#and he would let me think for a while he was gone and then he would lock me out again

[keferon]

So I had ideas for Mecha Pilot AU while reading some of the things that other people have sent and those ideas turned into this!

Enjoy some Hot Rod shenanigans!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It starts when Hot Rod catches First Aid trying to smuggle a metal sheet out of the base. 

Well, no, it really started when the higher ups said that Jazz, allegedly, stole a half put together experimental mech unit. Which, Hot Rod would like to point out, makes absolutely no sense. Jazz is smart. If he was going to steal a mech, he’d wait until it was completely built and fully functional. No, there was something else going on and it had something to do with those strange upgrades that a few of the mechs got. Jazz had taken one look at them and booked it. 

Then immediately stole a half made mech that was completely covered in the stuff. 

All of this happening after he had been gone for months before mysteriously returning. 

Point is there’s something going on and it started with Jazz.

Presently, it has something to do with First Aid and the hunk of metal he’s carting around. 

The hunk of metal that looks like that strange upgraded plating. 

“Sooo…” Hot Rod says as he looks the other pilot over, “We stealing now?”

“No, I- this is- Vortex is up next for the-.”

“Nah man, you’re fine.” Hot Rod walks over to the back of the cart and places a hand on the metal. “I’m game for whatever we’re doing, I just want to know if we need to be sneaky.”

“It- what? We?”

“Yeah.” Hot Rod smiles and tilts his head to the side, like this was a given. “So, we stealing?”

First Aid gives him a look that’s a cross between befuddlement and scrutiny. It’s one he gets often, but the newer pilot seems well practiced with it. A solid eight out of ten honestly.

“This isn’t for profit.” First Aid says slowly. “And this isn’t for me.”

Hot Rod’s smile takes a slightly more feral edge. “Even better.”

_._._

Apparently Jazz has an alien robot boyfriend and the higher ups were using parts of his body for upgrades. 

Very morbid, but sadly not surprising.

They need to get as much of the original frame as possible back to Ratchet as that would make repairs easier. 

They’ve apparently been getting a lot of the pieces that had already been on other mechs through “collateral damage”.

First Aid had shrugged, “It’s not my fault if an upgraded mech gets between Vortex and a monster.”

The real tricky bits to get were the ones still on base and being tested. Which, for some reason, included an entire oversized thumb.

An oversized thumb he and First Aid are trying to sneak out from under Shockwave’s nose. 

“The rest of the hand was in random parts of the base.” Hot Rod mutters. “Why did the thumb need to be in such a secure area?”

“Complain louder. I don’t think the bugs heard you.” First Aid sasses in a hissed whisper. 

Hot Rod shivers at the reminder of Shockwave’s “helpers”. Knee high robots with four legs and a hexagonal face. They would’ve been cute had their singular yellow eye not reminded him of the eerie visage that is now the scientist's face. Shockwave used them to help in his work but to also keep an eye on his lab and the surrounding hallways. 

“Don’t even go there, Aid. You’ll end up jinxing-.”

His warning is interrupted by a faint skittering from around the next corner. 

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.” Hot Rod looks around frantically before shoving himself, First Aid, and the thumb into the nearest door.

It turns out to be a closet. What kind of closet? Hot Rod doesn’t know and he refuses to find out. While it could be a normal supply closet, he’s not taking the chance that it could also be storage for strange and dubiously ethical experiments. 

So Hot Rod crams himself into the small space while keeping his eyes entirely focused on the door as he closes it. He and First Aid hold their breaths as the skittering of the bug gets louder, comes right in front of their hiding spot, then continues on without pause. 

They both let out sighs of relief and Hot Rod sets his forehead on the door. 

First Aid makes an inquiring hum. “There’s a vent in here. Think the thumb would fit?”

“Oh no.” Hot Rod says, face still against the door. “Do you have any idea how loud that would be? We aren’t dragging a large metal thumb through the metal vents and destroying our hearing with the echoing screeches.”

“Well, what do you propose we do then? Take it out the front door?”

_._._

“That never should have worked.” 

“You should never underestimate the power of looking like you know what you’re doing while carrying a box.”

“That never should have worked.”

Said large and long box holding the alien robot thumb sat innocently in the back seat of Hot Rod’s truck. 

_._._

“We need a movie for Rachet and Drift.”

Ratchet, who is helping Jazz repair Prowl, gives Hot Rod that “befuddled and scrutinizing” look that everyone seems to give him (A definite ten out of ten for Ratchet; truly a professional in giving out looks to others). “What?”

“Well, yeah! We’ve got Ratatouille for Jazz and Prowl. Aid and Vortex got a reverse Ratatouille-.”

“How’d you hear about that?” First Aid demands.

“Tailgate.” Hot Rod answers easily, then turns back to Ratchet to continue his previous thought. “So now we need to think of a movie for you and Drift!”

Ratchet’s eyes narrow in the unspoken promise of bad things to come. “No.”

Hot Rod, being the one who got a mech that catches on fire and made it work, takes Ratchet’s look as a challenge. He snaps his finger and points at the older man “I got it! ‘The Iron Giant’.”

Ratchet scoffs, rolls his eyes, and gets back to working in the alien robot’s arm. 

“What?” Jazz protests, while keeping his main focus on the internals of Prowl’s arm, “Iron Giant? Really? That’s a loose connection at best and you know it.”

“Oh? And do you have something better?” Hot Rod playfully challenges. 

“Dude, ‘Lilo and Stitch’ is right there.”

“How is that any better than mine?”

“Because War Crimes McGee here,” Jazz gestures to an amused looking Drift before getting back to his work, “is a better fit for Stitch than the Iron Giant any day of the week.”

Jazz may have a point, but while Hot Rod’s mom may have raised a fool, she definitely didn’t raise a quitter. 

“So Ratchet here tells Drift all about ohana and kicks off his character arc?”

“Not everything's one to one, Roddy. I’m not using Prowl to become the best chef is Paris. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

“I agree with Jazz.” First Aid cuts in. 

Hot Rod gives him a mock glare. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to agree with me.”

First Aid shrugs. “True, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Children. The lot of you.” Ratchet grumbles. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

And yeah! Ideas was mostly ‘Hey, they could probably have Vortex get pieces of Prowl back since fights like that are bound to be very chaotic and Vortex would have no hang ups about attacking allies every now and then’

It went further as the idea of Hot Rod and First Aid trying to do spy things and be sneaky but somehow succeeding due to Shenanigans was too funny to pass up XD

Loving this AU so far and all the cool stuff people are making for it!

OMG THE CHILDREN ARE STEALING FROM THE BIG CORPORATION IM SO PROUD OF THEM~~

Also the way all these different plot lines are crossing each other and occasionally coming together is just so cool I love it

Like, yeah we have fucked up horror, we have space drama, we have Lilo and Stitch aaaaand we have option to combine them together. Also now there is Shockwave so all the guys have the "free angst" option I gues ahahah

[azrielbrainrot]

Take Me Back To Eden

Pairing: Shadow King!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Throne Sex

Description: You've dreamt of the day Azriel would come back home for so long that you find yourself at a loss now that it actually happened. Luckily, it all falls into place as soon as your eyes meet his.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, throne sex, some fingering, some dirty talk, you know the usual

Word Count: 4,2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This was originally supposed to be a rhys story but there will be plenty more opportunities to write about throne sex with him. Also this ended up actually having some plot and extremely fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The halls of this castle are intimately familiar to you, having walked them a thousand times over when your closest friend lived here with his family and a thousand more working here as a maid, keeping an eye on the palace and its new residents while Azriel and his allies found a way to take back his power and his rightful seat on the throne.

You've worked tirelessly for this moment, dreamed of it more times than you could ever count, but now that the walls were painted in the traitors' blood and his intoxicating scent permeates the halls once again, you found yourself at a loss, slowly making your way to the throne room to meet him, one foot in front of the other, letting your body guide you as your mind wandered.

Azriel has been by your side for as long as you can remember, even before you truly knew what him being the heir to the Shadow Throne truly meant. Your father was exceptional at his job, landing him not only the position of Head Healer of the kingdom but also the King's private healer. This meant he spent a lot of his time at the palace, becoming an important figure in the court.

Azriel's father was cruel, manipulative and nothing short of terrifying. As much as you resented your father, you could understand why he was too scared to go against his wishes, always following every order without question, even when that included bringing you to the palace to be the heir's friend whether you liked to or not.

When your father first told you of the King's decision to let you and Azriel be friends since you were about the same age and he thought you'd be a good influence on him, you had been scared out of your wits, crying your eyes out and begging him not to take you with him, all in vain of course. You had never met Azriel before and so you expected him to be just as heartless as his father and older brothers, no one you ever wanted to spend any time with let alone befriend.

The stories circulating the kingdom weren't kind to him either - people talked of the bastard's son with poorly concealed disdain, about how he had lived locked in a tower, barely taken care of for most of his life until against all odds the shadow's chose him as successor instead of his full noble-blooded brother's; everyone seemed to think he wasn't worthy of the throne since he was the son of a maid and barely educated, completely neglected since birth, but alas the shadows had made their decision, and no one, not even the King, could go against their wishes.

Azriel was a shadow of the male he is now when you met him, too shy and traumatized to even look you in the eye or speak a word to you, sticking to the corners of the room, hiding himself as best as he could in the midst of his shadows. You were only nine when you met him, a year younger than him, and even then you couldn't imagine all the pain he had gone through, vowing to help him and stay by his side as you watched him cower away from the light, dressed in expensive clothing as if that would hide all the pain and suffering he had been subjected to.

Actually befriending him was harder than you initially thought. You spent countless days simply trying to get him to speak a word to you, almost wearing yourself out as you talked and talked, about anything and everything, trying to find something that would catch his attention and get him used to your presence. Gradually he started opening up more, answering your questions with a nod or shake of his head, and then a word or two, until bit by bit you started having full conversations, his voice rising in volume with time as well. His other lessons helped make him more confident in himself too as he found his place in the world.

Azriel told you about his mother and how much he missed her; about the treatment he endured in that cold tower and how sometimes he still wished he was there instead of next to his father; how his older brother's retaliated for not being chosen by burning his hands when he was only a child who didn't even know what it meant, how his hands still ached at the smell of fire and just the sight of the marred skin sent a stabbing pain through his heart, keeping them concealed with leather gloves most of the time. It was only years later when he let you see them and hold them in your own, the same night he told you he had been sneaking outside the palace, making other friends and traveling his kingdom as far as his wings allowed him, taking you with him for the first time.

The days you spent sneaking away with him and the new friends you made were some of the best of your life, the only ones where you had truly felt free, but sadly they wouldn't last. Shortly after Azriel came of age, his oldest brother killed his father and seized the throne, chasing Azriel and every sympathizer out of the palace and forcing him to go into hiding. You've barely seen him since then, only managing a few secret meetings over the years while he prepared to take back his crown.

Your father had been among the casualties and your family's sudden fall from grace landed you a job cleaning the palace where that hateful usurper now lived. Unwilling to resign yourself to serving the male who almost killed the only person you've ever loved, you started working as a spy, sending out encrypted letters about the movements within the palace and any important information you could get your hands on to hopefully help Azriel as much as you could.

Of course when he found out you were putting yourself in danger like that, he flew over to your house despite the search parties still raking through every corner of the kingdom. It had been the last time you spent more than a few hours with him and most of those had been spent fighting, but the memory brought a smile to your lips all the same. Even though you were screaming until your voices became hoarse, it was clear that it all stemmed from your love for each other and how worried both of you were at just the thought of the other being in danger. Azriel had also left your house with a chaste kiss to your lips, a line you had never crossed before, and a whispered promise of surviving and coming back for you, for his throne.

Taking the last turn to the throne room, you find yourself in the present, every other thought escaping your mind when you hear his voice muffled behind the door, heart swelling in your chest instantly. You only caught a glimpse of him when he first stormed the palace grounds earlier that night, unable to linger and watch as you needed to fulfill your role and help every innocent bystander escape through the back doors.

Judging by the blood and the few corpses still scattered throughout the halls, you missed a hard-won battle, but the lack of urgency in the sentry sent by Azriel to get you told you there weren't any severe injuries to worry about, among your friends at least. As excited as you had been for tonight, the thought that Azriel could get hurt kept you up for days.

The smell of smoke still lingered in the air and you found yourself twisting your hands together, wondering if the smell still brought him the same awful memories, wondering if you still knew him after all this time, if it would all be the same.

Raising a shaky hand to open the door, you find five pairs of eyes falling on you as soon as the room is revealed to you, hands reaching for their swords before noticing it was you and not any lingering soldiers, still on high alert from the fight. Their reaction makes you pause, startled momentarily before taking another step into the room when their serious faces turn into smiles.

It had been a long time since you've seen the neighboring kingdom's prince, - King, you correct yourself, - his general and his cousin. You've met them when you used to sneak out with Azriel, spent countless nights together causing harmless trouble as youths do. They had been with Azriel when you couldn't, helping him get to this point from the front lines while you stayed behind in the palace. Amren also stood by their side, the centuries old mage looked as unnerving and unruffled as ever, perhaps the best kind of ally Azriel could ask for.

Speaking of, your eyes quickly dart around the room, finding those beautiful hazel eyes at last, heart stalling in your chest when you find them already expecting yours. Azriel was sitting on the throne, on his throne, clad in black leathers as his shadows lazed around his body. His shoulders had gotten broader and his powerful wings were sitting up high behind him, unbelievably large, the blood of his enemies still staining his armor - the perfect image of a King.

A smile falls over his stupidly handsome face when his eyes meet yours, standing up to greet you immediately. This sets you in motion, your steps speeding up as your body carries you to him, barely acknowledging the rest of your friends as they excused themselves with knowing smiles, closing the door behind themselves just as you walked up the last steps to the throne, throwing your arms around Azriel's neck, a gleeful chuckle escaping him, catching you in his arms effortlessly, wings wrapping themselves around you as well.

It was almost overwhelming being able to hold him in your arms after so long, feeling his warmth against your body, his scent assaulting your senses as you breathe him in, vowing to never let him leave you behind ever again. You're unsure how much time passes before he pulls away, gently prying your face from his neck so he can study your teary-eyed expression intently, one arm still wrapped around your waist as he takes you in.

Gods, you almost forgot how downright mesmerizing he was. From this close you could count his eyelashes and every green speck in his hazel eyes, if you moved just a breath closer, your nose would bump against his, another one and his lips would fall on yours. His hand craddled your cheek, his bare hand you noted, the rough, familiar texture sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers caressed your skin softly.

“We did it,” you breathe out, watching the smile on his face grow even wider, a breathtaking sight. He leans down, kissing your other cheek and murmuring the same words back at you against your skin, relief clinging to every word.

His body was still somewhat tense against yours, wings tightening behind him every so often as his breath came out in puffs, his lips peppering small kisses from your cheek up to your forehead and then down to your jaw, trying to reach every bit of skin while you tried to check him for injuries or any other sign of discomfort, remembering he had just come back from battle.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Azriel simply shakes his head against you in lieu of an answer, tucking himself deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in again, his hold on your body tightening as well.

“Is it too much to bear?”

When his brother took over he didn't only steal his father's shadows but also Azriel's. It had been strange to see him without those wisps of darkness clinging to his form, unnerving even, and you know that becoming accustomed to not having them by his side was the hardest trial for him to overcome. But now that his brother was dead and he finally sat on his throne, his shadows had returned to him at last, and the ones who were once his father's followed them.

“Could be worse,” he says, a shudder betraying his attempt at a leveled tone. “They like the scent of blood.”

A tremble runs through your treacherous body, the low timber of his voice as he spoke against your skin, lips brushing you with every word making it hard to keep your mind working properly. He hums at your body's reaction, tongue peaking out to lick over your pulse point, feeling your heart racing faster and faster under him.

“Azriel-”

“They like yours even more. Always did.”

The confession hangs in the air as he continues to lap up at your skin, his teeth coming out to play and mark you ever so softly, teasing your supple skin. It looked like he was barely restraining himself, trying his best to hold onto sanity while you trembled in his arms.

You knew having this many shadows suddenly singing to him had to be extremely overwhelming after so long stuck in silence, the power that came with them and now also rumbled under his skin even more so. He needed an outlet, and you both knew the blood he already spilled wasn't nearly enough.

“Let me help you.”

The groan that escaped him echoed around the room, pulling away from your neck with a harsh bite and finding your lips before you could even react, finally unleashing himself at your proposal. His shadows followed his lead as always, falling over your body as he did, twisting and turning as they roamed over you. A frenzy overtook you as well, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel him under your skin, so deep he wouldn't be able to escape ever again.

The lights deemed even further around you, until only the moonlight filtered through his shadows, making it hard to see when you managed to pull away and take a breath, your eyes blinking as you tried to watch him in the dark. He had no such problem of course, unashamedly studying your face as you recovered, biting your bottom lip and licking at the drool gathered in the corners of your mouth, moaning at the way your scent deeped with arousal and mingled with his own.

The lines had always been blurred at best between the two of you, fear the only thing keeping them intact in the first place, but now you didn't have to worry for his or your safety anymore, about what his or your parents would think or do if they found a weakness in the other, now you could finally give in to each other without worries.

It had always been a poorly concealed secret how much you wanted each other anyway, and now that nothing was stopping you and he was finally in your arms, you could barely keep this craving down. You could only imagine what it felt like for him with the addition of the new untamed power running through his veins and the pesky shadows whispering in his ear.

Azriel starts walking backwards until he reaches his throne, bringing you along with him for the entire way as he catches your lips between his once again, sending your mind stumbling along with your feet. When he sits down, your body naturally follows to straddle his thighs, and you pull away with a gasp, his hard cock pressing where you need him most.

The maid's uniform you still wore was thrown over your head in a flurry of movements, revealing your unmarked and unobstructed body to his hungry gaze. Unable to stop himself, Azriel leaned closer, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his hands moved all over your body, caressing and grabbing every bit of skin and flesh he could, leaving you tugging at his leathers so you too could rid him of the bothersome clothes blocking your view, as good as you always thought he looked in them.

It's only with a whine of his name and a particularly harsh tug at his black, messy curls that he pulls himself away from you and helps you take the top part of his leathers off. You had been right about his shoulders getting broader, his entire body looked more muscular too. Of course the heir to the throne had been training since he was a child and Azriel had always been a large male, but after having to literally fight to survive, he was left with cleaner muscles, and quite a few scars you had never seen before scattered over his torso, making a mental note to ask him about them later.

He barely gave you any time to fully take him in, moving to unbutton his pants without pause, settling for pushing them down only enough to uncover his throbbing cock, your attention quickly falling on it. Your hand wraps itself around him in curiosity, a delicious shudder running through him as you tighten your hold around his cock, stroking him up and down slowly, reveling in every harsh breath and the pool of desire growing in his eyes.

“I need more, angel.”

Nodding, you agree with him. “Me too.” You needed all of him, needed him to fill you up until he was the only thing you could smell, taste and feel.

He rips your underwear off unceremoniously, inserting two of his fingers inside you as slowly as his frenzied state of mind allows you to, your own body ignoring the slight pang of pain at the sudden intrusion as your hips start rolling into his hand feverishly. You were beyond soaked, the sounds his fingers elicited as he fucked them into you downright sinful as they echoed around the room along with soft moans and gasps of his name.

Azriel seemed transfixed on the way your cunt swallowed his fingers greedily, the hazel in his eyes barely visible around his blown out pupils. Gods, if you didn't stop him you think you would end up cumming entirely too fast which is why as much as it pained you to, you grabbed onto his wrist and stopped his movements, breathing out a rushed “Need you now,” when he looked up at you in question.

You used your grip on his cock to guide him to your entrance, lifting yourself up on your knees as his hands fell over your hips, helping you along, shivering when the head pressed against your cunt. Pressing down on him with a whimper, you let your weight drag you down his length slowly, throwing your head back with a loud moan at the stretch, walls fluttering wildly around him as they struggled to accommodate the delicious intrusion until he finally bottoms out, your body shaking uncontrollably on top of him.

Your lips find his yet again, getting lost in his taste as you start moving against him, his hands grabbing onto your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds you down on him, breathy whines and moans swallowed in a passionate kiss, only pulling away when you start speeding up, moving up and down his length as his hips start meeting your thrusts, your hands holding onto the arms of the throne for better leverage, the way he was stretching you out and hitting every earth shattering angle threatening to make you lose yourself.

There was no doubt in your mind that anyone that walked by this hall could hear you, but you truly couldn't bring yourself to care about them, or that the walls were still covered in blood, or anything else for that matter. You had waited too long for this, to kiss him like this, to hold him like this, to feel him like this.

“You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this,” he manages between pants, eyes darting around as he tries to take the maddening sight before him fully, only receiving a feverish moan in response from you, unforgivingly close to the edge as you were.

Hazel eyes darted around your body as he tried to take the maddening sight before him fully, taking note of the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, mouth agape as the sweetest whines and gasps escaped unattended; the way your body moved with each roll of your hips, breasts bouncing as you did; and how perfectly you fit together, his cock disappearing inside you with every thrust.

His hands move down to your thighs, lifting your hips on his own now, your body simply following his lead, letting him take control as you moan out his name unabashedly. For a moment Azriel thinks his shadows, the crown and even the throne he was sitting on meant nothing if he didn't have you by his side, if he couldn't feel you like this again.

“Are you close, my love?”

One of your hands falls to hold onto his, needing to ground yourself, needing to feel him on every inch of your skin, needing to know this was real. Struggling to even breathe as he repeatedly hits every pleasure spot inside you, leaving you on the brink of madness.

“So close, Az.”

“Let go for me. Show me how sweet reality can be,” he murmurs breathlessly, obviously dangerously close himself. “Need you to give me everything, need to feel you falling apart on my cock.”

And fall apart you did, a gasp escaping your lips as an overwhelming amount of pleasure takes you under, drowning you completely under the waves as the world stands still, your body falling forward and shaking against him. Azriel keeps fucking into you, taking this new position as an opportunity to thrust into you even harder, chasing his own orgasm at the same time he prolongs yours.

You reach a hand out to caress the talon of his wing at the last minute, reminded of how sensitive they were, being immediately rewarded with a delicious whine of your name as he lets go, fucking his cum deep inside you with jerky motions until you were both spent, chests rising and falling against each other as you caught your breaths, meeting halfway in a kiss, his shadows covering your bodies once again.

Pulling away proves to be a monumental task, his lips chasing yours every time you try, having to push against his chest as you straighten your spine, trying to ignore his half hard cock still tucked inside you as he leans back against his throne, letting out a chuckle when he tries to pull you back to him and you send him a poor attempt at a glare, the smile plastered on your face and the fucked out look in your eyes making it less than believable.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I feel perfect,” he sighs dreamily, gazing up at you adoringly as his thumbs draw circles over your heated skin.

“So…” You trail off, not quite knowing what to say in this situation. After dreaming of not only having him back but also making him yours so many times, you couldn't find the right words now that it actually happened. “You're back.”

“I'm back, my love,” he confirms, cupping your cheek once again and rising up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, the new pet name sending goosebumps traveling across your skin, your heart so full it felt like it would explode out of your ribcage.

“I had a speech ready, you know?”

“A speech?”

“I had every intention of talking to you before this happened, but words won't ever be enough to describe how much I love you.”

His words paired with the look in his eyes were making you beyond giddy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you once more, drunk on your taste, unable to ever get enough.

“Say it again.”

Azriel lets out a delighted chuckle, pulling away so he can watch your face, taking you in before indulging you as he stares deep into your eyes.

“I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember,” he starts, voice soft as he did, “If I hadn't met you I wouldn't have been able to survive my father's cruelty, and if I didn't know you were waiting for me here, I wouldn't have been able to find the strength to come back and take back the throne. I owe you my life.” Tears gather in both of your eyes as he leans his forehead on yours, continuing, “The years I spent away from you were the hardest I've had to endure, and now that I finally have you back by my side, I won't ever let go. I don't want to spend even another second away from you.”

“I love you too,” you breathe, your heart so full it felt like you couldn't contain all your love for him inside.

Azriel kisses you again, tears now streaming down your faces as you cling to each other. He was right, words could never be enough to describe this moment, let alone the love you shared, but you were willing to whisper them as many times as you could until there was no breath left in your lungs.

[kisses4kaia]

patrick and degradation hi

you weren’t even thinking when you said it. he was pissing you off so fucking badly and there was so much happening, you couldn’t contain it.

“you’re such a fucking idiot, patrick. so fucking stupid, you’re such an asshole, god.” you grit out between groans. you’re straddling his meaty thighs, slamming yourself up and down on his obscenely hard cock, and he’s gone. his head isn’t on earth, his conscience a mere cloud of you and heat and you and pleasure and pain and you and you and you.

“fuuuuuck,” he groans out, face twisting up into an expression you’ve grown so familiar with. it’s a look of agony and desire, a red flush spreading like a forest fire from his cheeks down his neck and taking roots in his pecs. “oh please, fuck, gonna cum, baby, shit,” he’s sputtering out, abs flexing as his moans grow louder and more often reoccurring, and it’s not made any better by your biting.

dragging your teeth along his collarbone, biting down on the sweating sheen of his flesh, all the while growling the meanest fucking words that patrick is melting to hear.

“fucking pathetic, so dumb, got you brainless, don’t i? maybe i should get you like this more often, so you don’t say stupid shit anymore, hm? bet you’d like that, fucking freak,”

and he’s shaking through his orgasm, busting a gooey load into the latex of his condom as he praises your name, over and over. you slow down momentarily, allowing him a break, but a few seconds later, you’re back to chasing your high like your life depended on it. he lets you, lying whimpering and liquid for you as you meet your own peak. patrick’s limbs are tingling still, blotches of warmth making him a pied beauty underneath you for your eyes only.

less than a minute later, your gasping for air as your climax rams through you, biting your lip so patrick’s name doesn’t slip through and feed his everest comparable ego. “who knew you’d be so into me talking shit on you? you would love to hear what me and my friends say when you aren’t around,” you chuckle, still catching your breath as you fall down next to him.

“it’s my kind of dirty talk, baby.” he leans over to kiss you on the cheek, and you groan, pushing him off of you before dressing yourself and leaving him, alone in his hotel room. it’s almost like you were never even there.

[currentfandomkick]

Everyone thank @harvestandhearth for this ^^

Heads up, i’m going with intersex danny as ectoplasm exposure and presumed afab until he was able to clarify which gender he was (toddler) and chose his own name as Danny for this. Tim is still a nicu baby, and the two were presumed fraternal twins until a lot later.

And possible trigger warning, while not in Danny’s POV talking about what vlad did with the clones does trigger an episode to a degree, but this is all third POV with it being others’ observing Danny trying to ground himself after a stressor triggered something.

And as a personal headcannon, since Danny can turn parts of himself intangible, a nervous stim for him when he cant remove himself and go where he feels safe is to pull at his arteries or nerves—never managing it but passing through them as a target is soothing as its a tiny challenge, repetitive, and doesn’t hurt him but he can feel it happening so it helps ground himself after a trigger.

Timothy Jackson Drake nee Fenton pt2

Cyborg had two options with the news Red Robin and Phantom were twins: update the League files and let the paranoid bastards monitoring them find out that way, or telling them.

He did have a front row seat to the Dick and Kori’s disaster era many of them blame Dick for.

He updates Phantom and Red Robin’s files, links them as “twins raised apart geographically, and very attached emotionally” and let the cards fall where they may.

If Dick wanted to bring drama to the titans way back when, he can discover batfam drama on bis own time and away from Cyborg this time.

—

Tim was getting ready for patrol after his Call with Jazz and Dani. Danny crashed his pre-patrol routine to looking over possible redesigns from ghost fashionistas on a call.

The hooded cloak concept is popular and growing on Tim.

Apparently giving him a dragon as his callsign was also popular.

He was liking some of redesigns as different birds. Rook’s and Cardinal having a functional glider built in. Someone with the call mabychan didnt go too far off his current look, and it was possible to add the flight functions. The aesthetic addition of gold or yellow onto the suit proper rather than just his gear was interesting enough to explore later.

Danny continued to advocate for Tim playing with ecto-infused tech to be less trackable and was ignoring the very fact ecto signatures are very trackable and are transferable to people.

He was debating the winged cape-hood combo when his work phone kept going off.

“So, cutting this early again?”

“They can wait. Now, do you think maby could mix the hood and wing cape into her design? Like, my hair is wrong but it’s not far off from what i was going for, i think these two,” Tim grabbed his favorite Rook and Cardinal designs and lifted them to show Danny, “are a good reference for how i want the glider part to work.”

“I’ll contact her and see what she says,” Danny raised an eyebrow as his work phone began to flash red as it kept going off. “You gonna answer that or…”

“They’ll live, i’m not on the clock yet, and they interrupted my cases so many times this week with these stupid team building exercises. Like, hoe, i have a life outside of my two jobs, shut the fuck up and let me live!”

“You sure they aren’t a johnny-skulker hybrid?”

“Positive. They don’t hunt me for my pelt. Most of the time—Hood and mini Robin might if they have a mental break again.”

“Why have i not kidnapped you home sooner?”

“You respect my boundaries and are eviler for doing so.”

“Clearly, my evil-self solo-ed the Justice League and affiliates.”

“I’m still certain if i was alive, i would have beat evil you’s ass.”

“Dipshit, i would not have gone evil i would be a shaky chihuahua following your ass everywhere if any of my idiots didnt die in that accident.”

“Fair. So, i get Val, Anita, bart, Kon will try but he may run late with chores at the Kent’s, Cassie is coming, and against the odds you get to face an olympic archer too!”

“Oh my god, you guys could stand a chance if Dad’s aim doesn’t obliterate your points. How did you get Cissie to agree?”

“I told her Greta’s on your team and reminded her they were still tied for who was winning a bet way back when. Then called her a dick for deserting us in our time of need.”

“At least i don’t have to worry Slobo.”

“He’s on kiddo duty while we play.”

“So strategic sabotage.”

“You know me so well.”

“Evil, evil bastard brother!”

“Don’t talk about our mom like that.”

“I was talking about Aunt Janet.”

“Never mind, carry on.”

“Nah, but your phone is annoying me so—“ Danny shifted and Phantom burst out of his screen. “Ancients that sucked!”

Tim rolled his eyes as Danny bemoaned his latest fire walls.

“Use real fire ants next time, Ancients Damnit!”

“No.”

Danny snagged his phone as he reloaded his smoke pellets. “Now what does—holy shit. Did you not tell them you’re co-workers?”

“It was obvious—why do they think I turned down the family dinner invites unless Steph was there? I need bestie backup to handle their shit off hours.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t. They think you’re a Bat when you’re a fucking Fenton. Holy shit!”

“I never hid it,” Tim defended, “They’re detectives, they dan detect.”

Danny began wheezing, curled around the phone and cackling.

“…did B send anything yet?”

Danny shakily passed the phone. Tim ignored the group chat and looked to his private one with Bruce and Alfred.

“Cave. Now.”

“I was unaware of your living relatives Master Timothy. Do invite them over, we have much to discuss. From, Alfred Pennyworth”

Tim groaned, moving to put the last of gear in place.

“I was invited by your co-parent, I’m coming.”

“Chaos gremlin.” He waved Danny to follow him into the elevator, away from his (relatively) civilian quarters.

“You say that like you aren’t one too.”

“I hide it better, when it matters,” Tim shrugged. “Blame Aunt Janet’s social chameleon lessons.”

“Deceiver of all,” Danny narrated with the utmost dramatics as they exited the elevator. “be evil with your whole chest or be the Good Twin!”

“Fuck that. Now get your ass in gear, you’re riding Bitch.”

“Hey, if guys at school are going to keep calling me Fentonia, I believe I can say you gotta stop calling it that. Clearly I’m the tagalong and a snack.”

“Nope,” Tim readied Red Bird. “You smell like a bitch and look like shit. Why Val likes you, the world may never know.”

“Fuck you. And we share a face!” Danny got on behind him, ignoring the offered helmet.

“I wear it better and dont have baby fat. Safety first lab accident.”

“You look like that brainless dipshit from Oz, but boned,” Danny snapped as he put on the helmet and waiting for Tim to go.

“At least when I crossdress, it’s not a question of which gender I’m presenting as,” Tim grumbled as they sped out.

“Eat a cock, you know they thought i was a girl for a year.”

“I mean—“ Tim took a sharp turn out of the garage and merged into Gotham’s traffic .

“Abort, no sex stories from my twin this early—.”

“It’s 9 at night mostly ghostly.”

“—And did you forget i ate your fraternal twin in the womb and we became identical in a case of severe Gray’s Anatomy BS?”

“Look, the Nicu was A Lot, and with how much medical mystery shit our family has going on, can you blame me?”

“Yep. Medical mystery, magical mystery, family curse and Fenton Luck must be kept

Separate big brother, or are you getting sennial in your old age?”

“Fuck off.”

“And once again, your 9 pm is my 4 am. I’m a witching hour girlie, Reddicus Robininous.” Danny snarked as they sped outside of Gotham City proper into the Rich Bitch greenery and woods.

“I blame Pix,” Tim groaned.

“Beanie taught me that!”

“But Pix taught you to say it.”

“She did, she did.”

The ride to the Cave was quiet, Danny frowning at the lack of stars.

“Leave it.”

“But i can probably pull it out of the atmosphere.”

“And put it where?”

“… my chest?”

“Nope, no self experimentation without scientist supervision.”

“Don’t you count?”

“I am a detective, combatant, chemist and hacker. I am not a scientist.”

“Sounds fake.”

“You’re fake.”

“I’m ghostly, and a member of the cloned kids club.”

“You ate my twin in the womb.”

“So i get to be evil!”

“No. I’m evil; I’m a ceo and help a lot of coverups as a vigilante for other vigilantes and a handful of anti-heroes.”

“Evil me took out your not-son and his friends!” Danny argued.

“Please, three separate evil me’s managed that, and came back to gloat.”

“Well, those three ceased to exist or evil last i checked. My evil me’s in therapy and still murdery.”

“I know—how’s Dan doing and are we going with older brother cover or cousin like Dani?”

“His call, and he’s… unpacking still.”

“Eh-hem,” Alfred interrupted as Tim parked Red Bird. “I believe we need to have a family meeting are your other family members joining, excusing this Dan?”

“No, they don’t know this is happening,” Tim answered.

“That,” Danny looked around at the… trophy wing(?) of the cave. “Aannnd Jazz would enjoy psychoanalyzing you all too much. So, is this a ‘check all the info for verification cautionary tale’ or something else?” He asked as he turned his attention back to the bat-butler. Batler(?)

“Something else, Master Daniel.”

“Just Danny. I chose it, I get to keep it in all contexts.”

Alfred moved to open his mouth.

“Only one to not call him that made him an unwilling teen parent,” Tim interjected before Alfred could start up on formalities.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Has this individual been taken care of?”

Tim and Danny shared a look. “Working on it,” Tim answered, rubbing the inside of Danny wrist before he could start tugging his arteries or nerves as a stress stim.

Alfred looked between them. “Anything else i should be aware of Master Danny?”

“Just keep toast away from me, and I’m not a solid foods person—can do solid food in shake form just uh, jaw tends to freeze and lock at random since my powers came in.”

Alfred hummed in response to that. “Soft solids are acceptable, yes?”

Danny slowly nodded his head, and moved his hand to the thermos on his hip.

Tim squarely kept Danny on the side he could better block the cameras from as they followed Alfred up.

“I made a batch of chocolate salted caramel chip oatmeal cookies. I will bring you a more drinkable version of the batter with a strawberry smoothie on the side. Master Tim, your usual will be beside your serving.”

Tim grunted in response, checking his phone and keeping a steady hand on his twin’s pulse. Which was far too fast for Danny’s normal… trying to appease Tim’s co-workers by masking the liminality, or stress response to casually outing himself or to Tim dropping the Vlad forced cloning thing (Tim’s helped him with so, so many nightmares of watching his clones die. The fact one was identical to Rim didn’t help. Tim being present and alive did).

Danny smiled at him. Mask smile—so hiding Phantom’s impact or ignoring the trauma trigger he pulled. Yep, Tim is winning the evil twin contest for the wrong reasons again.

Alfred turned to see Tim analyzing his twin, who was more flushed in his face than before… he’d have to inform the Wayne clan to gentle their interrogation regarding Master Danny’s existence. Master Tim’s explanation helped explain the name situation, however it could have been done without triggering the poor boy. Had Master Tim given him a moment, he would have found the explanation unnecessary.

The twins stalled at the threshold of the meeting room.

Tim waved at Stephanie, Cass and Barbra sitting in the same general area together as he moved further in front of Danny and switched which hand was grounding him and monitoring his pulse. Stephanie was gleeful to say the least, Cass unfazed and Barbra giving him a too knowing wave back.

Dick was sitting between Damian and Bruce, the three dissecting every move Tim and Danny made. Tim made sure to shield him as much as he could from the imminent psychological warfare Bruce was planning. Damian would likely aim for any potential insecurity once he got too aggravated with everything, and was likely to say something that could set off Danny. He only really went through his firewalls instead of waiting for Tim to let him in when he was having a particularly nasty day and needed some twin time.

Tim couldn’t fathom what Dick’s plan was. The one he saw as his found older brother would laugh at him managing to fool everyone one on a loophole and tell him how to further the ruse. But the one who took up the cowl was different from the brother that mentored him and helped with everything from girls, leading a team and homework.

Duke and Jason were to the side. Jason looked morbidly amused while Duke seemed curious, so no worries on that end for Danny. Operation: ‘air out Batcorp’s laundry if they start shit’ was a go.

—

Okay next round i will want an idea of how you want batfam members to respond to the fact Tim ‘hid’ his family from them—as that’s how these chuckleheads are entering this meeting.

Tim’s got receipts and Danny is there mostly to divide Tim’s attention and watch the show.

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[the-darklings]

Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)

ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx

ೀ wc: 5k

ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.

ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!

ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist

The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think. 

He can’t. 

There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—

Four seconds. 

He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—

He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now. 

He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake. 

Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway. 

Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was. 

Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her. 

She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were. 

Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?

“You’re not here.”

It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again. 

Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.

A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs. 

.

Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest. 

Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack. 

“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room. 

She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl. 

“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”

Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.” 

Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.

“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”

Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating. 

It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.

Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”

A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.  

His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”

“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”

“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”

It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been. 

“And now she’s dead!”

His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”

“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”

.

Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her. 

He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her. 

Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality. 

Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands. 

Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well. 

Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely. 

The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair. 

Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly. 

He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing. 

You’re the order to my chaos, hero. 

“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”

A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it? 

Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal. 

He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home. 

There’s no sleep that night. 

.

Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move. 

He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.

At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose. 

He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be. 

A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right? 

His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her. 

Still her. 

Always her. 

. 

He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt. 

There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away. 

There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.

Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—

“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat. 

A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition. 

“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”

Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet. 

Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled. 

Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step. 

“Soooo—” she begins.

“You’re alive.”

Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against. 

His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving. 

Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull. 

“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink. 

“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”

He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath. 

“Woah, hero, you’re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”

Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room. 

“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”

Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him. 

“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”

Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her. 

When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.

“No need to get shy, stud.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.

“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually. 

Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”

There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”

She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again. 

“Does Vi—”

“No. No. And it’s better this way.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”

He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him. 

“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”

“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says. 

Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been. 

She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”

There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement. 

“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”

Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so. 

“I… shit. Sorry.”

“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”

“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”

.

Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone. 

“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”

Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way. 

Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them. 

“You drew this.”

He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”

Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”

She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”

“Then stay.”

She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”

He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”

Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”

“You tried to blow us up.”

“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”

Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere. 

Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche. 

She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”

And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.

.

The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had. 

They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth. 

They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.

“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness. 

“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”

He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”

“It’s a pity, then.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair. 

He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all. 

Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away. 

But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.

“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes. 

He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”

He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close. 

“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”

“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”

She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”

“Ask me, damnit.”

Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread. 

“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”

Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”

A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.

She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”

Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.

----

an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.

[meanbossart]

Sorry if you've gone over this before, but you've said a few times that DU Drow and Astarion both sleep. I know BG3 can be a little fast and loose with the original D&D rules to fit video game logic (some stuff I think they do better for it), and there's no wrong answer here but I was just curious. There's dialogue referring to the player sleeping no matter what race they are, so I figured maybe it was something to do with the tadpoles: Astarion lost a few vampire quirks while infected, maybe elves would lose the ability to trance/meditate and would HAVE to sleep. Or maybe they do still trance and they just say sleep because it's basically the same to non-elves. And on that note, would DU have the ability to trance at all, since he's kind of just... A bhaalspawn wearing a drow-ish skin? Again no wrong answers here cause you're the one running the show, I was just curious if there was any lore going on behind the scenes.

I could go into how most sources I found (at the time and right now) state that elves can sleep if they so wish, and honestly I can also come up with reasons why both Shadowheart and Astarion would choose to avoid reverie... But I'll be honest with you anon, I just don't find the concept very interesting!

The idea of being able to rest without ever actually letting your guard down, plus having the time required to replenish your energy being cut in half, is... Very boring to me, so I ignore it, it's as simple as that 😅 you are free to come up with your own reasons or just pretend I'm saying "meditate" instead of sleeping whenever I mention it.

Regardless of headcanon though, DU drow isn't capable of it and lacks most other perks of being a drow.

[love44lew]

everywhere, as long as its with you

彡drivers franco colapinto

彡genre spanish speaking reader! x franco colapinto, fic/smau

彡summary your boyfriend became an f1 driver, now you travel the world with him

彡notes im still pretty new to making smaus so please excuse the lack of order ToT.. i was also thinking about turning this into like a mini series since i ended up liking the plot more than expected while wring. let me know what you guys think!! other than that, thank you for reading ♡︎

you’re sitting on the knitted hanging chair outside your boyfriends argentina home, the sunset view was always so beautiful from this view—especially because he lived in the mountains where you could see everything. theres not a place in the world you would rather be. with your digital camera you snap a photo of the sunset, the quality of the camera giving the view a nostalgic feel. you close your eyes and take in the breeze brushing past your skin.

———

yourusername

location: puerto iguazú, argentina

yourusername digital camera in 🇦🇷❣️

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francolapinto ahh taking pictures behind my back !?

yourusername @/francolapinto sorry baby 🤫❤️

———

then you hear loud heavy footsteps scurrying from inside the house, causing you to open your eyes open again, glance around, roll them and then close them again. you sat peacefully for a total of five seconds before a frantic franco screams your name from inside the house, causing you to wince at the sudden noice.

“come!! quickly!” franco rushed you into the house. the two of you sat at the dinner table, you still didnt know what was happening but franco was getting a phone call and his leg was bouncing anxiously. “que??” you questioned, he quickly shushed you as he picked up the phone. you rolled your eyes, why did he call you all the way here if he was just gonna want you to be quiet. but also if he did, it must be a really important call.

he put the phone on speaker and placed it down on the table.

“is this franco alejandro colapinto?” a calm soft voice spoke from the other line.

“yes, this is him” franco said in his best english he can muster.

“you are being summoned by williams to attend the british grand prix, you will be driving in fp1.” franco silently looked at you with complete and utter shock in his eyes.

“are you available to attend?” the person asked from the other line in contrary to francos silence.

he searched for reassurance in your eyes, you nodded your head at him pointing to the phone.

“uh.. y-yes!—mm” he cleared his throat “yes, i am” he rephrased in a more collected tone. he couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything he’d gone through—everything he’s sacrificed, everything his family sacrificed, to get to this point. he’d finally made it, even if it was just for fp1, it could possibly lead to him being in a seat one day. franco finished up the phone call, his composure holding on to a thread the whole time until he finally hung up.

immediately he stood up and scooped you into his arms. he tightly held you, taking in your scent and everything you are. he’d finally done it, and he couldn’t have without your help and encouragement. when times got tough, when it felt like he’d never make it, there you were to push him on and make him feel good about himself again. he genuinely doesn’t know what he’d do or where he’d be without you. he cupped your face, his lips clashing with yours into a passionate and loving kiss. the way he kisses you always sends tingles down your spine—the softness of his touches compared to the way his mouth moves against yours. you could feel how much he loves you in every kiss, touch, or words he speaks. his love for you is only in the purest form.

“té quiero, mi amor” his eyes gazed lovingly into yours as your lips detached from each other, his thumbs softly caressing your face, taking in every feature that he loved so dearly.

“im so so proud of you papasito” you wiped the incoming tears that dared to flow down his rosy cheeks. your heart has always been with him and his goals, to see him succeed like this—even if its as little as free practice, it was another door opened for your talented man.

“venga conmigo” franco proposed, the heat of the moment seeming like a perfect time. he couldnt just leave you behind, after everything you’ve done?? he’d want you to be there the most.

“wh- what!?? thats crazy!!” you halfheartedly giggled, only response you could muster from how insane his suggestion was.

“why not? you’re always there for everything else, why not be there for the most special moment? cmon.” his puppy dog eyes are ones you could bear to refuse, his cheeks and nose reddened from all the excitement and happiness he feels. so, you agreed to go. youre his rock in all this, his biggest supporter. why wouldnt he want his favorite cheerleader to go and continue to push him on? plus, youve never been to london.

———

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—

franco went on to place p11 in his first race after london, which you were extremely proud of him. to be so close to points in a backmarker team was, to say the least, impressive. you always knew he had it in him but for his first time ever racing as an f1 drivers against the other 19 best in the world? a blessed experience.

[shinkei-shinto]

Let's see if I can add MORE confusion in with my previous close reading of every single book in the series so that I could write my own Redwall novel!*

I see that you OP have heard of The Cookbook but for everybeast else: there's a cookbook! Most of the recipes are extremely simplistic but we'll get to why I think that is in a second.

WRT dairy: they make mention of "greensap milk" and I don't think any of their cheese comes without nuts. In ahhhh the one with the badger and his hawk, they talk more deeply about how cheeses are made (after you have the cheese) including wrapping them in nettles. So I Guess So since it apparently acts Just Like Dairy Cheese.

Yes! We are! Society doesn't exist yet! If you look at the books in chronological order, they move from using spears and sharpened stakes to swords and daggers and simple bows, and - in the last couple of books - crossbows. There's only one smithy and it's made in a dormant/dead volcano. They're literally just not that advanced at this point (although who knows where this would have gone if Jacques had been able to continue!) In earlier books, he refers to various tribes of species all living together in groups, such as squirrels in bands of trees, or the molehill of the Longladle family. Actually circling back to this there *is* one society that sort of rises up as a "city" -- in the Rogue Crew. There's a group of peaceable beasts who all live (mixed!) together in an enclosed sort of fort. It's one of the only other mixed-species places that exist, besides the Abbey and technically Salamandastron. (does Martin's temporary home have other species? I can't remember.) So this is also why I think recipes are a little simplistic. While they have so many vegetables (and don't UTILIZE THEM why are potatoes ONLY USED IN DEEPER'N'EVER PIE!? HUH??!) I think we're given to assume those are local and grown in their own ground, and they don't. have. spices/trade/etc yet.

*I* think the only idea of 'currency' is 'the currency of goodbeasts to do slave labor'. I think this one I would lean more heavily into "he was telling these stories to children" as an excuse; kids don't want to hear about money and capitalism they want to hear about pirates and heroes. But I also find this aspect of society confusing so I was mostly glad we didn't have to deal with money.

There's a bread dimension. That's my only excuse. As far as we know, the Abbey is very large - the front gates are tall enough to admit a full sized ship on wheels (a casualty of one mast) which is able to roll fully into the Abbey, hit a tree, and stop, without ever coming within weapons range of the front doors. We know there are lawns on either side of this path, a graveyard, a small-to-medium-sized spring-fed-lake, and a generous orchard. I assume Jacques was modeling this after abbeys in Europe/England, which I don't know jack and shit about, but that they did live there year round. shrug? I will note that there is a scene in a book (no I don't remember which one) where a gardener explains to a peer that 'we don't plant or harvest it all at once because then we'd have a bumper crop of parsley and what use is that? by planting some seedlings now, some later, we will have parsley throughout the season instead' so he was thinking about it, at least, even if it doesn't quite work out to reality terms. but there's just a fucking bread dimension, there just has to be, there's not enough room to grow the plants needed nor mills to grind them nor processing or ever making or even mention of flour. I GUESS we could talk about nutflour and other flour-like-flowers which the mice would have access to but BREAD DIMENSION. This was my one concession in my writing, I gave myself an out here because it drove me NUTS.

I don't think Jacques ever thought about this. We get ONE instance of a mouse adopting a. rat? what the hell is he. I think he wasn't the same species, I don't remember that one well, but there's him and Tagg, and that's "otter adopted by vermin" which isn't quite this either. I think this is probably another "kids story concession" which isn't an answer I like to give but it's the best I've got.

ha! ha! he actually retconned this! if you read Redwall the first book, he makes mention of several species (beaver? horse) which are WIPED FROM EXISTENCE in the rest of the series. There is a cart drawn by a horse which makes it seem like the mice and rats are living in a world with humans & human-sized equipment but that is RETCONNED. I do think the trees vary in size because we have various scenes of "two maidens bound hand-to-hand around a tree to keep them confined for the night" and "tied all [4-6?] of the vermin together with their belts, around a tree" in various locations in Mossflower and its environs. I don't? think? we ever hear of trees large enough to be giants to mice like they would in our reality. an addendum to this: I have never bloody been able to figure out the size of the fish. shrimps are the size of shrimp to us because otters eventually 'Skipper popped one in his mouth' in the kitchens which gives us an idea of how large they are to otters, at least. but fish??? ha. HA! we have the feast-day fish catching where multiple beasts are needed to reel in a huge trout or carp. we have pike, which are enormous man-eaters (mice-eaters?) but can also be beat to shit by a big otter and his rudder (Lord Brocktree iirc) and there is one kept as a tame uh, "pet", by an otter tribe. there is ALSO the wolf question. Gods know I don't remember which one this is but there's a book where a ... big fox? i think he is? is up far north, and he finds a dead wolf? and takes its skull and pelt and puts knives in for the claws? or some such. so we DO have extra-large-predators like wolves and wolverine, but then when we get. to the wildcats. oh the wildcats. they drive me NUTS. by rights they should be as big as badgers? when Martin fights Verdauga it feels like Martin is half the size of the cat? but then in every other way the cats seem to be as big as otters! or hares! uugghhh. BIRDS TOO birds are WILDLY inconsistent in size, I don't know how a mouse helps an osprey re-set his wing nor how a mousebabe rides on a flying eagle's head without disappearing.

do I have any burning questions still. hmm. OH I want to know what they make! their clothing! out of!!! WHAT IS IT. I also want answers about the far west, the scorpion??? and lizards??? as well as what the other side of the continent towards the east looks like, because in Martin's history we get to visit that coast AND we learn of several locations (TM) like Noonvale, which are never referred to again.

which BLOWS MY MIND because he made Brockhall + Castle Kotir literally affect the landscape temporally throughout his books. Brockhall is discovered and rediscovered and lost again and again, and Kotir eventually rises from the dead to menace the Abbey wall because fucking Germaine built a wall over the top of it when it sank into a mire. MA'AM. Even when we get to Doomwyte, the cavern they are in is a cavern mentioned in earlier texts! this is not our first interaction with the deep deep fissure in the earth that emits green gas!!!

oh and The Tapestry. I have so many questions about the tapestry. canonically the image of Martin was sewn by his (mother? wife? someone) and preserved through many things to eventually be set as the 'cornerstone' for the tapestry. And it "depicts vermin fleeing from him in all directions" and his "calm easy face" which seems to smile at Redwallers etc etc. but then. the SWORD. sometimes it it set next to the tapestry which to me makes sense; held vertically along the side it is accessible to many but not to babes. I don't think it is ever placed below the tapestry. but it IS placed ABOVE and there is a part where a goodbeast does acrobatic parkour to SNATCH IT FROM THE NAILS and I want to know HOW??? how big is the tapestry. how did you get that. is it landscape or portrait. what. WHAT. also where did the shield go! where did the sheath go! those were so important aaagaggghhhhhh.

Okay that's it I think I'm done. I hope any of this was useful or amusing, or better yet caused more chaos and questions 👍

^* I did in fact write most of this, 50k/100k words over two NaNos, but I could never get anyone to fucking read it or give me any feedback, despite handing out the first fifteen chapters to like seven people, so I lost steam. So if you're reading this and going "wow! I sure would like to read even more Redwall content and I would LOVE to get into in-depth discussions of shit in a fanbook, this sounds like a great way to build community," HI PICK ME.

hobbies include: close reading the Redwall series to answer my most burning questions. such as:

- can I replicate any of these delicious-sounding foodstuffs and would they in fact be delicious if I was able to

- corollary to the above: are we just supposed to read “oat cream” and “nut cheese” every time we see the words “cream” and “cheese”? I think so. bc if not, what tha hell are their livestock animals

- what is Society like? I don’t think we ever see a Mouse City or even Mouse Town though we do see castles and obviously an abbey. are we supposed to believe that most creatures are either in wandering bands or these societies based around a single structure (castle/abbey?)

- they appear to have an idea of what currency is (the bad guys always want treasure — maybe just to have, not to sell? but less ambiguous is some dialogue I just read, “acorn for your thoughts?” “you can have them for free”) but again, we never see anyone using money or making goods for the market. is this after the fall of Mouse Capitalism? are the bad guys (the idea of rat pirates gives me a headache, vis a vis the political/economic systems needed to power piracy) raiding preindustrial mouse societies for treasure/meat?

- corollary to the above: the abbey creatures have oats and wheat but we don’t see anybody farming or trading for farm goods on a large enough scale. is the abbey “orchard” really a like an indigenous forest farm of mixed foodstuffs? is that possible if you live in the same place the whole year or only if you travel each season? I have to do some googling

- both the lack of mixed-species families and the idea of mixed-species families give me a headache. has a squirrel never fallen for a handsome otter? what is the culture shock like if you marry into a subterranean mole family?

- this is the least “important” question but this read through I’ve been desperately trying to figure out What Size Everything Else Is. i’ve come to the conclusion that everything other than animals are at mouse scale, given that they can make seaworthy vessels their own size (a mouse sized vessel with real-world-sized waves seems impossible) and pick and eat apples and plums. but so far it seems like they’ve avoided mentioning how tall trees are — like a person compared to a tree or a mouse compared to a tree?

[the-kr8tor]

For you Ekko reqs, may I suggest R and Ekko hurt/comfort where Ekko slowly confides with R about what happened at the end of show (like probably a year or 2 of Ekko trying to process everything) and how he sometimes wished he stayed at the alt timeline? 🥲 Just him processing his grief of everything while R comforts him. Mans deserves better

-😅

Ahhhhh writing this made me tear up ngl 🥲 I hope you like it! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, can be read as platonic, cw violence mention, cw injury mention, cw blood and death mention, hurt/comfort.

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Ekko?” Your call is carried by the cool autumn wind, breeze fluttering your lashes as you stare at his back. You see him shrink in his seat, face hidden on the crook of his elbow. Walking closer, footsteps clanging against the metal balcony where you always find him on the same day it all happened. “You'll catch a cold up here.”

Piltover shines in front of you, warm light flickering off by the windows as people settle in for the night. But the glimmering fire paper still flies above the city, its light fading as it burns out in the breeze. It's the anniversary of that day, the day Piltover and Zaun saw war right on their doorstep.

Your arm aches, a phantom pain ebbing in and out when your mind goes back to that exact day where the sky was covered in searing smoke, and the streets splashed in warm crimson. Thumb brushing along your scar, it's a mark, a reminder of what was lost that day.

After a minute, Ekko sighs, still unmoving on his spot. “I'm not leaving.”

“I'm not trying to make you leave.” You fetch the blanket that was folded and draped over your shoulder. “I have a blanket for you. If you want it.”

He turns his head slowly over to you, mind playing tricks on him as he sees the flash of you bleeding and yelling for him. Eyes bloodshot, skin clammy and marred with blood. As fast as it came, he blinked and it's gone. Vision returning to the present, the present that wouldn't be possible if not for his sacrifice.

“Don't just gawk at me, bossman,” you smile gently at him, the blanket now unfurled in front of you, ready to drape it over his trembling form. “Do you want it or not?”

The corner of his lip curls up in a small smile, his eyes are tired, weighed down by the world. “Come sit down?”

He has never asked you to join him. You always left him alone up here whenever the anniversary comes around, thinking that's what he needed. But you always waited patiently just outside the door, sitting down on the cold steps while you let grief wash over you like the tides. Until it's time to pick yourself up again at the sound of the door opening. His hand helping you up wordlessly, grief holding the two of you in place, mourning together silently. When morning comes, everything seems to go back in place. The sun still shines, the world still breathes. But it lingers, that grief that has etched itself in your bones, sorrow that lives in his chest, weighing him down but never letting it fester and spread.

You two continue to fight, to improve the very place where blood has been spilled. Carry their memories, their names and their voices until the end. Lest their sacrifices would be in vain. Ekko's sacrifice would be in vain. He deserves better, to not bear the heaviness left in his soul.

“Are you just gonna gawk there or will you take a seat?” He uses your own words against you.

“Can't help it,” you say, heart pounding in your chest as you take a seat right next to him. Giving him enough space, but close enough to see his heavy eyes marred by unshed tears. “You look good under the moonlight.” You joke in an attempt to make him smile.

Ekko manages to chuckle softly, letting you drape the fluffy blanket around his shoulders. Your warm fingers grazing along his cool skin, sending goosebumps on his lean arms.

“Do you find my frown charming?”

You smile kindly, knuckles brushing down his goosebumps. “It’s the tear stained cheeks that gets me everytime.”

He scoffs with a small smile, attention turned towards the Piltover sky. The smell of burnt paper and violets linger in the air, frown deepening at his racing thoughts.

“Will you stay?”

With trepidation, you take his hand in yours, giving him enough time to pull away. He doesn't, instead, he weaves his fingers around yours. His grip is weak, but you can feel how much he needed it by how his eyes stare at your joined hands.

“Of course, whatever you need, Ekko.” You'll stay forever if he asks.

He nods, eyes staying downturned. “I wanted to stay at that place.” Letting out a shaky breath, he closes his eyes, trying to remember what they look like in his mind's eye. Faces that he once thought that he'll never see again. Faces that he had to say goodbye to. “But that would be selfish. I couldn't—” you squeeze his hand. “—I couldn't just leave this place and let it burn.”

The last two years have melded together in your head. All those months of waiting for him at the edge of the hideout, never losing hope, not even when they declared him dead. And then the war came, and you two didn't have the time to reunite, until it ended with you laying half dead on the streets of Piltover. Waking up to him holding your hand in a grip, wishing for you to open your eyes. And you did. A year later, he comes to you, angry and furious, wanting to let it all out. You still remember the day he told you exactly what happened when he disappeared for months like it was yesterday.

He recalls it all like it was a dream, a dream that was destined to be forgotten once he awakes. He didn't want to wake up, not when everything he always dreamed of was there. He gripped onto you tightly that day, held onto you until the sun rose. Nothing was left unsaid, his story left a hole in your heart, wishing that you've seen it for yourself. But you're afraid that you wouldn't be strong enough to leave, as strong as him who made a difficult choice to leave.

He has experienced unthinkable loss, a longing you've never felt. You don't have the exact words to comfort him, to soothe his want, so you move closer to him, fixing where the blanket has fallen and wrapping it over his body like a warm cocoon. You could only hope that it's enough, but you know it will never be enough.

Ekko tucks his head on your shoulder, hand finding its way over to your raised scar. His thumb traces along the skin, feeling your warmth and in turn comforting you. He knows the pain you're in too, he witnessed it, all the nights you've hid away only to come back with red eyes and grief etched on your face.

“I couldn't leave you and Zaun behind.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

Your heart wretches out of your chest. “It wouldn't be selfish.” You say, whispering it into the air around you. “I think— I would've done what you wanted to do. I wouldn't be strong enough to leave, but you did.” He leans away, eyes soft and shining under the moonlight as he meets with your eyes. “You're brave, Ekko. You might not want everyone to know what you had to do to save everyone, but I know. And I'm forever grateful for what you did. For what you have sacrificed so we could live. I'll remember it until I can't, even then, I'll try not to forget.” Cupping his jaw, you watch as a tear slides down. You wipe it away gingerly, smiling at him as he leans against your warmth, eyes closing, shoulders slumping with every word you utter. “You did well, Ekko.”

He moves forward, leaning his forehead against your own, affection radiating off him. “Thank you.”

“We'll be okay. We have time.”

“I know.” He has seen it, one day that dream will come true.

With a tender squeeze, his hand takes the other edge of the blanket, pulling and covering you with its warmth right next to him.

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[rafesweetie]

⋆˚࿔ espresso ꥟ ˚⋆ — sunny!reader x rafe

“ walked in and dream-came-trued for ya! “

i believe the saying goes, “she was like a shot of espresso.” rafe didn’t think that saying could fit a person more than it could fit you.

he’d see you at parties, dancing with his sister or giggling with the pogues. you never could seem to pick a side. this whole pogue vs kook rivalry never crossed your mind, for you were simply friends with everyone in kildare. he’d see you at the beach with your friends, tanning while listening to silly pop music and sipping on a fruity canned drink. you reminded him of the sun.

there was one night where sarah cameron invited you to her place for a start-of-summer party. rafe was dealing some coke, as per usual, and his eyes followed you as you walked in, holding hands with sarah while she led you inside. he’d never understood why girls held hands with each other, but wheezie said that it’s a universal girl thing, and he ‘would never get it.’

topper elbowed rafe out of his trance, laughing about how rafe had a little crush.

“nah, nah,” rafe denied instantly. “isn’t she a pogue?”

topper shakes his head. “nope. she just hangs out with them. her parents own that flashy smoothie shop, she’s a kook,”

“…oh, that’s good,” rafe mutters. he can’t quite avert his gaze from you.

“aw man, you’re desperate,” kelce is on his other side, patting his back, making rafe grunt and shoo him off. rafe can’t relate to desperation.

his night goes on per usual, getting bundles of cash handed to him as he deals. until topper speaks up after a bit. “she just broke up with pope,” he informs rafe. “she’s on the market,”

“yeah?” rafe checks.

“yeah. you should go talk to her,”

rafe hesitates, staring at you again. you’re not a dancer by any means, but both you and sarah are wiggling your shoulders a bit when a good song comes up. rafe would assume you’re drunk, the way your giggles echo through the room and the way you spill your drink when you stumble into sarah. but he thinks that’s just you, drunk on life. he eventually speaks. “no fucking way, she’s with my sister right now. sarah would lose her shit if i talked to little miss sunshine over there,”

“yeah, well, need i remind you i’m dating sarah, so i’ll just get her away, go make out for a bit, she looks drunk,” topper offers.

“…a’ight. yeah, lets do it bro.” rafe agrees, and they both get up off the couch. rafe stands a little bit away as he grabs another vodka pink lemonade for you, maybe a subtle bribe into talking, and a beer for himself. topper talks to sarah for a bit, greets you, then leads sarah away.

rafe’s literally directly behind you, when suddenly you’re already talking to someone else. you’re pretty chatty, it seems. rafe hangs around to catch you after your next conversation. but then he looks away for one second, then you’re gone again. he spots you on the balcony, with jj maybank. then a couple minutes later, you’re with kie carrera. then you’re shotgunning a drink with sofia. holy shit. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already, and he looks so cute chasing after you. if he’s not pushy, he’ll never get his chance. so, channeling his inner ward cameron, he spots you with ruthie (who he never would’ve assumed you would associate with. maybe you’re just being polite), and he puts a hand on your shoulder from behind, spinning you around. “y/n. right?”

you blink, not expecting the sudden interruption. but you regain yourself quickly, smiling. “hi! yeah, i am,” you say. your voice sounds as sweet as honey. “you’re rafe cameron?”

you know who he is? he shouldn’t be surprised, you seem to know everyone, but he likes that you know, anyway. “uh, yeah, yeah, that’s me,”

“well it’s so nice to meet you,” you smile up at him. “it’s funny, sofia used to mention you a lot, and obviously im close friends with your sister. but i’ve never met you before,”

“..you’re friends with sofia?” is all he can think to ask.

“mhm. i’ve known her since grade 5. we’re not like, super close now, but we were when you guys dated,” sensing his sudden aversion to talking about her, his ex girlfriend, you shut up. “um, wanna go grab a drink?”

“oh— shit, yeah, um, brought one for you, actually,” he hands you the vodka pink lemonade. “saw you drinking one earlier, so..”

“oh my gosh, thank you so much,” you say. is he that sweet? you guess so.

“yeah, ‘course. heard sarah talk about you, and it’s all been good things, so i figured i’d try and meet you myself,”

“well now you have. i’ve heard her talk about you too,” you don’t have the heart to say it hasn’t been very good things.

it feels like this awkward small talk is going in circles. but maybe that’s a good, slow way to start something.

your name is suddenly called by a group of girls a couple meters away. “it was so nice to meet you rafe. i should go, they want me,” you say softly, reaching for his hands. he remembers when you came in holding sarah’s hands. it seems to be your thing. “i’ll see you around?”

“yeah—“ he clears his throat, gaining the courage to hold yours back. “yeah. see you around, y/n,”

you smile. you could swear he’s blushing. “you’re cute,” you say softly, squeezing his hands once more before retreating away.

he feels like he just took a shot of espresso, and now he’ll be thinking of you every night.

[mischiefmaker615]

No Nut November

Summary: Loki discovering “No Nut November” and thinks this Midgardian Tradition is a must. Better try to get as much of you as possible before he’s cut off.

Rating: PG14

Note: I'm publishing this on the 27th of November Lol better late than never.

The sound of a lap top slamming shut was enough to make you nearly jump out of your skin. Quickly looking up from your book, you see from across the room your boyfriend coyly making his way over to you with that ‘I’m up to something’ smile.

‘’may I help you, good sir?” you tease with an attempt to copy his smile, causing him to chuckle and join you on the couch with his hand taking its rightful place on your thigh.

‘’have I told you today how attractive I find you?” he asked gently, his other hand reaching up to slowly brush a lock of your hair behind your ear while you set your book aside on the table.

‘’yes, you have, twice actually.’’ You smile, your face leaning a bit into his hand that now moved to cup your cheek. ‘’what seems to have gotten you in such a mood?”

‘’mood? Can’t one significant other simply enjoy the beauty of their significant other?” he asked with obvious dramatic innocence while his eyes flicked down to your lips.

His whole attitude seems.. off. He had toned it down with all the pranks, especially towards you so perhaps this was just pent-up mischief he finally needed to let out. raising your guard a bit, you knew there was a slight risk of him finally springing on you the “gotcha part” so your body instantly tensed while your hands rested on his own upon your thigh with a painted-on smile.

‘’but of course, but you do seem to be acting a bit different all the same.. are you okay?” you asked, concern now flashing in consideration while you gave him a look over as if he had any obvious injuries but his finger merely placed itself under your chin to bring your gaze back onto his own.

‘’I’m quite alright darling, the idea of having the tower to ourselves for a couple of hours today has merely given me.. inspiration of how we could simply utilize our time.’’ He said simply, an unspoken conversation laying behind what he just said but he didn’t give you much of a chance to push before you felt him lean forward and press his lips gently against yours.

All thoughts were gone as usual and you quickly reciprocated by pressing back into him, your hum being swallowed by his moan before he began leaning more forward and got you to lay on your back. His body hovered over yours, palms and forearms pressed down beside your arms to hold up his weight from crushing you while his groin gave you’re the pressure you craved.

He was a teaser, and you often didn’t win if you tried to tease him back while moving your hips up to meet his own, earning a growl before he would snatch your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands rose up to tangle In his hair, feeling his body lower onto yours more while he hummed and leaned into your fingers.

‘’what did you say about utilizing our time?” you hinted, already a hand traveling between your bodies until you found his zipper, seeing how he smirked down at you with his forehead pressing against yours.

‘’let’s make the most of it darling’’ he winked before his lips crashed onto yours again.

~ you panted, practically stumbling out of the closet on wobbly legs while one hand tried to get your hair into place while the other hand pulled up your shirt that had fallen down your shoulder. You looked utterly wiped out. content, but wiped out.

Loki strolled out not to soon after before he came up behind you, dressed already with the help of his magic and his hands back on your hips.

‘’aren’t you sated?” you hinted with an exhausted sigh, having finished yet another session with Loki while he pressed his already back-to-hard erection against your ass.

‘’with you darling? I will never tire..’’ he purred, his chin resting upon your shoulder where he turned his face a little to press kisses on your cheek while his hands glided down towards your zipper.

‘’Loki- give me a minute..!” you squeaked, swatting his hands away where you continued to straighten out your outfit and wiggle out of his grasp.

Already this was the third time you both had been intimate today- this time having to duck in the closet with some of the team arriving home early, and still he wasn’t exhausted. Granted.. he never was, but you both normally never went at it this much in this short amount of time- within two hours.

‘’I will be happy to get you some water love, if it is privacy you are concerned with, I could meet you in our bedroom?” he offered as if it were the most innocent thing in the world while you turned around to look at him.

‘’do Asgardians go through some.. mating.. ritual or something?” you asked, running your fingers through your hair while you leaned yourself against the wall for support with the mild soreness nagging between your legs.

Loki laughed while he waved a hand, a glass of water formulating in his palm before he skillfully moved it towards you. ‘’what are you referring to love?”

‘’well..’’ you started, drawing in a breath before you took the glass of water and swirled it around, your eyes captivated at the liquid while you try to search for proper words. ‘’you seem to be in the mood.. a lot more than usual..’’ said with your free hand indicating in the air ‘hypothetically’.

Loki raised a brow as if you had spoken in another language for the first time while he extended a hand out towards you. Your eyes watched, turning your head a little so he could caress your cheek but it merely passed to rest beside your head upon the wall. Looking back at him, he stood much closer than he had with a soft yet serious look on his face.

‘’you are delectable darling, I don’t wish to lose a single moment with you..’’ he said quietly, making you bring your hand up to rest against his cheek.

‘’you’ll never lose me Loki, I promise,-‘’ you reassured, seeing how his eyes closed by the feeling of your touch until your own dropped to where his other hand was going. ‘’Loki..’’ you warned where he cupped your sex over your pants.

‘’merely healing you darling, I know you must be sore.’’ He answered without opening his eyes and a tingly yet warm feeling seemed to wash over where his hand was, making you squirm but he made sure he kept a hold. His other hand left the wall to use a single finger to tip the glass up and tilt so you could begin drinking- your words cut off to drink before he finally pulled away entirely and opened his eyes.

‘’..thank you..’’ you said with a gentle smile, soreness gone and cup empty where he nodded and flicked his wrist, the cup vanished from your fingers before his hands took both of yours.

‘’alright darling, I’ve been more than generous with the mere minute you’ve requested. Let us continue,’’ he smirked, the hungry familiar look flashed in his eyes that made your body tense and shiver at the same time.

‘’Loki please-! We just-‘’

A simple flash was all that was seen before you both found yourself upon your bed, bouncing a little while he wasted no time to climb on top.

~

You rolled over onto your stomach, blowing a strand of hair from your face while your body slumped and panted amongst the white sheets that tangled around your body. His body hovered above yours, his chest to your back while his hand reached around to gently grip your jaw and hold your head up to look towards the mirror in front of you both.

A sight to be seen and one that would definitely make you wet if you weren’t so sore again with the other three rounds that followed the previous three rounds.

‘’please Loki.. no more..’’ you mumbled, dick drunk while your fingers gripped the sheets below you.

‘’do you require healing again darling? Tell me where you’re sore..’’ he whispered, seeming to have energy for days while he buried his face in your hair with a deep inhale.

‘’we’ve never done it this much before..’’ you sighed while you raised yourself upon your forearms while your eyes watched him in the mirror.

‘’not that your complaining?” he gently teased while he brought your earlobe between his teeth, a quote you’d often say but today if hadn’t left you mouth.

‘’no it’s just.. what were you looking at on the computer this morning?” you asked, your eyes closing to try to concentrate while his other hand moved under you to fondle on of your breasts, his body resting comfortably half way on top of you with his hard on ‘still’ pressed against your ass.

‘’..why do you ask darling?” he asked after a moment, a topic he seemed to want to avoid while he felt you move about under him.

Raising himself a bit, he let you roll over onto your back so he could lay directly on top of you, your eyes searching his while his own seemed to hide something that had flashed.

‘’tell me.’’

Your gentle yet stern words made him sigh, knowing it was a simple method to demand truth that he couldn’t deny if he wished for your happiness later,. Or body. His body- the rest of him- got noticeably tenser while his eyes glanced up into the mirror, almost as if trying to convince himself to tell you before he looked back down to your waiting orbs.

‘’your.. Midgardian traditions startle me darling.. this is the last week we have with each other before I cannot have you for an entire month..’’

The sentence seemed to feel like it took three business days to register. You blinked up at him as if he hadn’t said the punch line yet, or to continue explaining but he seemed to give you the same look for you to understand it. ‘’..what are you talking ab- what Midgardian tradition?” you asked, shaking your head to rid of your confusion that seemed to share in his expression.

‘’..no nut November.’’

Your eyes widened at him, searching his dead serious eyes while you felt the beginning feeling of laughter boil inside you. Turning your head to the side, you began laughing, a hand pressed to your forehead while your middle arched and tensed from the humor fit.

Loki stared down at you, a brow raised while he slowly narrowed his eyes, taking hold of your wrists to pin you down while you caught your breath and smiled up at him.

‘’Loki, I don’t know the full origin of no nut November, but I guarantee you it is not a holiday or tradition.’’

‘’but it said-‘’

‘’what did I tell you about the internet?” you smiled, trying to hold back giggles while he exhaled in frustration.

‘’.. to not just read and go based off the first article that pops up.’’

‘’and did you?’’

‘’…’’

‘’Loki, you literally thought we weren’t going to have sex for an entire month after this week? Is that why you were trying to get us much sex while you still coul-‘’

‘’why is the first article not stating truth-? Better yet, why do you Midgardians have fake information.’’ He grumbled and slumped against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck while his body began relaxing.

It would seem he was just as tired as you.

You still couldn’t wipe the smile from your face, the humor of it all making you giggle now and again and would earn a nip on your collarbone from Loki every time he heard it. Wrapping your arms around him, your hands lazily stroked his skin, enjoying the toned muscles of his back while you closed your eyes and enveloped your senses with his scent.

‘’care for a nap?” you whispered, feeling him softly nod against you without moving much from his position while you smiled and nuzzled your face closer against him.

After a moment, your eyes fluttered open with a grumble.

‘’….. Loki-‘’

‘’I can’t help it darling, you’re so delectable...’’ 

Note: Have a Happy Thanksgiving my friends :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing @yelkmelk @gruftiela @buttercupcookies-blog

[circeyoru]

Love Trial = Requested

The Requests

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Sung Jinwoo. The Hunter who was praised for his bravery and selflessness, the Hunter who was the embodiment of Cinderella, and the Hunter who was hailed as a hero no matter where he went and how he acted. All because he acted for the good of the people around him, be it former foes or strangers in another country, he protected all. He was humanity’s strongest shield and sword against the dangers of the monsters within the vile Gates.

Yet to you, his shining image was clouded with the shadows that surrounded him. In your memory of him, one stood out more than the rest, more than the good deeds he’s done, more than the joyous memories you made with him.

“I’m sorry. Let’s break up.”

His words pierced your heart and body like no other. The shield you held over your heart was long gone and the walls you built around you long crumbled, all because of the knight in front of you. You can’t say you didn’t expect it, you have and mentally prepared yourself, still… It hurts oh so much.

“I understand. I wish you happiness, Hunter Sung. May your days be nothing of smiles and content.”

And you turned and left to hide your tears. Even knowing that Jinwoo would one day leave you because he was stronger now and would have more and better choices, you craved—clung—to the fantasy that he wouldn’t leave you behind after everything that you’ve done for him. You drank till your body couldn’t handle and your bartender friend called in your reliable friend from back in your college days. You cried in his chest. Why? Why weren’t you a Hunter as well? You could have done more! More for your dearest lover! Maybe then, you wouldn’t be abandoned. 

That night was agonizing to live through. It was the worst day of your life. Perhaps, you were in love with the idea of love. You and Jinwoo did fall for the other over some silly comment and gossip from your classmates, then you started seeing the other differently. You two thought they were right and loved each other like actual lovers. How immature of you. Look what that led you?

It took some time, but you recovered with the help of your college friend. He helped more than you could ever thank him for. If he weren’t such a workaholic or that heated up then maybe your heart could have been swayed. Still, you knew for a fact; that you couldn’t—wouldn’t—be in another relationship any time soon.

When the world appeared to be coming to an end, you stared out your apartment window and sighed. Jinwoo must be saying his final farewells to his loved ones; his mother, his younger sister, that brother of a Hunter Jinho, and his new lover Cha Hae-In. It didn’t ache as much now than before when you thought about their official relationship and Jinwoo moving on so quickly while you took your time recovering. Now, you were fine with the time you had for yourself.

Your phone rang and you picked it up without a thought, a voice spoke from the other end. “World’s ending, thought I should check up on you.”

“How nice of you.” You chuckled from your end and retreated back into your apartment and away from the window, “Aren’t you busy with your guild affairs to call me?”

“I can still rest, can’t I? Here I was being nice and now I’m scolded.” You hummed, knowing the man from the other end heard it loud and clear. There was a pause before he continued, “Any regrets? Might as well say it since the world is ending.”

“Why should I tell you?” You meant it as a tease since you two have been close and shared a lot with each other. Way more that people could have confused you two as lovers at some point.

“Think of it as a goal for your next life. I wish we had our silly friendship and that there were no more beasts to fight off so I could work.”

You remained silent for a while. What would you wish for? What was your regret? You glanced over to a corner, you know it was because of the lighting that there was a shadow, but you couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain someone. Your lips moved while your eyes were glued to the shadow, speaking your mind, “I regret having let down my guard for him. I wish… I never met him.”

Whether it was the heavens taking pity on you or cursing you, you can’t tell. The moment you woke up, you were back home and alive. The only difference was that you have shrunk. No. That’s too light of a term. To be more specific, you have turned back to a child. It made no sense whatsoever that it was a dream. A dream too realistic since you could feel the clothes covering your body and the wind against your skin, even smell the familiar cooking of your parents. Not to mention, eat it!

You accepted it as reality when a week passed and nothing changed. You figured that you were reliving your life due to regrets. Or maybe a lot of people had regrets so everyone is reliving their lives right now. Yet you were the only one who seemed to have remembered anything about Hunters and Gates. Well, the moment you realized that, you shut up and said it was all a dream to anyone you asked, a child’s fantasy is wild after all, so none was the wiser. 

First things first, though, you had to avoid being in the same high school as Jinwoo. Easy enough as you had another school that was much closer to your apartment now. It was so easy for you to change your future since you were the only one that know what would happen. Cha Hae-In is Jinwoo’s fated lover, so at some point, they’d meet each other and fall in love. No surprise, but you want to be away from that drama.

“Dear! Can you get the door for me?” Your mother’s shout brought you out of your musical trance.

“Yes, mom!” You placed your violin down and hopped onto the couch. Your footsteps pitter-patter through the floor. You reached the door and opened it, knowing the metal fence as the outer door was closed to protect you in case of an attempt at breaking and entering. “Who is it—?!”

The bright red hair and the matching red eyes, you recognize them anywhere. The boy in front of his parents smiled with his head bowed to give his greetings. “Hello! I’m Choi Jong-In, your new neighbour. I’ll be studying at XXXX Middle School if you want,” His closed-eyes smile softened as his eyelids opened again to meet your shocked gaze. “We can walk to school together.”

Words seemed to have been sucked out of your mouth as you stared at the boy. Your parents had come to the door and welcomed the boy inside while you were still in a daze. In the past, you had never met Jong-In this early; you met him when you two were in college and Jinwoo in high school. Perhaps because you avoided meeting Jinwoo, now you met Jong-In. Well, you can’t complain. It was a good change.

“What a coincidence! We go to the same school.” You smiled back and introduced yourself. He repeated your name, and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. And so started your friendship with your former best friend from your past life.

.

. 

.

As time passed, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, months turned to years. There were no such things as Gates or Hunters or even mana. Everything was just perfectly normal, just as you pleased. You momentarily looked up from your phone at the cluster of people before you stared up into the sky. Your eyes widened as you caught sight of what appeared to be a Gate in the sky. Even after a few moments, nothing happened, and no Hunters were awakened. You couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

You passed by an ice cream shop and wondered if you should grab a cup of ice cream while waiting for your friends. Your attention was taken away when your phone buzzed and you looked down once more to see what the notification was about. Ah, your friend’s here.

You walked away from the shop and entered the crowd, entirely missing the boy who rushed out of his seat from the window table and tried to catch you. You heard your name being called out, and you went in that direction, finding the redhead waving his hands in your direction. You chuckled and went over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey to you too, let’s get out of here. It’s so crowded.” Jong-In placed his arm around your shoulders and led you away from the crowd. 

When you look back up at the sky, nothing happens, and the crowd starts to disperse. As you and Jong-In chatted up a storm, ignoring the chatter around you two, you also didn’t notice how the boy had stared at you longingly with guilt and envy in his eyes while the shadows around him twisted and swirled, reflecting his conflicting emotions. 

.

.

.

“Have you heard? That running star, Sung Jinwoo, is going to this college too!”

“I heard! I also heard he’s still single too!”

“You think I got a chance with him?”

“No way. I heard he’s a heartbreaker! Even Cha Hae-In’s no match for him.”

“Aw… That’s crazy.”

You stood up and moved to another seating area with a deadpan emotion. After finding a good seat, you sat down and returned to whatever you were doing on your phone. Up until now, you had been able to predict what happened since that was the point in time that Jinwoo went to become a Hunter. Basically, since high school, you were on your own. You managed just fine because the moment you weren’t in the same school as Jinwoo, it was the same as you never having to meet each other. Even better as it saved you from heartache and unnecessary emotions.

Still. You were beyond confused as to why Jinwoo wasn’t together with Cha Hae-In when they were so lovey-dovey in your previous life. There’s no way you heard it right. Gossip is just that, gossip. It’s never true, and even if some parts are, the majority of them are twisted to match whatever the listener and speaker want to hear or know. 

The students in the lecture hall suddenly squealed as they all whispered about the newest student who came in. You glanced up and huffed with a smirk, watching with a teasing look at Jong-In, who was called by men and ladies alike. He was popular, after all. He came to your seat and gave you that gentlemanly smile, “Come on, you free to go now?”

“Geez, not sure. I feel like sitting a bit longer.” You taunted shamelessly.

You watched as his eye twitched and his smile widened dangerously. “Don’t be such a tease. You know we’ll be late for lunch.”

“Lunch is a whole few hours long; we can afford to be late for a few… say… 30 minutes or so?”

At your words, Jong-In immediately started packing your belongings for you, strapping your bag over his shoulders, then pulling you out of your seat and dragging you out of the hall. People all cooed in your direction, some even whistled. 

You let him do so until you two were in a more secluded hallway when you spoke up. “You know I was just teasing. Who told you to be so popular?”

“And here I thought having you around me would ward off people…” Jong-In sighed, finally letting you go of your hand. “Sorry for being rough.”

“It’s no big deal.” You shrugged and took back your bag. “So, the confessions are still sky high?”

“Not sky high, but still a number of them.” Jong-In fixed his glasses, raking his hair with his fingers, “Seriously, I just want to focus on my studies and get started on my work!”

You and Jong-In have been close and the best of friends, in the past and current life. In both lives, he was basically married to work, or study at the moment. Jong-In had no want for romance, and you avoided the whole romance thing, so both of you came to the agreement of being a fake couple to ward off other people. Since you two were close enough to do what couples do without feeling romantically attracted to the other, well, nothing like kissing but hand-holding and hugging was acceptable.

Jong-In looked over to you, who was still very much unaffected and chill about everything. The winds seemed to pick up when his words escaped his lips. “What will you do if Sung Jinwoo finds you when I’m not around?”

Your eyes darted to his before you blinked and looked out the window, “I doubt it. Let’s just say I have a strong feeling that he’s making a mistake if he does come to me.” You smiled at Jong-In while your eyes seemed devoid of light. “I’ll just direct him to the right one.” You blinked and, like a switch, returned to normal. “Why the sudden question?”

A finger of his pointed behind you, “Because he’s coming in this direction and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Note: First part out! This request has been sitting in my inbox for a while, sorry it took so long. As you could tell, I had other stories and stuff to do. But it's out! Thoughts, everyone?

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[bg3daydream]

Breakfast (Lucanis x Rook fanfiction)

Lucanis x Female Rook one-shot.

Summary: Lucanis makes breakfast for Rook after they spend the nigth together once she's back from the Fade-prison, relieved to have her back but still worried about her. Short (2285 words) and sweet.

Lucanis woke up feeling rested for the first time in…he didn’t even know how long. That he'd been sleeping in Rook’s arms sure was the reason for it.

They were scrunched together on the couch in Rook’s room, with barely room to move, but for Lucanis it was perfect, with his head pillowed on Rook’s chest and her arms around him. Even Spite seemed to have calmed down, he hadn’t annoyed him once. His only regret was not having slept like that before that night, the distance he’d made himself keep for reasons that seemed important once but not anymore.

He was all too aware of how close he’d been to losing Rook. Since she’d been trapped in the Fade, Lucanis had been consumed not only by fear but also by guilt and regret. He’d let it happen, he hadn’t been quick enough, smart enough, and Rook had been taken from him. She had needed him and he had failed again.

He’d been searching non-stop for a way to get her back, even Spite had been agitated, driving him crazy, and he knew he had to be grateful for the team that they’d found a way to get Rook back.

After that, he’d known there was no way he’d let his fears and insecurities keep him from being truly Rook’s any longer. He’d kill the gods, the blight itself, anything that threatened Rook’s again, no matter what, he wouldn't fail her again, and he wouldn’t deny himself the comfort of her arms any longer.

Mindful not to wake her, Lucanis pulled back from Rook’s chest. She was still fast asleep, and Lucanis wondered if she’d slept at all those weeks she’d been trapped in the Fade, if she’d even needed it. 

She didn’t seem more tired than usual, neither did she seem hurt, but Rook hadn’t really elaborated on what had happened to her, and Lucanis hadn’t pushed her to tell him. She seemed more worried about what’d been happening while she was gone and how to fix it, and Lucanis knew it was important, but he wished Rook looked out for herself more. If she didn’t, then he’d be the one to watch over her and care for her.

Lucanis brushed his knuckles ever so softly over Rook’s cheek. He didn’t feel there was much he could offer her, besides his knives and his skills as an assassin, in which he felt he’d been failing abysmally.

It seemed Rook was going to sleep longer, and so, Lucanis decided to get up and get her breakfast. Feeding her was, at least, one thing he could do for Rook without failing her.

He carefully covered Rook with a blanket, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and got dressed quickly.

Walking out of the room and down the stairs, Lucanis found Emmrich already awake, sitting down on the armchair next to the coffee table, doing research, with a cup of steaming tea in front of him, while Manfred hovered near. Emmrich looked up from his papers to give Lucanis a tired smile.

“Good morning. How is she?” He asked as he glanced upstairs.

Lucanis sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Not bad I think, but she hasn’t told me much of what happened to her. She wants to focus on what we have to do now.”

“Understandable so,” Emmrich conceded. “I know everything we lost, everyone…and everything we have to fight now. But we got Rook back, enjoy that.”

“I plan to. Thank you, Emmrich.” Lucanis was aware of how, without the Fade expertise of Emmrich, he probably couldn’t have gotten Rock back to him.

Emmrich nodded graciously and went back to his papers.

“Manfred,” Lucanis addressed the skeleton, who hissed a yes. “If you see Rook getting up, you come running to find me before she can”

“Yes!”

Once in the kitchen, Lucanis tried to decide on what to do for breakfast. He didn’t want it to be something overly complicated or that would take too long, afraid that Rook might wake up before he was finished and find herself alone.

Finally, he settled for orlesian pancakes. 

The kitchen felt cold and abandoned. Lucanis had been in no mood for cooking during the last couple of weeks, his mind was desperately looking for ways to bring Rook back, when he was not mourning their potential loss and blaming himself, and having to deal with Spite’s own commentary and franticness.

Trying to ignore the nagging thoughts of their missing friends, everything that had gone wrong and could get worse soon, and the still lingering fear of losing Rook, Lucanis focused on making breakfast and on the thought of a sleeping Rook, back to him.

He cooked swiftly, and once everything was ready, he placed several servings on a trail and walked out of the kitchen and back to the main building.

Emmrich was still in the armchair, studying the papers, while Manfred stood as a lookout on the staircase, watching the door of Rook’s room. When he saw Lucanis, he hissed and did a thumb-up, and Lucanis couldn’t help his smile.

“Thank you, Manfred,” Lucanis said while placing a cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table in front of Emmrich.

“Oh, thank you Lucanis,” Emmrich smiled at him over his papers. “This was most kind.”

Lucanis shrugged and made his way back to Rook’s room. She was still asleep. Lucanis placed the tray with the pancakes and coffee on the table and  knelt down next to the couch, looking at Rook. He reached to trail his fingers down her cheek, ever so softly.

“Doesn’t. Wake,” Spite said, unhelpful.

“She needs rest,” Lucanis muttered, trying not to let Spite’s agitation get to him.

“She. Is not. Waking up,” Spite insisted.

Lucanis never thought the demon could care for anyone, but there they were. Still, he didn’t need Spite putting more fears inside his mind and going frantic again, it wouldn’t help anyone.

“Rook’s tired, she’ll wake up when she’s rested enough,” he tried again, although Lucanis wasn’t very sure if he was convincing himself or the demon. “Go play with Manfred.”

“Pff.” Spite brisked. “He. Thinks. He Is. A mage. Now,” the demon pretty much ranted. “He. Thinks. He. Is. Better.”

“I doubt it,” Lucanis answered, but truly, what did he know…he just hoped Manfred didn’t decide to try and teach Spite magic now. “Go with Manfred or shut it and let Rook sleep.”

Spite didn’t say anything else, but Lucanis could feel his unhappiness.

He watched Rook’s face, caressing her cheek ever so gently again, trying not to entertain Spite’s thoughts of her not waking. There was no reason for that, she was just tired, even if she was in the Fade in her sleep, she was not trapped there any longer, it was just normal dreaming…right?

Lucanis’ heart had begun beating faster, Spite’s unease was growing too, and so he tried to stop that train of thought. Rook was back, she was alright, she was just resting…but if she didn’t wake up by herself soon, he’d wake her. 

Moving even closer, Lucanis leaned over Rook, still kneeling on the floor, until he could rest his head over her chest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her chest rising and falling as she breathed, and he tried not to let worry and overthinking take hold of his mind.

Eventually, Lucanis felt the change in her breathing as she began to wake up, and relief washed over him. He pushed back to look at her as Rook’s eyes opened, and she gave him a drowsy smile that made something in his stomach flutter and twirl. She was there, she was awake, she was fine…and she was smiling at him, her sleep-lidded eyes looking at him so lovingly that it was hard to believe she was looking at him.

“Hey….” Rook reached to cup his face and Lucanis leaned into her touch. Her smile turned into a frown when she noticed he was on the floor. “Did I kick you off the couch? Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lucanis rushed to explain. “I was up already. I made you breakfast.”

There it was again, that soft smile and that love in her eyes, making Lucanis’ heart skip a beat. “Of course you did.” 

Rook’s voice was quiet, content, while her hand cupping his face caressed his cheek, and Lucanis turned his head to kiss her palm. Rook’s smile grew wider at that and she leaned to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, chaste, yet it made Lucanis feel like he might melt. 

Rook pulled back, reaching to take her shirt that somehow had ended up hanging from the back of the couch, and she put it on. Then, she reached as if to take her cup of coffee, but Lucanis was already handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled again and reached to take his hand. “Come here.”

Lookanis got up from the floor and sat down on the couch next to Rook. Ignoring his own cup of coffee, he looked at her as she contently sipped hers while she looked at the fishes swimming in that odd aquarium. Lucanis had felt uneasy about that part of Rook’s room before, it reminded him of the Ossuary, but it didn’t anymore, not with Rook there next to him.

Rook caught him staring at her and gave him a small smile, leaning to kiss the side of his head. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. 

Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was true, but he didn’t want to push her. She’d be fine, though, he’d make sure of it.

Rook leaned to place the cup back on the tray and cut a piece of the pancakes, bringing it to her mouth. She closed her eyes with a delighted hum and Lucanis felt something in his belly stir at it.

“This is so good,” she said as she took another bite.

“I’m glad.” Lucanis was pretty confident in his cooking skills, more than in his assassin skills right now, but it was nice to have confirmation that Rook was enjoying her breakfast.

Rook looked at him over her shoulder. “Did you have something besides coffee?” she didn’t let him answer. “Of course you didn’t.”

She cut the rest of the pancakes in small, bite-size pieces, and leaned back on the sofa again, taking plate and fork with her. “Here.” She reached the fork with one of the pancake pieces towards Lucanis.

“It’s your breakfast.”

“It’s enough for us both and more…come on,” Rook insisted and Lucanis gave in, taking the bite that she was offering.

Lucanis wondered if it should have felt ridiculous, letting someone feed him pancakes, but it didn’t, he just felt content, loved even. He wondered when was the last time he’d felt like that, or if he’d even felt like that at all before.

He let Rook feed him another couple of bites before nudging her and reminding her to eat herself, and so she dug into the pancakes with appetite. “Seriously, Lucanis, these are so good,” she said between bites and he couldn’t stop how pleased it made him feel.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been hungry, maybe even starving. How hadn’t he thought of feeding her sooner, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep last night without making sure she was fed, no matter how warm and comfortable her arms had felt.

“Did you eat anything while you were…away?” Lucanis found himself asking.

He wasn’t sure how the Fade worked, how she could have survived those weeks without eating anything, if maybe she didn’t need it while in the Fade…

Rook shook her head and leaned over to place the plate of pancakes, with barely anything left, on the table, taking the cup of coffee instead and leaning back on the couch again with a sigh.

“I know it was weeks for you here but…for me…I don’t know,” she trailed off. “I don’t know how it works, but it felt…I don’t even know…eternal but static at the same time…” Rook shuddered and Lucanis leaned to place an arm around her, regretting to have asked. “I don’t want to think about it now.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pulling her close.

His wings popped out without him meaning to, wrapping around them. Lucanis’d be embarrassed about his lack of control of the wings sometimes, if it weren’t because Rook seemed to like them. He had to wonder if Taash was right when they told him he should get out the wings when he was with Rook, that she’d like it.

“Good morning, Spite,” Rook said, smiling.

“Rook,” the demon greeted, but Lucanis was thankful he didn’t try to control him, seeming content just being acknowledged.

Rook took another sip of the coffee and then offered the cup to Lucanis. He was about to refuse, that was her coffee, he had a cup for himself, but she was looking at him with that soft smile, those caring, loving eyes, in a way that made him feel as if his heart was growing in size, and he couldn’t refuse her, taking a sip of the coffee before giving her the cup back.

Rook leaned against him with a content sigh and Lucanis kissed the side of her head. 

There were gods to kill, people to help, a world to save, friends to avenge, they had to get at it soon but perhaps, perhaps it all could wait just a bit longer.

Perhaps they could stay like that, Lucanis’ arm and wings enveloping Rook, basking in each other, for a little bit, if only until they finished their coffee.

*

NA:

Both me and my Rook have fallen in love with this gentle, caring assassin and we want to hold him and protect him, but sometimes Rook needs to be taken care of too.

I think I want to write more for them.

If you liked the fic, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 11.2k (ye have to suffer for yer smut) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ Smut, Oral (f!receiving), PinV, nipple play, praise kink, creampie. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Healing, acceptance, and the start of a new life.

You sat in one of the castle's many courtyards at a circular table under a stone gazebo. The day was still young and you could hear the birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. The lanterns strung under the roof of the gazebo illuminated the space you were in. The elder trees, in their great beauty, shrouded all light. It was surprising how easily you had adjusted to the perpetual darkness. 

A near-empty teacup was balanced in your lap. Your forefinger tapped rhythmically against the rim as you stared out at the plants surrounding you. It had been odd for you to be sitting and resting. All you had done for nearly two weeks was work in your laboratory. The healers, Daeron, and you, had been working tirelessly in brewing large portions of the cure. 

While unable to participate in the blood part of the brews, you had been preparing all the ingredients and orchestrating all of the shipments that were being sent to the far reaches of the kingdom. Reports were sent back that showed that the potion was working on swaths of land, restoring what had once been dead.

It was only yesterday that the last of the sick hall patients were released. It had been emotional, seeing all the beds empty and knowing they were not dead but now free to live the rest of their lives in comfort. After that, Daeron practically pushed you out of the laboratory to take some time off. You did not like it but decided to listen to him lest you incur his brotherly wrath. 

Now, you were eating lunch with Helaena. On the table sat empty dishes, with only a few scraps of food left. The large teapot was empty and the remnants left in your cup had gone cold. On the table in front of Helaena were dragonflies in their cages. They were the ones you had gifted her when you first met. She stared intently at them, occasionally brushing the wooden cage with her finger. 

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” You spoke. Helaena raised her gaze to meet yours with furrowed brows. 

“For what?” She asked. 

Your finger continued its relentless drumming against the porcelain cup, “For coming back after we met. If it weren't for you, all of this… well, none of this would have happened.”

“Yes, the world works in mysterious ways,” She wore a small smile as if she was thinking about something nobody else knew.  

“Thank you, truly, for allowing me to be here. I would have never been able to make a cure, or have met the people I now know.” You picked up your cup and placed it on the table. A small breeze rushed through the courtyard, eliciting a small chill. The once vibrant days of summer were coming to a close and the icy hold of winter began to creep into the passing days. 

“Then I should thank you as well. How is everything with the potions?” Helaena asked. 

“It’s good,” You paused for a moment, “It has been a busy two weeks. Everything is a chaotic mess and I’m not sure how long it will be until it all calms.” 

“I can only imagine. And Aemond, how is he handling the hunt for Cole’s spies?” Helaena leaned back into her chair.

You let out an awkward cough, “I wouldn’t know… We, uh, have not had any time to speak since the uprising.” It was true. You had been so busy with creating more potions, you had even spent nights in the lab. Your guest room had been long abandoned and exchanged for a cot in the corner of the laboratory. Hours spent hunkered over the pots and ingredients, overseeing it all.

Aemond had been working non-stop in hunting down any conspirer that colluded with Cole. He had been busy in his own right, as had you, but you would be lying if you said it did not hurt. There were brief moments when you would see one another in the halls, but there was never any time to stop and talk. Nothing but longing glances thrown across corridors. 

“My brother hasn’t been a good husband?” Helaena said. You shook your head at her words and shifted in your seat. The firefly lanterns above you glinted. 

“We are married, but we are not together.” You clarified. It was simply a union to save him from the brink of death. 

“Has marriage been given a different definition since I last checked?” She asked you. You wanted to laugh, perhaps match a jest to her words, but nothing could escape your throat. Aemond and your relationship had hit some kind of barrier. You were married, souls bonded, but there was an underlying issue. Distance had been given, and you could only assume it was Aemond’s attempts at keeping you at arm's length. He does not want you to get the wrong idea – that this union means anything beyond convenience. 

The crunching of feet on the ground and clanging of armour interrupted your tea time. At the entrance of the courtyard stood two guards who had opened the latticed doors to let in their king. Aemond stood a few paces away from the gazebo. His gaze was trained directly on you, a look of compassion across his features. You remembered just what kind of day this was. 

Today was not a day you had been looking forward to. The black dress that clung to your frame felt nearly suffocating. While only black in colour, it held a mix of stitched details and threaded patterns that were heavily nature-centric. It was beautiful and if it had been another reason for wearing it, you would have loved it. Facing the truth of your father’s death had been a path largely consumed by denial. One thing that made it hurt the most was no recovery of his body, not that there would be much given the years since his murder. You just wanted something tangible to mark his passing. 

Aemond had decided to hold a small funeral service with a marked grave in the royal cemetery. His plan was entirely unprompted, as you had never even indicated your feelings. He could have understood because of the union of your souls and how your emotions were fairly intertwined. Apparently for elves, sensing their bond's emotion was as easy as breathing. Unfortunately, because of your humanness, you did not exactly feel his emotions as an elf would. It only came with great concentration, something of which you had no time for. 

Perhaps, a better explanation for why he came up with this funeral was the simple fact of shared experience. He too shared the burden, grief, and inexplicable loss of a father, thus understanding that you may need certain things provided to journey through the grieving process. 

You took in a breath and got up from your chair. The wooden poles scraped against the stone flooring. Your feet took you to the stone steps of the gazebo and you proceeded to take a step. Aemond had moved forward and held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated for a moment, but gently rested your hand on his palm. It was warm and calloused, but inexplicably comforting. A surge of energy shot through your body. The hands that had joined were the ones cut in the marriage ceremony. 

He escorted you through the courtyard and down a few flights of stairs outside of the castle. Helaena followed, soon joined by Aegon, Daeron, Amara, and Liriel. You did not want to make a spectacle of it, choosing to only have those close to you attend. 

The royal graveyard was located just beside the giant elder tree that made up the castle. Graveyards had always felt weird to you. Tombstones and monuments were permanent markers of the impermanent. They represented, in some capacity, the inability to move on; yet all must one day. It was more odd, that despite the elvish customs of being so in tune with nature, they did not allow their bodies to return to nature after death – instead enshrining their bodies in stone. 

Your group stopped, coming in front of the stone for your father. It had his name, along with the years he lived and died. The stone was granite, reflecting a speckled mess of white, black, and gray. The sight of it caused tears to brim your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Aemond’s grip on your hand squeezed a few beets in succession in a rhythm similar to the beating of a heart. He stood to your right. 

Aegon walked out from behind you and Aemond. He carried a bouquet of white roses in his hands and crouched to gently place it at the base of the stone. You remember learning white roses signify peace and hope, which caused the edges of your lips to curl up just slightly. Aegon was silent for a moment before he stood up and walked back towards you. He stopped to face you on your left side. Aegon’s arm reached out, placed itself on your shoulder, and then gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at him and he gave you a comforting smile. You nodded, grateful for his support but unable to vocalize it. 

After he went to stand at your side, Daeron came forward and repeated the same process. He placed a bouquet of daises beside Aegons, paused for a moment of silence, moved towards you and gave your shoulder a small squeeze before joining beside his brother. Next was Helaena, who placed lavender on the tombstone. She repeated the same process as her brothers and gave you a squeeze of comfort. Amara and Liriel both had their bouquets; tulips and orchids. They gave a moment of silence and then each squeezed your shoulder and offered small smiles. 

By then, you were overwhelmed with the support. Aemond brushed his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he had gripped and brought a bouquet of elf azures from behind his back. He held them to you and you grabbed them with him. The two of you carried the flowers to be placed at the centre of the grave. You took a moment of silence and thought of the words you would want to tell him if he were here. 

You could speak to him about all the breakthroughs you had made in your research. Detail the extensive and life-changing move from the capital to a village on the outskirts. 

You would tell him of your chance meeting with Helaena and how that one choice to help someone in need radically changed your life. Meeting everyone after, Daeron, Aegon, Amara, and Liriel. You could look him in the eyes and tell him all those scary stories about Aemond were false; that he saved your life in more ways than one. Your father could know that you were safe now, cared for and happy.

Most of all, you wished you could tell him you loved him one last time. So, muttering with the quietest whisper, you spoke, “I love you, father.” 

Aemond and you stood up and moved back to stand in your previous positions. Aemond brought your hand up to place a comforting kiss on your hand. The action caused your cheeks to heat up and turn a bright shade of red. Your heart thumped faster. 

One by one, your friends each said goodbye and left you to have your moment at the grave. Aemond was the only one who stayed standing by your side as you stared at the stone. He kept his one hand locked with yours but used the other to reach up and brush some hair behind your ear. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you. 

Your gaze was locked on the stone, “I had mourned him long ago.” Aemond nodded at your words.  

“There is something else, rūklon.” He spoke. 

You angled your head to look at him and furrowed your brows. He tugged one of your hands and gently led you a short walk away from the gravestone. You walked amidst the burials of all the royal family members that came before. At the edge of the yard was a young tree, newly planted by the looks of the recently tilled earth around it. Young and just beginning to leave its years of adolescence. 

Another granite grave was placed just by the tree. It stood straight and gleaming in the light of the lit lanterns strung about. The two of you got closer and you could finally see the inscription on the stone surface. 

Aemond had given Lyra a place of rest in the royal cemetery. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. Your grip on his hand tightened as you looked between him and the gravestone. To be placed in the royal cemetery despite not being a member of the family was a great honour not afforded to most. Aemond had given it to two important people in your life. 

 “An elder tree sapling has been planted over her body. Soon, she’ll be as tall as the other elder trees with time. Big enough to join the ancestors and protect us all.” Aemond spoke softly. His words seemed to break the damn that you had built up to keep the emotions in. The water pooling in your eyes sprung forth as a sob ripped its way out your throat. Aemond moved quickly to pull you into a hug. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head and pulled your face in to rest on his chest. 

The two of you stood there while you cried in his arms. There was so much you wished you could change. You wanted to apologize to Lyra for how long it took you to find a cure. Aemond’s grip tightened as your sobs came out harder. You wanted your father, you wanted your mother. Aemond’s hand on the small part of your back moved rhythmically up and down while his fingers cradled your head and carted through your hair.

There was no way to track the time that had passed as you cried. It had finally been a moment where you could just let it all go. The build-up of days, weeks, months, and years swept over you like a storm; destroying the fortresses you had built in your mind to protect yourself. With careful grace, you pulled away. You sniffled a few times and then looked back to the grave. 

“Thank you, Aemond.” You said between tears. He shook his head and moved his hands to cup your face. There was unspeakable warmth in his touch. 

“You need not thank me, ‘tis only an honour both deserve.” His thumbs swiped at the salty trails of water on your face. Your eyes traced the stone and for a moment you thought of the image of the sweet little elf girl who always smiled in spite of the pain. The strength Lyra carried, without ever truly acknowledging it herself, inspired you. 

“Amara and Liriel should be waiting in your room soon to ready you for tonight,” Aemond spoke, “But if you truly do not wish to attend I can move it to another day.” 

It was unfortunate that the first day you had off, the day of your father's funeral, fell on the same day the weekly celebration the elves held. You had wanted to delay the funeral at first, but could not stand being stuck in limbo any longer. You needed to process and move on. There was no way you would be the cause of a delay in the elves' tradition – it had been that way for multiple millennia. You felt you had disrupted their lives enough simply by being there. Now that you were the wife to the king, it would be best to tread your case lightly. 

You did not think you could ever get over the simple fact that you were married. However, you did speak to Daeron about the contingencies of your marriage. It had been a long day of brewing and you were more delirious than conscious. He was in the laboratory with you after all the elf healers had left. You had confessed your worries about being stuck in a loveless relationship, but he had simply shook his head with a small smile on his face and told you to sleep. 

You had a strong urge then to chuck a glass pitcher at his head. 

“No, everyone deserves to celebrate this victory.” You paused a moment and then looked towards him. However, you could not meet his eye and instead looked at his forehead, “Could I be alone for a moment?” 

Aemond’s jaw tensed at your standoffish attitude but gave you a curt nod, “As you wish.” His body turned, but he halted for a moment and looked at you. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he choked it down and stalked out of the cemetery. 

When he was gone, it felt like your ability to breathe went with him. You wondered how long it would take for you to spill your guts to the king. Would this be your life from now on? Where you would be attached at the hip to the person you loved, but unable to act on your feelings because of your fear. It was nothing but the truth. 

You were terrified. 

If you chose to act on your feelings and confess to him, what if he did not feel the same? All Aemond had given you since you arrived were mixed signals. One moment he is saving your life and the next insulting you. At the time, you did not understand why he had acted that way. Now, as you came to truly see him, you understood that he was grappling with his past and trying to balance the kingdom in the midst of the spreading taint. 

In some odd way, your presence in the kingdom had reminded him of the prince that took his eye. His on-and-off attitude was nothing but his inner child and leftover naivety clawing for a moment to be seen. War-torn and violent, under it all was a child facing the death of his parents, protecting a kingdom, and dealing with a betrayal like no other. 

He wanted to be your friend. He wanted to run back to the comfort of a human like he had long ago but was left paralyzed by his past. 

Yet, his actions towards you have changed dramatically as of late. Aemond was kinder, tender even. He had shown you patience and understanding, guarding you with his life when Cole revealed his falsehood. Aemond had agreed to marry you and while it was to save his life, he could not have made that decision entirely on that. He was your friend and you could only hope it could stay that way. 

Perhaps, in time, he could look at you the way you do to him.

You fiddled with the jewelry on your wrist as you walked the halls of the castle. It had been hours since the funeral and you had spent that time in your room. You had left the graveyard shortly after Aemond and were greeted by Amara and Liriel. Despite becoming your friends, they still acted as handmaids to you. You wanted them to stop, for it felt weird to make them serve you, but they adored dressing you up so you let them. 

When you had gotten to your room, they had already laid out a multitude of dresses and jewelry. You were undressed from your black mourning dress and immediately ushered into the adjoining room to bathe in a myriad of oils. Amara insisted on some of her lilac-scented oils, but you opted for the azure scent. She left you to have some privacy and you slowly cleaned yourself. 

Over the next couple of hours, the two elves dressed you up in various dresses and colours, until finally picking one that suited you the most. Now that you were a part of the elven kingdom, you thought it only fitting if you dressed in the kingdom's colours. The dark emerald green dress you wore was light and flowy, the dyed linen freely brushing the floor. Careful and detailed embroidered patterns lined the ends of your sleeves, skirt, and around your waist. The same pattern of stitched flowery imagery outlined your neckline, which plunged in a v formation. 

Amara and Liriel had spent another large portion of time getting your hair ready and sorting through the polished jewels and metals that would adorn your wrists, fingers, and neck. You were glad they had not brought up the funeral and chose to distract you by other means. 

They left you to go to the celebration, but you stayed behind for a few moments to collect yourself. Now, you were walking through the halls of the castle towards the grand hall. As you approached the large oak doors, taller than your lofted old cottage was, two guards noticed you coming. They immediately got out of their standing positions and each grabbed a large wrought iron handle. They leaned back to pull the doors open, as the weight of the wood was heavy. 

Upon entering the grand hall, the band halted their music and the elves turned to look at you. Suddenly, you felt hot under their intense gazes. This amount of attention was uncomfortable and reminded you of your first few weeks in the kingdom; when they would look at you with curiosity. Now, the intensity of their gaze had changed to something different, better even. 

You could spot Daeron as he made his way through the crowd. When he broke from them and approached, he smiled widely at you and clapped. Like a tidal wave, all of the other elves began to clap as well. You heard a sharp whistle and spotted Aegon over by your friends sporting a wolfish grin.

“I was wondering when our star would show up.” Daeron jested as he took your arm in his to escort you to your friends. The clapping began to cease and the band went back to their jovial tunes. The tunes of their flutes, fiddles, and lutes echoed across the hall as the elves resumed dancing and mingling.

“Star?” Your voice wavered. The celebration had been held to commemorate the cure and the missed war. 

“This would not be possible without you,” Daeron spoke like his words were an obvious observation. 

“Without all of the healers,” You interjected, “Do not forget you and your workers' sacrifices.” 

Daeron nodded at your words, but kept his cheeky grin, “Of course, my queen.” The way he addressed you felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over your body. The elf healers had used such a title to address you, but you quickly put an end to it. It felt like theft to take up such a role. By now, you had neared your friend group where Aegon, Amara, and Liriel waited. Helaena was perched in the back, having made the effort to come for just a moment despite disliking such large gatherings. 

“Do not address me as such until I have spoken to Aemond. We may be married, but it is not appropriate to seize such a title.” You reprimanded. Daeron released you from his hold and held up his hands in defence, but only returned with a quiet hum. 

“There she is!” Aegon placed his chalice down at a nearby long table, covered in large amounts of food for the feast, “Might I so humbly request a dance with her grace?” Aegon bowed and held out his hand, but his actions still held this joking manner that was refreshing to see. You disliked how he used your royal rank but nodded gratefully and took his arm. You waved goodbye to your friends as he escorted you to the dance floor. 

“Lovely night. I have ordered some of the oldest wine barrels to be brought out. It is high time they were used.” Aegon spoke as he placed one hand on your waist and held your hand in the other. It was a quick waltz, with rushed movements and interspersed twirls. 

“Like you needed such an excuse to drink them,” You teased, “Though, I must thank you properly. Everything that you have done for me, agreeing to help me with my father… truly Aegon, it helped immensely.” During your noon tea time with Helaena, you finally found the opportunity to thank her. Now, you felt it was only necessary to begin thanking everyone else. Aegon looked appreciative of your thanks but was uncomfortable with the praise he was receiving having not been too used to it. 

“Truthfully I had been waiting for a moment to strike at…” Aegon paused, unwilling to speak Cole’s name, “We were close, for a time. He wasn’t always so, well,” His lips moved to a frown, unsure how to continue speaking.

Aegon shook his head and gave you a gentle smile, “I am just grateful I can go back to what matters most, drinking. Staying sober during all of this was the hardest part.” Aegon joked. You could tell, deep underneath, that he used humour to cope with his struggles. He was skilled at deflecting. It reminded you of that glimpse you saw many weeks ago. How you escorted him to his room after a night of drinking and he confessed his feelings of inadequacy compared to his siblings. You had given him advice then. Did he even remember your words? 

Just as you wanted to bring it up again, Aegon spotted something from behind you and a wicked smirk plastered itself on his face. He spun you around one last time as the song came to a close. The two of you backed away and bowed. 

“Might I cut in?” Aemond’s voice was calm and you could feel his breath brushing against your neck as he stood behind you. You turned to see him standing before you, dressed in finer clothes than he normally would wear. These ones fit the occasion of celebration but were still dark in colour. This might have been the only time you saw him without his longsword strapped to his side. There was no need for him to display such defence anymore. 

“Of course, brother.” Aegon then looked at you, gave a quick almost imperceptible wink and walked away. The band began to play a slower, more calm song. Aemond placed both of his hands along your waist, his fingers brushing your sides soothingly. You rested your hands on his chest and felt the warmth emanating from him. 

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation,” Aemond spoke as the two of you began to waltz across the floor with the other dancing elves. 

“An explanation?” You questioned. Aemond’s eye was scanning the room. You could see it in his stance, he wanted to talk about something. Deeply. However, his posture held hints of nervousness. 

“I know our union may have been done in haste, but I need you to know that,” Aemond licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and locked his eye on you, “I–” He huffed. You could feel his fingers tighten just slightly as his gaze swept to the floor. You were unsure of how to proceed. You had never seen him in this state. 

“I’m not good at speaking about all of this.” He muttered with frustration. 

“You don’t have to be.” You gave him a gentle smile, “Aemond, king or not, you don’t have to always be perfect at everything.” 

His eye trailed back to you, scanning over your face. The shine of the blue reflected the gold light of the lanterns strung from the high vaulted roof of the hall. There was something almost unreadable on his face, but a moment of clarity washed over his features. 

“You’re beautiful,” He blurted out. You sucked in a breath at his compliment. Heat flushed over your face and your hands gripped the fabric of his doublet. Your heartbeat picked up. 

Aemond pulled you closer and spun you two, “I wish I could see you, truly.” You could see his cheek with the scar twitch, causing you to be more aware of his eyepatch. In all honesty, it was not something you noticed anymore.

“You already do, Aemond, more than anyone else has.” You gave him a reassuring smile. At this point, your heart was bleeding on your sleeve. You did not care to hide your affection anymore. You did not wish to hide a part of yourself from the person your soul was intertwined with. Aemond stopped dancing and the two of you stood amongst dancing elves. The song was in full swing, the elegant tune flitting about the room. 

“Come with me,” Aemond grabbed a hold of your hand, “We need to talk.” He tugged you through the crowd, expertly weaving his way so you would not bump into anyone. He was on a mission, his shoulders squared with determination. Aemond paid no attention to the elves in the hall who sent causal glances his way, watching on as their king and queen left the hall. It was slightly disappointing to leave the party early, but you knew there would be plenty more to attend over the course of your life here. 

He guided you through the dimly lit stone halls and up a flight of stairs. It was a repetitive process. You two would move down a hallway and then walk up a bunch of stairs. It repeated multiple times and you had begun to get a little tired. You were unfamiliar with this part of the castle. Your legs ached just slightly, but Aemond continued. You could feel the elevation increase. Finally, you came across the spiralling steps of a tower and Aemond walked up. His grip on your hand tightened to guide you up the stairs and make sure you did not slip. 

You happened across double doors. Aemond pushed one open and guided you into a large room. Quickly scanning the area, you came to see that it was one of the exact rooms you saw when you were in that unconscious state; Aemond’s room. The stone walls were adorned with tapestries, making it feel warm. Countless bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with various tomes. There were multiple areas with lounge furniture. On one end of the room was a raised section that held a hearth, a four-poster canopy bed, and doors that opened to a balcony. Rich fabrics and furs covered the bed and floors, adding touches of luxury amid the fortress-like surroundings.

He guided you up the raised steps and out onto the balcony. There, you could see the dark shapes of the tops of the elder trees. Above you, as far as your eyes could see, spanned a starry night sky. The stars looked like different sizes of salt grains spilled across a dark-stained wood table. They sparkled like the jewels that adorned your neck. You were struck by the sight and slowly walked to the end of the balcony. You leaned against the stone railing and watched with revered awe. 

Aemond moved to stand beside you. Unlike other times in the past, he stood on your left, so his good eye was on your side. Your hands traced the rough grooves of the stone. You glanced towards Aemond and found him already looking at you. For a brief moment, you felt as though you were transported back to that night at Lake Rosmagne when you and Aemond were sat around the campfire. The night he had opened up to you, and you to him. 

“Our union,” You spoke, “I know it was not a choice and I am sorry for taking it from you. But since then, it feels like there is a crack in our friendship. I’m sorry if it broke your trust.” 

“Why would it have broken my trust?” Aemond turned so his hip rested against the railing and focused his form on you. 

“It is a bond forged out of desperation. You had no option other than death. It was cruel to suggest it and even crueller to make you go through with it.” You reasoned. It was all out in the open now. The thing that had been bugging you for many days now, something that had kept you up most nights. 

“Did you hold a knife against my throat? Bind my hands and tie me to a chair?” Aemond questioned. 

You shook your head, “Well no, but-”

“I could have chosen to die on that field, like a king, a warrior, but I did not.” He interrupted you. You thought about his words for a moment. It still did not entirely make sense to you. In your kingdom, anything would have been done to save a king from death. Though, because of that, the king typically never fought on the field. Yet here, it was seen as dishonourable to make your people fight without joining. His death in battle would have been seen as a tragic, but kingly end.

“I apologize if any of my actions have given you the wrong impression. This is not my area of expertise.” He reached out with his arm and grabbed your hand and his thumb swiped over your knuckles. You welcomed the warmth his touch brought. 

“Rūklon, why do you think I planned to go to war?” He questioned, his voice soft and comforting. The area between your brows wrinkled. It was such an obvious answer so why would he be asking that question?

“Because you believed my kind broke the treaty and attacked your castle. They destroyed part of the research, so you were bound by duty to retaliate.” You answered. Aemond looked at you with a small smile, his eye shining. His head tilted down due to the height difference. It was like he found amusement in your answer. 

He slowly shook his head back and forth, “No,” Aemond spoke with gentleness, “I declared war because I thought their spies killed you. I didn’t give a damn about the rest. You did not force me into this union, I welcome it gladly.” His words were like a jolt of lighting that had hit your body, electrifying your limbs and shocking your brain. 

Your fingers tightened against the stone of the railing, “But you had no other choice. What I did…” 

“There is nothing you could ever do to hurt me or make me detest you. Rūklon, you could cut out my other eye and I would still only see you. You could cut off my ears, yet only your voice would remain in my head. You could run to the far corners of the earth and my heart would still call to you, guide me to you.” Aemond used the hand that cradled yours to pull you closer to him. He brought it up and opened your closed fist to lay on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel the gentle thrum of the beats, picking up just slightly at your proximity. 

His eye looked into yours and with an overwhelming glint of pure devotion, he whispered, “You have conquered me. Wholly and truly.” His hand cradled yours delicately and he moved closer to you, nearly chest to chest. Your breath got caught in your throat. Your hands moved to rest on his forearms and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

This was all you had wanted and more. You needed to mend the weird rift that had been created between you. You had thought, due to the circumstances of your union, that Aemond did not want to be that close to you. How stupid this had all been. Both of you were unsure and scared to proceed further as you both did not want to push the other. Your souls had intertwined, going so far as to share trepidation in confessing those feelings. 

You took a moment to reach up and cup his face, tracing the line of his scar. Your fingers reached his eyepatch. You halted your movement and hovered over the leather, waiting for his permission. Aemond tilted his head down in a curt nod. With his permission, you gently pulled it off and rested the leather on the stone railing. Looking back up, you saw the sapphire stone that sat in his socket. In the past, all you had seen was a storm of blue. Angry waves that crashed against the dark stone of his iris. Now, that had changed. With the sapphire, you could see the iridescent deep blue that reflected the glittering light of the stars. In it, you could see the universe. 

It was then that you understood what people meant when they said that eyes are windows to a person's soul. 

“I love you, Aemond.” You whispered delicately. Those simple words caused the elf in front of you to almost crumble. His one eye, brimming with unshed tears, closed and you watched a streak of saltwater come down his cheek and rest at his sharp jaw. His lips trembled almost imperceptibly. You wanted to cry with him, suddenly feeling all of his emotions through your bond. 

Slowly, Aemond’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers brushing the small of your back. Your hands that were tracing his cheeks dropped to his chest. He carefully moved forward and leaned in. Under your hands, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Aemond’s face got closer and you felt his breath brush your face. Both of your foreheads connected and your eyes fluttered close to savour the tender moment. 

“Avy jorrāelan,” Aemond spoke softly. You did not need to know his language to understand he had said it back to you. The delicate nature of his voice and the emotion in the words were all you needed to know. Even if the world plunged into darkness you would be able to find him anywhere. 

There, in the midst of your comfort, you felt his lips brush yours. Despite the skin being slightly chapped, it felt soft and warm. Your skin was flushed with heat and it spread throughout your body. Aemond's lips began to move with yours, slowly and gently. The action came as naturally as walking, as breathing. There was nothing else that mattered but that moment. 

His grip moved to your waist, tightening as he pulled you closer to him. The movement caused you to let out a hum and that spurred him on. His nose brushed your cheek as he turned his head to get a better angle and he became starved for you. It was like the wall that separated you two crumbled in an instant. All pieces of inhibitions were disregarded as you sunk into it, into him. A grumble made its way out of his throat and the vibrations were passed on to you.

Your heart was pounding and your hands were sweaty. You were nervous. This was not an area you had experience in and you suddenly felt like that would be a negative for him. You did not want to disappoint Aemond. 

The two of you pulled away, only slightly. Your noses were still touching. His eye opened and you looked into it. The blue had darkened significantly and with your hands on his chest, you could feel it rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. You moved your hands and the touch made him shudder. That alone sparked an unknown heat you had never felt before that budded in your lower stomach. You needed him, carnally. 

For a moment, all you two did was look at one another, eyes tracing every inch; learning, memorizing. 

“I need you, Aemond.” You could barely recognize your voice. Your body was overcome with instinct over mind, but you did not care. There must have been something in your words because it caused his breath to hitch and hold on you tighten. 

“Do you want this?” While his words were coated in arousal, you could still sense some insecurity. He needed your permission as much as he needed reassurance. 

You nodded, “Please, Aemond, touch me.” He wasted no time in connecting your lips again. Except this time it was not soft but desperate. Every emotion you had struggled with melted away as you succumbed to his fervour. Your hands could no longer stay still and so could his. They moved up to his hair and tangled themselves in the silk strands. You had always wanted to know what his hair felt like. Aemond’s own hands ran over the outline your your form, up and down. It was like he was trying to map out your body in his head – a way to permanently memorize every inch. 

Every moment, every interaction, each sliver of attention you both gave one another in the past culminated to this. Full, complete, and unencumbered trust in the throes of pleasure.

Your back dug into the high stone railing as he pushed into you further. A small bit of frustration began to bud in you. No matter how close he was, it did not feel like enough. Your brain could not think of much else, other than the complete need for more. One of his hands trailed over your ass and stopped at the back of your thigh. His fingers dug into the plush fabric of your dress as he lifted your leg. You caught on instantly and wrapped it around his waist.

There were little moments when you two of you would pull away to breathe, but they only lasted less than a second before you reunited again – a mess of wet lips and unquenchable fire. With your leg hiked up, he was able to press his crotch against your core. It lit up something in your lower stomach. His hand that held your thigh moved to grab the hem of your dress and hiked it up further. The crisp and cool night air hit your skin and it was then that you were able to truly feel how much your body had heated up in this moment. Aemond’s hands were not the only wandering thing. His lips trailed from yours and landed repeatedly against the flush skin of your face. 

It was like Aemond was gone, replaced with a starving devout worshipper pleading for any ounce of reprieve. His opened-mouthed kisses moved further towards your neck, nipping and licking at the skin. All you could do was release short bursts of breaths, where you could see the small puffs in the cool air. The dress had a low neckline, exposing a good portion of the skin. The movement caused your breasts to heave against the fabric and Aemond wasted no time in moving his attention to your chest. 

His hand that pushed back the fabric on your leg trailed the skin and moved closer to your core. He hesitated for a moment and pulled away, finally making eye contact with you. He gave you a moment to catch your breath from the intensity, resting his forehead against yours. Aemond was asking for permission and you shook your head in agreement. 

“Words, rūklon. I need to hear it. What do you want?” His words erupted some frustration from you. 

“Gods damn it, Aemond, please I’ve already said it. Touch me, please.” Your voice was horse with desperation. All he did was let out a small chuckle and smile. 

He leaned in so his breath brushed your ear and whispered, “I know, but you’re so easy to rile up.” Aemond picked up your other leg and hoisted you up. You let out a squeal of surprise. He was an elite fighter, training for centuries, but it still shocked you just how strong he was. Your hands rested on his shoulders and he wasted no time in kissing you again. With each step he took, your core rubbed against his. You could feel the hardness of his length brush a particularly sensitive spot through the fabric and let out a moan. 

As quickly as you were carried, was as quickly as you found yourself being tossed against the plush warmth of his bed, amidst furs and quilted fabric. Your hips hung near the edge of the bed. You sat up immediately, wanting to chase after Aemond’s lips, but he kneeled in front of you. His head was tilted upwards to watch you as his hands went to unlace your turn shoes. He carefully took them off, his hands caressing your ankles, but his gaze remained on you, wanting to drink up each time you squirmed at his touch.

It was almost painful the way he took his slow time in untying the ribbons that held up your stockings and pulled the embroidered fabric down. Whenever he would expose more skin, his hands would trail over and massage it gently in worshipping movements. 

His hands hiked up, and up, and up; pulling the fabric to bunch at your waist. You watched him visibly swallow as he took you in. Because you had believed you would be dancing for most of the night, you prepared for the inevitable heat you would be facing – by only wearing a light undergarment under your dress with no covering over your core. You reasoned that if you were going to be moving a lot, you would need the least amount of clothes to keep cool. 

Now, in the heat of this moment, you knew that even if you were wearing nothing, it would not keep you cool from feeling like the fire that roared in the hearth next to the bed. 

Aemond grabbed your hips to hang over the edge of the bed as he moved closer in his kneeling position. He manoeuvred your thighs to rest on both of his shoulders as he began to kiss and lick the inside of them, brushing so carefully against the soft skin. He moved up further to kiss the juncture between your leg and hip. 

He then moved his care to your lower stomach – what little of it was exposed due to the bunched-up dress. Aemond’s lips trailed the area that had lit up with heat since the moment he kissed you on the balcony. You could feel his lips form a smile as he moved further, so dangerously close to your core that had become dripping with want. 

Aemond hovered above you, looked up into your eyes, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.” Your breath caught in your throat as his hot breath brushed against your most sensitive spot. There was no time to react when you felt his tongue lick a strip along the length of your slit. The feeling, so sudden and new, had you fall to lay back with your elbows supporting your upper body. Short, quick gasps left your mouth. 

His demeanour changed completely, getting lost in his movements as he lapped at your juices. Aemond’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs. One moved up and under your dress, trailing across your heaving stomach and making a home at your breasts. The swipe of his finger against your nipple and the quickening of his tongue’s pace caused a surge of energy to shoot through your body and your arms could no longer support yourself. You fell back fully on the bed with your back arching. Your arms, which had once held strength, fell limp. 

Aemond seemed quite content to stay between your thighs. With what little control you had left, you managed to move your hands to his hair, tugging at the strands. That movement spurred Aemond further and he let out a low groan into your flesh. Still fondling your breasts, his other hand moved to your clit and began a steady circular motion. Your gasps turned to wanton moans. Thankfully, Aemond’s room was so far from the others you were glad, for surely with the balcony doors open someone would have heard. His tongue entered you, meticulously caressing your walls.

Your body began to tremble as the pressure in your lower abdomen began to intensify. Your thighs jerked to his motions, nearly grinding on his face. 

“A-” You could barely speak and huffed to get the words out, “Aemond I-” He had you on the verge of being undone and knew it. Each movement of his hands and tongue was carefully calculated as he quickly picked up on all the little motions that made you squirm. 

“So good,” Between the moments when he would take a second to breathe, he muttered against your skin, “You’re so good f’me.” 

It was inescapable now, the buildup. You were lost in the feeling of pleasure that hit you to a degree you had yet to experience. With a final gasp and loud moan, you felt the damn break. It was like falling despite being on a solid surface. Your eyes closed and your fingers tightened in Aemond’s hair as you were overcome with every sensation but somehow none at the same time. You shuddered, but he paid no mind as he continued his movements to help you ride out your high. 

Your skin felt warm and feverish. All of this was foreign to you, but you welcomed it. You understood why some people were so hooked on the feeling. If you could experience this with Aemond every day, you would stake your life on it and forgo the rest of the world. 

Aemond pulled away, though reluctantly. He grabbed your thighs that rested on his shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze before lifting them off and pushing you further onto the bed. Your knees still hung off, but it did not matter as you could barely feel your legs. He stood up and bent to hover over you, his looming presence making you ache for more. 

As if he did not just finish feverishly eating you out, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss on the lips with utmost care. While he did so, his hands went to your back and began to untie the dress. Thankfully, it was a light and easy-to-remove one. You watched the darkened expression of his heated gaze as the top layer of your dress was pulled away and exposed the thin see-through white chemise you wore underneath. 

It did not exactly leave anything to the imagination. You could hear Aemond’s breath hitch at the sight of you and when you reached up to cup his face his body shuddered as his eye closed for a moment. He grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the pulse point thump faster at his actions.

As soon as his comforting touch met you was as quickly as it left when he pulled back. He worked quickly and diligently, unfastening his doublet and pulling it off with record speed. All you could do was watch on as he undressed himself. You were too stuck in the trance of his form. He kicked off his boots and was then left in nothing but his pants and a thin white loose shirt that tightened at his mid-forearms. You could see the small scars that littered his arms, the same pattern seen in the small area of the exposed part of his chest. 

You shuffled forward to plant your feet on the floor but still sat down on the bed. Aemond moved instantly to you, his hands hovering on the short hemline of your chemise. While maintaining eye contact, he pulled up your last layer and up over your head. He tossed it to the side, its existence quickly forgotten and not cared for. You were now completely bare in front of him and suddenly more self-conscious than ever. An uncontrollable feeling to cover yourself began to gnaw at your brain but was quickly quelled by the low groan that came from Aemond.

“So beautiful, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered as if caught in a trance. 

He moved to shed his layers as well, but you quickly covered his hands with your own. You wanted to help him as he did for you. It was a moment indescribable between you two. It was tender and calm but underlined with an intense feeling of desire that only grew with each passing second. You took his shirt off and observed the sight of his lean muscles. His arms, which you had quickly grown to love when they were wrapped around you, were composed of lithe muscle built over centuries of training that matched the composition of his torso. 

Since that first day in the throne room when you saw him perched upon his throne of tree roots and swords, you had seen him as nothing short of an ethereal vision. A haunting, striking beauty. Before you now, was the same person, but now softer and comforting. 

You could not help but get antsy and reached out to pull him to your level. Your arms wrapped around his neck, being engulfed by his free-flowing silk hair. Aemond seemed caught off guard by your sudden dominant movements but melted into your embrace. You met his lips in another hot, searing kiss that reignited the tense fire within your stomach.

As soon as he latched onto you, your hands trailed down the front of his chest. Your fingers felt the rise and fall of his breathing and traced the taught muscled skin further down. When you brushed his stomach, you felt him shudder. He started to plant open-mouthed kisses on your cheek and moved to your neck as your hands quickly moved to make work of the tie for his pants. Everything you did was heated and desperate but met with the same fervour as Aemond.

Once you untied the pants, Aemond quickly shrugged them off. It looked like it pained him to separate from you for only a few seconds. You did not have time to look, for Aemond picked you up from the edge of your bed and tossed you back. Your body fell against the lush bed coverings and your head hit the soft, plush pillows. Now further away, you could take in the full sight of Aemond.

The image of him there, unclothed and waiting for you, was enough to make you feel as though you had died. 

He got onto the bed, crawling until he was over you. Being caged in his arms was the safest you had ever felt. Just him and you in the warmth of his chambers high in the sky with nothing but the stars outside. 

One of Aemond’s hands trailed to your core, rubbing circular motions over your bud. You bit your lip to hold back the moans, but he instantly stopped after your reaction. His hand hovered over the area, so close you could almost feel it brushing you. Your hips moved up to chase that feeling, but he only pushed you back.

“Don’t bite your lip. Let me hear you, my love.” Aemond’s husky breath was enough to make you melt. You nodded obediently and he resumed his movements. You hummed with content, but was quickly ended when he stopped. 

You watched as his hand then drifted to his cock, gripping the base. It was already fully erect and you struggled to comprehend how it would fit. Surely, he did not plan on it all fitting, did he? 

Aemond guided his cock down to drag the head between your folds to gather the slick there before settling just outside your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the feeling, desperately waiting for him to move. One of his hands was still gripping your hip while his other forearm rested by your head. 

He slowly slid into you, gradually pushing forward. You let out a shuddered gasp and your fingers gripped the sheets below you. He did not rush, nor move with the frantic nature he had previously. Aemond was content where he was, enjoying that his slow pace made you come undone and desperate for more. He let out a low groan as he bottomed out. The intensity of the feeling, of being so full, had you squirming for more movement. You craved friction, really anything, that would send you into another spiralling frenzy.

Aemond kissed your chest softly a few times, “So fucking beautiful.” His silver hair fell like a curtain around you as he lifted his head to kiss you. It was a possessive, protective kiss. You ached for more, but he remained still in you, letting you adjust to his size. 

In an act of defiance against him, you move your hips up, chasing some sense of friction. Aemond hissed at that, his grip on your waist tightening. 

“Words, baby, tell me what you want.” His kisses that he left on your chest morphed into hot ones as he paid particular attention to one of your nipples. The new sensation had you gasp in surprise. 

“Aemond…” You huffed, “Please move.” 

He let out a short laugh at your pleading, “As you wish.” Aemond took his time in pulling out, dragging to the very last moment. He then pushed back in and set a steady pace of thrusts. You quickly became a mess of moans at the feeling of being so full of him. His kisses burned into your skin. Your arms wrapped around his lithe figure, trailing nails down his back. The scratching elicited a low groan from the back of his throat and his hips snapped faster. 

While his pace had increased, it still did not feel enough. You were not sure you could ever have enough of him. The stretch that his cock gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core. You could hear the low sounds that emanated from Aemond as he too chased the high he was feeling. You began to match his pace, moving your hips in rhythm with his. 

It was not intended, but you could not resist reaching out to cup his face and moan out, “So beautiful.” 

Aemond faltered at our words, his hips going still as he arched his head up from kissing your neck to look into your eyes. It was like he was searching for the truth, that you really meant the words you said.

“Say that again, rūklon, and I won’t be able to hold back.” He rasped. You wanted to meet his challenge. You had a habit of not obeying his authority, ever since your first days here. 

One of your hands moved up to tug at the base of his hair. The action caused something in Aemond’s eye to flicker with a mix of emotions – mischief, lust, and unadulterated love. 

“Then don’t.” Something in Aemond snapped. He dropped his hand that was holding your waist and moved the forearms to rest beside your head. He now fully caged you beneath him and something about that dominating move blew more life into the fire within you.

He gave you no warning when he lost it, thrusting into you with relentless speed. Your back arched at the change of pace. Air caught in your lungs and you could barely make any noise. Aemond was the opposite. He buried his head in your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin as he started to babble incoherent words in his language. 

The once stable movement he held began to unwind as he moved with reckless abandon. No longer did Aemond care for the perfect posture, but his brain chased any and every ounce of pleasure he could find. You could feel his emotions and it was all overwhelming. You could feel the care, the love, and the hunger he had for you. You were glad to know he could feel the same from you. Your cunt squeezed around him as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

Aemond could sense it and he moved a hand carefully down your stomach and towards your bud, moving his fingers with the pace he was going. His calloused fingers added another texture and sensation that had you moaning with every inhale and exhale. You were careening over the edge of bliss.

“You feel so fucking good. Gods-” Aemond moaned. His other hand connected with yours. They were both the cut hands from your ceremony. Something about the physical remains of your joined souls stimulated a sensation that overcame you both. You recklessly moved your hips up to chase more of it. 

“Aemond I-” You bit down hard on your lip, but that did nothing to conceal the sweet noises that left them. Tears pooled in your eyes from the pleasure. Aemond moved his head up to kiss you on the lips, both becoming swollen from the day's events. His thrusts felt better than anything and you wished to indulge in this for eternity. 

“Don’t fight it, my love, let go,” Aemond murmured between kissing you. You bit his bottom lip and it made him growl. Somehow, in a way that struck you as impossible, Aemond thrust faster. It was enough to send you toppling over the precipice. Your mouth opened wide as your head pushed back into the plush pillows. Aemond continued his pace, but it soon became a mix of fast and slow movement as he came. 

The two of you were lost in it all, each accepting the shattering moment. You both rode out your highs, moaning a mix of curses and each other's names. Everything mixed into a muted mess of sensations and sounds. You felt his body drop onto yours, sweaty and hot just like you. You clung to him, wishing to continue to feel that sense of closeness. 

Minutes of silence passed. Aemond breathed deeply to catch himself and you rubbed up and down his back gently, your fingers trailing over the battle scars and marks your very nails just made. It was almost beautiful to feel marks made out of love cover the ones from hate and aggression. If you had voiced that, Aemond would have likely said you applied that sentiment to all aspects of his life. 

He pulled off of you and moved to your side. You laid on your back, slightly angled to look at him as he propped himself on his side. You felt his arm wrap around your waist to pull you closer to him. The skin-on-skin contact was something you wished to never end. There, with the sounds of the crackling fire and the gentle breeze from the open balcony doors cooling your skin off, you felt like you were home.

You surveyed his form next to you. The muscular stature had some patches of scars from various training blunders and moments of futility on the battlefield. There, next to the abs on his stomach, was the scar that he had received from Cole. Your hand moved to trace it, suddenly caught in the memories of how close he was to death. 

“It does not hurt anymore. Just another mark from my life.” Aemond dismissed your worry and wished to provide comfort. He kissed your temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. He too moved his hand to your side, where the scar you had received from Cole was. For you, this was the first one you got. 

It was at that moment that something odd struck you, causing you to laugh gently. Aemond’s face scrunched up at your sudden outburst.

“We have two sets of matching scars.” It was both funny but also upsetting. Only one of those sets, the marriage cuts, were welcomed. The other, you could do without. But, without such hurt, you were not sure you and Aemond would be where you were in your relationship then. 

“That we do,” Aemond responded. His eye was trained on your face, unwilling to look away. You shivered, either from his touch or the cool breeze coming in from the outside. Aemond then grabbed the sheets from around you, pulling on the thin silk sheet and adding some plush furs on top. You hardly felt the need for them when his warm body next to yours was enough. 

Aemond shifted onto his back and let you rest your head on his chest. You used your fingers to trace patterns on his skin, relishing in the closeness of the moment. He stroked your hair, placing a kiss on the side of your head every few minutes. The two of you basked in the comfort of silence. 

For so long each of your lives had been nothing but chaos. Barrier after barrier flung in your way. It was good and rewarding to know there was nothing imminent. No need to rush and get something done, or sleep whenever you can for just a little moment of rest. 

Nothing existed outside the door of this chamber. No one but you two. 

Aemond interrupted the silence, “I’m afraid I will have to spend the rest of eternity between your thighs.” Despite the recent indulgence of your growing desire, his comment caused your cheeks to heat up. You were so flustered by his words as if he had not just made you see stars a few minutes prior. 

“And neglect your kingdom? Surely at some point, your guards would pull you away so you could serve.” You angled your head to look at him, poking fun at his words. Aemond rubbed your side, his hand trailing to the back of your thigh and dragging your leg to rest across his waist. He could not get enough of feeling you close to him. 

“I serve my wife before all.” Aemond spoke, “Every guard in this damn castle could try and pull me away.” You could hear the joking lilt in his voice and it was comforting to know how far you had come with him. Never in any possible time would you have guessed you would be close enough with him to jest.

“You think you’re a jester, my king?” You challenged. Aemoned licked his lips and you could see his eye darken with a familiar feeling of lust.

“Only for you, my queen.” He muttered before lifting his head to kiss you. It was slow and patient, indulging in every emotion you felt for one another. You let out a low, pleased moan. Taking advantage of your position, you moved your legs to rest on either side of his hips and sat on top of him. You could feel him smile into the kiss at your eagerness to be with him again. Your hands pinned his above his head and you deepened the kiss, urging for more.

Aemond was your everything. Your king, your friend, your lover, your husband.

Perhaps, now, you did not mind the title of queen, because it meant that you were his and he was yours. 

And that's a wrap on book one!

Since the early phases of planning, I have always intended to write two books. Now, this was written in a way that you could stop at the first one if you wished, but there are still some unanswered questions that will be addressed in the next book. (Such as Cole’s mysterious last words…)

The next one is an Aegon and OC centred book that I am super excited about! There will be moments with Aemond and the new Queen, but ultimately it will revolve around Aegon. It has been extremely hard to resist from immediately releasing it. 

As always, thank you all so much for the support. I did not expect to see so many people supporting it and for that, I am eternally grateful. If you choose to stick around, I’ll see you in the next book! <3 

BOOK TWO MASTERLIST HERE.