness of your slumber. But, despite the weariness that hangs heavy in the air, there is a palpable sense of anticipation, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that binds you together.

As you draw nearer, Aventurine's breath catches in his throat, his gaze fixated on your every movement as if trying to decipher the thoughts racing through your mind. He waits with bated breath for you to speak, but the silence stretches on, punctuated only by the soft sound of your footsteps echoing in the room.

Unable to bear the quiet any longer, Aventurine breaks the tension with a gentle smile, his voice soft yet filled with warmth. "I didn't expect to see you here," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting them in the darkness.

You remain silent, your expression unreadable as you stand before him, your eyes searching his face for answers that remain elusive. Aventurine's smile falters slightly at the lack of response, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he waits for you to break the silence that hangs heavy between them.

"Are we just going to have a staring contest?" he jests, prompting a weary sigh from you.

"You're finally awake," your voice was calm but tinged with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Aventurine blinked. "Like my entire body's cramped up, and my head's splitting in two. So, basically, like crap."

"That's because you've been out for weeks. You need to rest."

"Do I really have to when I've basically been sleeping for the whole duration of my coma?" he scoffed, earning another sigh from you.

"What I meant was rest like a normal person. Sleep in a proper bed, not in this decrepit bathtub. It's different when you're not in the Dreamscape," you explained matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes. Aventurine chuckled at your bluntness.

"Are you worried?" he asked.

"No," you replied flatly.

"Really? Then why are you here in my room, sleeping like a log?" he teased, and you grimaced at him.

"I'm only here to keep my word."

"Your word?" His eyebrow arched in confusion.

"When I said we'd meet again."

Aventurine's laughter rings out, breaking the weighty silence that had settled between you like a heavy fog. It's a sound filled with incredulity and a touch of irony, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him as he grapples with the gravity of the situation.

For him, the realization is nothing short of staggering—that you, of all people, had placed your trust in him, believing in his ability to survive against all odds. It's a notion that borders on the absurd, given the precarious circumstances that had surrounded your parting, but one that now takes on a profound significance in the wake of your unexpected reunion.

As your gaze locks with his, drawn by the unexpected sound of his laughter, Aventurine finds himself at a loss for words. How could he have ever doubted the sincerity of your intentions, the faith you had placed in him even when all hope seemed lost?

"What's so funny?" you asked, puzzled by Aventurine's sudden burst of laughter.

Aventurine's laughter subsided, and he regarded you seriously. "I never expected this. You always manage to surprise me. Are you that determined to ensure our next meeting?"

Your expression twisted in disgust at the thought, which only served to fuel Aventurine's amusement. He laughed even harder at your reaction.

"It seems you're back to your usual self now," you remarked between laughs. "Well then, I suppose I'll be on my way."

But just as you turned to leave, Aventurine caught your wrist, halting your steps. "Oops! Just kidding. You really don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"

You shot him a glare in response, but he seemed unfazed, his gaze softening as he spoke with a newfound seriousness. His words carried a weight that belied their simplicity.

"You know, I want to become a wave and run anywhere," he confessed, his voice tinged with a wistful longing. "Because even if I get swept away and get lost, I'm free."

There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that laid bare his innermost desires. It was a sentiment that resonated with you on some level, stirring something deep within your own heart.

"Even if you get lost again," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you still will know your way back. You know it yourself, after all, you're still breathing up until now."

Aventurine's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours with a depth of understanding that took you by surprise. And then, almost coyly, he made a request that seemed to hang in the air between you like an unspoken promise.

"Could you stay here a little longer?" he implored, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that debunk his usual confidence.

Aventurine's touch on your wrist sent a shiver down your spine, his thumb tracing a delicate path that seemed to awaken a flurry of sensations within you. Despite your initial instinct to recoil from his unexpected gesture, you found yourself captivated by the gentle caress, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes.

As you met his hypnotic gaze head-on, you couldn't help but acknowledge the sheer beauty that radiated from within those mesmerizing orbs. Up close, Aventurine's eyes were a breathtaking kaleidoscope of colors, each hue dancing in the light like shards of precious gemstones. It was a sight to behold, one that left you momentarily spellbound by its sheer magnificence.

"What? Why do you want me to stay?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of confusion.

For a moment, Aventurine remained silent, his gaze never wavering from yours as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. And then, with a quiet sincerity that took you by surprise, he spoke.

"Have you already forgotten?" he responded, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to envelop the space between you. "You were the one who encouraged me to speak my mind, weren’t you? I simply followed your advice. But truthfully... It's because I desire your company. It's strangely... comforting."

You sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders dissipate as you contemplated his request. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to indulge your request occasionally," you relented, a subtle smile playing at the edges of your lips. "I'll grant you some leeway, considering you appear to be like a patient in bed."

Aventurine's laughter filled the room once more, a melodious sound that seemed to echo with a sense of amusement.

"How lucky I am," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he savored the moment. It was as though he reveled in the serendipity of your encounter, finding solace in the unexpected connection that had brought you two together.

As the laughter subsided, he couldn't help but be curious about the circumstances that had led you to his room.

"So, how did you get in my room?"

Your expression turned thoughtful for a moment, as if pondering how best to explain. "Oh, I met this Doctor called Veritas Ratio.”

As Aventurine chuckled at the absurdity of it all, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twists and turns that had led you to this ending scene, here and now, with you by Aventurine’s side.

#honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine x you #star rail aventurine #hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #aventurine fanfic #honkai star rail x reader

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romchat · 9 months ago

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The Double (Ep. 17): Into the fog of the unknown

I'm not a fan of color theorizing, but they're really pulling all the stops here to communicate how different Xue Fangfei and Duke Su's relationship is, aren't they?

What I especially love about this visual parallelism is that while there's some similarity in the camera's framing, there are significant differences in the context and blocking of the two scenes:

The moment doesn't take place in an idyllic fairytale setting under falling blossoms but instead outside a seedy gambling den in the pouring rain. Although Fangfei might be drunk, she's no longer under any illusions about the dangerous world she has decided to enter for her revenge.

She's no longer dancing to her ex-husband's tune but instead forging her own path and reveling in the well-earned success of her life's gamble.

She doesn't feel the burden of acting like a demure and selfless wife and daughter-in-law but instead free to express herself (and, to a certain extent, her desires). See also: @songkangsbottomteethcirca2020's excellent analysis of Fangfei and Duke Su's character development.

SIDE NOTE: I laughed when she teased Duke Su (sorry, I guess we've graduated to "Xiao Heng" now) for getting shy at her calling him handsome. She can't admit her growing attraction without using alcohol as an excuse, but she wants him and recognizes his feelings too, which is why she gets annoyed when he rejects her for not being sober enough.

As usual, he gives her enough space to encourage her to think through the situation so she can exercise her autonomy and take full accountability for her choices.

What I find so compelling about their dynamic is that Fangfei might not be able to share the full truth of her situation, but she trusts Duke Su enough to have expectations of him. So when he confronts her for not only being dishonest about her feelings but also her identity and revenge plot, she still offers a small drunken confession:

Duke Su: I'll take you home. Fangfei: Home? I don't have a home anymore.

It's a just another confirmation of what he already suspects but it's painfully honest and makes her vulnerable. Yet despite learning more about how her attempted murder fits within larger political machinations at the Capital and how involving himself can affect his own plans, he still decides to side with her:

Duke Su: What coincidence. I also don't have a home anymore.

Unlike with her husband, Fangfei's faith in Duke Su isn't misplaced.

(Although I now wonder if there's any symbolism in the switch in costuming from her blood red robes to Shen Yurong's white. Will Fangfei sacrifice Duke Su in the future like her husband did in the past?)

Also, this gorgeous shot of them (literally) crossing a bridge into the fog of the unknown together?

I adore The Double's shameless sense of drama.

#the double #墨雨云间 #meta #cdrama

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 17)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

When an invitation to Tommy's wedding arrived, it was like a tsunami of feelings struck your spirit, shocking you to your core and leaving you breathless even after it passed.

Deep down you knew, deep down, that you would never forget the consequences that would run through your family's very roots if you turned down the invitation to his wedding. However, in the midst of this profound insight, your contemplative mind wondered if the heavy weight of emotional turmoil that this occasion bore was truly worth the endurance and perseverance it required.

Your father Arthur had gone silent, not a word exchanged, for months on end. He did not know about your secret yet, namely that, several months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby boy. In fact, no one knew other than Ada and, luckily for you, Ada vowed to honour her commitment of utmost secrecy to you, valiantly concealing her own penetrating doubts about the progenitor's identity, yet lacking verifiable certainty.

Two months had passed since her last visit, when destiny laid bare the truth before her very eyes. The arrival was an unforeseen surprise but, she has been supporting you ever since. Being a single mother herself, she understood what you needed and this was emotional support and encouragement especially after you told her that you never intended to carry this pregnancy to term.

By a cruel twist of fate, it was discovered at the last minute that you were expecting your uncle's child. Termination was an unthinkable option by this point and one that you fiercely denied as you had already carried your son for twenty weeks without showing. It was confusing to you having to go through this alone but, in the end, you managed surprisingly fine.

Then, after you gave birth, in the midst of a maze of people, you met a kind hearted doctor named Robert who looked after your son after he was born.

Rich and well-connected, Robert seemed like a perfect match for you. He was kind and loving, treating your son as if he was his own. He was a man of unwavering dependability, someone you could always count on. However, a sense of unease crept over you when he expressed his desire to accompany you and your son on the imminent journey to Birmingham.

Robert was blissfully ignorant of the fact that your son was born out of the covert union between you and your very own uncle as, for months, you had been entwined in a web of forbidden passion and secrecy. He also had no idea how powerful your family really was and that their illegal activities could potentially put him into danger. Thirdly, you knew deep down in the pit of your heart that Tommy and your father would never approve of him.

“Robert, I am not sure if you coming to Birmingham with me is really such a good idea,” you thus said cautiously as Robert looked up into your eyes with a hint of doubt on his face.

"Y/N, please," Robert said with genuine sincerity. "I will be extremely happy to become acquainted with your family, especially if you should ever feel inclined to accept my marriage proposal,” he went on to say, causing you to sigh.

"We talked about this, Robert," you said coolly, looking into his sincere eyes. "My heart and mind aren't ready to dive headfirst into the world of commitment just yet,” you told him before taking a moment to collect your thoughts and attempting to unravel the complex web of your family's past.

“You see, Robert, my family is not like other families. They have a certain toughness that comes from running those factories and gambling dens I told you about,” you casually disclosed, hinting at the lawful ventures conducted under your family's wise leadership, rather than their illegal and illicit endeavours.

Robert dismissed the statement with a casual shrug of his shoulders and said, "So what? They export machinery and take bets on horses”, causing you to nod. “There are worse ways to make money," he then told you reassuringly, cupping your face before telling you a disturbing story of young desperation. He described a terrifying reality that had occurred just the day before. Two frail spirits, who were both gently starting their fourteenth year, had fallen prey to the deadly grip of cocaine's seductive appeal. But even before his depressing words could fill the room, you spoke up, breaking the heavy silence.

"Alright, alright! I will take you to meet my family, but you need to promise me not to bring up stories like this when you are around them. No mention of drugs and no mention of...anything to do with the prohibition and...just keep it simple...small talk only," you stammered nervously, not wanting him to create a conflict within your realms.

Robert nodded understandingly, his eyes reflecting the love he had for you. "I promise, Y/N. I will be on my best behaviour and avoid any topics that may cause discomfort or conflict. Your family's approval means the world to me, and I would never want to jeopardize that."

***

As the days passed and the date of Tommy's wedding drew near, you couldn't help but feel a mix of resentment and nervousness. The thought of introducing Robert to your family, specifically your unpredictable father and secretive uncle, made you tremble with apprehension. But evermore so, the fact that Tommy was getting married to Lizzie made you sick with nausea.

You despised her and, unbeknownst to Robert, you still loved him. You were in love with your very own uncle who was a dangerous man and the father of your son, whom he knew nothing about.

This incestuous relation had kept you captivated against all odds. You had often dreamt of the day when these secret encounters would turn into an actual romantic relationship, though you realized that this will never happen.

And there lay the crux of your problem – your undying infatuation towards Tommy amidst the growing bond with Robert, even after all the heartache Tommy had caused you.

The torrid dance between love and hate played out ceaselessly inside your restrained psyche now, consuming you entirely again.

On one hand, you never wanted to see your uncle Tommy again but then, on the other hand, you longed for him more than anything else. It appeared almost inconceivable how deeply enmeshed you were in the intricate snarl of these raw, fervent emotions. And, unfortunately, as much as you hated yourself for harboring these feelings, you simply couldn’t deny them.

Love or lust, whatever it was - it was intense. Every time you heard his name, every thought of him sent waves of arousal coursing through your veins, a constant reminder of your last few nights together before you were sent to America.

One night, in particular, was engraved in your memory like a tattoo and even though, that night, you were furious about his will to send you away just over elven months ago, you resolved whatever tension there was simply by being honest with each other.

That night, Tommy told you that he loved you more than life itself but, just like life, love wasn't always fair.

Backflash...

In a backflash, you remembered how, just the night before you left for Boston, Tommy took you to a place had never taken anyone else before.

It was his sacred place, his sanctuary, nestled among ancient trees where memories whispered softly in the wind.

Located on long abandoned land which he purchased without the knowledge of his family, a Gypsy wagon stood amongst wild flowers. Inside, candles flickered softly casting dancing shadows upon rough wooden walls covered in paintings depicting scenes from his past. There, hidden from prying eyes, he felt safe enough to express himself freely and vulnerably.

"Why did you buy this land?" you asked him quietly as you dismounted your horse and secured it against one of the large trees while looking around the peaceful scenery.

Tommy's voice sounded deeper than usual, touched with emotion, as he explained his reasoning behind purchasing the land. "Because I needed somewhere quiet to think sometimes, someplace where I didn't have to worry about anyone finding me," he told you as he approached and cupped your face tenderly.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone, the tenderness evident in his gaze as he stared intently into your eyes. "Away from everyone and everything," he continued softly, his fingers brushing across your lips. "Just one more time… let us forget about who we are, eh? Let's enjoy ourselves here tonight..." Tommy went on to say and you couldn't resist the intensity of his stare nor his touch, the warmth in his voice drawing you closer to him.

"Why do I have to leave, Thomas?" you questioned him sadly, unable to mask your sorrow.

"Because, unless one of us does, I will not be able to resist this constant temptation that pulls us toward each other Love," he admitted solemnly, regret etched on his brow. His eyes held yours steadfastly, refusing to look away, seemingly willing you to understand why it must be done.

"Then don't resist!" you urged passionately, stepping forward to press your body against his firm frame. Desire surging between you two, like an electric current sparking alive every cell within your bodies.

"You know it's not that fucking simple, eh?" Tommy growled, frustration seeping into his tone. "You are my fucking niece and we both know that this needs to stop," he declared forcefully, trying to suppress the desire threatening to consume him whole. But instead of withdrawing from your embrace, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. It was as if the very essence of his soul sought release through your mouth, through your body.

As your tongues tangled, he delved deep inside, probing and exploring, seeking something neither of you fully understood. With each thrust of his tongue, he seemed to find a part of you, awakening new sensations and passions.

"Don't you dare push me away for good, Tommy" you murmured breathily, clutching at his waist, digging your nails into his skin.

"We can't go on this way Love," he groaned, sweat trickling down his temple. "I want to protect you, and the rest of my family," he insisted, pulling back slightly, yet still maintaining eye contact with determination. "We need distance," he added.

He pushed you further against the tree behind you, pinning you there as he ravaged your mouth once more, his hands roaming eagerly over your curves.

Swept up in the moment, you lost track of time, the space around you falling away until there was only him—his scent, his taste, his touch. As his hand skimmed teasingly down your throat, stopping at the base of your neck, the feeling of being desired by this man consumed you completely.

He pressed harder against you, the heat radiating off his hard body causing your nipples to pebble beneath your clothes. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you ground your hips against him, silently begging for relief.

"Please, Tommy," you pleaded, gasping for air, begging him to take you.

Tommy paused, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain control of his ragged breathing. Gathering what little composure remained, he ran his calloused finger down your neck, tracing its curve towards your shoulder blade, creating goosebumps along your skin.

Reaching beneath your skirt, he pulled down your panties roughly, exposing your feminine folds to the cool evening breeze, sending shivers running down your spine. Your legs began to quiver involuntarily.

His hot breath tickled your ear as he muttered huskily, "just one last time, eh?" before unbuckling his belt swiftly. He then unzipped his pants and pushed them down, causing his erection to spring free, thick and hard, demanding attention.

Without warning, he pushed up your skirt and made you lift your right leg so that it would wrap around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to align his manhood with your soaking wet core.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him position himself. Desire, excitement, and fearsome anticipation melded together inside you, creating a potent mix of emotions. Your thighs trembled violently, preparing themselves for his penetration.

In spite of his best efforts to retain self-control, the animal instinct rose to the surface when Tommy grabbed hold of your ass and yanked you flush against his rock-hard cock. Then, he gave it a slight push, forcing entry into your tight, moist cavern.

"Ah! Oh god yes!" you cried out loud, welcoming his fullness with sheer bliss.

Feeling the warmth of his flesh spread throughout your entire being, you moaned, reveling in the pleasure you were experiencing.

Your head fell backward against the tree trunk as you absorbed the powerful sensations pulsing through your body.

Every nerve ending came alive with exquisite pleasure as Tommy began to move rhythmically inside you. The moonlight cast a soft glow on his rugged features, illuminating the raw passion consuming him. The air filled with the primal sounds of ecstasy as your lovers joined together in their most fervent union.

As the fire ignited between you both grew stronger, Tommy wrapped his arms securely around your waist, locking you tightly against him. He moved with deliberate precision, ensuring he hit all the sweet spots with each thrust.

"Fuck Love, you feel so good," his voice rumbled low in his chest, resonating deep within your core.

"Tell me how good my cock makes you feel, tell me how much you want it."

Panting heavily, you managed to reply, "Oh God, Tommy... I can barely stand it anymore... I want it so bad, so fucking badly... you make me feel things I've never felt before."

Tommy grunted with satisfaction, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so fucking much," he said hoarsely, reaching down to cup your breast, rolling your already swollen nipple between his fingers.

"I love you too, Tommy" you moaned as the pressure built up gradually, becoming almost too intense. Sensations flooded your body, culminating in a wave of pure bliss that coursed through you as you reached orgasm. Throwing your head back, your cries echoed around the woodland clearing, filling the silence with your rapturous release and, within seconds, Tommy followed suit.

His movements became erratic, his breath coming in short bursts. Grunting audibly, he poured every bit of pent-up energy into the act, leaving nothing left for tomorrow. The earth shook beneath you, trees creaked and rustled, and birds scattered as the primordial forces took hold, claiming its prey.

Drenched in perspiration, Tommy cradled your face, tears streaming down his own as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Promise me, no matter what happens in America, you won't forget our time together, eh" he whispered, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Never," you replied earnestly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Our connection runs far deeper than just blood. It may change form, but it shall always remain," you said without knowing that your forever continuing connection would be through the birth of your son.

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one-flower-one-sword · 11 months ago

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Sending virtual hugs! 🌸

I’m wondering about your thoughts on Xie Lian and how he views Hua Cheng and the Gambling Den.

He expressed to Hua Cheng his concerns about how dangerous it is, and let it go when he understood that he and Hua Cheng have differing views on the matter.

It makes me wonder how things would have unfolded if the man who gambled to have his competitors die or give his daughter’s life and marriage if he lost, had been able to complete his bet without interruption. Like how much is Hua Cheng involved in something like that?

Would that man simply have walked away with the luck he needed to get what he wanted? I can’t see Hua Cheng actively hunting down and killing those people.

But I can see him allowing the man the luck needed to make his desires come true - so not actively engaging but not interfering with the man’s terrible decisions - kind of like with how he dealt with He Xuan.

I’m not completely sold on that thought though…😅 your thoughts?

Thank you! 🌸

And thank you for your ask! I love talking about Ghost City :3

I've thought about similar things regarding the Gambler's Den, but ultimately, I think it's on purpose that we don't find out for sure and are left to wonder. Especially since, at this point in the story, both the reader and Xie Lian are still slowly uncovering who Hua Cheng is as a person.

When we look at this scene after everything is revealed, I think it's quite clear from the mockingly derisive way he talks to him that Hua Cheng did not like that guy, and I wonder if he would even have taken that second bet if Xie Lian and the others hadn't been there - he seems to have a pretty good understanding of Lang Qianqiu's character when be talks about him with Xie Lian later, so I can see him use that second bet as a lure to make Lang Qianqiu cause a commotion. Because then Hua Cheng gets to "discover" that Xie Lian and the others are there, which means he has a reason to invite Xie Lian to Paradise Manor, which is necessary to make that whole "have them rescue 'Ming Yi' so that He Xuan's cover isn't blown" plan work.

As an aside, though of course Hua Cheng is always happy when he gets to spend time with Xie Lian, I think he must have deeply hated deceiving him like this. It speaks to how much he values his arrangement with He Xuan and how vital the information He Xuan provides is to him - which is proven when right after this, the whole Fang Xin reveal happens. Without He Xuan monitoring what's happening in heaven and relaying the information to him, Hua Cheng wouldn't have known that Xie Lian got locked inside his palace and couldn't have come to rescue him.

Back to the topic at hand though. I think it's worth looking at the actual dialog when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng discuss the den because there's so much in there:

After some hesitation, Xie Lian spoke up again. "San Lang, it may be out of line for me, but I still have to say it. That Gambler's Den of yours is incredibly dangerous. Won't it blow up in your face one day?"

A place that allowed the betting of sons and daughters and people's lives, granting wishes for others' sudden deaths - it was dreadfully sinful. Never mind a little brawl; if one day the bets got out of hand, the Heavenly Realm wouldn't be able to stay on the sidelines.

Hua Cheng gave him a look.

"Your Highness, did you ask Lang Qianqiu why he had to jump into that mess?"

Xie Lian was slightly taken aback, not quite understanding the intent of the question.

Hua Cheng continued, "I bet he must have told you that if he didn't do it, no one else would."

He was amazingly on the mark, obviously having seen through Lang Qianqiu.

"That's indeed what he said." Xie Lian admitted.

"Then I'm the complete opposite," Hua Cheng said. "If I don't control a place like this, then someone else will. I'd rather that person be me."

Xie Lian knew when to back down, and he nodded. "I understand."

It seemed, although Hua Cheng was the sentimental sort, he also cared more about control and power than Xie Lian realized.

It's fascinating that it we look at what Xie Lian actually says and thinks here, what he mainly seems to be worried about is what would happen to Hua Cheng and his friendship with Hua Cheng should Jun Wu be given reason to actively start going against him. Which is also what Xie Lian worries about during this entire mission - what will happen if it turns out Hua Cheng is involved with a heavenly official's disappearance and heaven retaliates, what will happen if he's not involved and Xie Lian has destroyed their friendship by deceiving him. It doesn't matter to Xie Lian that Hua Cheng is a Ghost King and that they're technically on opposite sides - he's decided based on his own experiences and judgment that Hua Cheng is a good person and a good friend, and he's already at this point very protective of him. Especially since he's not unaware that the heavenly realm in general and Jun Wu in particular do not share his opinion on Hua Cheng, and the political implications thereof:

Jun Wu turned around. "Tell me, what kind of extraordinary character did you engage with when you descended this time?"

Xie Lian raised his hand. "My Lord, I swear I did nothing. Just, one day by chance, I encountered an interesting young man on the road, and we spent some time together. I didn't think much of it."

Ju Wu nodded. "Chance encounter, young man, Supreme Ghost King. Xianle, surely you are aware what the consequences would be if Ming Guang was to question you further and you confessed to this in front of the other officials? No one would believe you."

"Xianle knows," Xie Lian replied woefully. "So, I'm grateful for My Lord's timely intervention. My Lord, you're not actually going to interrogate me, are you? I wouldn't collude with the Ghost Realm. These are absurd concerns."

"Naturally, I know you would not intentionally collude with the Ghost Realm," Jun Wu said.

"I'm grateful for My Lord's trust," Xie Lian replied.

Xie Lian is definitely stretching the truth here with the "I didn't think much of it" part, given that by the end of his investigation in Banyue, he damn well knew that the "interesting young man" was Supreme Ghost King Hua Cheng, and then he kept spending time with him regardless. He's very careful about protecting their friendship by downplaying it and being vague, and further than that, he's very careful about protecting Hua Cheng. We've already seen this earlier when Pei Ming was interrogating him - Xie Lian even pretended not to know who that "red-clothed young man" was because he rightfully deduced that Pei Ming would try to use Hua Cheng as a scapegoat to get Xiao Pei off the hook. Then when Pei Ming does try to pin the whole thing on Hua Cheng, Xie Lian immediately speaks up in his defense:

"General Pei, let's keep things clear and separate. Let's not talk about whether the young man I traveled with was Hua Cheng or not. At the very least, even if he was indeed Hua Cheng, that has nothing to do with what General Pei Junior has done. A Supreme Ghost King might have the worst possible name on people's tongues, but not everything can be blamed on him."

I find it very telling that the reason Xie Lian is being so carefully vague is less so he himself won't get into trouble and more that he's very aware that if Hua Cheng gets wrongfully accused, no one will question it simply because of who and what Hua Cheng is. And it's that kind of injustice and prejudice that Xie Lian will always stand up against. At this point he still completely trusts Jun Wu, but when it comes to Hua Cheng, Xie Lian not only disagrees but actively disobeys, though he's careful about how much of that he shows in front of Jun Wu:

Jun Wu shook his head. "I should not comment on the friends you make, but I will say this: Be careful of Hua Cheng."

Hearing this, Xie Lian bowed his head slightly, keeping his eyes down and saying nothing. He should've responded with "Yes, My Lord," as he should have been able to say yes with ease by that point. Yet, for some reason, he really didn't want to say that particular "yes".

Hua Cheng likewise also understands his and Xie Lian's respective positions and is careful not to endanger Xie Lian. Like here, when he explains why he put up somewhat of an act of not knowing Xie Lian because there were other heavenly officials present:

"Since gege is here, why not come in? We haven't been apart for that long, so don't be a stranger to San Lang."

At his beckoning, Xie Lian let down the beaded curtain. "Earlier in the Gambler's Den, it was San Lang who pretended not to recognize me."

Hua Cheng approached and stopped at Xie Lian's side. "Lang Qianqiu was there too, so if I didn't put on an act, I'd be giving gege trouble."

Or here when he's content to be accused of having maliciously kidnapped Xie Lian if that means Xie Lian won't be suspected of resisting his arrest and made to look guilty:

Xie Lian finally understood. Shi Qingxuan could see that Hua Cheng had no ill intent, but on the surface, they had to pretend that Hua Cheng had only barged into the Heavens to collect his due. It would prevent gossip from those how might suggest that Xie Lian had maliciously and intentionally absconded. Hua Cheng understood Shi Qingxuan's intent and had played along. However, Xie Lian didn't want to go this route.

"All right, stop acting. He only came to the Heavens to save me. San Lang had good intentions, so why conceal them?"

Hua Cheng does this to protect Xie Lian, but Xie Lian likewise wants to protect him. This has ended up quite long-winded, but I wanted to look for more evidence of why I think that Xie Lian mainly brought up the Gambler's Den because he's worried that the bets could end up endangering Hua Cheng himself.

Hua Cheng sincerely thanks Xie Lian for his concern, but makes it clear that he doesn’t quite agree, and I think it's worth looking into why that is.

I've seen Hua Cheng be described as completely amoral by fans, but I don't think that's how the text actually portrays him. He certainly can be quite critical and cynical with his views on both humans and gods, but his reasoning for establishing and keeping the den isn't "I don't care what happens there" or "I want places like this to exist for my own gain". He is, at least from his perspective and based on his experiences, simply being grimly realistic about how if he forbids these kinds of bets, the people who want to conduct them will simply move underground and do their gambling in secret. So not only will these bets happen either way, someone else will eventually take control of such a place, and Hua Cheng doesn't trust that such a person wouldn't take advantage of it.

Hua Cheng isn't amoral, he just has his own perspective on morality and justice. He's also not passive and uncaring in the face of what he perceives as wrong and unjust, but he doesn't really talk about that openly unless prompted. Like here during the Black Water arc, when they discuss the scroll with (supposedly) the names of victims of the Reverend of Empty Words:

Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng. "San Lang, you said it's full of outrageous mistakes. How so?"

Hua Cheng scooted over to him, they were now sitting much closer than before. Hua Cheng pointed at a few names. "These are wrong."

Xie Lian looked at the names closely; all of them were known to be lawless, malevolently evil tyrants. "How do you know?"

"Because I killed them," Hua Cheng said.

Hua Cheng deeply hates people who abuse the power they wield, to the point that he personally acts against them. I think this ties in well with his reasoning about the Gambler's Den. I don't think there's anything in the text that suggests Xie Lian is upset to realize that Hua Cheng cares more about power and control than he'd thought, just surprised - until he comes to Ghost City, Xie Lian has mostly been around the very laid-back "San Lang", and this is the first time he's encountered Hua Cheng in his own territory, where he's a Ghost King ruling over the largest settlement within the ghost realm.

Also Xie Lian doesn't know this yet, but given everything we later learn about Hua Cheng's past, I think it's quite obvious that Hua Cheng's preoccupation with the power and control he wields, as well as his contempt for those who abuse theirs, is rooted deeply in the trauma he's gone through. Control in particular is a huge thing for him for several reasons, one of the main ones being that as a child, he was repeatedly punished for things outside his control, and he internalized that pattern to the point where he now punishes himself for things outside his control, as is shown repeatedly when he decides he's failed Xie Lian in some way. But I'm going to go into more detail about this in my Hua Cheng + trauma responses meta.

Lastly, I think it's important to keep in mind that the text makes clear that even when Xie Lian and Hua Cheng disagree, rather than a point of conflict it's actually proof of how strong and healthy their relationship is. I've sometimes seen fans (not you) portray their relationship as Xie Lian being irritated with Hua Cheng's attitude towards others, having him either be somewhat grudgingly resigned to it or actively trying to change Hua Cheng's behavior. But when we actually look at the text, we realize that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the opposite is the case - Xie Lian is incredibly protective of him and repeatedly gets defensive when others judge and blame Hua Cheng. I'm gonna examine that in more detail in my hualian meta though, so for now, I hope this turned out a satisfying answer!

#answered asks #silver-cyn #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #ghost city

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fuckyeahmeikokaji · 8 months ago

Text

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子) in Gambling Den Desire (鉄火場慕情), 1970, directed by Keiichi Ozawa (小沢啓一).

Scanned by me.

#Meiko Kaji #梶芽衣子 #Gambling Den Desire #Keiichi Ozawa #鉄火場慕情 #小沢啓一 #lobby card #scanned by me

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corvus-the-trickster · 8 months ago

Note

Honestly is it any wonder that Evie and Jacob gravitated towards Henry & Roth (respectively).

A month after their father's passing (at least according to theirs and George's bios) they're sent on a mission with George who seems annoyed by them both ("a successful mission then, in spite of you two") and then they go to London and (at least that we can see as an audience) Henry is the first person to truly offer condolences for their father's death, something that would resonate with Evie considering how much she revered Ethan. And then there's Jacob, who spends most of the game being insulted by the templar's (Ferris calling him a coward, Elliotson mocking him about Ethan, Pearl using him, the Earl of Cardigan calling him a villain and a coward etc) and then here comes along this man (Roth) who calls him brave and heroic and seems to genuinely like him and the way he does things (which is important later with Evie's comment of "father was right he never approved of your methods").

They're probably both still grieving to various degrees and are looking for some sort of comfort. Evie resonates with Henry who is kind and gentle (and we know Ethan was emotionally and physically distant from them) and Jacob resonates with Roth who shows him approval and praise and warmth, something he might not have gotten from Ethan. In a way Henry and Roth are filling in the gaps of what Evie and Jacob might've felt was missing from their lives. Except in Jacob's case Roth is more so what he wants rather than what he needs and it ends in tragedy.

This is long and ramble-y sorry. I just have a lotta thoughts about these 2 and I'm bad at articulating things.

Jacobs bio at the end also talks about how Ethan's death granted him freedom from being the watchman and that freedom aspect probably tuns a whole lot deeper what with his canonical night time escapades in gambling rings and dens. And what does Roth offer? That very same freedom he say desires. Maybe not explicitly but it's very much implied.

Jacob gets that freedom away from Ethan's expectations (be it from ethan, evie, george or other assassins) via that chaos from Roth. Even with as cautious as one should be around Roth, Roth still gives him at least the illusion of choice when it comes to the start of their partnership.

#assassins creed #assassins creed syndicate #jacob frye #evie frye #jayadeep mir #maxwell roth #henvie #rothfrye

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justporo · 1 year ago

Text

In between madness

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 8

Author's Note: It's been like a week since I last updated - I needed to a bit of a break from this and now I feel the creative juices flowing better again. This is still rather... unremarkable? We're getting back into safer waters and to more exciting stuff soon I hope!

Astarion and Tav catch a small break from all the hedonistic craziness - not from their own shenanigans though. From here on out it will be a lot of chaotic gremlin energy with these two...

Songs: Stuck - Thirty Seconds to Mars Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Explicit Warnings: talk of past trauma

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ~~~

Having had enough of all the sinful shenanigans happening all around you for the time being, you both decided to get back to the ballroom – there was only so much of deep and dark desires that you could handle all at once. Although you couldn’t help but feel that you were of course much more affected by all this than Astarion was.

When you mentioned that observation to Astarion while you were making your way back, the vampire threw you a genuine tired smile. As you kept walking he dragged on your joint hands to pull you in closer so he could talk to you more silently as you passed through previous rooms. The guests, it seemed, had only become drunker and more unhinged since you had started exploring.

“Two hundred years of stuff like this is a quite frankly a long time to have your reactions dulled down a lot, my sweet”, he simply said – his voice lacking the usual tinge of playfulness.

You squeezed his hand affectionately before you replied: “I’m sorry, darling. I- I hope this is not…” Before you could even finish Astarion made a dismissive gesture with his other hand. Immediately you saw how his usual wit returned.

“I’m replacing tainted memories with more lovely ones as we speak, dear. For all that twisted shit going on here and all the memories it might bring back: I am still mostly thinking about that delicious strawberry that you so graciously offered me earlier, my heart”, the vampire drawled. His eyebrow twitched teasingly and his signature smirk was back also.

You would never get over just how quickly this man’s mood seemed to swing. One could argue that the term ‘drama queen’ would spring to mind.

Not even replying to his sultry comment you just gave him a look. He chuckled. And the rising tension of unwanted memories was at least for the moment resolved.

“It’s just… I thought I was more prepared. I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of messed up shit”, you continued as you left another room you had crossed before – the gambling den (and you couldn’t help but notice that cards and dice strewn about meant that some tables must have… tipped.)

“Absolutely, my love, I mean I was there for what I would guess was some of the most messed up shit. And if I may add” – he put his hand on his chest in his casually elegant manner – “I might even have been responsible for some of the fucked up stuff you’ve been put through”, Astarion gave back. The teasing tone was fully back now and his voice lowered for the last part until it was nothing but a whisper. His breath caressed your ear before he softly nibbled on it shortly – a drive-by reminder of what he could put you through.

You blushed and pressed your lips together until they were nothing but a thin line. This bastard just always had to keep going until he had you all flustered. You heard his triumphant chuckle.

You abruptly stopped and stomped down on his foot, catching him off-guard – payback! He stumbled into you and almost doubled over, making a nearby servant having to swerve around you.

“OWW!”, Astarion yelped and then hissed at you – his undying love for you temporarily put on hold. “You shithead!”, he spat at you.

“Yeah, just be thankful you didn’t put heels on me, you twat!”, you hissed back. He could change the mood suddenly. But guess what, so could you.

“What in the Nine Hells was that even for?”

“Don’t play coy, you know exactly what that was for! Stop making me all blushed and flustered at the most unwelcomed of times – and very much in public!”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed dangerously and you saw in his red eyes that he was ready to spit back again. But he, surprisingly, seemed to think better of it. But your sense of victory was only short lived when you saw the devilish sparkle in his crimson eyes.

“Oh, this isn’t over, love. Far from it”, the vampire promised, letting his tongue roll around in his mouth.

You stared at him and realised you might have made a mistake in thinking you could take it up with him on that. You stared at each other for a while. The vampire did not falter in the slightest.

But then Astarion just put his hand on the small of your back and proceeded to push you forward. “Not now though, my love, my payback will come in its own time, don’t worry”, he said cheerfully and drew out the last two words. And you blushed again.

But you were trying to be smarter about it now and refrained from trying to resist. You didn’t need to look at your vampire to know that a feral grin had found its way on his beautiful face.

Then, the two of you wandered quickly back through the rest of this maze of a mansion while trying to avoid the incubus or the drug den. And surely only after a few more minutes you made it back to the staircase that would quickly lead you back to the ballroom. You had been silent during the last couple of minutes of walking. But not because you were mad at Astarion (you could never stay mad at him for long if you were honest with yourself), but rather because your mind kept circling back to all you had seen, replaying scenes and images like a carousel. And on top of that you could feel that the whole rush of adrenaline set off by all the happenings so far started to wear off.

As you walked down the stairs, holding Astarion’s hand, the vampire threw you another glance: “Everything alright, my love?” He actually looked a little worried about you now.

You nodded at him as you kept thinking and dwelling in the oncoming wave of exhaustion. Truly, an opportunity to rest your eyes for a moment and also sit down would have been nice. But you were also determined to not let up and let Astarion have the full fun evening he’d been excited about for quite some time. So you decided to just push on – bit of exhaustion had never kept you from going on when much more perilous things than your social standing had been at stake during your joint adventures.

“I’m good”, you answered and squeezed his hand in assurance as you took the last couple of steps and were standing at the base of the staircase. Other than servants carrying around trays to and from the kitchen like bees busy to feed and provide for their hive, it was almost completely and pleasantly quiet and empty.

Every now and again, guests ventured up the stairs. But again, you couldn’t help but notice that people seemed to wander upstairs but so far it seemed you were one of the few that had come down again. Seemingly, it was almost as if two parties were going on at once – leaving the guests to decide if they were willing to cross a line; and some might even discovering that it had been a point of no return.

You were already heading back towards the direction of the big ballroom, but Astarion tugged on your joint hands and dragged you towards another direction – towards where the kitchen must be and the servants kept crossing. You grumbled at him for just dragging you on but the vampire just kept pulling you on with a smirk and a wink (“so many people would dream of me stealing them away and leading them to a hidden, dark corner, love. And here you are complaining for getting special treatment? Tss. Also didn’t we just talk about how you wanted me to not make you flustered in front of others?”)

But he didn’t lead you to a dark corner or even towards the kitchen but straight to where you hadn’t even noticed another set of double doors led outside. Much smaller than the ones you’d seen before and when you saw that it was just some of the staff standing around there and catching a break, you figured that it must be like a side entrance.

Astarion dragged you outside, earning some displeased looks from servants. But they still just went and left – obviously being instructed to not mess with guests and treating them with the utmost respect; no matter if they deserved it or not.

You stepped out onto a small round backyard that was now deserted except for the two of you. The space was surrounded by high hedges and much less pompous than the rest of the gardens or estate. A gravel path led around a pretty boring fountain and that was already the extent of the decorations.

It was pretty clear, that whoever had built this place had thought to accommodate servants with a little space – but only with barest minimum, baring them even from having a view on the city. Probably so they wouldn’t get ideas of working somewhere else, down there.

But despite the dull surroundings you were actually grateful for getting to have a few moments of peace amongst the rush of everything that was this night. You had imagined that it would be a wild ride, but this had felt quite like the fever dream for some parts.

Already you weren’t sure if you had actually seen the incubus with his pack of thirsty adorers or the poet reciting his dark words while being covered in blood. You still felt the buzz from all the drinks you’d had so far but in the crisp autumn air it let up a little. Your head cleared – as if you had come up from a dive and could finally get some fresh air into your lungs.

A sudden and even more urgent rush of exhaustion overcame you now and you realised that you had been holding way more tension in your body than you had admitted to yourself. And you suddenly felt the need to sit down.

So, you did and watched how a very poor stream of water came out the top of the boring fountain and pattered down into the basin below. Carefully you draped your skirts around you as to not ruin the wonderful garment. And on a whim, you stuck your head between your knees and let out a muffled groan – a mix of exhaustion and the pent-up tension.

Apparently, this, all this had taken much more of a toll on you then you would have thought: from the prospect of having to go to this spectacle and having to put up with rich arseholes (instead of just stabbing them with the pointy end of a knife and taking their purse) to experiencing a literal carnival of sin that tried to lure you in at every corner. Having sat down, giving yourself just a tiny break, you felt a bit like an oil lamp that you realised was about to run out of fuel.

“So, that’s what ‘good’ looks on you, my love, eh? What does ‘bad’ look like then, hm?”, Astarion said with a teasing and soft tone to you as he sat down beside you on the few steps leading down to the gravel path. Some tiny stones crunched under the soles of his fine leather shoes.

He softly placed a hand on your back and let it wander up and down – from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck where some small strands of hair had escaped from Astarion’s attempts of taming them with some pins.

“I’m not made for this kind of shit”, you muttered, your head still buried in between your knees.

You felt incredible grateful in this moment for Astarion seeing and realising your need to catch an actual break for a moment. It sometimes still surprised you how incredibly perceptive the vampire was. And the way he was so concerned about your well-being actually melted your heart.

Since the two of you had actually been in a committed relationship Astarion had been nothing but an actual sweetheart.

Yes, you bickered like an old married couple most of the time but that was just part of your chemistry. Yes, he made you occasionally want to scale a wall because of his antics. And yes, he sometimes almost lost his mind when you were unreasonable and stubborn about something.

But you loved each other and cared for each other deeply. And that fact was so deeply rooted in the basis of your relationship now that you could honestly assure yourself that there wasn’t something you were surer of in your life.

And so, you were thankful for Astarion – yet again – helping you with taking care of yourself a little better. This time, by having you sit down for a minute and relax instead of forcing yourself to always just push through.

For a few moments you just sat there, eyes closed, listening intently to the pitter of the boring fountain weakly spewing out water and some clattering from the nearby kitchen while focusing on the pleasant feeling of the vampire’s hand gently stroking your back.

“I think you’ve done rather well so far, my love!”, Astarion cheerfully exclaimed after a few more moments of calming near-perfect silence and pat-patted your back. “You screamed at some pretentious people, were the most beautiful person at this event and yet still haven’t sold your soul away for some temporary indulgence and also still have all your limbs about yourself – not even to mention your dignity”, he went on happily. “I’d actually call this evening quite the success so far.”

The vampire affectionately put his arm around you and pulled you against his shoulder as he said that. Then he bowed down and pressed a small kiss against your ear that tickled you and made you wriggle in the comforting hold of his arm.

“I thought I was only the second most beautiful person at this event?”, you replied from between your knees but couldn’t help letting a teasing tone enter your voice.

“I mean obviously, my sweet. But that’s what I get for trying to be nice? For trying to put my beloved before myself? I was only trying to make you feel better, love, but if little white lies is where you draw the line... And don’t go complaining about my ego again then!”

You peeked from where your head was still buried between your legs and saw that Astarion had started to gesticulate in one of his dramatic fashions. He was clearly putting on an act to cheer you up – and you loved him for it. Also, it was working.

“Yeah yeah, you’re putting me before you especially in the kind of situation you want me to stab someone for you”, you simply replied as you felt yourself starting to grin.

“What art thou accusing me of, villain, ‘tis a vile rebuke!”, Astarion went on placing the back of his free hand on his forehead then looking at you from the corner of his eyes seeing you peek up from your crouched position.

“Also, I can very well do my stabbing myself, thank you very much.”

The non-sense he kept spewing already made you forcefully draw down the corners of your mouth to not completely lose it.

“You’re full of shit – and yourself!”, you threw in.

“At least, I’m full of something!”

“Did you just call me hollow?” You lifted your head up from between your legs and stared at him in mock disbelief while struggling more and more to not break into laughter.

“You tell me.”

The audacity on this insolent godsdamned vampire.

But then as you kept staring at each other, both grinning, you just couldn’t contain yourself anymore. Some more tension easily left your body with the companionable laughter the two of you shared then.

Afterwards a hearty yawn broke free from your chest. And as you calmed down you went back to putting your head in between your knees with a deep breath. You really wanted to get back up again and keep going but then again – just sitting here with Astarion and goofing around was its own worthy pastime. Your partner started stroking your back again as you relaxed some more.

“If it’s too much though we can always leave, my heart. Get away from all this debauchery and the pretentious pricks. Although we’d be missing more chances to make ourselves the talk of town by the end of this night. But we could maybe grab a bottle or two of this wonderful champagne and make our own sinful little fun – at home”, the vampire broke the silence softly after a while – and with a tinge of naughty promise at the end.

You considered it for a moment because the thought of just spending the rest of the night with Astarion who would also probably make good on some promises from earlier in the night was indeed very enticing, but…

“No! We’ve fought literal fucking Gods! I am not going to back down because some wealthy, privileged noble arseholes are being mean to me or can’t keep it in their godsdamned pants”, you replied with a sudden exclamation and lifted your head up, looking up at Astarion.

And you saw the glint in his ruby eyes and knew that this had been exactly what he had intended. Astarion – as always – had known exactly what buttons he had to push with you. He knew exactly that you wouldn’t back down from a challenge.

But he had incited something in you know. You wouldn’t be intimidated or taken aback by all this stuff – as you’ve said before: some time ago you would have insulted all these arrogant assholes and taken their jewellery in the process. And ruining the night of some more of those nobles actually sounded like a wonderful idea right now.

You stood up from your reclined position, straightened your back and rolled back your shoulders, lifting up your chin. Astarion looked at you full of pride. His chest positively swelling with love and adoration for his fierce companion and lover.

“Good, because I didn’t have a single dance with you yet, my heart, and I would surely be inconsolable if I wouldn’t get the chance once to show off my wonderful lady. We can’t have that, can we?”, Astarion purred at you while he got up from his sitting position and stood in front of you.

He put his arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest in a single quick motion that made you gasp. Astarion looked at you with a fire starting to burn in his eyes that immediately made you feel the heat rise up in you again.

With his other hand Astarion cupped your face as he placed his forehead onto yours while firmly holding you against his body.

“No, we absolutely can’t have that”, you replied as a huge mischievous grin started to split your face.

Astarion’s smirk answered you with full power and he kissed you quickly and passionately. You were almost ready to completely lose yourself to him right then and there on the steps of this mediocre backyard when the vampire pulled back.

His glazed over eyes from the passionate and fierce kiss quickly coming back to a devilish sparkle.

“Let’s wreak some real havoc on this party then”, Astarion whispered, quickly pressing his lips onto yours again.

The grin you answered him with was almost feral: “Yes, let’s.”

Tags: Tags: @aurasyn

@margoteve

@usuallyunlikelyfox

@hollowmasque

@worryknotdear

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #a night of fake smiles and hidden lies #tav #bg3

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an-aroaces-harem · 1 year ago

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I find it interesting how different Kate reacts in concern of them seeing her underwear in Jude's and Ellis' premium ends of the current story event (VILLAIN'S NIGHT)

Nsfw-ish content under the cut

Jude's end is way more crude and sexual and while Jude is dangerous af, Kate cannot say no as long as she wants/likes what Jude's doing to her (thanks to William using his ability on her, ordering her to 'act on her desires'). So anyway, Kate turned up at the place where Jude is (an illegal gambling den) with a little something in her pocket which is a buttplug in the form of a cat tail (courtesy of Alfons, who else lol) and Jude wants her to use it on herself (I believe though that she didn't use it in her butt because no prep and everything). While doing that, Kate is just like 'please don't see my underwear'

And then we have Ellis. Ellis' end has more of a wholesome and cute atmosphere. Because Ellis wants everyone to be happy, he was worried about the other crown members being unhappy while under the influence of the full moon, so Kate suggested they find a way to solve or at least surpress the effects. They ended up at the palace garden where special flowers bloom and apparently, they have to do with the sins growing stronger, and so Ellis collapses. Of course, Kate wants to get help but because Ellis' sin is restraint (which she doesn't know btw), he clings to her and doesn't want her to leave him alone. And well, Kate actually enjoys Ellis acting selfish for once, so she just goes along with his whims and they make out in the palace garden. I mean, she even tried the trick of 'that doesn't make me happy' and yet, Ellis asked if they could continue. Anyway, Ellis holds her wrists and starts kissing down her neck, sliding off her blouse and pushing down her underwear and Kate DIDN'T EVEN FLINCH. Oh, and she found out what his sin is WHILE making out.

So, what I wanted to point out before I slightly derailed with Ellis' end (I love that man a bit too much, what can I do?), how Kate went from 'please don't see my underwear' in Jude's end to 'doesn't even flinch' in Ellis' end. As an Ellis simp, it was so satisfying to see how much she actually trusts Ellis and how comfortable she is with him.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains jude #jude jazza #ikemen villains ellis #ellis twilight #story event #story event villain's night #villain's night #ellis has my heart #this is basically an ellis appreciation post #resa's rambling #i believe i need another tag for me simping about ellis

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akkivee · 2 years ago

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my hypster magazine finally came in the mail lmao and man the special feature talking about how the world is coping without mics is very interesting??? like:

crime as a whole is at an all time high

within ikebukuro, the police are doing fck all about it so the bb have volunteered their services to making the civilians feel safe

ichiro’s been a mediator within more casual disputes, expressing his desire to talk things thru if possible, jiro’s got his whole high school as a neighbourhood watch and saburo’s set up a huge surveillance system to keep watch

in yokohama, the sea port has been particularly targeted and the report says the police and yakuza have teamed up to protect the flow of commerce. katengumi has stepped up to protect the territory and rio is keeping watch via satellite images and drones

in shibuya, dice complains of disruptions in gambling dens and the lack of real gambling has dulled his senses lol. he’s trying to compensate by making his own gambling game lol and he hasn’t been able to pay his phone bill due to lack of funds so he hasn’t been able to talk to ramuda or gentaro

curiously, neither of those two were mentioned in the article, save for dice using the section to try to reach out to them

in shinjuku, the day is desolate and the night scene is busier than ever. doppo’s company has been particularly hit by logistics nightmares as they’re haemorrhaging money due to lost medical equipment. (doppo’s boss has been accusing him of stealing funds and doppo claps back asking what exactly has he been managing currently lol)

shinjuku central hospital has been at full capacity with patients due to the inability to fend off armed criminals. fragrance has seen a significant uptick in patrons

in osaka, businesses have taken a sharp turn towards maliciousness, with scams at an all time high. sasara and rosho advise not to go out at night alone, and rosho, as a teacher, further explains that adults have a duty to protect minors, especially as a person who has been affected by scams in the past. neither sasara nor rosho have heard from rei in a long while, stating dh is on hiatus because of it

in nagoya, petty crimes are up because there seems to be a restlessness amongst them without the mics giving the populace the power to stand out. hitoya himself watched a dude climb up nagoya castle literally for the memes. the court of law has been barren as of late so nobody is being tried for crimes but he believes justice will prevail in due time

kuukou and jyushi have taken up patrolling nagoya in order to persuade others into not doing crimes and all three of them still practice rap battling together

#this is vee speaking #like i highly doubt they’ll put most of this in the drama tracks #so here’s some worldbuilding for y’all when the tracks come out next week(!!!!!!!!!!!!) lol #i love to see how proactive some of these divisions are lol shoutout to bb mtc and bat lol #dice is very funny but i am very concerned he’s out here in this new world without anyway to contact his support group lol??????????????#like not only it’s scary if something happened to him but what if something’s wrong with ramuda and/or gentaro???????????????#and he’s literally too broke to know lol????????????????#the dh section just like………. murdered me because it ends with rosasa wondering if rei’s just somewhere out there drinking without them #aka drinking by himself AND THEYRE………….. THEYRE AIKATAS GODDAMMIT A WHOLE SET DO NOT SEPARATE #i also think it’s neat both bb and bat are focused on trying to resolve with the power of words ::::)#ichiro’s the only one with rap on the entire album and bat’s the only section talking about their rap practices ::::)#lol and somewhat offhandedly hitoya is talking about justice prevailing in front of nagoya castle #and that’s actually nagoya castle’s catchphrase lol i wonder if that’s a very subtle sign for something lol

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reinekes-fox · 11 months ago

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So I had two ideas bouncing in my head for a while and I had to finally write them.

@barbwritesstuff

I love your take on vampires, they are so different from mine!

Hope you dont mind fanfic(?)!

TW: mentions of death and blood (related to Doctor MC), mentions of gambling (related to Gambling MC)

One: Nathan with Gambler MC (this was so so close to being pure drama)

Nathan was a good hunter. Calm, patient, collected… there were probably other words too but he couldn’t be bothered with it right now. He had a job to do after all. Stake out the new Lord Blackwell… see who this newly appointed vampire Lord was, what kind of monster did the Night King appoint now?

It had come as a surprise as he managed to track down you, the new Blackwell. He still remembered the old Lord, bastard that he was, at least it gave him a few really powerful allies… Werewolves, surely, they would prove useful especially if their presence alone was enough to stir the bats in this city. It made it so much easier with their attention on the beasts of the moon.

But this? A gambling den, emphasis on the den? Small, dark, the smell of cigarettes wouldn’t even leave this place if it would have been abandoned… It had been easy to spot the vampire, the new Lord Blackwell. Perfect Poker face, perfect for gambling. But the glint in your eyes… he had seen it. On vampires that finally felt something strong enough. For others it was blood. For you it seemed the smooth surface of dice and feeling of cards under your fingers was the trick.

And now here you were again, still looking the same way as you did all those years ago, ethereal eternal youth. Okay, you are missing a finger, and still haven’t managed to bug the most powerful vampire this town has to offer but otherwise? Face unchanged, the same glint in your eyes, standing close enough he can smell your blood and feel the unnatural coldness of your body. But now you are looking at him, his lips still feel yours even though you already pulled away.

And he can’t help but feel like he just pulled a Royal Flush.

Two: Minjo with Doctor MC (this got a bit emotional given my work)

The knock on your door rouses you from your thoughts. Not from slumber, it is too early in the evening for that. Normally you wouldn’t be home yet, but everyone agreed you better left the hospital. What had happened… you rub your hands together, you can still feel the blood and for a second you had hated it. Hated that fact that what was coating them was what kept you alive. That you desired it.

Your eyes stare until they focus on the door. Ah, right, someone knocked. Slowly you stand up, moving through the flat. It has changed, only a little bit. There is food in the fridge, some real fruit, a bottle of wine… a jacket Minjo once forget, it smells weird. It is like your flat has been dead, just like yourself, and Minjo is bringing it back to life.

And there she is, hair damp from the rain and a small smile on her lips. It falls when she looks at you, your state evident even with your natural coldness. Another thing you want to grieve, but can’t. You can not cry but oh how you wish you could! You so desperately want to weep for what you have lost, what you have become.

“Hey.”, she whispers, stepping in and pulling you in a gentle hug, her body so warm against yours. Minutes pass and she holds you, carefully as if you could break and the thought is almost enough to make you laugh. You are too strong to break!

“Work?”, she finally says, her voice calm and slowly manoeuvres you to the couch, making you sit down and holding your hands between hers, not letting go of you. You do not know how long it takes until you nod.

“It is hard.”, she sighs and tears shimmer in her eyes, slowly growing until they spill over her face.

“Oh, now I am crying.”, she tries to chuckle and wipes them away, “I am sorry! I just… I know how it is! Not from a doctor’s perspective, I don’t even know which specialisation you are, but… I know enough.” You can not cry. But maybe she can do it for you. If you one day dare and trust enough to share your secret.

#thicker than if #thicker than writing #writing

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zeciex · 1 year ago

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A Vow of Blood - 43

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 43: The Depravity of Desire

AO3 - Masterlist

SMUT!

“Prince Aemond,” Ser Arryk’s gravelly voice announced as he entered the prince's chamber, his attire far from the pristine white cloak and armor typically associated with the Kingsguard.

Aemond, sitting with an air of casual indifference, lifted his gaze from the parchment that lay strewn across the table. His brow furrowed slightly at the disheveled state of the guard before him. “Hmm?”

“Your brother requests your presence,” Ser Arryk Cargyll relayed in a weary tone.

Aemond let out an almost imperceptible sigh, leaning back in his chair as he contemplated the summons. Aegon’s penchant for finding trouble in the most inconvenient places was nothing new.It usually involved a brothel or a gambling den, sometimes both. Aemond wasn’t particularly interested in the nature of his brother’s escapades; he was simply growing tired of constantly coming to Aegon’s aid. But blood, as they say, ran thicker than water, and Aegon was blood.

“Can’t he handle his own mess for once?” Aemond replied, a touch of exasperation lacing his words. It was a sentiment he harbored each time Aegon landed himself in trouble. But the unspoken bond of brotherhood compelled him to intervene time and again.

Ser Arryk Cargyll regarded Aemond with an unyielding stance, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Prince Aegon specifically requested you.”

Aemond couldn’t help but roll his eye, his evening’s prospects dissipating like smoke. Aegon had an uncanny knack for disrupting his well-laid plans.

Aemond released a weary breath and rolled up the parchment, putting it aside on top a precarious stack of books that cluttered his table. He moved with deliberate grace, donning a doublet fashioned from rough material and fastening a somber black cloak around his frame. Securing his sword at his side, he trailed behind Ser Arryk, who awaited him at the chamber’s entrance.

Bringing Aegon home was the most sensible course of action. The thought of his mother discovering her son disheveled and suffering from the night's ventures on the morrow of his impending name day feast was a scene best avoided. Aegon, Aemond reckoned, was indulging in premature celebrations, well aware of the impending, although likely dull, revelries.

Despite the late hour, Flea Bottom’s streets teemed with activity. Street vendors peddled skewers of beat that bore a striking resemblance to rats and cats, while musicians filled the air with brawdy melodies that drunken patrons sang along to. Groups huddled around makeshift dice games etched onto stone, their animated voices blending with the night’s revelry. The only illuminations emanate from scattered torches affixed to the walls and the soft glow of house windows.

The pervasive stench of filth seemed to cling to every surface and every soul in Flea Bottom. They wove through the labyrinthine streets, bypassing the brothel with the distinctive blue door, continuing deeper into the district until they arrived at a decrepit residence. Crack spider-webbed up its shabby walls, and its once-green doors and window frames now bore a faded hue. The sound of debauchery poured forth from the open windows, mingling with the raucous laughter and boisterous chatter.

Aemond’s hum of displeasure reverberated through his chest, the sound swallowed by rowdy voices as he stepped over the threshold. The scene within mirrored the sambolic exterior, complete with peeling paint and visible wall fissures. In a futile effort to mask the disrepair, the establishment’s proprietors had draped various fabrics around, inadvertently emphasizing the decrepitude.

It appeared Aegon’s penchant for debauchery knew no bounds, nor did it rest on any form of cleanliness.

“What can I help you fine folks with?” Inquired a dumpy brothel matron, her hair pinned up in a crude intimidation of a noblewoman’s style. Smudged kohl accentuated her dark eyes, while the paint on her lips hinted at what nature had not provided. As her hands clasped together in front of her, the bracelets adorning her wrists chimed together like tiny bells. “I’ve got anything you might be looking for. I’ve got girls from eleven and upward–boys as well, if that may please you. I’ve got thick girls, thin girls, maidens–”

“I’m here for my brother,” Aemond interjected dryly, showing no interest in her assortment of available girls.

The brothel matron blinked in astonishment as Aemond and Ser Arryk Cargyll surged deeper into the sordid establishment. Ser Arry, familiar with the layout, led the way while Aemond attempted to down out the sordid sounds echoing through the house.

“Brother!” Aegon’s boisterous greeting reverberated as Aemond and Ser Arryk turned a corner, entering one of the numerous rooms in the brothel. Aegon reclined against a mound of plush pillows, flanked by two young women. One had dark skin, with large ebony eyes and a slender frame, while the other had waves of blond hair, green eyes, and an innocent countenance that seemed all too youthful.

“Very well done, Cargyll!” Aegon hailed, rising from the bed with an unsteady gait to approach the Kingsguard. He slapped Ser Arryk’s shoulder in a manner more suited to acknowledging a messenger boy.

Aemond narrowed his eye at Ser Arryk, who apologized with a curt nod before making his exit through the door. Aemond turned his eye on his brother then, scrutinizing and filled with disdain. “I assume you’re not in trouble, then.”

Aegon’s lips curled into a mischievous grin as he quipped, “I seem to always find myself in trouble, and you always come to my rescue.”

“One day, when you need my rescue, I won’t be there,” Aemond retorted to his brother’s jest.

A nonchalant shrug tugged at Aegon’s shoulders as he walked through the room towards the table and the flagon of wine upon it. “You wouldn’t have come had I not been in trouble.”

Aemond’s response was swift and candid: “No.”

Aegon turned, leaning against the table, his head tilting as a grin pulled at his lips. “Then you leave me little choice.”

Aemond, unamused, glowered at his brother. He should have suspected something was amiss; if Aegon were truly in any significant trouble, Ser Arryk would have been sufficient to handle it himself, and if not, he would have been in more of a rush. “It’s your name day celebration on the morrow. You’re expected to attend, preferably clean and of present mind. You should not be out whoring.”

Aegon scoffed and, with a shrug, picked up the flagon to pour himself some cheap wine. “Don’t be so dull, brother. I know the feast is not for my benefit.”

“Mother will be cross–” Aemond began.

“Mother is always cross with me,” Aegon interjected sourly, displaying a petulant streak. “It’s nothing new. I’ll be ready in time for the feast. Perhaps still drunk, but ready.”

Aemond rolled his eye in exasperation, feeling the irritation prickle beneath his skin. “Why did you call me here?”

“To celebrate the day of my birth the way I want ,” Aegon answered with an impish grin. He swiftly downed his cup of wine and proceeded to pour another. His shirt hung loosely on his frame, revealing a canvas of bruises and red marks adorning his chest. A single finger drummed out a repetitive rhythm against the ceramic cup he clenched tightly in his hand. The skin of his hand bore the lingering marks of healing scars and faint traces of blisters and rashes that had covered his body the month earlier. The Maesters believed it an allergic reaction or perhaps the pox, but they couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of these afflictions. It was Daenera’s doing, he was sure of that much. He presumed that his brother had, in some way, deserved such treatment.

Aemond remained unimpressed. “It still doesn’t explain why you want me here.”

“Because, brother ,” Aegon retorted as if speaking to a stubborn child,”it’s my name day, and all I wish for this year is for you to loosen up! Come on, Aemond! Live a little for once! You’ve been moping around the Keep for months, and quite frankly, it’s been utterly tedious to witness. Perhaps a taste of some genuine, proper cunt might distract you from your so-called ‘broken heart’.”

As Aemond turned to leave the room, Aegon’s sudden outburst caught him off guard. Aegon grabbed his brother’s arm and physically blocked his path, positioning himself squarely between Aemond and the exit. Aemond’s face twisted into a scowl as he shot a disgruntled glare at Aegon.

“Wait!” You’ve come this far, brother, do not leave now,” Aegon implored, his tone almost pleading. “If I had the luxury of another brother to accompany me and play with me, I’d extend the invitation to him, believe me. Regrettably, Daeron is off in Old Town, likely having more fun than you.”

With a low grown, Aemond forcefully wretched his arm away from his brother’s grip, as though the mere touch was repulsive to him. His features contorted into a disgusted sneer, and his lone eye burned with disdain as he shot back, “I have no interest in stooping to your level, or indulging in the same depravity as you, brother .”

“Are you sure about that? You started your fall from grace when you fucked–” Aegon’s words were abruptly cut off as Aemond seized him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Plaster crumbled and flaked around them, cascading onto Aegon like a shower of dandruff. Despite the silent warning conveyed in Aemond’s intense glare, Aegon simply grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Seems like you’ve got a lot of pent-up frustration from not fucking her, brother,” Aegon needled, pushing the boundaries even further. He wasn’t merely poking the dragon; he was beating it over the head with a stick and daring it to retaliate. Aegon snapped his fingers, prompting the two girls to scrabble off the bed and hastily exit the room. “I can help you with that.”

Aemond’s lip curled with disdain as he shot back, “I do not want or need your help, brother . I won’t partake in whatever twisted game you’re playing.”

Aegon’s grin only widened, his words dripping with mockery, “Why not? It’s rather enjoyable, and you might discover what it’s like not to have a rod up your arse.”

“I refuse to lower myself to your standards of ‘enjoyment,’” Aemond declared, his voice oozing contempt.

Aegon pretended to ponder this for a moment, a theatrical expression on his face. “Hmm… But deep down, you’re more like me than you care to admit.”

Aemond’s eye flared with anger. “I am nothing like you.”

Aegon continued his relentless prodding, unfazed by his brother’s anger. “So, you’re not playing games with the princess? You did not take her maidenhead? And you do not wish to still fuck her, even as she’s married?”

Aemond clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to grab his brother and shake some sense into him. Aegon remained unaware of the affair, but he had a knack for being annoyingly perceptive when he wanted to be.

Stepping back, Aemond took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure.

“Oh, come now,” Aegon drawled, straightening his disheveled clothing and running a hand through his greasy hair, ruffeling it to loosen the plaster that had landed on his head. “It’s my name day.”

“Not yet,” Aemond responded sharply. “It is not yet midnight.”

“I’m getting a year older.”

“But not a year wiser, it would seem.”

Aegon dismissed the remark with a casual wave of his hand, as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Let’s consider it a pre-celebration, then. Don’t be such a bore, Aemond. Having a bit of fun might do you some good.”

The door swung open, admitting a woman with a cascade of dark, lustrous hair that framed her round face. Her cheeks held a natural plumpness, and her lips curved into a sly, knowing smile. Her eyes, a striking shade of gray, held a familiarity that sent a shiver down Aemond’s spine, recalling the embarrassment she had once caused him.

Clutching her skirts, the woman performed an exaggerated curtsy, mimicking the graceful manners of a lady. “Prince Aemond, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Aegon’s eyes darted back and forth between his brother and the enigmatic woman, his amusement evident as he pointed playfully between them. “You two know each other?”

Aemond’s face darkened with irritation as he directed his glare at his younger brother. “Don’t feign innocence, Aegon. This is your doing.”

“I ordered a whore with a resemblance to the princess. I had no knowledge of her being the whore,” Aegon retorted with almost giddy excitement.

“There were no prior encounters,” Aemond snapped in frustration. His patience had dwindled to a fragile thread, stretched taut and on the verge of snapping. The sensation of frustration coiled like a serpent in the pit of his stomach. The disbelief directed at him had a sting of humiliation to it that was maddening, a sensation that gnawed at his core. He might not be a good man, but he was not depraved like his brother.

The woman offered a mockingly sincere apology, an impish glint in her eyes. “I was simply following orders, my prince. I mean no offense.”

Aegon couldn’t contain his amusement, wearing a wide grin that clearly indicated he was relishing the discomfort of the situation. “So, it is the whore, brother? The one you brought back to your chambers and mother caught you with? –At least I have the sense not to bring my company back home with me.”

“I did not bring her to my chambers,” Aemond gritted out through clenched teeth.

Aegon encircled the whore, placing his chin casually on her shoulder, his hands boldly exploring her body, tracing every curve. His tone dripped with mischief. “Did my brother have the pleasure of exploring your body?”

The woman’s eyes remained on Aemond, a seductive gleam flickering in the gray, as she answered, “No, my prince.”

Aegon’s grin widened, savoring the ongoing exchange as he cupped her tit and gave the nipple a firm squeeze. “No?”

“I have yet to have the pleasure of his cock,” the whore declared with a sweet smile, her voice breathy as her head tilted gracefully to the side, a mimicry of the princess that sent an unsettling shiver down Aemond’s spine.

“Then you’re in luck,” Aegon proclaimed, swimming his arm out in an expansive gesture towards his brother, his voice laced with a sardonic edge. “My brother here is in dire need of a satisfying encounter. Perhaps this will help you forget about the girl.”

“Aegon,” Aemond cautioned, his annoyance simmering.

“It is my name day!” Aegon chimed in once more, his jubilation unabated. “Be a good brother and indulge in his delightful company, as I surely will.”

Aemond clenched his jaw as Aegon exited the room with a hearty laugh, the door closing noisily behind him. The door itself offered scant privacy, its bottom splintered, and it hung precariously from a single hinge. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the whore drawing near.

Her hand gently made contact with his chest, her fingers splayed across the fabric of his doublet. Her head tilted once more, causing her thick tangle of hair to cascade over one shoulder. Her gray eyes, resembling polished silver coins, gleamed with amusement, watching his cold response. They were gray, not the haunting cornflower blue that plagued his dreams in the darkest hours of the night. Not the ones that had beckoned him to come to her chamber those few weeks ago.

“I can be whoever you want me to be,” she whispered with a sultry promise, her words hanging in the air like an alluring temptation.

The woman skillfully took a step back, coaxing the delicate straps of her scanty dress down her shoulders. As they slid away, her heavy breasts were unveiled, their inviting softness beckoning with an allure all their own. Her fingers tugged the dress a touch lower, exposing her stomach, the curve of her wide hips, and the lush expanse of her thighs. Between them, a thicker thicket of hair adorned her cunt.

Aemond’s mind wandered to thoughts of Daenera, his recollection lingering on her ample breasts that swayed enticingly as she rode him with abandon. He recalled the gentle expanse of her stomach, often marked by the imprints of her corset. Her hips, sculpted to perfection, had been a pleasure to grip as he thrust into her, her thighs strong and soft. His thoughts inevitably drifted to the familiar scar atop her left thigh, a line he had come to know intimately.

There was simply no comparison between this whore and the poison that made up Daenera.

Even as the woman pressed herself against him, her hands roaming over his chest and shoulders, Aemond detected the overpowering scent of cheap perfume, an sickly sweet aroma that seemed to stick in his nose.

For a fleeting moment, Aemond pondered whether this liaison could serve as a release from the torment of his desires for Daenera. Would it finally purge those yearnings out of his system, or would it cement them further?

“Allow me to bring you pleasure, my prince,” she whispered, her hand descentind down his chest to grip his cock through his trousers. Dark brows shot up in surprise.

Aemond’s patience had eroded to the point of utter contempt. He seized the woman’s wrist with a fierce grip, yanking her hand away from him in a swift, forceful motion. His features contorted into a sneer of pure revulsion as he addressed her with a tone dripping with disdain.

“Why should I even entertain the thought of debasing myself with you?” He spat, grip tightening. “You possess nothing that could even remotely pique my interest.”

With a rough shove, he released her wrist and drew up the hood of his cloak, shrouding himself in its obscurity. He didn’t spare her a second glance before striding out of the room.

In the adjacent room, Aegon lounged on a settee, surrounded by a quartet of women, resembling a withered god of depravity. Their gazes locked for a moment, and Aemond could already anticipate the forthcoming taunts that would escape his brother's lips.

“I suggest you escort the prince back to the Keep, Ser,” Aemond grumbled curtly to Ser Arryk Cargyll. “The Queen will be far from pleased if he fails to attend his own feast.”

Aegon clambered unsteadily from the settee, navigating through a thicket of entangled limbs that reached out, desperate for him to stay. Once more, he imposed himself in his brother’s path, throwing out his arms in a wide gesture to block Aemond’s way.

“Step aside,” Aemond commanded with an air of authority, his voice firm and unwavering. He had no more patience for his brother’s games.

Aegon, undeterred, moved closer to his brother. His expression was a peculiar blend of skepticism and sly amusement. “Prove to me that you’re notfucking her.”

Aemond responded with a mocking sneer. “There was a time, brother, when such tactics might have worked. But I’ve outgrown the need to prove myself to you.”

Aegon pulled a wry face, his lips curving downward in an upside-down smile, a gesture he often employed. “Well, it sounds like I’ve received my answer.”

“I am cautioning you, Aegon,” Aemond warned, his tone as meticulous as it was threatening. “Indulge in your games as you wish, but do not involve me.”

Aegon’s smile grew cold and wicked, reminiscent of the same expression he wore while orchestrating one of his cruel pranks. “Of course, dear brother. I’ll amuse myself with my games and torment you incessantly, but rest assured, I will guard your secrets of your illicit affair.”

“Ensure that you do,” Aemond retorted, his voice carrying a heavy undertone that served as both a threat and a stern admonishment. “Or I may find myself compelled to inform mother about your continued exploits.”

“I’m sure she already knows of my exploits,” Aegon hummed.

“But does she know about your bastards?” Aemond questioned, his voice lowered to a level only Aegon could hear. The subtle narrowing of his brother's eyes betrayed the truth that Aemond had alluded to–Aegon did indeed have bastards, a likelihood that was hardly surprising. “Does mother know about your proclivities or your predilection for young serving maids?”

“I’ll keep you secrets if you keep mine. That’s what brothers do, after all,” Aegon conceded, sealing their unspoken pact.

Aemond made a decisive move, sidestepping his brother with a determined stride.

As he exited the brothel, he found himself besieged by a swarm of women, each vying for his attention and hoping to lure him back into their embrace. Aemond paid them no heed, steadfastly pushing his way through the throng of whores, his brother’s mocking taunts ringing in his ears, accusing him of harboring a proverbial stick up his backside.

The supposed fresh air of Flea Bottom’s streets proved anything but refreshing, failing to lift his sour mood or alleviate the tension between his shoulder blades. Aemond trudged back to the Red Keep, irritated by his brother’s scheme. He was overwhelmed by a deep sense of revulsion, his skin tingling with a potent mix of frustration and repulsion. It was as though the contact with the whore had tainted him, leaving an indelible mark of contamination. Her gray eyes were a far cry from the blue that haunted his dreams. Her skin had lacked the silken softness he longed for, her hips not quite the right size and her thighs too slender.She had not looked at him with the same curiosity, slyness and knowing allure that Daenera possessed.

Gray was most certainly not blue.

What was even more infuriating, was how his mind kept pulling him back to her . Poisoned, that was what he was.

The restlessness beneath his skin prickled and intensified with each step, and by the time he reached the Red Keep, he was practically vibrating with it. He felt an acute discomfort in his clothes, the seams scratching at his skin, the fabric constricting and suffocating. Skipping two steps at a time, he quickly climbed the stairs, eventually reaching the upper floor. With an air of urgency, he strode through the doors of his chambers, promptly pushing them open and locking them securely behind him.

As he let out a slow breath, he worked with deft fingers to undo the buckles of his sword belt, placing it carefully against the wall. Stepping forther into the room, he made his way to the central table, his intent to pour himself a glass of water momentarily sidetracked by an unexpected sight.

There, sprawled out on his bed, lay the temptress herself, Daenera, Her lithe form resting on her stomach as she engrossed herself in a book. Her loose hair fell over her shoulders, a wave of flowing silk. A sudden, unexpected pulse of emotion surged within him, and he watched her closely as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Their eyes met, and Aemond found himself captivated by her gaze. Her eyes were the very shade of cornflowers , deep with a subtle hint of violet, like the most enhancing of spring blooms. He had never anticipated her appearance, much less in his bed, clad in a wisps of a nightgown so delicate it barely covered her from. Its neckline hung tantalizingly off one shoulder, exposing a portion of her soft skin.

“Where have you been?” She inquired, her head tilting with curiosity, her discerning eyes sweeping over him.

Aemond weighed his response carefully, feeling the irritation still simmering beneath his skin. “Aegon summoned me.”

Her brow arched inquisitively, demanding further explanation.

Unbuttoning his doublet, Aemond felt the urgency to rid himself of it. Daenera responded with a soft hum, gracefully slipping from the bed and moving barefoot towards him.

He found himself in a tumultuous internal struggle, uncertain if he truly desired her presence. It was a paradox – he longed for her to be here, yet simultaneously he didn’t. Her being here felt like an intrusion, a test of his self-control and restraint. Aemond observed her closely as she approached, ready to assist him in removing the bothersome doublet, which he promptly tossed over the back of a nearby chair.

“You carry the scent of brothel,” she remarked astutely with an undercurrent he couldn’t place.

A hint of defiance crept into Aemond’s response. “And how do you discern the scent of a brothel?”

Their gaze locked, her eyes narrowed slightly. He felt his defenses slowly crumbling. It was a wretched thing, to have one’s guard weakened by the fluttering of someone’s eyelashes – a vulnerability he couldn’t deny, no matter how much she wished to resist. It only added to the frustration itching beneath his skin, begging to be released.

A crooked smile danced up on her lips. “My husband returns home reeking of brothels often enough for me to recognize that scent.”

Reaching up, she deftly undid the clasp that secured his eyepatch around his head, carefully placing it on the nearby table. Aemond couldn’t help but notice the fleeting glance her eye made towards his sapphire eye. Instead of expressing disgust or horror, her gaze held a sense of wonder, as if she found it to be a thing of beauty. It didn’t sit right with him that she could look at him in such a way, nor did it seem right for her to brush her thumb against the end of the scar as though attempting to mend the pain and loss inflicted upon him by her brother. Yet, against his better judgment, he found that her touch lessened the ache in his scar.

Aemond turned away from her touch, pouring himself a cup of water and downing it in one go.

Daenera turned away from him, and he caught the faint furrow of her brow and the subtle pursing of her lips. “Did you find any enjoyment in your time there?”

Observing her as she padded back to the bed, Aemond couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of twisted amusement. She appeared entirely nonchalant, as if the situation had no bearing on her.

“Are you asking whether I bedded one of the whores?” Aemond’s voice carried a sharp accusation, laced with spite and frustration, as he directed his ire at anyone who dared question his integrity. Did she truly hold such a low opinion of him? Anger coiled tightly in his gut, intensifying the irritation and exasperation he felt. “Is that what you think of me?”

Daenera’s response bore a certain petulance as she retorted, “I have no claim over you. You’re free to bed the entire population of Flea Bottom for all I care.”

With a firm grip on his eyepatch, Aemond stormed into the bedchamber. There, he found Daenera sitting on his bed, reclining on her arms with her feet suspended above the floors, legs spread, the nightgown the only thing letting her keep some modicum of modesty. Her demeanor exuded an air of both spite and decadence. He seized her face, turning it forcefully to make her meet his gaze.

“Why would I entertain the thought of bedding some lowly wench in Flea Bottom when I could have you?” A snarl of disdain curled his lips, his eye ablaze with an undeniable intensity.

Daenera made an attempt to twist her face free from his grip, but Aemond’s hold remained unyielding. He kept her in place, allowing his thumb to brush gently over her lips, while a sardonic smile twisted across his face. His voice dripped with authority as he issued his command, “Get on your knees.”

He released her, his gaze half-lidded as he observed her jaw moving from side to side, a subtle attempt to alleviate the lingering ache his fingers had left. She locked eyes with him, then almost spitefully, descended to her knees on the floor, casting a coy glance up at him through her long, dark lashes.

Aemond ran his hand through her hair, casually tossing his eyepatch onto the bed. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned into his caress. When his fingers slid down to the nape of her neck, he firmly grasped her hair, eliciting a shaky breath from her.

“Come now,” Aemond drawled, his voice silky and low. “You know what to do.”

Her eyes bore into his soul as her nimble fingers trailed up his powerful thighs, eventually reaching the bulge in his trousers. With practiced ease, she undid his laces, pulling down the fabric to allow his erect cock to spring free. It slapped against his lower abdomen, the engorged head a deep shade of crimson as it pulsed with blood. A prominent vein ran along the underside, curving sensually along its length.

Aemond inhaled deeply, savoring the air in his lungs for a brief moment before exhaling. His cock pulsed with an insistent need, churning a firestorm in the put of his stomach as he beheld Daenera on her knees. In her eyes, he glimpsed a tantalizing blend of defiance and undeniable lust. Though they had shared this intimate position before, her cheeks still bore a rosy flush, reminiscent of their very first encounter when uncertainty had mingled with her defiance. Back then, her eyes had widened with innocence and determination.

His lips parted as she warped a delicate hand around his throbbing shaft, the palm of her hand smooth and unmarred, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him as she stroked him with expert precision.

“Be a good little whore,” Aemond drawled, tugging her hair a bit firmer, “and open your mouth for me.”

Her delicate hand glided down the length of his shaft, her lips pressing a soft, teasing kiss upon its tip. The corner of her mouth curled upward, a defiant challenge in her eyes that only fueled Aemond’s growing hunger.

In response, Aemond’s grip tightened on her hair, his fingers firm around the base of her jaw as he demanded in a low growl, “Open your mouth.”

“Ask me nicely,” she retorted, her voice strained from the pressure he exerted on her throat just below her chin. Her gaze flickered across his features, her eyes holding a fiery defiance.

Aemond glared down at her, his lips curling into a snarl, his eye darkening with desire as his grip grew tighter.

“Open,” he commanded.

With a hesitant submission, Daenera obediently parted her lips, allowing his thumb to slide into her mouth. He maintained her mouth agape, spitting into it. Her eyes widened in surprise, a small, involuntary squeak escaping her, soon melting into a sultry moan. Aemond pressed his thumb down on her tongue, and finally, it seemed she yielded to his will, closing her mouth around his digit to suck on it with newfound urgency.

Aemond’s cock throbbed with an insistent ache against his abdomen, a relentless reminder of his burning desire. He withdrew his thumb from her mouth, the moistened digit leaving a glistening trail of saliva across her lips as he released his grip on her.

Lust ignited within the blue depths of her eyes, a blazing fire that mirrored his own primal yearning. Her hands traced the contours of his thighs, her nails lightly grazing his taut skin, sending a shiver racing down his spine. Fingers curled around the base of his throbbing cock, as she lowered her lips to its tip.

Her tongue flicked out, teasingly brushing over the glistening head, swirling sensuously around it before she captured it with her soft, warm mouth. A wave of pleasure coursed through Aemond as her hot, wet mouth enveloped him. Her tongue pressed against the sensitive underside of his cock, following the path of the prominent vein that pulsed beneath the surface.

As she began to withdraw, she employed a tantalizing suction, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked with fervor. The hand gripping his base trailed upward, following her lips’ descent, and as her mouth released the head, her hand encircled it. Her fingers twisted around the crimson crown of his cock, caressing and stimulating, before her mouth descended once more to take its place in an alluring dance of desire.

Pleasure surged through Aemond’s veins, and he couldn’t help but reach out, brushing the hair from her face and gathering it into his firm grip. Her eyes locked onto his as she skillfully pleasured him with her mouth.

Aemond’s gaze remained fixated on the sight of his cock descending deeper into her mouth, pushing her limits until a strangled sound mixed with a moan escaped her as her throat closed around the intrusion of his cock.

The rhythm escalated gradually, and Aemond abandoned all restraint. His grip on her hair tightened, urging her on as he thrust deeper and deeper into her throat. Each time he buried himself inside her, she swallowed around him, sending bolts of pleasure racing through his body. The intensity of it all caused his toes to curl in his boots.

His breath emerged in ragged pants, his teeth biting into his lower lip as he struggled to maintain control. Her nails, on the other hand, etched angry red marks into his lip, tracing a fiery path down his thigh. The soothing pressure of her fingertips followed the same route, easing the stinging sensation her nails had left in their wake. Her hand then slipped around him, gripping his ass firmly, and replicated the journey down the back of his thigh, igniting a maelstrom of pleasure that threatened to consume him entirety.

“ Fuck ,” Aemond grunted, his voice a hissing breath.

Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, a fleeting sensation amidst the softness of her lips. Aemond sent an unforgiving pace, thrusting further into her throat, his hips driving the tip of his cock down until her nose bumped against the silver curls at the base of his cock. With each punishing thrust, his balls collided with her chin, tightening as he inched closer to his climax.

A strangled gag escaped her, her eyes now welling up with tears that trailed down her flushed cheeks. Despite the disarray she appeared to be in, it only seemed to heighten his pleasure.

“You’re such a little whore,” Aemond murmured, his voice hoarse and raw, resembling gravel against his vocal cords. “What kind of princess drips with need while having her face fucked?”

She emitted a soft hum around him, her eyes fluttering as his fingertips brushed against her scalp.

Aemond groaned at the vibration, the intensity of the sensation sending shivers down his spine. An overwhelming desire to bury his throbbing cock within the silky embrace of her warm, wet cunt coursed through him. Aemond removed her mouth from his swollen cock, preventing himself from spilling his seed down her throat, and guided her to her feet.

Her eyes appeared red and puffy, tears clinging to her dark lashes, while her flushed cheeks radiated warmth. Her once-glistening lips had become swollen, and a mixture of spit and tears trailed down her chin.

“Look at you,” Aemond hummed, his thumb brushing over her chin in an attempt to clear away the remnants of spit but inadvertently smearing it down her throat. “One would be hard-pressed to imagine you as anything but a whore.”

“What does that make you?” Defiantly, Daenera retorted, her voice raw and hoarse from the earlier ordeal of his cock pressing against the back of her throat. Her hands moved to cup his face, but Aemond seized them in an unyielding grip. If she touched him with the gentleness she was about to, he feared he’d lose himself to it, and the frustration and anger was all that he had to give at the moment.

“On the bed,” he commanded, his tone cold and unwavering.

“What if I refuse?” Daenera challenged.

A sardonic smile curled Aemond’s lips, revealing his teeth like vicious fangs. “Do you truly wish to find out?”

“Seems the whorehouses got you all riled up. Maybe you should find more… obedient company there,” Daenera taunted, her voice laced with playful mockery.

A half-laugh, half-squeal escaped her lips as Aemond swiftly tossed her onto the bed. He seized her hips, flipping her over onto her stomach. His strong hands found the discarded eyepatch, and he used the leather strap to bind her wrists together behind her back. Daenera let out an audible exhale, attempting to blow her disheveled curls out of her face as she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him.

Aemond, with purposeful movements, lifted off the bed and tugged at her ankle, pulling her closer to the edge. Her nightgown rode up, unveiling the plump, flawless expanse of her buttocks. He widened her legs with a nudge, exposing her glistening cunt, her thighs coated with traces of her arousal. The alluring scent of her desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the natural fragrance of her skin, a fresh citrusy aroma complemented by sweet floral notes.

“Would you look at that,” Aemond purred, the rough pads of his fingers trailing up her inner thigh. Her body quivered in anticipation beneath his touch, a shiver of goosebumps rising on her skin. His satisfaction grew with every reaction he provoked. With firm hands he kneaded the supple flesh of her buttocks, parting them briefly before letting go. Her needy cunt throbbed, and he could feel her hips twitching in response.

“Your cunt is practically sobbing with need,” Aemond observed, his fingers gently parting her folds. Her desperate moan filled the room as her slick walls clenched around nothing but the tantalizing anticipation.

“ Aemond ,” her voice carried both a plea and a demand.

“Tell me what you are,” he teased, fully aware of the torment he was inflicting on her. It was but a fraction of what she had inflicted upon him for months . His one-eyed gaze shifted from her wet cunt to her face, noting the tightly sealed lips and teeth sinking into the swollen flesh. “Tell me what you are and beg .”

Daenera scoffed, her defiance palpable. “I will make you beg –”

Aemond’s fingers ghosted through her slick folds, a delicate touch meant to withhold gratification. It teased her senses, promising pleasure without delivering it. “What was that?”

“I–” Daenera began, but her words were cut off as Aemond’s fingers descended to the bundle of nerves he had grown so familiar with. The pad of his finger pressed into the sensitive flesh, and her hands clenched into fists, straining against the leather restraints. With a low curse, she buried her face in the sheets and let out a frustrated growl.

“It’s a simple request,” Aemond hummed, his fingers tracing slow, torturous circles on her sensitive nub. Her legs quivered, and her back arched, hips rising to meet his teasing touch. He gauged the pressure carefully, keeping her on the edge of release.

As she finally caught her breath, she let out an exasperated huff. “ Fuck … The whores must have really gotten under your skin.”

A surge of anger shot through Aemond, searing bolt that sliced between his ribs. In response, his hand landed on her quivering ass cheek with a resounding smackm the sound echoing through the room. Her body jolted in surprise, and the flesh of her ass turned a vivid shade of red. Aemond’s palm stung, but it only fueled his satisfaction. He delivered another sharp slap, harder this time, and Daenera groaned, her hands pulling against the restraints as her body rocked forward. Aemond struck her once more, ensuring the imprint of his hand was emblazoned upon her ass.

He watched as the walls of her cunt clenched around empty air, her arousal trickling down her thighs and dripping from her core. “What are you?”

“A whore,” Daenera answered, her voice slightly muffled by the sheets.

“What was that?”

“I am a whore,” she admitted, her defiance crumbling as she released a ragged breath. “ Please. ”

Aemond kneaded the red flesh of her ass, attempting to soothe the sting she undoubtedly felt. He let his cock brush against her soaked folds, rubbing up and down the length of her slit. Daenera writhed under his touch, her spine arching as he allowed the head of his cock to shallowly dip into her. A shudder went through her body.

“ Please, Aemond ,” she mewled, her voice breathless with desire.

With a swift, decisive movement, Aemond buried himself deep with her slick heat, surrendering to the irresistible pull of her velvety walls that clamped around him, urging him to stay. She stretched out for him, taking in every inch he graced her with as he pressed into her, each stroke deliberate and unrelenting. He thrust into her with abandon, hips snapping against hers with precision, eliciting soft gasps with each forceful movement.

His strong hands clamped onto her hips with a vice, fingers digging into the supple flesh, leaving his marks. With each vigorous thrust, her feet lost traction on the stone floor, slipping slightly. The room filled with the rhythmic symphony of flesh meeting flesh, intensified by the lewd, wet sounds of her needy core enveloping him again and again. Daenera’s passionate moans harmonized with the sound, her body arching to match Aemond’s relentless pace.

“You’re my little whore,” Aemond sneered, relinquishing one hand from her hip to seize the nape of her neck, pushing her further into the mattress and holding her in place as he ravaged her with relentless fervor.

His muscles coiled and rippled beneath his skin, as he worked them with expertly control. Each sharp snap of his hips was the crack of a whip, each thrust a swing of the sword.

“I–I am your little whore,” Daenera choked out, her voice trembling with submission and pleasure. Her hands opened and closed, as if pleading with him for release.

Her inner walls fluttered around his pulsing cock, sending a shiver coursing down Aemond’s spine. Beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck, glistening as they descended his chest. He panted heavily, thrusting into her as if this were his sole purpose in life. His determination to fill her with every drop of seed consumed him entirely–and her cunt seemed obliged to take it.

“Please–I’m close,” she whimpered.

Aemond hissed, the relentless grip of her tightening cunt pushing him to his limit. His pace showed no mercy, each withdrawal followed by a powerful thrust back into her. Daenera let out a quivering breath, her body yielding as he thrust into her again and again. Aemond adjusted his angle, targeting that special spot that made her eyes flutter with pleasure, his balls rhythmically slapping against her clit with each snap of his hips.

Her fluttering intensified, and she released a loud, resonant moan as her inner muscles clamped down around him. A wave of pleasure cashed over Aemond, forcing him to thrust forcefully into her as he emptied his seed into her eager womb. He continued his thrusts, extending their pleasure. She sorbed every drop of him, her cunt slick with their combined fluids. As he drew out of her half-heartedly, a trickle of seed released, dripping onto the floor.

Aemond stilled, his breaths coming in ragged pants as he loosened his grip on her. He remained inside of her for a moment, her climax-induced tremors making her cunt continue to flutter.

With a hiss, he withdrew from her, wiping the sweat from his chin. He watched as her cunt tightened slightly, a small trickle of his seed escaping her. Running his hand along her folds, he pushed his seed back inside her; he had no intention of letting her waste a single drop. She squirmed from the over stimulation, mewling breathlessly, her legs trembling as they hung limply over the edge of the bed.

Aemond reached up and deftly undid the ties of his leather eye patch, freeing Daenera’s hands. She quickly adjusted her arms, finding a more comfortable position.

A sudden wave of repulsion twisted in Aemond’s gut, compelling him to walk towards the flagon of water, his throat feeling parched. He poured himself a cup, lifting his gaze to look through the window. The night was still, the moon hanging low.

“You never answered me,” Daenera’s voice cut through the silence.

Aemond turned to face her, a coldness etched upon his features. “I have no need for a whore when I have you, do I?”

Daenera shot him an intense glare, her cheeks aflame with color. Her dark hair clung to her skin as she straightened up, her brows furrowing with irritation.

“I am not as depraved as my brother,” Aemond continued, tearing his eye away from her to gaze upon the moon. Clouds littered the sky, yet the moon had found a weakness in their formation.

Daenera didn’t hold back, her words pointed and accusatory. “You’re having an affair with a married woman behind her husband’s back. You stuffed your cock down my throat, then tied my hands behind my back and took me from behind, all while degrading me, calling me a whore.”

Aemond retorted with bitterness, “You sought me out. You initiated this. What does that make you?”

“I think you’ve made it pretty clear what that makes me,” Daenera replied, her gaze locked with his. She rose from the bed and approached him, her movements gentle but not unassuming. She reached out towards him, but he intercepted her hand, gripping her wrist firmlin and restraining it just out of reach.

Her eyes swept across his features, searching his face as she sought answers to his mood.

“You’re not your brother,” Daenera asserted, a sincerity in her voice that felt like a rare glimpse of truth in their tangled web of intrigue. “And you’re not depraved like him. There’s a difference between being depraved and this .”

Aemond found himself questioning her certainty. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because true depravity is sickening,” she murmured, “and this feels… different .”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Aemond loosened his grip, allowing her hand to slip away. She turned, gracefully walking towards the water basin to clean herself.

“You were waiting for me,” Aemond observed, casually selecting an apple from the bountiful bowl of fruit adorning the table. With a knife in hand, he deftly pierced the crisp apple’s flesh, taking a satisfying bite while his gaze remained fixed on Daenera as she cleaned herself.

As Daenera meticulously washed away the remnants of their recent intertwinement, the wet cloth gliding sensuously between her thighs, the muscles in her back rippled gracefully beneath her flawless skin, the soft curve of her ass still bearing a rosy hue from their passionate encounter.

“I was feeling rather bored,” she admitted, an amused note in her tone.

Aemond’s brows arched ever so slightly, the smirk playing on his lips growing more pronounced. “So, you sought entertainment here.”

Daenera continued her cleansing ritual, the amusement spreading as a smile on her lips. Her eyes landed on Aemond.

“Believe it or not,” she began, her tone dripping with wry humor, “but conversing with you proves far more stimulating than exchanging words with my husband.”

Aemond shrugged half-heartedly as he cut off another chunk of the apple. “Well, I can’t say we’re known for our riveting conversations.”

“I’ve found that I don’t mind your silence,” Daenera confessed, lip curling as she brushed a lock of her from her face with the back of her wrist. “ Nothaving a conversation with you is more stimulating that having one with my husband.”

An unsettling stirring churned within Aemond’s chest, a relentless wave of emotions he’d prefer to deny. He couldn’t but watch her, his solitary eye tracing every delicate curve of her form.

His grip on the half-eaten apple and the knife tightened for a moment, as he cut another piece and brought it to his lips, letting the sweetness of the apple fill his mouth and mask the dryness that had suddenly found its way into his mouth, before placing the items onto the side table of the bed. Then, with a heavy sigh, he lowered himself onto the bed, leaning against the headboard.

A strange sense of unease coursed through Aemond as he observed her lift the hem of her nightgown. It was an unease that, upon closer inspection, seemed to be tinged with an unwelcome yearning. It made his heart strain his chest, and he averted his eye.

“You were reading,” he remarked, his tone carefully measured.

Daenera’s smile widened as she settled onto the bed, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself onto her elbows to look at him. “I find it curious how many books you possess pertaining to Old Valyria. It is odd for a Hightower, is it not?”

Aemond’s eye narrowed at her, and as he spoke, his voice was not without barbs. “And what do you read? Children's stories or have you crossed over to old wives tales?”

“Sometimes,” Daenera replied, allowing the barbs to caress over her skin without sinking in. “But I prefer scholarly books about plants, or if I fancy something different, books about history. I am currently reading about Harrenhal.”

“Baratheon must find it a relief to have a literate wife to read his letters for him.”

A scowl pulled at Daenera’s features as the barbs seemed to bite into her flesh. “My husband is not overjoyed to find that I have thoughts and opinions. I imagine he would prefer me to lay waiting in bed all day for him to stumble home to.”

A sharp smile formed on Aemond’s lips, and amusement found its way into his voice. “Hmm, I might have found something to have in common with Baratheon.”

Daenera’s laugh danced in the air as she inched closer to him. Her body gracefully folded over his, and she rested her chin upon her hands, which were placed delicately on his chest. The intimacy of their position was unmistakable, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her nightgown, caressing his skin with its gentle heat. Stands of her hair teased his flesh, her breath, warm and rhythmic, brushed against him.

He wondered briefly if she could feel his erratic heartbeat against her palms.

She gazed up at him, her eyes traversing his face with an intensity that felt like deliberate probing. It was as though she sought to dismantle his armor, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to her poison.

What unspoken words were dying on her tongue, not yet formed?

Her head tilted to the side in curiosity, and her delicate hand found its way to his face, her touch gentle yet burning as she traced the scar that ran from the top of his eyebrow down across his face marring the flesh. It felt as if her touch insight a fiery trail along his skin.

“Does it hurt still?” She murmured, her voice soft and filled with genuine curiosity.

For a brief, harrowing moment, Aemond was transported back to the blinding pain of that fateful day when his eye had been so viciously torn from his skull. He could almost taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, feel the scorching agony that had seared through him, and see the world being drowned in a crimson haze.

The vivid memory of that excruciating pain flooded his mind, accompanied by the gruesome image of blood coating his vision until everything had been consumed by its relentless tide. He recalled how his own blood had felt like molten iron, scalding and boiling as it poured down his face.

Aemond’s fingers clamped around her hand, pulling it away from his face with a grip that was tighter than necessary. He stared at her with a piercing intensity, his thoughts consumed by a suspicion that she was playing some kind of game with him.

She sat up in bed, her gaze fixed on him, a perplexed frown knitting her eyebrows together. Her hand reached out again, but Aemond swiftly evaded her touch, his grip on her wrist becoming almost bruising. She winced, but his anger eclipsed any concern he might have had for her discomfort.

What was her motive? Why was she punishing him like this? Why did she insist on bringing up the past?

“Why must you insist on ruining everything?” Aemond’s voice rumbled, thick with anger and frustration.

“You’re still angry,” Daenera observed calmly, her tone tinged with sadness.

Aemond’s glare bore into her, a seething storm of resentment and bitterness. “Is it not understandable that I harbor a grudge, given that your brother was responsible for taking my eye? Should it really come as a surprise that I haven’t forgotten or forgiven it? Tell me, would you react any differently?”

Daenera’s scrutinizing gaze seemed to pierce through him, akin to how the dagger had sliced through his eye. Her searing gaze made him feel exposed, vulnerable, and it only fueled his anger further.

Agonizing pain radiated from his missing eye, clawing its way through his skull like a relentless, fiery serpent. It was as if lightning striking across the sky and splitting open the heavens, followed by the deafening, thunderous roar that echoed in the depths of his mind. The sensation was overpowering, every bit as intense as the day he had lost his eye, and it consumed him whole.

In the grip of his torment, he could hear the thunderous beat of his own blood coursing through his veins, a relentless reminder of the storm raging inside of him. Resentment festered within him, gnawing at his insides like a festering wound, and a prutrid sense of rot oozed through his every fiber. His mouth seemed to fill with it.

“I would,” she replied, her voice carrying a lightness that grated on his nerves.

As irritation began to smolder in his chest, Aemond couldn’t help but observe the way she regarded him. It was as if she was attempting to peel away his layers, to expose the hidden depths beneath that no one had ever seen. In the past, she had looked at him with wary apprehension or outright contempt, things had been simpler. It had been easy to embrace the monstrous image she had of him, one he accepted for himself. It was better to be a monster than being pitied. But that gentle gaze, now attempting to breach his defenses, offered no guarantee that it wouldn’t inflict deeper wounds in its wake. He was all too aware that it could be a cunning ruse, a mere strategy to burrow beneath his skin before administering a lethal dose of poison.

–A poison so sweet he almost longed for it. It would be easier to hate her.

Aemond had learned the hard way to be wary of those who showed kindness. He had no intention to fall victim to their deceit. His words echoed her words cautiously, “You would?”

“Of course I would,” Daenera replied, her tone both honest and exasperated. “You know I would. But you also have to admit that you were planning to bash my brother’s head in with a rock.”

Aemond bared his teeth and averted his gaze, as venom filled his mouth. “I would have. I might still do it. Take one brother’s eye, bash another one’s head in. You have so many to choose from.”

Her response was swift and fierce, a slap to his cheek that stung like that of a wasp sting. All the vulnerability she had previously displayed now transformed into fury, widening her eyes and contorting her lips into a sneer.

“Why must you ruin this?” Daenera sprain up from the bed, hastily adjusting the neckline of her dress to shield her exposed skin as if he wasn’t familiar with every inch of her.

“Did you really think I would just forgive and forget? That you spreading your legs for me would somehow absolve what your brother did to me?” Aemond’s anger was fueled by more than just the loss of his eye; it was the excruciating pain, the humiliation her brothers had inflicted, and the subsequent rejection and resentment she��had caused. The dark, vengeful part of him longed to hurt her in the same way they had hurt him.

“No,” Daenera sneered back. “But I did think you’d be capable of taking responsibility for your own actions.”

“I would have bashed your brother’s head in,” Aemond spat at her, now inches from her. “I will admit to that. And had I received the justice I deserved, your brother would have had to put out his eye as compensation.”

Daenera mirrored his cruelty. “And here I thought you said losing your eye was worth gaining a dragon.”

“I should not have needed to pay for Vhagar with my eye. I rightfully claimed her. If my cousin had tried to claim her, she would have perished in the attempt,” Aemond insisted. He could tell by her expression that she knew he was right. “You know this.”

Aemond pressed on, his voice filled with frustration and bitterness. “I didn’t deserve to be mutilated, and I didn’t deserve to be blamed for it. Your brother faced no punishment, and I received no justice.”

No, all he received was disdain and blame. Only his mother had truly cared about his suffering and had been willing to take justice into her own hands. His father had never given him a second glance, and after he lost his eye, Viserys could only muster displeasure when looking at him. The scar, a permanent reminder of his ordeal, was a topic no one dared to let fade into oblivion, yet no one dared to speak about it openly. They refused to let him forget it, and in return, he clung to his anger as tightly as the last thread of sanity.

“You tend to your resentment and bitterness as if they were delicate blooms in a carefully tended garden,” Daenera remarked, rubbing her forehead before wrapping her arms around herself. “You nurture your hatred and feed your anger.”

“Don’t pretend you’re any different,” Aemond retorted sharply. “You’re not so innocent in all of this. We’re not so different, you and I.”

He pushed aside her hair, then cradled her head in his hand. His fingers stretched from the nape of her neck to the front of her throat, and his thumb rested on her pulse. He felt her swallow, her lips pressed together as she stared at him. “You were well aware of who I am. You knew of my hatred for your brothers. Yet, you chose to give yourself to me.”

She glared at him, her gaze sharp enough to cut through stone. He had made no effort to hide his anger towards her brothers or the events those years ago, he had not masked his monstrousness or what he could be capable of. He did not pretend.

It was clear they would never see eye to eye on this matter.

She inhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. And as she released her breath, it seemed as if her frustration ebbed away, slipping through her fingers like dissipating smoke. Her eyes fluttered open, and she leaned into his hand. The gesture felt intimate, almost submissive. It quelled the flames of his anger, leaving only a lingering warmth beneath his skin. He found himself lowering his forehead to gently touch hers. It wasn’t an apology, as he had done no wrong, but rather an unspoken acknowledgement.

“Come back to bed,” she whispered, her fingers entwining with his as she tugged him gently.

He should have resisted, should have pushed her away, leaving irreversible scars on her soul. But he allowed her to lead him back, allowing the last remnants of his anger to slip through his fingers.

Daenera nestled against his chest, her index finger tracing slow circles over the bare skin of his chest.

“It does,” Aemond found himself confessing, and she lifted her head to gaze upon his face. “It hurts. There’s rarely a moment when I can’t feel it. It throbs, aches with the ghostly pain of the blade. Sometimes, it becomes unbearable, and it feels as if I’m losing it all over again. Even a simple brush of leather can turn it excruciating.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her brows lifting in concern. The finger that had been tracing his chest halted its journey just short of his scar. “I hurt you?”

Aemond let out a breath that was part chuckle and part sigh. “Sometimes.”

During all those months when he had watched her from a distance, nursing his resentment, the pain had been relentless and excruciating. It was as if the mere absence of her soothing touch had intensified the injury.

While her touch, as before, could intensify the pain, it more often than not soothed it.

It left him feeling strangely unsettled, as if his entire existence hung by a single, excruciating thread, and then she gently wove a thousand threads around it, providing relief from his torment. Yet, those threads remained subject to her mercy, easily severed to plunge him back into a world of agony.

He wondered if it would be better to suffer, than to know the absence of the suffering.

“I am sorry,” she murmured, and Aemond felt an unexpected warmth spread through him, as if her words eased the tension in his muscles.

Her blue eye shifted to his sapphire one. “It’s as if you hole the entire night sky in your eye. As if it harbors clusters of constellations just waiting to be discovered.”

Oh, how sweet her poison was.

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