#along with all the survival guides i brought with me

[atomicsheepscientist]

Some days I wish no one would miss me if I disappeared

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

��It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[skzhua]

a price i'm willing to pay | part 27 - play pretend?

MASTERLIST

pairing: ceo!bang chan x entrepreneur!reader

genre: social media!au, arranged marriage, fake relationship, fluff, angst.

warnings: swearing, might have suggestive bits.

summary: following a scandal threatening the survival of your business, you have no choice but to associate yourself with a competitive company.

Needless to say, you were stressed. Even if Chan’s building was not that far from yours, the few minutes you had to wait for him were agonizing. Moving your knee up and down, biting your bottom lip as you stared at the time, picking the skin around your nails… There wasn’t a thing you weren’t doing in attempt to calm yourself.

“You good?” Changbin questioned you as he was heading out for his own lunch break.

“Yup, never been better,” you sent him a thumbs up but by the look on his face, he was not convinced in the slightest.

“I’m going for fried chicken; do you want me to bring you some?”

You swooned at the gesture but shook your head no. “Chan and I will eat together.”

The disappointment was obvious on his face but he smiled nonetheless, waving at you as he walked out. You almost felt bad until you remembered the messages exchanged with Chan. You had no idea what he wanted to talk about. Did he want to discuss your future projects? Was he regretting collaborating with you? Or worst, did he want to divorce you after realizing he made a mistake?

So many things ran through your mind that you didn’t take notice of Chan standing tall in front of your desk, blazer slouched over his shoulder. Once your eyes set on him, you swallowed thickly upon taking in how fucking handsome he was. There were times you could refrain yourself from such thoughts, but you were all over the place today.

“Really? You’re checking me out right now?” he sighed in disappointment, although he still had a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’m not,” you argued even if you knew the blush on your face would betray you.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Shall we go?”

“Where?”

He perked an eyebrow up. “To eat..?”

“Right,” you cleared your throat before gathering your jacket and purse clumsily.

There was no denying it; this was the cutest sight Chan had had of you so far. Still, he tried to not let it show through and guided you out to the café nearby. You chose a booth that was a bit further from the other tables so you could have some sort of privacy. You sat down, legs jittering under the table, and motioned the seat across from you for Chan to sit on. Only, as is he was intentionally testing your patience and making you even more nervous on purpose, he shook his head and walked to the lineup at the cash register. From there, he sent a small smile to your direction but you could only roll your eyes. This was one of the instances where you would remember why you despised him in the first place.

It only took him a few minutes but he finally sat with you as he brought along with him two carrot muffins and two lattes. You would lie it you said you didn’t find adorable how he remembered your usual and that he ordered the same for him. Nevertheless, this was not what you were here for.

“How was work this morning?” he asked after taking a sip and you deadpanned at him.

“Really? That’s what you’re going to say first?:

He sighed. “I don’ know how to bring the subject into the conversation smoothly.”

“Just say it as it is, it's killing me how I have no idea what you want to discuss about.”

His gaze softened before he cleared his throat. “I know you said to never bring it up again, but it's been on my mind for months and I think I'll go crazy if I don’t have answers.”

Your body stiffened. You knew exactly what he was referring to. The question was why would he bring it up now, after months since it occurred. If it bugged him so much, you would have maybe let him speak.

“What are your questions?”

He seemed surprised and somewhat relieved to see how calm you remained. “Why did you say to not talk about it again? Are you ashamed of it?”

“Ashamed of it?” you repeated. “No, of course not. It's just- I wasn’t thinking straight that night.”

“So your solution to something you caused was to ignore it,” he scoffed. “Does it mean you regret it?”

“Wasn’t it obvious when I ask you to not mention it again?”

His jaw clenched and he took a sip of his latte as a temporary distraction. “Is it that bad that we kissed?”

“We're business partners, Chan.”

“To you, that’s what we are. But I would have hoped after the year we had, you would maybe consider me as your friend at the very least.”

You gulped at his statement. The thing was, you never knew in what category he fitted. At first, it was your rival. Then, a business partner. But with time, you saw your relationship with him to a level you never thought it would reach. You sought to him for comfort, you would call him at random times to get your mind off things, you would actually enjoy your silly fake dates, and — although you would never admit it out loud — the posts you made about each other online made your heart swoon. He was never your friend, but he wasn’t someone you hated anymore.

“Another thing,” he continued after seeing you would not answer. “If you have something with Changbin, it was never my intention to come between the two of you. Heck, I was even a replacement for him that night since he couldn’t come.”

“That’s not true,” you were quick to correct.

“Why did you invite me over the one time he wasn’t going to be there, then?”

You groaned in frustration. “You and Changbin are two totally different people. In no way did I ever think of you as replacement for him. And to answer your question, it’s because he hates you.”

He took a second to register what you said before speaking again, hesitantly. “Do you have something going on with him?”

“Alright, jealous boy, I think we covered enough ground here,” you tried to dismiss the topic but, clearly, he had no intention for you to do so.

“Y/N, do you?”

You thought for a moment, which in itself would have sent Chan's mind into a whirlwind of overthinking, but you responded. “Wonhee thinks he does have feelings for me, but I don’t see him like this. If so, it would have happened long ago.”

He struggled with containing his satisfied smile. “And, are you seeing anybody?”

“If you don’t count, then no.”

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment which inevitably made you self-conscious of your words. You didn’t think before speaking, and somehow, it felt like you said the right thing. Still, you had no idea what you were implying with this. Did you want to be with him for real? Or did you say that because, in a way, you are seeing each other? The latter sounded like the most likely to be, but the first one had a ring to it that was melody to your ears.

“That’s all I wanted to discuss,” he ended up responding, much to your disappointment. “Just let me know if you do begin to date, because-"

“I won’t.”

He frowned at your interruption. “What?”

“We're married, I'm not going to hoe around for no reason.”

“We're married on paper, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. If you are uncomfortable with it, I won’t. Besides, you’re not so bad of a husband.”

His cheeks turned pink while his smile grew, showing his dimples in the process. He sent a wink your way as to tell you he knows what you meant but in all honesty, this took him aback quite a lot. And this was the moment he knew his feelings were definitely stronger than what he had originally thought. In a way, he was grateful you didn’t seem to catch onto his very flustered self. However, a part of him wanted you to know he took this compliment to heart.

“I should get going,” you broke the silence, showing him the time on your phone. “Thank you for the latte and the muffin.”

“It’s nothing. I can walk you to the company.”

You pondered for a second and smiled. “Would you mind?”

“Of course not.”

So, a few minutes later, you were strolling around the city towards your company building. The streets were rather calm, surprisingly, and the little noise there was simply made your surroundings the more welcoming. Today was just perfect.

“We can stop playing pretend, you know?”

His voice caught you off guard. “Come again?”

“You understood me the first time, Y/N,” he breathed out, stopping on his tracks. “How long are we going to keep pretending you and I aren’t something more than just a public relationship? Because, I'll keep going.”

You were out of words, speechless. How could he say something of that sort in such a bold way? You never had the time to think if this would go any further, mainly because you avoided the thought the times it did pop up in your brain. Chan was never the man you'd take interest in, even less in a romantic manner. Not only that, but you had very strong negative feelings towards him not so long ago. But again, the evening strolls with him were always something you looked forward to. The way he'd make the stupidest joke was both something that annoyed you and cheered you up. His crazy sudden dates filled you with adrenaline as you couldn’t wait to see what prepared just for you.

And the kiss at the sleepover. The way he looked so beautiful in the dim light. The softness of his lips that you still think of from time to time to this day. The gently cuddles he gave you the next morning while eating your breakfast…

“I doubt we've been playing pretend this whole time,” you said in a small voice, taking a step towards him.

He took a step closer as well. “Have we not?”

“I don’t think so…”

Crash.

In the middle of the sidewalk, not a care in the world, you were kissing him once again.

“Sunghoon?”

The latter jumped up from his seat, straightening his posture as Jisung arrived at his front desk with a smile plastered on his face. “How can I help you, Mr. Han?”

“There is a last-minute appointment this morning with Miss Park Yoonchae.”

Sunghoon looked at Chris' agenda before frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “She'll be here at 10, you can send her over right away.”

“Important meeting, I see?”

“Depends of the outcome.”

And as told to Sunghoon, the woman dressed from head to toe in designer clothes was standing before him at ten o’clock sharp. As he would always do, he argued a bit with Yoonchae as she was not marked in Chan's schedule. Nonetheless, he did let her through when receiving a deathly glare from Jisung across the room.

“Mr. Bang should review his front desk staff,” Yoonchae muttered under her breath before coming up to Jisung with her innocent eyes. “Hannie! It's been a while!”

“It has.”

“Is Christopher available right now?” she asked while the man was escorting her to the big boss' office.

“If it isn’t, it must be for an emergency. Otherwise, he’s here,” Jisung affirmed, opening the door wide for the girl to walk in.

Chan was there. Only, he was not alone. Not only was Changbin sitting comfortably across him, but so was Minho. Both of the men turned around at the sound of someone entering and frowned when they took notice of Yoonchae.

“Oh, it was today, wasn’t it?” Chan asked as if the answer was not obvious already. “Yoonchae, right?”

“The one and only,” she smiled, even if her displeasure was evident.

“I apologize for my unprofessionalism; I swear it was not intentional. I can see you next week, if that works for you.”

“No.”

“Oh, well-"

“I didn’t come here today for no reason,” she sighed out, walking up to his desk. “I have an offer.”

“Miss, we're kind of in the middle of-" Changbin began but was quickly shut.

“I'm sure you can wait ten minutes or so.”

Chan and Minho exchanged looks before the latter nodded and gestured for his friend to follow him outside the room. Satisfied, Yoonchae smirked at the boys as she took their latest seats, sprawling her coat on the chair next to her. Jisung sent a thumbs up to Chan, and closed the door.

“What did you come here for?” Chan questioned in a forced way.

“Ad you may know, I have a very influential presence in the media.”

“I am aware; proof of it being the atrocious review you made of my wife and I's products.”

“I have millions of followers,” she went on to say, ignoring Chan’s remark. “Many of which could become potential customers of your brand.”

“What are you getting to?”

“I want to become an ambassador of Bahng Fragrances.”

The first reaction of Chan was to scoff out a laugh. There was no way the person who bashed on every beauty item she found would want to work with him. However, when her face remained unchanged, his own smile fell.

“You were serious.”

“Very serious.”

“I'm afraid I can’t do this.”

It was her turn to scoff. “Mr. Bahng, in all due respect, I think you have no choice.”

“My company's success does not rely on your reviews. An even better reason to refuse is the way you treated my wife.”

“I have nothing but respect for your relationship, but let’s be honest here. You are not actually together.”

Chan shook his head in disbelief. “How can you make such an assumption?”

“Because Jisung told me.”

In the split of a second, Chan froze in place. Either she was playing with him, or she was telling the truth.

“Jisung would never do that.”

“Oh, but I have text messages at hands to prove it. I can post them online whenever I please,” she giggled, holding her phone up high. “So? How about we work together, Mr. Bang?”

taglist 1: @lenilla15 | @muddy-waters | @nanaspalette | @nattisbored | @popcatx0 | @vanblack95 | @aestheticsluut | @thanxxskz | @minhoino | @taetertotsv | @luvscrazy | @lethallyprotected | @foxinnie8 | @jisuperboard | @jihanlovic | @soobin-chois | @jinxwhore28 | @purplelandsworld | @yeojoongiee | @smugrogerina | @jaehyunicecream | @urmomlikeslinotoo | @syprosight | @thesassy-mia | @chaotic-world-of-the-j | @heartsforlevi | @miyakoa | @seungincore | @skzsilentcryy | @owotalks | @hanjsquokka | @evermourning | @bangchansbae | @qweebarse | @linosllvr | @kpopsstuffs | @tinyelfperson | @jabmastersupriseee | @imsiriuslyreal | @chrizzztopherbang | @ilovejeongin_007

Copyright © 2024 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[angstywaifu]

New Feelings

Request: garrick x reader. Full of fluff. Maybe their in a similar situation where their dragons are mated but recently ? And they start having these feelings they didn't have to block out before. Requests Open.

Masterlist

Garrick and I had been friends since first year. He had been behind me on the parapet on conscription day. Giving words of encouragement as I slowly made my way across with shaky legs. If it had been anyone else behind me they would have pushed me off and let me die. But not Garrick. He had made sure I made it across. Capturing me in his arms as my legs gave out when I stepped off. Guiding me over to one of the benches to help me calm my nerves. Heights had never been my strong point. But I didn’t have a choice in being here. Neither had Garrick. Both children of the rebellion. Both marked to show what our parents had done.

Since that moment he had helped me with my training. Making sure I had what I needed to survive. He had become my life line for the first few months till we both bonded our dragons. Once that happened it was like something in me shifted, and it all became natural to me. I was no longer the scared girl who had shakily made her way across the parapet. I was a dragon rider. But it hadn’t stopped Garrick and I training together whenever we got the chance. And when the time came he brought me in on the supply runs to the Gryphon riders. It helped that our dragons got along well. Chradh and Nearte having a close friendship just like Garrick and I. Meaning they flew well together.

But at the end of second year they threw a spanner in the works for us. Chradh and Nearte becoming mated dragons. A bonded pair for life. Bonding Garrick and I to each other for life. I remember the night it happened. Graduation Night. At first I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. What had come over me. But that night Garrick and I had ended up in someone else’s bed to try subdue the feeling that had both taken us by surprise. The next morning Xaden had lost it as Garrick joined us for breakfast. Instantly knowing what had gone down due to having a mated dragon himself. We we’re both still on edge, the emotions our dragons we’re feeling over being newly mated still screaming at us down the bond. We’d both barely gotten any sleep despite going multiple rounds with the other riders we had taken to bed.

Xaden reaches into his jacket pocket and places a tin on the table between us before standing. “Split what’s inside. You two are going to need it to get through the next few days.” He teases before walking out of the hall.

Garrick reaches over and opens the tin. Churum. Something we definitely were not allowed to have in the quadrant. But as we met each others eyes, we knew we we’re going to need it if we wanted to get a good nights sleep before the school year started up again.

After that everything mostly turned back to normal, besides our dragons going at it nearly every night for the first few weeks. The churum only doing so much to dull the tsunami of emotions they sent down the bond. But as the days and weeks went on, as Garrick and I learnt to shield out the brunt of the emotions they sent down the bond, something else had changed. As if I had started to see Garrick in a new light. In a way I had never seen him before. And that’s how I found myself zoned out in challenges as I watched Garrick take on a guy in second year. My eyes trailing over his muscular physique on full show due to him removing his shirt. The sweat that accentuates every fine line.

”You ok Y/N?” Xaden asks from next to me.

I tear my eyes away from Garrick who has the second year easily pinned beneath him. “Yeah.. yeah I’m fine.” I tell him as confidently as I can.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ve been trying to get your attention since his challenge started.”

”And?”

”That was two minutes ago.” He states bluntly.

Oh.

”Sorry just a bit distracted.” I tell him with a shrug, my cheeks burning as they flush.

Xaden looks at me before shifting his eyes to Garrick. A small smirk on his lips.

“About damn time.” He teases.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean about damn time?”

“The fact you have to ask that just proves how oblivious you are. Maybe this mated dragon thing will do you two some good.” He tells me with a chuckle as the bell ringing around the quadrant signals the end of challenges.

I look at him confused, what the hell was he talking about? But I was about to find out. I turn back to look at Garrick to see another girl walking up him. Reaching out to run her hand down his front. I instantly see red despite Garrick reaching out and stopping her. He does nothing to hide his displeasure at what she’s done. Garrick might get around, but he doesn’t like it being flaunted in front of the Quadrant publicly. But the girl still tries. Reaching out with her other hand. I must go to rush forward as Xaden grasps my wrist tightly in his hand.

”Is that jealousy?” Xaden teases.

I glare at him as I rip my wrist from his grasp, looking up to see Garrick looking at me with panic in his eyes. The girl trying to get his attention back as he just stares at me. I turn and rush from the room, wiping the angry tears that have fallen down my cheeks. I vaguely hear him calling my name as I rush through the Quadrant. Praying I can lose him. But he knows exactly where I’m running off to. And yet I don’t change my path. Head right where Garrick knows I will go. But at least I will be able to get a few moments before he arrives. I lean back against the tree as I lower myself to the ground, shutting my eyes and focusing on my breathing. I’d made a fool of myself. Let Xaden get in my head. But had he? I’d instantly seen red when that girl had walked over to Garrick. Instantly wanted to march over and tear her off him. Not something I had ever wanted to do before. This was just our dragons and them being mated now. This was nothing to do with actually wanting Garrick. Right? Heavy foot steps on the ground announce his arrival. I open my eyes to see him leaning on the tree next to me, arms crossed across his now clothed chest. Looking at me in a way I’ve never seen him look at me before.

”I think we need to talk darling.”

[thesunfyre4446]

Catelyn raised five children & they ALL turned out to be good people. She was an infinitely better parent than Alicent ever was, there’s just no comparison.

Meanwhile, Alicent gave her sons every possible social and political advantage growing up, but never bothered to discipline them in any way or teach them how to lead effectively, with the result that Aegon II and Aemond grew into, respectively, a lazy, incompetent, unlikable, and gluttonous sex pest and a psychotically violent and bloodthirsty mass murderer who murdered his nephew the first chance he got, destroying any chance of a peace treaty between the two warring factions and leading the Blacks to (rightfully) retaliate in similar fashion. Aemond slaughtered the entirety of House Strong (including the children) under the mere suspicion of one of them being a traitor, nearly strangled a squire who brought him news that displeased him, and used Vhagar to reduce the Riverlands to smoking piles of ash. Her father, brothers, daughter, two other sons, and grandsons were all killed, but Aegon II survived, fed Rhaenyra to his dragon, and claimed the Iron Throne... and he proceeded to accomplish absolutely nothing and would rule for less than a year before he was fatally poisoned by his own supporters (after he decided to go along with HER suggestion to mutilate the young Aegon III, rather than stand down in the face of an enemy army he had no hope of defeating), making the death of every single Hightower for naught. In the end, Alicent did everything in her power to make her son a king, but it meant nothing because she didn’t raise him to be a man worthy of a crown.

gurl. GURL

alicent is only similar to cate because they're both highborn women fighting for the rights of their children relying mostly on their wits. you've just sent the same long detailed ask about how much you hate alicent. we get it, you hate alicent, aegon and aemond. do you need me to validate your feelings? what is this ask even for?

and how can you compare alicent to cate? cate had a loving and supporting husband, who respected her and loved the children they had together. alicent was married off to a sick middle aged king when she was 14, and was forced to have his children without anyone to support & guide her. viserys was a horrible father, and had a major role in making aegon and aemond turn out as they did. he ignored them, neglected them, he forced unwanted s*x on their mother. ned loved his children, respected his wife, his family was everything to him. his children idolized him. the stark kids grew up with parents that loved and respected each other, the targtowers grew up with a stressed out teen mom and a neglectful father that had no love or respect for his wife.

i hate it when people fail to acknowledge viserys's neglect of his sons and how it affected them and blame everything on alicent - who was a child herself when she gave birth to them.

[maisiestyle]

"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

Arya is a mix of both her parents. But as her story unfolds, with every new chapter and book, Arya has moved beyond her parents and into a far more dynamic character.

Ned was a role model to Arya, she loved him more than almost anyone (she loves Jon most of all). She holds on to Ned's memory now more than any of his children.

Ned is stubborn, quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and deeply devoted to his family to the point where he sacrificed his honor and died for his children.

Both Arya & Ned had a dislike for Southern culture. Which is double odd considering Ned was fostered in the South: That was never truly his place. Whereas Cat and Sansa are very much creatures made for the South.

Treatment of the smallfolk and not judging those lower than their station... That says a lot about their character, something Ned, Lyanna, Arya & Jon have all shown in the books.

Arya & Ned are similar but different as well. Where Ned was lacking, his ability to not see the truth in the lies around him - Arya has developed beyond that point. Ned was too slow and unyielding until it was too late and he died. Cat was to heedless, prideful, and emotional - that cost her life. At the beginning Arya was a mix of both her parents BUT her journey so far has made her grow and develop where her parents had not. By Book 5, Arya is extremely artful and considerate, patient and willing to face the truth in all its ugliness, adaptable and fluid like water - a changeling. That's how she'll survive where her parents did not.

While Sansa is learning how to flirt, organise a glorified party and remain passive and isolated.

Arya lives out in the open, has escaped death and captivity by her own wits, travelled all over Westeros leaving her memory imprinted on the people she met along the way, and her unyielding desire to never be helpless again which brought her to Braavos. The Sealord of Braavos stood up to a King and his dragons and won - all he did was whisper the "faceless men" and King's Landing yielded - that is true power. Arya will return to Westeros having grown in many ways. But like her father and mother, her family will always be her guiding light.

I love how the Northmen constantly connect Arya to Ned and want to fight for them both:

When White Harbour (a place Arya has visited twice with Ned) hears of "Arya Stark" marrying Ramsay.

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - (Davos, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

As "Arya" suffers in Winterfell, they connect her to Ned:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ...

"Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears.

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? […] Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - (Reek, A Dance with Dragons)

[…]

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take [Winterfell] for Ned and for his daughter.” - (The Sacrifice, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - (Dance with Dragons)

[looneyleyle]

waves ~ f. odair

synopsis: a look into the healing mind of a tortured champion

warnings: angsty, hunger-games typical trauma, some hurt and comfort, mentioned forced prostitution

words: 1916

first person pov

waves.

that was what the doctors told me to focus on. well, they told me to focus on something calming. something soothing that i could draw upon from my life before the capitol, before the games, before the trauma.

so, i thought of waves. not the big flashy ones far out on the horizon. i thought of the small ones that ripple just barely onto the sand line at night. the ones that would lightly wash over my bare feet during my nightly strolls with finnick.

finnick. another constant from my life, but not before the trauma. we were raised in the same district, but i didn't know him before the games. he would always be out in the water, spearing fish and weaving baskets, whereas i sat in the shop, drying up ocean plants and grinding up chunks of sea salt. i knew of him during his games, of course, but i never met him until i was reaped myself. it was a couple of years after him, five to be exact. my family was one of the poorer ones of the district. our shop didn't bring in much money, as most families collected and made their own herbs and spices from their time in the water. we mainly sold to the older folks who couldn't go out themselves, or when families needed something in a pinch. that was why i had my name in so many times. it was my last year of being eligible for the games, so i applied for a tesserae for each of my family members. rarely anyone else in the district applied for it, but there were a few other kids who did the same, coming from the same poorer part of the district as i did.

and so, as fate had it, i was reaped for the seventieth hunger games, and came to know the capitol's darling, finnick. he was a charming boy, everyone in panem knew that. by the time of my games, he had sprouted into quite a handsome young man, at the ripe age of 19. i was only a woman, of course i recognized it. in fact, i savored it. i knew i had no skills to win the games, i might as well drink in the sights before the end.

miraculously, i survived my games. survived was... a word you could use, i guess. the neverending trauma, the waking up in cold sweat, the sound of screams ringing in your ears never feels like "surviving", but that's what it could technically be called.

this is the part where i tell you that finnick was there to comfort and guide me through these times, except it's not. in fact, something in my games set him off so badly that he hid himself from me. during my victory tour, he locked himself up in his room, only showing his face during the speeches. instead, mags comforted me, being the wonderful woman she is. she waved off finnick's behavior with a sad glint in her kind eyes whenever i brought it up.

instead, it was me who comforted him. i was sitting in my room in the capitol, waiting for the party the following day at snow's mansion, when i heard a loud thunk outside of my door. when i opened it, i saw finnick, leaned up against the wall, in a daze. i immediately ushered him in, his body moving lethargically through the apartment. he all but fell onto the couch, eyes dragging along the surroundings until they finally honed in on me. when he locked eyes with me, his expression faltered, and his eyes began to water. i didn't know what was going on, the ever so cocky and charismatic man was in my victory tour apartment, almost sobbing.

"i won't let them take you, i won't let them." was all he was able to say. he muttered it over and over again, i started to seriously worry about my safety. who was 'they', and what did they want with me?

he later explained the predicament, how the capitol would take "desirable" victors and sell them to the highest bidder for the night. he told me about his 'friend' who had gone through it, but even as the word 'friend' left his lips, he knew that i saw right through him.

when my victory tour officially ended, i returned to district four with a new house and all the riches in panem. i offered my parents and sister to live with me, but they insisted on staying in the shop. they wouldn't take the money i got from the games either, but i managed to pay off a fair few of their bills before they could realize it each month.

so, i was the sole occupant of an overly extravagant house, no need to work, no need to fish, no need to lift a finger. my job was to sit there on the couch and rot away.

after one of his particularly long stays at the capitol, finnick and i found ourselves in a very similar situation to before: him, leaning on my door, broken, looking for some form of real human connection. i, of course, let him in, and just sat there and talked with him. he began to get antsy, pacing my living room. it was still fairly warm outside, so i decided to take him on a nice, calming, late-night walk on the beach. we let the little waves nip at our feet as we talked about small things, nothing too serious. it felt like everything in our lives were entirely too serious, and a break was much appreciated.

this became our routine. every time finnick got back from the capitol, he would show up on my doorstep, and we would take a long walk on the beach. finnick once told me that it was the only way he could get through those stays there, the thought that he would soon be walking among the waves with me.

waves.

when finnick got reaped for the quarter quell, it felt like the air was knocked out of me. it was finnick and mags, and while i stepped forward to volunteer, i was held back by one of the other victors. finnick had talked to me about it a few nights before, lying in bed with me. he made me promise that if one of us was reaped, the other wouldn't volunteer. it would do us no use if we were both in there. there was no chance of the capitol allowing two victors to make it out of the games alive again, not after the chaos that followed katniss and peeta's victory.

as soon as finnick was transported off to the capitol, i locked myself in my house. my bedsheets still smelled like him, and i bunched them up in my hands and cried into them.

i battled with myself, wondering if i should even watch the games. on one hand, i'd know for a fact if he was alive. on the other, i don't think i could bear the sights of him being maimed, mauled, or mutilated. ultimately, to keep my peace of mind, i decided against watching the games. one of the other victors watching was to inform me if he died, and nothing else. i instead spent my days weaving, something finnick taught me over the years. it was his way of focusing his mind, calming the thoughts. when i weaved, it was like he was there right behind me, arms wrapped around my torso as he whispered into my hair the directions.

i didn't know how many days into the games it was, but one day, at some late hour of the night, i heard knocking at my door. my stomach dropped. i could only assume the worst, that someone was here to tell me that finnick had died. i rushed down the stairs and swung open the door, only to be met by a mob of peacekeepers who violently dragged me out of the house and knocked me unconcious.

i don't remember much of what happened to me whilst in the capitol, and the doctors say that's good. they don't want me dwelling on whatever torture they might have put me through. but it freaked me out. according to the doctors, i was there for months. months of my life were just casually blank in my memory, and that freaked me the fuck out. this would be the point where i would start hyperventilating, and the doctors would tell me to focus on the waves.

waves.

the small waves that would hit the sand back at home. the waves of golden hair resting on my chest when i would wake up in my house in victory village. the now bronzer waves that i would see during my daily visitor hours. the lack of sunshine in thirteen really paled out finnick's appearance, though i've been told it was worse when he knew i was still in the capitol. they knew i was precious to him, they knew taking me would be the ultimate revenge towards him. as to how they knew about me and finnick, i had no clue. we weren't officially anything, though i suppose it was a bit incriminating when he moved over half of his belongings to my house a year or so after my games. after all, snow had eyes everywhere.

after a month or so in the medward of district 13, i was finally cleared to roam around on my own, provided that i came in for weekly check-ins. as soon as the words left the doctor's lips, finnick was at the door to my room, arm poised to help steady myself as we walked around. the doctors suggested that we head down to the cafeteria to get me socialized, but finnick seemed to have other plans. i didn't know my way around thirteen, but i knew that a latch in the ceiling certainly could not be the way into the cafe. instead, it took us outside. it was night out, and much colder than the nights in four ever were. finnick simply looked back at me, hand extended towards me with a question lingering in his sea green eyes. i took his hand with no hesitation, letting him pull me up and into the grass. the fresh air filled my lungs, after months of being locked up in stuffy rooms, both in the capitol and in thirteen. we walked in silence, me taking everything in, finnick's hand never leaving mine. eventually, i felt the texture of the ground beneath me change. looking down, i watched as my feet were swallowed by sand. my eyes quickly surveyed the area around us, and quickly spotted a calm pond fed by a small stream. the stream caused the slightest of ripples in the water, which just barely made it to the sand.

"it isn't anything like four, but it's the closest we have here. i would come out here almost every night while you were in the capitol, right there, hoping that i would get to take you here sometime, or better yet, to take you back to four." he told me. i looked up at him, my body aflame from his words. my heart was heavy, knowing how much he suffered while i was there, but knowing that we were here, right now, helped wash away the pain, like the waves hitting the sand.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

A New Friend (Part 1/2)

pairing: park ranger!frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (mild sexual desire but nothing even mildly explicit, reader has a douchey boyfriend, breakups, frankie is an angel because i said so, just cutesy flirting mostly, we get sexy in part two don’t worry)

wc: 4k

frankie masterlist

Where the fuck am I?

You turned to study the woods around you, the trees notched with marks you’d made after having watched one too many survival shows on your couch looking a little too familiar for comfort.

You’d been trying to find your way back to the trail for two hours now, sunset turning into night before your eyes.

Now, you had to come to terms with the fact that you were indeed very lost, going in circles when you were supposed to be heading south—you were supposed to be heading south, right?—to your campsite, the campsite your boyfriend and his friends were at getting shitfaced, likely not even noticing your absence.

As you wandered the dark woods in hopes of finding any sort of sign or guide to safety with your dull flashlight, you considered why you even came along on this trip in the first place.

This weekend marked your fifth anniversary, plans of a trip for just the two of you becoming quickly derailed by the unexpected—at least on your part—visit of his two best friends who showed up and invited him out for a camping trip. Not wanting to spend the weekend all by yourself, contemplating the future of your relationship, you decided to join them, much to their dismay judging by the way they’d been ignoring you since the start of the trip.

This evening, you decided to go out on a walk to get some much needed air from the men who were busy pretending you didn’t exist—including your partner. That’s how you found yourself lost, stuck stumbling through a navy blue washed forest, every sound heightened from fear, your brain creating scenario after scenario of how you’d reach your demise. Be it a bear or a bobcat, a stranger or nature, your anxious heart was sure somehow, this would be the end for you if you didn’t find safety.

Luckily, after a few minutes of hopeless navigating, your flashlight shined on a wooden sign with an arrow pointing left, “Ranger Station: ¼ Mile”.

“Thank god,” you exhaled, nodding as you started off in the direction of the well-used path.

As if the universe were laughing at you, halfway to the station, you began to feel a light drizzle from the blackened skies above, the clouds that had looked harmless this afternoon now slate-grey and rumbling. Shaking your head at your luck, you started to move quicker, but it seemed the rain had the same idea, the drizzle quickly spiraling to a full downpour by the time you walked up the steps to the Ranger’s lodge.

“Please be open,” you mumbled to yourself, noticing that the lights were off inside the tiny cabin. “Please, someone fucking be here.”

You pounded on the door after your knocks failed to earn a response, your eyes frantically looking around the building for any sign of life that could help (or hurt) you. Suddenly, your luck seemed to turn as a man dressed in a tight, form fitting uniform of khaki and forest green came running up the pathway with his coat thrown over his head.

“Excuse me!” you called out over the loud, crashing thunder, pulling his eyes from the ground up to yours. He seemed startled to see you standing there, drenched from the downpour and helpless.

“Oh—sorry,” he apologized as he stepped up the porch to unlock the cabin door, guiding you inside with the flick of a light switch. “I was out sweeping for stragglers when it started to get dark, must’ve missed you.”

“I got myself pretty lost, I don’t blame you,” you chuckled, overcome by the immediate relief brought on by shelter and warmth.

The cabin was small, a warm little space washed in golden light. There was a plaid loveseat in front of a fireplace, a half-read book laying on the coffee table in front of it. Turning your head a bit, there was a kitchen nook built in, nothing extravagant, just a mini-fridge, microwave, portable stovetop, some pots and pans, and a coffee machine. Beside the kitchen rested a desk that looked more like a dinner table, littered with papers and manilla folders as well as a closed laptop. Above, there was a loft built in, though you figured you’d need to climb up there yourself if you intended to study the layout.

“So,” the Ranger’s husky, low voice interrupted your snooping. You turned to watch him as he hung his coat up on the hook by the door before kicking his boots off. “How can I help you? You mentioned you were lost?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, clearing your throat. “I don’t remember the campsite location. I’ve been wandering for hours now.”

“By yourself?” he questioned, a crease forming between his brow as he studied you better, his eyes raking over your entire form before the reality of your soaked state dawned on him. “You cold? I have some tea, or…coffee?”

“Tea sounds great, thank you.” You watched him as he nodded, walking over to the kitchen nook to get the stovetop heated and water placed in the kettle he had hidden in a cupboard. Meanwhile, you looked longingly at the fireplace, hoping that he’d notice your shiver and light it. “Do you…possibly have a spare set of clothes? Anything would help, really.”

“Oh. Sure,” he nodded, avoiding your eyes but remaining attentive as he left the kettle on the burner and walked over to a closet by the door. He tugged out a plastic bin and lifted the lid off, a stack of brand new ranger uniforms inside. “What’s your size?”

You begrudgingly disclosed that information in exchange for warmth, and soon he was setting a pair of forest green pants and a beige t-shirt in your open palms.

“Uh, the restroom’s right there.” He pointed at the closed door in the corner of the room. “I’ll light the fire.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a smile but he was still avoiding looking at you directly, so it went unseen. With an awkward nod to him, you walked into the tiny bathroom to undress and redress, the full-length mirror mounted on the door serving as a good source of entertainment as you studied the way you looked in the ranger’s uniform, the pants undeniably, and shockingly, hugging every good curve on your body.

“The, uh, tea is ready when you are!” His voice sounded through the wooden door, making you jump as you posed in the mirror. gathering your damp clothes in your hands, making sure to hide your undergarments in the pile, you walked back out into the living room, spotting the man in uniform sitting at the table/work area with a mug of his own. “Yours is on the coffee table.”

“Thank you so much, for all of this,” you gestured around and he gave you a nod, no sign of a smile on his face, but there was no apparent anger or discomfort either. “My, uh, my name is…” You gave him your name and offered another friendly smile.

“I’m Frankie,” he greeted you back. Still no smile. “The storm is gonna go on all night. I think the odds of getting back to your campsite are slim, unfortunately.”

Your heart sank a bit at the news. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust this handsome ranger to house you for a night, but the thought of being an inconvenience to yet another person made you feel sick.

“I, um, I have a tent, so…I can stay outside and you can stay in here,” he offered.

“I know I’m not an expert at this stuff but that doesn’t sound very safe.”

“There's a cover, so, it’s not too bad. Your comfort and safety take precedence. It’s sorta my job.” He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“I appreciate the thought, but honestly, I think I would feel more comfortable with you in here with me.” You weren’t sure why you cared so much about keeping this glum ranger around, but there was something in his eyes, in his voice that calmed you in a way you desperately craved after the weekend you had. You weren’t naive to the deceit of men, but you truly believed this one meant you no harm. Besides, you were pretty sure sleep wasn’t going to come easy tonight anyway.

“Okay,” he agreed, his voice softer than before. “There’s, uh, not much for entertainment around here.” He chuckled, watching you as you set your clothes down by the fireplace before taking a seat on the sofa. “There’s books. Lots of books, but I know that’s not everyone’s—“

“Oh, I just finished this,” you interrupted him by picking up the book from the coffee table.

“Did—was the end any good?” he asked, standing up from the table and walking over to the kitchen nook to refill his mug.

“It was. Are you liking it so far?” You turned to watch him, the sight of his shirt straining against his broad back making you feel like a cheater for the lustful images your brain decided to flood your mind with.

“I am, but I’m an anxious reader. Constantly have to fight the urge to flip to the last pages.” He laughed again and you felt yourself melt further into the sofa. “So, are you camping alone, too?”

“No,” you sighed as you shook your head and set the book down.

“Touchy subject?” he guessed, resuming his seat at the table.

“I don’t know,” you exhaled and scratched your neck, chuckling at your own predicament. “It’s my anniversary tonight, and instead of spending it with my boyfriend and his two closest friends in the middle of the woods, I’m spending it with a stranger…ranger?”

He chuckled at the rhyme and let out a sympathetic sigh. “Can’t say the first option sounded very good, either.”

“No,” you nodded, looking to him with eager eyes. “It fucking sucks! And they were just ignoring me anyway. This is the most conversation I’ve had all weekend.”

“So is he like…an avid camper or something? You guys do this often?” Frankie questioned, sitting forward with his elbows on the table, his mug held in both hands.

“No, he’s just…an avid douchebag.” Frankie’s boisterous laugh both shocked and delighted you.

“Which is why, I’m assuming, you went and got lost in the woods by yourself?”

“Yep,” you sighed and shook your head. “And the sad thing is, I bet they haven’t even realized I left.”

“It sounds like you need to make this your last anniversary,” he advised, shrugging his shoulders when you turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” you agreed with a sad whisper. “Sucks.”

Frankie studied you for a moment, something more earnest than sympathy in his eyes as you stared down at your lap, picking at your cuticles.

“Hey—“ He caught your attention, your eyes lifting to meet his from across the room. “I’ve got a few board games in case my daughter comes to stay with me on duty. We could…play one? Pass some time?”

Knowing that the only alternative was to dwell on the crumbling state of your relationship, you agreed with a soft, barely there smile and a nod.

Frankie sat down on the rug in front of the fire, clearing the coffee table before pointing to the stack of board games on the shelf below the wooden top.

“There’s Candyland, Life, Monopoly, Scrabble, and Uno.”

“Huh,” you smiled and thought about the options, your stress taken away by this kind and charming stranger tasked with sheltering you for the night, seemingly in more ways than one. “We can start with Candyland.”

“Start, huh? Gonna be up playing games all night?” he asked with a matching smile as he set up the board game. “I guess I’m not one to talk given my personal track record, but I heard that sometimes it helps to face your shit, not run from it.”

“I’ll face it in the morning,” you replied, soft and vulnerable. “Tonight, I just want to be a stranded woman in the woods playing Candyland with a park ranger.”

“Okay,” he rasped back with a smile and a nod.

“I hate you,” you kissed your teeth and rolled your eyes as you reached for the stack of Uno cards on the table, picking eight up and stuffing them in your hand previously only holding one, that near-victory long gone after he matched your +4 card. “You actually ruined my night, wow. How dare you?”

“Jeez,” he laughed and held his hands up in defense. “I didn’t expect such a violent reaction—“

“Oh, yeah right,” you rolled your eyes at him again before meeting his, your laughter fading into just a few soft, breathy chuckles the longer your eyes remained glued to his soft, brown, puppy-like stare.

“You, uh—“ he chuckled and looked down at his lap, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“No,” you giggled and urged him on. “Tell me.”

“You just have nice eyes. That’s all.” He shrugged and went to place a card on the stack, changing the color to red.

“I think you have nice eyes, as well,” you spoke softly, almost shyly as you searched your hand for an appropriate card, choosing a “reverse” card to lay on top of his. “Very puppy-dog.”

“Puppy-dog?” he asked in a laugh, amused by the unusual comparison. “Never heard that before.”

“You know, the way puppies look when they’re begging for scraps? You’ve got that same…charm, I guess. Like I couldn’t say no to you.” You mumbled the last sentence, the words not entirely meant for him to hear.

As much as you were enjoying your time with this handsome stranger and planned to end things with your boyfriend the minute you were reunited with him, you were still a taken woman. Cheating was never your thing, but you couldn’t deny the pull to the man sitting in front of you, illuminated and washed in the golden amber light of the fireplace, the buttons on his long-sleeved beige dress shirt undone at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“It’s getting late.” Frankie stood up abruptly and cleared his throat before looking at the watch on his wrist. “Two A.M. already. Sun’ll be up around six, we can head out and find your campsite then.”

“And in the meantime?” you asked, standing up as well though you weren’t sure why. Frankie’s eyes softened on you, not missing the hopeful twitch of your lip. He shook his head at you, but it was so subtle you nearly missed it.

“You’re…involved. It’s not cool,” he reminded, proving that at least one of you had your head screwed on right. “But believe me…I want to.”

“Yeah,” you nodded and looked down at your feet, embarrassed by the mere suggestion. “I—uh…yeah.”

“I’ll take the couch. You can go up into the loft. I have some clean pajamas on my bed, if you want.”

You climbed up the wooden ladder to the loft, finding a cozy space with a full-size mattress on the floor by a large window, a little lamp for reading in the corner, and a record player pre-loaded with a copy of Nirvana’s “Nevermind”. The rain was visible from the window, pattering on the glass while lightning struck in the distance, a loud boom of thunder cracking a few moments later. Lowering your eyes back to the bed, you spotted the set of red flannel pajamas at the foot.

“Mind turning the lights off so I can change?” you called out, and for a minute hoped he’d change his mind and come undress you himself.

“Sure thing,” he replied, and a moment later the cabin went black, except for the golden light of the fireplace.

You changed quickly, desperate to wear his clothes, to smell him up close for the first time, but the scent that flooded your nostrils was too clean, too soapy to have been him.

Now dressed, you walked to the fenced in ledge of the loft to watch him as he sat on the sofa, a book in hand. The fireplace illuminated him in a way that made him look painted, almost, like the product of an artist’s imagination. It was a painting you’d quite like to own, so that your eyes could study him everyday.

“Night,” he called, not looking up from his book.

“Good night,” you replied, smiling to yourself all the way to bed.

Hours had passed by, the sun now up but hidden behind the clouds, the rain pattering against the window calming to a light drizzle. You hadn’t fallen asleep the entire time, your mind spinning with thoughts of seeing your boyfriend again, of the conversation you needed to have before getting the fuck out of this godforsaken National Park.

“Morning,” Frankie greeted you as you stepped down the ladder to the main floor of the cabin. His smile served as a better stimulant than any coffee you’d ever consumed, your tired eyes going bright as you took in the sight of him scrambling eggs in the kitchenette. “Thought I should feed you before I take you back to the douchebags.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked as he scraped half of the pan of eggs onto one plate before repeating it with another. You pulled up a seat while he carried the food over, placing one in front of you and the other in front of the seat closest to yours. A smile tugged at your lips at his choice of seat.

“I tried,” you answered, remembering that he’d asked a question. “But…my brain doesn’t like to shut off.”

“I feel you there.” The sound of liquid pouring into a cup caught your attention before the waft of coffee hit your nose. You felt yourself salivating as he walked your cup over. “Creamer, sugar?”

“Neither,” you shook your head. “This is incredible, thank you, Frankie.”

“It’s no problem,” he assured as he sat down beside you. “Part of the job.”

“I doubt that,” you laughed.

“Keep the park and its visitors safe. That’s the entire job,” he argued with a tilt of his head, his fork stabbing at the eggs.

“So you do all this for every stray that shows up at your door?” you asked in a playful tone, hoping to conceal your hurt at the prospect of simply being an obligation to him even if that’s exactly what you were.

“No, I don’t typically let my strays wear my PJ’s when I shelter them.” He smiled, his eyes lowered to the flannel set you were still wearing. “And I never, ever, let them win at Candyland like I did with you.”

“Oh, let me win, huh? Someone’s a sore loser,” you teased, grinning at your eggs as you mindlessly stabbed at them. “Maybe we should have a rematch, then.”

“I was counting on it,” he replied. Your eyes lifted to meet his, both of you swallowing thickly at the tension that seemed to keep building with every passing second. “You should eat.”

“You should kiss me,” some out of character being possessing you replied, shocking not only him, but yourself as well. “I’m sorry. That was…god, that was way too forward. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted, reaching his hand over to lower yours as it shielded your eyes in embarrassment. “Believe me. But I like you, or, could like you…a lot, I think…if we did this the right way, I mean. But kissing you now—“ He shook his head. “S’not the right way.”

“I know,” you exhaled and lifted your fork to your mouth, swallowing down a bite of food that you could hardly get down with all the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

It only took Frankie about half an hour on his quad to find your campsite based on your half-assed description, your arms hugging him closely as you sat behind him.

When you arrived, your eyes widened at the sight of the once clean grounds now littered with trash, the boys, their tents, and the truck you all came in long gone. All that remained was their garbage and your duffel bag, a note sticking out of it.

“Well,” he sighed as he parked the quad and turned it off. “They are indeed douchebags.”

“What the fuck?” you whispered, staring at the note. You turned to Frankie and shook your head, a tear falling down your cheek as you started to read the note out loud.

Since you want to be dramatic and run off all night, I’m gonna give you all the space you could ever want. I’m so done with your shit. Consider this me breaking up with you.

“Fuck,” Frankie shook his head and through your tear-blurred vision you could see his jaw clenched. Frankie climbed off the ATV and walked up to you, reaching for your hand as it crumbled the note up. “This guy is a fucking dick—beyond a fucking dick, he’s…they don’t make filthy enough curse words to describe how shitty he is. You deserve so much better than that.”

“How do you know that?” you sighed, pulling away from him to pick your bag up off the ground. Frankie quickly took it from you and walked it back to the ATV, tying it onto the back.

“I guess I don’t,” Frankie finally answered your question as he returned with a trash bag. “But, judging by how kind and friendly you’ve been so far…I’d say that alone makes you at the very least better than him.”

You huffed a weak laugh and smiled at the sight of his dress shirt stretching over his back as he bent down to clean the campsite. Feeling guilty for your ex-boyfriend’s sins, you rushed to help, practically stealing the bag from Frankie’s hands.

“Thank you, Frankie.” You gave him a sincere, heartfelt smile. “I’m really sorry you got dragged into all my bullshit—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile.

“Don’t apologize,” he ordered before checking his watch. “My shift’s over in an hour or so. Do you live in town? I can drive you home, if you want?”

“I do, and that would…that would be really nice.”

You attempted to keep your tears at bay as he started the quad up and turned back around. Here was this stranger, treating you better than your boyfriend of five years ever had, and he’d only known you for one fucking night.

Back at the cabin, Frankie left you with the WiFi password while he tended to his end-of-shift duties, knowing that your phone had no service and that you should probably update your loved ones on your whereabouts considering you technically went missing last night.

You called your best friend first, giving them the rundown on not only what happened between you and your now ex-boyfriend, but also the building tension between you and your knight in shining khaki, Frankie. After some much needed words of comfort and reassurance that you deserve someone better than your shitty ex, you said goodbye and hung up.

Next up was your ex. You’d planned on telling him off, on calling him out on all the shit you’d been putting up with since the beginning of your relationship, but you never got the chance. The fucker sent you straight to voicemail.

By the time Frankie arrived, you already cried out all the tears you felt your relationship deserved, which wasn’t much.

“Everything okay?” he asked, walking over to join you on the sofa.

“Yeah,” you gave him a soft smile. “Or at least it will be.”

“Breakups are hard,” he empathized, reaching a hand over to rest on your knee. You stared down at the contact with a smirk before looking back to his eyes, finding him deep in study as he watched you. “This might…might not be the right time, but…and it doesn’t have to be anything romantic, but…are you doing anything tonight? Maybe we could go out for a drink or go see a movie or…anything, really. I could be a friend.”

“I’d like you to be more than a friend, Frankie.”

“So would I…eventually,” he added with a smile. “But for now, I don’t want you rushing into anything with me. It’s…it’s easy to confuse distraction for acceptance. Believe me, I made a lot of mistakes after my divorce. And…I really don’t want to be a mistake or a distraction to you. So, for now…friends?”

You twisted your mouth as you smiled, looking down at his hand on your knee and resting yours on top of it.

“Friends.”

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[ironladders]

zaterran/saurian lore masterpost (all games)

these are mostly meant to be notes for myself so i don't have to constantly check the fandom wiki because i hate using that website, but anyone can use this post as a guide or reference point. there is only so much information about zaterra and its people, but i tried to compile and summarize everything we do have.

if i missed anything, or got something wrong, let me know.

note: i will be referring to them as only zaterrans just to make this easier. midway couldn't decide on a name, and nrs was stuck on that for a while too—but now that mk1 has seemingly settled this, i refuse to go back and forth between them all.

history

original & alternate timelines:

millions of years ago, zaterrans lived on earthrealm, being a bipedal people descended from dinosaurs. unlike their dinosaur ancestors, they had evolved more intelligent brains and were able to thrive as a proper society. however, when shinnok turned against his fellow elder gods and came into conflict with raiden, the following battle was so disastrous that it triggered the K-T event on earthrealm that wiped out the dinosaurs and almost all life on earthrealm. the surviving zaterrans fled the disaster and were split into two: some of them left earthrealm to reside in a realm called zaterra ("new earth") in hopes of rebuilding their culture, and the rest took refuge underground in hollow earth.

for the zaterrans that were displaced, things were fine for a while, until shao kahn came along to conquer their realm. the zaterrans lost the effort against the emperor, and following the trend of other realms that have been conquered by shao — such as edenia, vaeturnus, osh-tekk, and arnyek — zaterra was absorbed into outworld. after this, the zaterrans left were taken into slavery and driven to near extinction. it's not known exactly when shao took zaterra, or how long it took for the zaterrans to start dying out out, but syzoth's mortal kombat 2 bio mentions that his race was believed to be extinct "millions of years ago." in addition, the few remaining zaterrans alive don't actually remember these events happening.

as for the zaterrans that fled to hollow earth, they managed to endure and thrive underground without any interference. there is not much information on their history or what they experienced in hollow earth, other than that they went undetected and are ruled over by a matriarch.

the new era:

in liu kang's new era, zaterra is part of outworld, making zaterrans now native to outworld instead of residing in the realm as a result of conquest. adding to this, there's now more than one species: instead of being different terms to refer to the same group, "zaterran" and "saurian" are now two separate species from one another. the difference between them has not been elaborated on yet. syzoth's mk1 bio calls zaterrans "one of the reptiloid races which lives on outworld's fringes", so whether there are more reptiloid groups outside of zaterrans and saurians is also up to debate.

zaterrans are no longer a near-extinct race, but they still face hardship and are heavily discriminated against. the full history of zaterran-outworld relations in the new era is unknown, but several of syzoth's intros indicate that they once thrived above ground in outworld, before being herded underground by "warmbloods"/non-reptilians. they, along with saurians, now reside in outworld's subterranean areas. why exactly they were driven underground has not been explained yet, but the history there has resulted in both groups hating one another; outworlders are openly bigoted to zaterrans such as syzoth, while warmbloods are generally unwelcome in zaterra.

zikandur has been brought up in some lines, most likely being an area in zaterra where lots of outworld’s reptilian people currently live. its history is unexplored, aside from mentioned past events like the zikandurian floods. it is apparently at risk of being invaded by the kytinn, though why the latter are doing that is also unknown.

at some point in time, a policy was passed in the zaterran government to kill all zaterran shapeshifters. the reasoning behind this and how long ago it started is unknown but considering that syzoth was bullied relentlessly for his shapeshifting mutation, knowledge of zaterran shapeshifters must have faded from the general public after this order was first carried out. in general, zaterra's government is implied to be extremely corrupt.

many zaterrans are dissatisfied with the royal family, either attempting to start or joining rebellion efforts. after his bloody escape from lei chen prison, general shao has been recruiting these dissatisfied zaterrans to join his rebel army in outworld, with the goal of overthrowing mileena's rule.

biology

original & alternate timelines:

the design of zaterrans changed over the games, but they were generally depicted as green (though this also varies, i.e in the case of khameleon) bipedal humanoids with scales, claws, and lizard-shaped heads. they are also close to size of the average human as well. similar to chameleons and frogs, zaterrans have tongues that can extend far beyond their body to catch prey. zaterrran saliva is acidic, able to be used in kombat as a attack/defense mechanism and possibly to help digest food. this acid is very strong, able to melt right through flesh. for some reason, their blood is green.

a zaterran's diet differs from the average human one, mainly consisting of live bugs/insects/worms, but raw meat (including humans) is also on the table. zaterrans are able to make themselves and others around them invisible.

in the first two timelines, all zaterrans possessed the ability to shapeshift between their true forms and more human-like appearances. there is a catch to this, though: their society is matriarchal, and any zaterran who spends too long away from a matriarch & her influence will devolve, losing their ability to maintain a human disguise. this will also negatively impact the mental state of the affected zateerran. however, if they make their way back to the matriarch, the ability to look human and general sanity will return.

alongside all of this, there is a card in mortal kombat mobile that confirms they can regenerate their limbs.

the new era:

in the new era, zaterran biology is generally similar to how it was in the previous timelines, but with some changes.

for starters, these new zaterrans are bigger and more animalistic-looking than their old versions. they are still able to walk on two legs, but one of the moves syzoth's boss has in his invasions season confirms that they can also run around on all four legs. the previous games flip-flopped on whether or not to give zaterrans tails, but in mortal kombat 1 they have tails again—these are used by zaterrans to grab and move things, essentially like a fifth limb.

i have no clue if their actual limbs can still regenerate or not.

outside of these small changes, there is one very significant one in the new era: the average zaterran is no longer able to shapeshift. there are some zaterrans who are able to shapeshift between a human form and reptiloid form, but those who hatch with this mutation are not accepted by their people and often bullied, run out of their homes, or killed. they also don't seem to be matriarchal anymore.

all known members

original & alternate timelines:

SYZOTH/REPTILE:

a long-lasting franchise staple and the most well-known zaterran in the series, syzoth — better known as his codename "reptile" — lived a long life of servitude. original timeline: syzoth was one of the last surviving members of his species, desperate to find a way to bring back his people. syzoth loyally served shang tsung and shao kahn, who kept his loyalty with the promises of restoring the zaterran race. ironically, shao was the one who caused the extermination of his people, but syzoth did not know about this. after shao was murdered by the deadly alliance, syzoth wandered around before he turned to serving nitara (who he'd ran into previously and gotten his kirehashi blade from), as he did not know how to live without serving a master. nitara accepted him, but unbeknownst to syzoth, she too was deceiving him. the vaeternian manipulated syzoth into battling cyrax, damaging the cyborg, which in turn would help with nitara's goal of getting the portal sphere. when syzoth eventually realized he was being used, he was enraged and chased after nitara and cyrax to the lava shrine, but arrived too late. the only thing there was the egg of onaga. it hatched, shining a beam of light onto syzoth, making his body become a vessel for the dragon king. much later, when shujinko defeated onaga and his soul was bound to the netherrealm by nightwolf, syzoth was once again able to have free will and gain control of his own body. he was seen in the red dragon's lair for unknown reasons (most likely trying to create hybrids that would restore his race), and joined the forces of darkness at the battle of armageddeon. he was killed at the battle, along with the majority of the other fighters. alternate timeline: thanks to the reset by raiden, syzoth was back to serving shao kahn and shang tsung, fighting against the earthrealmers in the tournament and later battles. after losing the tournament, syzoth knew that shao kahn would not take kindly to this failure and kept his guard up. he was proven right when the osh-tekk warrior kotal was sent to assassinate him in his sleep; however, to syzoth's surprise, kotal spared his life and didn't go through with killing him. the following morning, shao kahn formally introduced the two, saying that kotal had hand-picked syzoth to serve under his command. from there, kotal earned syzoth's genuine loyalty. when shao died and mileena seized the throne, kotal declared a coup against her. syzoth was at his side during this, taking a blow for him, and continued to loyally serve afterwards. understanding that kotal saw value in him where shao did not, syzoth was committed to serving the new ruler of outworld as a close follower and friend. his whereabouts and status after the events of mortal kombat X are unknown, outside of a few mentions in intros and a small appearance in the krypt from mortal kombat 11.

KHAMELEON:

debuting in mortal kombat trilogy as a secret character, khameleon was the last known female member of her race. unlike syzoth, khameleon actually knew the truth of their people's history. however, because she chose to fight for earthrealm and wished to slay shao, this meant the last surviving members of the zaterran race were mortal enemies. at some point, khameleon set out to search for syzoth. she spent a long time looking for him, wishing to inform him that shao kahn was responsible for their race's extinction, and try to start a new generation of zaterrans. once she found him and reveal the truth, syzoth initially agreed to help her kill the emperor—only for him to fall under shao's influence once again, turning against khameleon. she escaped and wandered the realms until she heard of a battle that would happen in edenia, with the victor being given the prize of ultimate power. khameleon knew that shao kahn getting this would be disastrous and joined the forces of light in the battle of armageddon. along with the rest of the fighters, khameleon died at the pyramid. while she was referenced a few times and even made a brief cameo in the background of mortal kombat 9, khameleon's whereabouts and history after raiden's timeline reset are unknown.

CHAMELEON (unconfirmed):

debuting in the same game khameleon did as a fellow secret fighter, ch-ameleon never actually got a storyline or arcade ending in mortal kombat trilogy, unlike his female counterpart. the only information about chameleon at the time was that he was mentioned to be "one of shao kahn's deadliest warriors." it took until chameleon's next appearance to finally get a (extremely vague) backstory: supposedly, he was present at every major event in the games dating back to liu kang's victory in the tournament, but constantly kept himself hidden and watched everything unfold while waiting for "his moment" to arrive. he fought with the forces of darkness at the battle of armageddon, dying at the pyramid with everyone else. chameleon's presence in the alternate timeline is also miniscule. in mortal kombat x, one of syzoth's mirror match intros will have him question if the counterpart in front of him is chameleon, implying the two know each other. in addition, chameleon falls to his death in mortal kombat 11's krypt, but the canon status of the krypt is debatable. other than this, there's no information on him. the reason that chameleon's status as a zaterran is marked as "unconfirmed" is because.... uh, it has never been outright stated he is one in any game. considering he shares traits with khameleon, who is a zaterran, chameleon being one himself would make sense. there is also the fact that syzoth mistakes his mirror match for chameleon, further alluding to him being a fellow reptilian. in addition, mortal kombat co-creator john tobias has said that his original intention was for chameleon to be a fellow zaterran, but this information just didn't make it into any of the games for some reason. at the same time, if chameleon was a member of the zaterran race, this would directly contradict established information about syzoth being the last living male zaterran. i don't know, man, the devs do not care about this guy and it shows.

QUEEN SYTHOLIN:

presumably the former ruler of zaterra, before shao kahn conquered the realm. no information about her exists, but sytholin's blade — one of the few remaining zaterran relics — can be found inside of goro's treasure chamber in the mortal kombat 11 krypt; according to its description, the wielder can control the minds of smaller reptilians and have them obey the user's will.

the new era:

SYZOTH/REPTILE:

unlike his previous iterations, mortal kombat 1's syzoth is not in a desperate cycle of trying to restore his race. however, he was run out of his homeland of zaterra after being relentlessly bullied for his shapeshifting mutation. up until his arcade ending, syzoth believed he was the only one of his kind who possessed this ability. syzoth joined a traveling carnival to profit on his shapeshifting skill, even marrying an unnamed woman with whom he had a son with. him and shang tsung crossed paths, and when the latter asked to experiment on him, syzoth denied the offer. but shang tsung took syzoth's family hostage anyways, using them to keep him obedient in being a slave; from there, he was experimented on and aided in shang's inhumane experiments on others, all for the sake of his family. that went on for months, before the earthrealmers and baraka were captured and fought their way out of shang tsung's laboratory. syzoth tried to stop them, knowing that if he didn't his family would be killed, but lost the battle to baraka. after this, syzoth learned the truth: his wife and son had already been killed devastated by this, but also understanding that there was nothing keeping him under shang tsung's thumb anymore, syzoth escaped into the living forest with the other men. from there they met ashrah, attempted to stop the sorcerer quan chi from activating his soul stealer in the living forest—but despite failing at that the group still captured him with the intention of bringing him to earthrealm for questioning. to help his companions escape, syzoth disrupted the shivai ranatai festival in sun do and fought off several other characters, providing enough of a diversion for everyone to flee the realm (without quan chi, who managed to get away). it's not known what syzoth did for the remainder of the main story after arriving in earthrealm, but in his tower ending it's revealed that mileena appointed him as her emissary as thanks for helping unveil the truth behind shao and shang's plans. with his renewed political status protecting him, syzoth journeyed home to zaterra, where he discovered the conspiracy by the zaterran government to exterminate all shapeshifters. at some point after the main story's events, syzoth entered a romantic relationship with ashrah, but the details of how this began are (sadly) currently unknown. (more info TBA if khaos reigns gives me anything else)

KHAMELEON:

in the new era, khameleon is no longer the last female zaterran alive. in fact, khameleon isn't even the same species as syzoth anymore. an intro with takeda reveals that khameleon is a saurian, which is said to be distinct from zaterrans. the details of khameleon's life are largely unknown, but she is a member of the umgadi, a group of warrior priestesses. umgadi members are selected from firstborn women in outworld, taken as infants to be raised as one and train to protect outworld's royal family. khameleon was seen throughout the main story assisting tanya in fights against percieved threats to the royal family. she is probably a fellow reptilian shapeshifter, but unlike syzoth she keeps strictly to a human form. (more info TBA if khaos reigns gives me anything else)

ARCHDUKE MAHAZZEM:

only being mentioned once in a syzoth/sindel intro, mahazzem is one of zaterra's many archdukes. the only known details about mahazzem is that sindel considered him to be a friend, but this "friendship" was a mask. in truth, he secretly plotted to betray sindel and rebel against her rule. (more info TBA if any intros or even KR, while unlikely, gives me anything else)

OTHER POSSIBLE MEMBERS: erlac dicharr, nareb nevets, hatigo mesgo, sever nahhan, sykin foh

these are names from syzoth's gear that could be of other reptiloids, as they don't really sound like locations or events, and i don't think they're references to real-life things as nothing comes up when i google them. but at the same time i'm not entirely sure, so take this last bit with a very large grain of salt

k thats all for now byeeeee

[ruinofchimera]

Hi, I'd like to know your opinion. Why do you think Peter betrayed the Marauders and blamed Sirius?

By the way, I hope you are very well.

Thank you for the perfect cue. Time to roll up my sleeves and dissect the bane of the Harry Potter fandom: Peter Pettigrew.

Why did he betray the Marauders? I like the phrasing. Because behind it, the real question to ponder is lurking. Did Peter ever betray his friends, or did he just betray the Marauders, the twisted idea of inclusion that he never really had? Oh, don’t get me wrong—there’s no denying that James and Sirius were practically the poster boys for friendship. No argument there. We’ve all heard that tear-jerking speech from Sirius: “I’d rather die than betray my friends.” And fair enough; Sirius had every reason to be an emotional wreck—he was talking about James, the only person he ever truly gave a damn about. Sure, we don’t know everything about their golden years, but what we do know makes it painfully clear: James and Sirius? They were a two-man act, a bond so tight it was as if they shared the same heartbeat.

But where on earth did this idea come from that someone else—anyone else—was ever part of that special bond? The books paint a pretty stark picture if you care to look. There was the alpha pair leading the charge, while the other two trailed behind, playing supporting roles. Look at how they chose Pettigrew to be Secret Keeper in the first place—not because they thought he was capable or smart, but because they figured no one would suspect him. Translation: “We don’t think you’re much good for anything, Peter, but hell, no one else does either, so maybe that’ll save our skins.” And yet somehow, fans cling to this rose-colored myth of brotherhood. Four souls, brought together by some unshakable bond of loyalty. Let’ get real here. There’s a very good chance that Peter didn’t even see James and the gang as friends. He was just along for the ride, hanging around like a dodgy uncle at a family reunion.

People love to reduce Peter’s Animagus form to a symbol of cowardice and betrayal, but they miss the real significance of what a rat actually represents—survival. And at his core, that’s exactly what Peter is—a survivor. Strip away all the noise, the grand ideals, and lofty heroics that everyone around him seemed so fond of, and what you’ve got left in Peter is raw instinct. He wasn’t guided by some deep-seated belief or conviction. No grand moral compass pulled him one way or another. He’s the embodiment of the quintessential “baby boy” trope—the “please take care of me” type. (Sorry, Regulus, but the Chalamet fancast isn’t enough to hold the title. Hand over the badge.)

What Peter craved more than anything was protection. It didn’t matter whether it came from James Potter or the Dark Lord himself. The man just wanted someone bigger, stronger, meaner to pat him on the head.

Pettigrew was already used to playing second fiddle to James and Sirius, who were so full of themselves they practically had their own gravitational pull. So when Voldemort strutted onto the scene, another powerful, arrogant tosser demanding followers, was it really such a massive shift for Peter? Hardly. It wasn’t life-changing. It was just a change of scenery. He did what he was best at: finding the biggest bully on the block and pledging his allegiance to survive. Sirius and James had been grooming him for it for years without even knowing.

It’s easy work, bashing Peter. Man’s got a face like a rodent and a spine to match—hardly the makings of a tragic anti-hero, is he? Sorry, Peter, but “pretty privilege” isn’t swooping in to save you like it did for Slytherin Skittles. If Pettigrew had even a hint of good looks, we’d have a library of fanworks trying to paint his redemption. But with a face like that? Not a chance. Instead, we get a convenient scapegoat for the fandom to rally against, letting the poster boys soak up all the angst. The sacred friendship betrayed! A tale for the ages, and people can boo-fucking-hoo about it for eternity.

As you can see from my lengthy ramblings, I’m doing just fine—so no worries in this department.

[amberbeach]

'TIGER SPIRITS'

gif belongs to me

You leaned against the Red Ranger as he guided your arms, smiling when his breath tickled your cheek, listening as he passed on experience he had gained during battles, closing your eyes when he brought your body closer to his.

"You know, if you want me like this, all you had to do was say so."

Casey broke away, chuckling as he looked over at you, lowering his gaze to the ground. You grinned as you stepped closer, your footsteps silent due to your animal spirit, and he shook his head when he saw a smirk on your lips.

"You're supposed to be focused."

"I am. On you."

Casey held your gaze for a moment, laughter leaving his lips, as he glanced away. A squeal left your lips when he suddenly brought you to his chest, pinning you to the leafy ground. Your chest rose and fell as you stared up at him, the cub that became the master in a matter of months.

"Not focused enough."

You smirked, raising your eyebrows when he leaned down to kiss you, freeing your hands to place them on his jaw, closing your eyes as he deepened the kiss.

Casey remembered he was supposed to be teaching you, but the thought faded quickly as your noses brushed. "God, I've missed you."

"I missed you too." You murmured against his lips.

Casey buried his head in your neck and you ran a hand through his hair, a smile on your lips when he left kisses along your skin. Your tiger spirits had sought out each other while he was still a cub at the Academy, but Master Mao kept you separated, knowing it was the only way you could both advance during your training. Now that you had found each other again, there was no holding back and you savored every second together.

When Casey invited you to join him for training, you should have predicted it would end this way. His mouth captured yours, silencing your thoughts, the woodland drifting away into empty space as you kissed. RJ had mentioned it before to Casey who had brushed it off, claiming you were two good friends in a similar situation - before the Dai Shi threat began.

Tiger spirits were strong and always drew their counterparts, which explained how you and Casey always seemed to reconnect. Everything else faded away as your fingers unbuttoned his jacket. There were no expectations in the woodland, just two people, and two spirits connecting on a higher level, as you lost yourself in his kiss and each caress,

It was rare to have two tiger spirits in one area, and RJ knew it was due to the invisible force that brought them together. And understood why Master Mao kept you and Casey apart. It was because when you were together, your spirits made it appear as if nothing else mattered. And when facing Dai Shi, it was a mistake that could end a life.

But right now, in the sanctuary of the woodland Casey had brought you to, intending to teach you moves he had learned fighting against Dai Shi, that it became true.

The world faded away as you kissed, clothes falling around you as you lost yourselves in the moment. Tiger spirits were strong-willed and passionate, and when they found a pairing, it was for life.

It was always difficult to say goodbye, but you knew that you would only serve as a distraction to Casey's training and you had your own mentor to help you hone your skills, even if your heart resided with Casey Rhodes. It was always difficult to pull away from his kiss, making him promise to survive, so you could meet again, and live the future you had both dreamed of.

While Master Mao believed you were a distraction, RJ believed you reminded Casey what he was fighting for - a future. In the end, he was always certain of one thing, the two tigers would find each other. And it was proven when Casey sought you out after the final battle and you reunited, remaining side by side every since - even decades later.

The tiger spirits were fierce. Especially when they had something to lose. And when Casey left to fight against Dai Shi and his monsters, he knew exactly what he was fighting for - a future where all he saw was you.

[sweethoneyrose83]

William Afton dialogue prompts

Cold and calculating: "They never saw me coming. But they don't need to know. It's always easier when they trust you first."

Creepy and ominous: "These suits have a life of their own. But I… I give them their purpose."

Taunting the player: "You think you can stop me? You’re just a distraction. The real work has already been done."

Relishing in his actions: "It's funny, isn't it? They built these places to entertain, to bring joy. And yet, they’ve brought nothing but misery."

Emotionless confession: "They were just children. So easy to lure, so trusting. Their screams were… insignificant."

Dark humor: "They call me a monster. But monsters are created, not born. I just… helped them along."

Vengeful and remorseless: "You think this is over? I never die. I always come back."

Mocking tone: *"The animatronics? They don't hate me. They *need* me. I am their creator… and their destroyer."*

Quiet threat: "You hear them in the walls, don't you? They're coming for you. But by the time you realize it… it'll be too late."

Final moments: "You can't hide from me. You can't stop me. I'm always one step ahead, always watching."

“Do you hear them? The screams, the laughter… they never leave you. They’re a part of me now, and soon they’ll be a part of you.”

“Children are so trusting, so easy to lead astray. They never suspect a thing, not until it's too late.”

“They call me a monster, but all I did was create something beautiful. The others just couldn’t see it.”

“It's funny how they cling to life, isn't it? But in the end, all of them—all of us—end up the same way: broken.”

“You think you've stopped me? This game is far from over. As long as there’s a spark of life, I’ll be there, waiting in the shadows.”

“I never set out to destroy lives. I simply wanted control—over the machines, over them… and now, over you.”

“Death is a door, one I’ve opened many times. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to guide you through it myself.”

“They think they’ve locked me away, that I’m finished. But there’s always a way back. There’s always another game.”

“Why resist? You can feel it, can't you? The pull of the darkness, the inevitability. Soon, you’ll be just like them.”

“I built them to last. No matter how much they fall apart, they always come back. Just like me.”

Cold and Calculating:

"You think you can stop me? I've already won. They don’t scream anymore. They obey."

Eerie Confession:

"I didn’t just build them. I gave them purpose. My purpose. And soon, you’ll join them."

Remorseless Villainy:

"Do you hear them? Their whispers… their cries. They don’t blame me, not anymore. They belong to me now."

Mocking the Player:

"Oh, you think you've figured it out, haven't you? That’s adorable. But you're still trapped. Just like they were."

Haunting:

"There’s no escaping your fate. I made sure of that. You see, I never truly leave. I always come back."

Deceptive Calm:

"You thought it was over, didn't you? You thought the nightmare would end? Oh, how wrong you were."

Sardonic Regret:

"I didn’t want it to end this way. But sometimes… sacrifices must be made. For the greater good, of course."

Chilling Explanation:

"You see, it's not about survival. It's about control. Control over life… and death. That's the real game."

[honourablejester]

Randomly, I just want to talk about one of my favourite characters of all time, and a character that had a huge influence on me as a kid. And that character is Slanter from The Wishsong of Shannara, the third book in the original Shannara trilogy by Terry Brooks.

Wishsong is easily my favourite of the Shannara books, and it was probably the fantasy book I read most often as a kid, over and over again, until the paperback book just wore out. The copy I have today is still held together with sellotape. You know when you have that one book, as a kid? Regardless of its actual quality, although I do actually think Wishsong holds up, but even if it didn’t, it wouldn’t matter? This book is your childhood. One of your formative influences? Wishsong was so much that for me.

And within Wishsong, Slanter was the formative favourite character for me. He’s had … a lot of influence. So, just for a minute, I want to talk about him.

Slanter is a gnome tracker who starts the book working (not entirely willingly) for the villains, the horrifying creatures known as Mord Wraiths. Gnomes in Shannara are sort of like goblins in classic D&D, they’re a brutish, insular people usually found on the wrong side of heroic conflicts. And Slanter does start the book by capturing Jair, one of our two heroes, for the villains. But he almost immediately distinguishes himself by treating Jair well as a captive, because it’s quickly clear that Slanter is literally just doing this as a job, and because the Mord Wraiths scare the absolute shit out of him. Sensibly enough. Slanter, as a person, is a pragmatic, efficient, well-travelled person who’s worked with and for a lot of people of all kinds in his career, and he quickly takes a shine to Jair, does his best to look out for him, despite knowingly taking him to be the captive of horrifying creatures of dark magic. A dissonance that Jair does his best to hammer at, because he realises quickly that Slanter does have a conscience, and Slanter doesn’t actually want to be doing this, but Slanter is too petrified of the Wraiths to defy them easily.

In vain. Slanter, at least at the start of the book, is far too pragmatic and survival-oriented to risk his life to free some stranger, even if he is both fond of the kid and fascinated by his magic. Slanter will not make the decision on his own to defy his own people and their horrifying masters in order to free Jair. But. The second someone else steps in and gives him an excuse …

The party of gnome hunters that Slanter brought Jair to are moving north to meet with a Mord Wraith, when they stumble across a man all in black drinking at a pool. They’re towing Jair along on a rope, it’s fairly obvious what’s happening here. Jair hopes for rescue, but the man seems to move on without challenging them. Jair, in despair, is moving towards the pool in hopes of a drink, when Slanter stops him. Slanter guides him back and moves in front of him with a knife, knowing what’s about to happen.

Which is that, in about two seconds, the strange man slaughters the rest of the gnome party.

This is Garet Jax, the weapons master, the most badass character in the book short of Allanon himself, and quite a lot of people’s favourite character. Slanter recognised him. So Slanter knew that this gnome hunting party was about to stop existing very shortly.

One of the last two survivors, about to run, sees Jair and tries to swing at him as he flees. And Slanter gets in the way, knife first. He betrays his people to defend Jair.

Now. Maybe he did that to differentiate himself to Jax, knowing he couldn’t take the man in a fight. Slanter is a pragmatic son of a bitch. His own survival comes first. Or he does his level best, throughout the whole book, to act like it does. But right from the moment we meet him, he’s been fond of Jair. He’s treated him well, within the limits of his job, and has done his best to make sure the kid isn’t mistreated. And he …

A theme of this book, of Jair’s half of this book, is that Slanter always comes back. Slanter always looks out for Jair. Jair acquires an entire party later on, a group of people to help him on the quest he’ll shortly be assigned by a powerful mystical being, and for all that, the one person who stays with him the whole way, all the way to the end, is Slanter. Even into the heart of what is, for a gnome, enemy territory. Not always happily, not always gracefully, but Slanter …

Slanter is, in the end, Jair’s truest companion, all the way to the end.

I just. I love him so much. He made such an impact on me. He’s sneaky, he’s pragmatic, he’s the voice of callous survivalism across the book, but he always comes back. He protects Jair at every step, at every turn. He defies his people, and goes among enemies, and risks his life, and abandons his life, his old life, to help and protect Jair. He travels with people who view him with suspicion and derision because Jair asked it of him. When Jair falters, almost every time, it’s Slanter who gives him the kick up the arse (or the literal punch in the face) that gets him going again. Jair would, quite simply, not have survived this book without him.

(Or, to be fair, without the rest of his party either. The six of them, Jair and Slanter and Garet Jax, the elf prince Edain Elessedil, the dwarf Elb Foraker, and the borderman Helt, were such a fantastic party, and the dwindling party as they fight to get Jair to Heaven’s Well is absolutely heart-wrenching and gutted me as a kid (Helt, particularly, Helt broke my heart). And Jax, whatever else you say about him, went out like a fucking boss. There is a reason he’s a lot of people’s favourite).

So many people talk about characters like Garet Jax, like Rone Leah, like Brin Ohmsford, like Kimber Boh. And they are awesome. But it was always Slanter for me. He has the best arc. He’s sly and he’s pragmatic and he’s focused on his own survival, but he has a conscience, and he has care, and as it turns out he will risk everything for pretty much zero reward on the strength of that conscience and that care, he just needed the smallest nudge to do so. Jair was that nudge. And it carried them all the way to Heaven’s Well. Past siege armies. Past Krakens. Past Mord Wraiths. Past demons.

Every time I reread this book, I read Brin’s half for Allanon, and I read Jair’s half for Slanter.

The original Shannara trilogy is, in a lot of ways, very paint-by-numbers fantasy. It’s very D&D fantasy. There are large chunks of Wishsong, particularly Jair’s half of Wishsong, that genuinely read like someone’s campaign. But, for all that. It’s still my favourite. It was the fantasy novel of my childhood. And for all it’s pretty standard, so many moments do still make my heart sing. Slanter stepping in front of Jair that first time by the pool. Allanon at the Hadeshorn. Allanon vs the Jachyra. Garet Jax vs the … That might be spoilers. Helt’s last stand. Whisper’s last stand.

I honestly can’t tell if it’s a good book or not, it’s too intrinsic to my childhood to judge. But I love it, with all my heart.

And within it, the character that I love the most … is Slanter. Is the grumpy, pragmatic, doing-his-best-to-be-selfish gnome tracker that in the end proved to be one of the most loyal and courageous people in this book. Without ever losing a smidge of the pragmatism along the way.

If anyone ever wondered why I tend to like sneaky, pragmatic survivalists with varyingly-well-hidden streaks of loyalty? This is the character you can blame. Heh.

Maybe do give this book a shot, if you haven’t? Again, I cannot speak to its quality. But I love it.

[vint-knight]

Before "Open Arms"

Polites walked along the steps of the ship, tightening his red headband, knowing that him and his friend Odysseus will have to explore this mysterious island that they have found, "fire, but no smoke?" Polites thought to himself, perhaps maybe the goddess Hestia is aiding then, he shook his head "The hearth goddess would probably not indulge in aiding our journey" his thoughts get interrupted by a rough calloused hand, that had gone through several experiences of battle, the soldier turned his head, slowly reaching for his kopis, but immediately hesitating to see it was his friend, the second in command of the crew.

"Eurylochus!" Polites said with a nervous chuckle, smiling at his hardened battle friend "You need to stop doing that or else everyone will have a hard time wiping the stains of the sh-"

"What are you doing?" Eurylochus asked, his voice was calm, but gruff, his eyes still hardened with experiences of the war, his grip on Polites shoulder was gentle, but still hard, which the hardened second in command wasn't aware off

"What do you mean?" Polites asked, his lighthearted expression showing more caution and wit "Have I done something wrong brother?" He used the word with a gentle tone, but still looked at him with caution, not understanding what the problem was.

Eurylochus guided his hand away from his friend's shoulder, giving out a confused stare "What are you trying to do with the captain?" He almost said it with an accusatory tone, but this time it wasn't playful as it was when they were young "I'm not doing anything..." Polites said with a dismissive tone, trying to get out of this conversation, but Eurylochus gripped him by the hand, accidentally tugging so hard on the arm that Polites could have sworn it would snap in an instant"You know what I'm talking about, Polites..." Eurylochus said with a harsh stare "You are making him drop his guard, now's not the time to do that, this island could be dan-"

Polites pushed back with a glare that would have put any mere man into a state of fear "I know that, that's why Ody gave a warning to you all if we don't come back, then all of you can burn the place to the ground..." He quietly hissed out, trying not to be loud so that the captain or any of the crew could spot this argument "I am trying to make him feel better, by making him resort to more peacef-

Eurylochus almost barks out a laugh, but holds himself back, staring back at Polites with a fiery stare "Peaceful, right, and how did that workout for when we tried to bring Helen back?" He brought Polites closer to him so they were close to each other's faces "10 years of war, 10 years of fighting and trying to survive, what do you think will happen now?"

Polites let out a scoff "Well right now we're not in Troy, we're sailing to Itacha, with no enemies for us to fight, we can put those cautions away and perhaps make allies, which is what we need" He whispered back, trying to pull his arm away "Now come on, I don't have time for this, Ody is waitin-"

Eurylochus gripped Polites by the helms of his chiton "There also needs to be caution, our food has run out and that fire could just be some sort of trick the gods have sen-" Eurylochus felt Polites push back, both of them slightly tumbled into the private quarters of the ship, he felt Polites glare at him with frustration

"Eurylochus, we don't have time for this, I know there are other concerns but Odysseus needs our help, if we don't, he will go mad!" Polites said with a strained voice, trying to lower his voice "I'm doing the best I can to bring him up from that dark place" Eurylochus realized what he was talking about

"The infant of Troy..." Eurylochus said with a lower tone, looking away from his friend's strained eyes.

Polites sighed, backing away from Eurylochus "Just let me try with him, let me help him, and if it doesn't work and he's fine, then we'll follow him as always"

"Polites!, you coming?" Their captain's voice almost gave both of them a small heart attack from it ringing outside the private quarters of the ship, Polites quickly stammered out "Coming my friend!" Before looking back at Eurylochus "We'll have this conversation another time, but not now" He then leaned forward to give his fellow brother a small kiss to his forehead, before quickly running off to explore the mysterious island.

Eurylochus sighed, walking to the front center of the ship, then from the corner of his eye, he could see an owl flying up from the treelines "Well, that's not a good sign, Athena never liked your approach friend, even when you were a child" He said with a dry chuckle, before going around to check the supplies they have on the ship.

[yup-thats-me]

—the last wish • Rengoku. K

pairing; husband!Rengoku x wife!reader summary; Rengoku had always thought it fate that brought him the greatest gift he could ever ask, his wife. but he, too, must realize that it would be the same fate to tear him away from her. warning; pregnancy, angst.

“We’ll be waiting, my love.”

Rengoku swore he felt Y/n’s soft lips touch his just like they did when he set out the night before for this mission. Tears clouded his vision. He was bleeding, his mind hazy. The pain spread all throughout his body. The injury Akaza inflicted upon him, he knew he could not survive it. Even if the reinforcements arrived right now and even if he were to be carried to the Butterfly mansion, Shinobu would not survive.

Maybe he should not have taken on this mission, He should not have left his expecting wife alone, maybe, he should have listened to his instincts, But alas, he’s a hashira. He must take on the responsibility, he must put aside his selfish wants, He’s a man, after all.

“Tanjiro,” he managed to croak out. His voice was barely above a whisper. The boy immediately stopped chasing after the demon and was by his side in a second. “Yes, Rengoku-san?” He was crying. How could he not? The man had made him his brother in the span of a night.

“Don’t be sad that I’m to die here. This is my fate my other hashira would have done the same,” Rengoku croaked out. What broke the boy was the man in front of him, kneeling from the severe injury, he was still smiling. What a man he was.

Tanjiro shook his head, “Don’t speak Rengoku-san! Help should be arriving soon!” He urged, scared.

“Oh boy, but I must,” a tear rolled down his fiery orbs. “I have a request. Would you please do it for me?”

“Anything!”

“My wife, Y/n…”, the words dried up in his throat. Oh, how he wanted to tell Tanjiro how lovely, beautiful, and kind his wife is. He had decided to take the boys and Nezuko to their estate to meet Y/n earlier in the day. “Tell her I love her.”

Rengoku cried not because he was about to die. No, he possibly can’t even think of himself. He cried because his wife would be waiting up for him, cried because he knew she would even though he had told her several times not to, but she just would n’t listen. “I want to see you before I go to sleep, my love,” she would say.

Along with Y/n, their unborn child would also be awake. Y/n was expecting. The child would come any day now.

Rengoku continued, his tears falling freely. “I love her, and our child, I love them…so much. Tell her…please.”

And so, Rengoku Kyojiro breathed his last, a smile still on his lips. Oh, what a man he was!

•••

When Tanjiro visited the Rengoku estate, he was welcomed with the cries of a small child. Their child.

Senjuro had guided him to where Y/n was, the small baby sleeping in her arms. “Tanjiro!”

Y/n had seen the boy several times in the Butterfly mansion when she went to visit the insect hashira. The two were instantly friends. “I’m so happy to see you,” she had smiled.

Tanjiro really felt it to be a nightmare that he had to be the one to break the new. It really was, a nightmare.

“Mrs. Y/n”, Tanjiro clenched his hands as he knelt before the mistress of the estate. “Rengoku-san…he’s dead,” he said after a long pause.

The air around them froze. Not even their breaths could be heard.

“…Oh. Okay.”

Her voice was painfully void of emotion it broke Tanjiro. “He had said that he loves you and your child, very much.” The boy added gravely.

As if coming back to her senses, she called him to her showing him the small baby in her arms. A boy, he had the same eyes and the fire red hair as Rengoku. “Doesn’t he look like his father, hm,Tanjiro?”

Seeing the child, Tanjiro hold back no more, he sobbed, filling the hall with his tears.

Y/n just stared before her. It would take a while for the news to settle in. she would cry, of course she would but for some reason, she felt the all-too familiar warm embrace of her husband. Maybe he was here, watching it all unfold before him and not being able to comfort her.

What a cruel thing fate is.

do not steal, copy or translate my work on other sites. all belong to yup-thats-me™️ on tumblr

[tragedybunny]

Slow Dancing In a Burning Room - Interlude

༺Summary༻

In a moment of weakness, Serafina helped Astarion ascend, forever altering him and their relationship. Irrevocably bonded in violence, can she survive life at his side, or will she be broken by the cycle of pain and terror.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav)

༺Warnings༻ Dubcon / Noncon elements , violence, toxic / abusive relationships

༺Word Count༻ 1332

༺Masterlist༻

༺A/N༻ I am engaging in a fantastic idea I had for this story.

Thanks to @leomonae for the beta and being an amazing friend.

And thanks to @elorathebard for the fun image at the end.

Read on AO3

꧁༺Interlude - A Most Pressing Question ༻꧂

༺Serafina finds herself back in Astarion's good graces and their relationship appears to be headed to a better place. In fact, the Vampire Ascendant has something of great import to ask his consort.༻

Serafina stepped from the carriage into the blinding brilliance of the day. They'd been traveling for days, their destination unknown to her. 

Only a couple of days after the whole affair with Navril, Astarion had woken her at dawn. “Get dressed, little love, I want to take you somewhere.” 

Astarion had been affectionate and cheerful with her following that night. She’d wanted to sink into that feeling, let it wrap around her and keep her warm and safe. But the sight of Navril lying unmoving on the floor wouldn't leave her, and a part of her kept constantly waiting for the sudden shift in his moods she'd become used to. 

He'd kissed her sweetly that morning, though, tugging her out of bed with childish glee, and she’d pushed back down all her anxiety. “Where, my love?” she’d asked, playing along. 

Astarion had kissed the tip of her nose. “It's a surprise. Now get dressed and come down for breakfast.”

Breakfast. The word had set her nerves on fire. He'd expect her to eat again. 

“Hurry along,” he’d urged, kissing her once more time, before leaving her alone. 

Breakfast had turned out to be a mercifully unconscious woman, draped over the dining room table. “A murderer, I can promise your overly delicate sensibilities, my dear.” He’d guided her to sit in a chair near one of the woman’s outstretched arms. 

The kindness had seemed unusual even for the last few days. “B-but Navril…”

Astarion had made an exasperated noise. “He came to me seeking to take your place! He would have seen you dead. Think of it as attempted murder.”

She hadn’t been sure she believed any of it, but Astarion sinking down into the chair next to her and wrapping his arms around her had been enough for her to drop it. Maybe the woman really was a murderer. The unending hunger had already been making her salivate, so she’d brought the arm to her mouth and bitten down into her wrist. 

They'd left as soon as she’d finished her meal. The windows on the carriage had the shades pulled tight for the whole ride – so as not to spoil the surprise, Astarion had said. They’d traveled at a brisk pace, only stopping for a few hours at a time, to eat; mercifully, he’d allowed her to hunt animals without argument, and briefly escape the confines of the carriage. 

Although he had been completely pleasant this trip, it hadn’t stopped her from noticing the tension in him as the carriage cut across the rough roads. It had worried her to see the tightness in his shoulders and the furrow in his brow. Sitting next to him, she'd reached over to capture his hand and squeeze it gently, like she would have back in the early days of their relationship. “What troubles you, my love?”

This was right, this was how it should be. She’d comforted Astarion so many times back then; sworn to keep his heart safe. The ascension had driven a wedge between them; she couldn't lie to herself, the magnitude of it had affected his behavior in the worst way. But he was coming back to her, little by little.

Beside her, he’d frozen and she’d felt his hand grow restless in her grasp. “Nothing, darling; I just hate traveling so far from home.” 

“I think it's exciting – we haven't been this far from home since we met. It's like another little adventure together, only with less possibility of a gruesome death.”

Astarion had let out a sharp laugh, and, pulling his hand from hers, had teasingly patted her on the head. “Please, my sweet, those days were torture and I was a pathetic mess. But count on you to see some good in it. Now be a dear, and find a book to read; I've got some correspondence to attend to.”

Inwardly, she’d sighed. It was like he'd forgotten all the good about those days – and about himself. It wasn't worth pushing it though. Not when things were finally on the mend.

Thankfully, his temper had remained even throughout the remainder of the journey, until he;d finally declared their destination reached. 

Earlier that day, when they’d stopped, Astarion had given her a plain blue linen dress to change into, something like she would have worn at camp during their adventure. She’d been pleasantly surprised to see him also change into something reminiscent of that time, including a shirt so like that one she'd watched him mend over and over. 

While her eyes adjusted to the brightness that would have been lethal to any other vampires, the sound of rushing water and the aroma of a beach washed over her. In confusion and disbelief, her gaze swept over the area; the landscape before her was burned into her memories. 

“Surprised, darling?” Astarion came up behind her and looped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. “I promise not to pull a knife on you this time.” 

A smile tugged at her lips, at the memory and at the sweetness of this surprise. “You remembered where it was perfectly.”

Releasing her, he clasped her hand instead, and began to lead her along, farther down the beach. “How could I ever forget the spot where I fell from the sky and my life started anew? The spot where I met you.”

Astarion stopped to fix her with a soft gaze; her undead heart managed to flutter in her chest.  “Astarion…” She still wasn't sure what they were doing here, but for the moment, everything seemed perfect. “This spot means the world to me as well.” 

“Of course it does, my treasure.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Now, I'm sure you're wondering why we're all the way out here. It seemed the perfect spot to start our lives anew once again.”

Astarion snapped his fingers; a servant came running from the carriage to place a box in his hand before backing away reverently. 

“Serafina, my beloved consort, it would please me greatly if you would become my wife.” He opened the box to reveal a ring bearing a heart-shaped ruby surrounded by a cluster of diamonds. The sun glinted off it blindingly. 

Truthfully, the ring was a monstrosity. But she could live with that. A small sacrifice, for the growing warmth inside her that had nothing to do with the sun. Beginning anew: something she was very familiar with. And even without Titania’s power, this time could hold as much promise as the times before. 

“My love, nothing would make me happier,” she said, leaning in for a kiss. 

Astarion gave her a quick peck and hurried to pull the ring from the box and slip it onto her finger. He brushed his lips over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “With that settled, let’s get back to civilization. This wilderness…” 

He trailed off and made a noise of disgust. 

Her heart sank a little; all that travel, and they couldn’t even stay to reminisce for a moment? But Astarion had never been fond of experiencing raw nature, and it wasn’t worth it to try and press him to stay longer and perhaps ruin this better mood of his. And so, her arm wrapped securely in his, she walked back toward the waiting carriage. 

“Perhaps we could stop in and see Halsin, since the road goes through that area,” she offered brightly, stepping into the waiting dark of the carriage. It had been so long since they’d seen any of their friends. 

Behind her, she could feel Astarion’s posture stiffen, the change in his mood tangible. “Is that really your first thought after getting engaged?” 

“Love, it’s just that - well, we haven’t had the chance since…”

“I have business to get back to, my sweet. I’m sure Halsin can be persuaded to endure the city to attend our wedding.”

She nodded, and settled in for the ride back. He was right: there was always the wedding.