#and i held my tongue as she told me son fear is the heart of love so i never went back

[donghuamuqing]

As she told me, son:

[readychilledwine]

What Dreams May Come

Part One - Asher

Summary - 50 years after sending his pregnant mate and children into hiding, Tamlin wants nothing more than to reconnect with his family.

Warnings - Rhys Slander is HEAVY in this series, references to smut, references to abuse, death, schmurder, fated mates and hidden family trope, kind of angst, tension, if you see an error, no you didn't 👀

A/N - I was going to wait to post this mini series, but I can't. I've been rereading it over and over and judging it harshly (as I do all my writing), so I'm putting it out there before I abandon it. Ps- each child has their own powers. You will learn each child in depth during Araceli's chapter. These are just little previews. Bonus points if you can figure out what Asher’s might be.

🥀What Dreams May Come Masterlist🥀Tamlin Masterlist🥀Master Masterlist🥀

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears (seriously peep the blog. Adorable season court Dividers)

Asher was thoroughly unimpressed with the horned beast staring him down as he flirted with the twin river nymphs he had been chasing for a few days now. Feral eyes were locked on his chocolate brown ones before the body of the beast because to slowly approaching. Asher sighed as the nymphs dove back into the water of the river, whispered melodically in their native tongue. “And what manner of beast are you,” He motioned up and down. “I believe parents should write stories about you. Ugly thing, you are.” 

He froze as the beast shifted, long blonde hair and sun kissed skin replacing the fur. Strong arms went across a wide chest, “Be careful with your words, son. You look just like me.” 

Asher, in fact, did not look like Tamlin. Tamlin screamed of sun, golden blonde hair and green eyes, Asher sang for the moon, dark short hair styled to one side, deep chocolate eyes he must have gotten from his mother's side, tanned skin. It was in their facial structure, the sharp jawline, the nose. That is where the signs of Tamlin rested in his son.

He had grown into a tall male, strong from what Tamlin could tell, but definitely with the same soft heart he had. Tamlin could see it in those eyes. Eyes that currently swan with confusion. The Lord of Sping simply opened his arms smiling as his first son dropped the act and came to him. 

“Dad,” the word was foreign on Asher’s tongue. They had been in hiding for so very long, not even mentioning the word out of fear. Asher had not been held by his father since he was 4, but it felt like he remembered. 

Hugging Tamlin, hugging his dad, it reminded him of the first warm rain in a season. Of getting a blanket warmed near the fire on cold nights from his mother. Asher melted into it, savored it as he took in the vaguely familiar scent of petrichor and freshly trimmed grass.

“I missed you,” Tamlin's deep voice made his eyes close as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Tell me everything. Tell me every happy moment, every ache, tell me you hate me. Anything, Asher. Anything.”

His mother was not home when Asher brought him back to the cave she had turned into a true home. The rumors that she could move mountains were, possibly, not rumors in her son's eyes, because, behind the waterfall the cave was hidden by, she had created a home. Everything he and his siblings had needed was magically summoned and made by his mother. They never wanted anything during the 50 years they had been isolated. 

Asher knew now his mom's magic ensured they had beds, blankets, comfort, through technically stealing. To be conjured, it had to come from somewhere. He had written a poem once about being a shopkeeper in the Night Court and coming into an emptied out shop, but Asher would put money on his mother somehow leaving a note to bill the High Lord of Night. 

Asher had also written a poem about his Uncle finding said bill. His mother told him it was inappropriate while smiling and folding it into her back pocket. 

He and Tamlin stayed quiet as he let the blonde male look around, “They say you can take the female out of the Night Court, but never the Night Court out of the female.”

Asher scoffed at that, “I believe she picked our furniture and goods on where she wanted to take from. Can't feel bad stealing from a rich asshole,” he quoted her exact words. 

Tamlin gave him a look, his lips clearly trying to remain in a stern position. “Your uncle is a-”

“Pompous asshole who feels that he is the change the world needs by just existing and not acting,” Asher was raising a dark brow at him as he poured them some tea. “Mom told me.”

“Asher,” Tamlin continued to try to be firm, “We do not speak of family that way.”

Asher blinked at him, unphased. This child, his oldest son, his mind was unwavering. Not even the Gods themselves could convince them of his Uncle Rhysand's good had they tried. It was his mom's fault, she was blunt and cut throat with her honesty, even when she knew lying would have been best.

Asher had found the history. He'd read the story of how his grandfather had threatened the life of his grandmother, forcing his father's hand to tell him where Rhysand would be meeting his mother and youngest sister. He read how his grandfather forced his father to watch as he mutilated them. 

He then read how Rhysand and his maternal grandfather got their revenge. Minds being melted, an innocent female, a victim in her own right, slaughtered mercilessly. Asher’s mother had still chosen his father, though. She was the only one who saw both sides and felt both heavy hands. Asher knew from the sadness in her eyes she would pick Tamlin again and again, though he had not met his own mate to know why yet.

“Do you always chase females,” Tamlin finally sat, relaxing enough to truly appreciate how handsome his son was.

A wide grin appeared on Asher’s face, “I can't help but to chase them. I've never met an ugly female,  father.”

Tamlin internally cringed at the word father, so informal to the earlier plea of “Dad”. “So no type?”

“Pretty, and they all are. Has to enjoy my poetry, and they all do. I have a, uh, certain way with words."

“So you seduce them with just words?”

Asher glanced up, “Why try something else when I am so good at it.” His face was filled with pride as he went to the book shelf and grabbed a leather book worn with love. He handed the heavy collection of paper to him, “Go ahead. Tell me how fantastic I am.”

Tamlin chuckled as he opened the book. It was definitely made in the Night Court, a sign of where his wife had been technically stealing from outside the obvious furniture and leathers Asher was wearing.  The pages were thick, stained slightly from ink transferring from paper to hand and back. His son's handwriting was influenced by his wife. Soft scrolls flowing together like a melody. The poetry was good, very good. “You haven't decided if you like Quatrain or Villanelle, have you?”

“No,” Asher shifted. “Should I have?”

Tamlin shook his head, “I'm over 500 years old and still bounce from around with different formats and stanza structures.” He continued reading an odd feeling setting into him before he closed the book and saw the shocked look on his son's face.

"You write poetry?!" He watched deep eyes light up and the conversation flew from there, father and son, bonding over poetry, over literature. 

The topics grew, varying from serious, to funny, to gossip. Tea constantly poured between them as they discussed being forced to train, of their mutual love of chocolate, of their favorite writers. Tamlin learned so much as the hours past before Asher asked if he wanted some fresh air.

Asher was strong, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It comforted Tamlin as they moved outside using a back magical gate made by Araceli. It took them to a vegetable garden that thrived, insects flying all around, fruit hanging from heavy trees. “Where is this place,” Tamlin looked around.

“We're still in The Middle,” Asher laid out the blanket before gently tossing his bag down. “I'm sure you secretly do recognize the cottage we're near.” The High Lord did, nodding as he studied the place he'd been told his whole life to avoid. The Weaver’s home was deadly, dangerous, and forbidden. Yet his son sat outside of it like it wasn't even phasing him. “Mom made her a deal. The Weaver likes her hair. Mom likes the protect she gives us. Once a year, mom let's The Weave cut her hair for threads in exchange for protection and us being allowed to grow this garden.”

The horrified expression on his father's face wasn't missed by Asher. A bargain with a being like The Weaver was not taken lightly. His mom worked hair to ensure her hair stayed healthy, long, and ready. The Weaver claimed her hair had some magical properties, but all Asher envisioned when he was young was the ancient being using them as some sort of enchanted tie to his mom, ready to rip her from them and eat them at any given notice. 

“Is she insane?!”

Eyes narrowed at him, “She was alone,” Asher emphasized the word making it a dagger. “She did a lot of dangerous things to protect us. You should be worshiping the very ground she walks upon.” 

Momma’s boy. 

Asher was still momma’s boy. 

Tamlin shook his head, “I love her. More than you know and understand. I love you more than you understand.”

“Loved them so much you hid them away in one of the most dangerous places in the realm?” The soft female voice had Asher smirking. Tamlin turned to face a young blonde, her hair falling in soft waves with braids placed strategically to help prevent the locks from falling into soft green eyes. 

This. This was him. Had Tamlin been born a female, this is what he'd look like. One cheek dimpled as she smiled, the asymmetry flattered her, complimenting soft cheek bones, a gently sloped nose, full blush lips. Along every inch of her face, freckles danced, marking her skin like soft kisses. 

“Sister,” a pen met paper as Asher spoke. “You are busy little bee I see.” 

Her hands were both filled with baskets almost overflowing with herbs, vegetables, edible flowers. Her nails had dirt under the nails and staining the skin. She carrying a look of pride and accomplishment Tamlin knew well. This was her garden and it was fruitful. “Your squash was ready,” she was speaking to Asher but her eyes were on Tamlin. “Momma said she could turn it into soup?” Asher nodded, but he was deep into capturing Something on page, a grunt was his only other response. She continued to stare at Tamlin, “Do you know which of your children I am?”

Tamlin wanted to roll his eyes at her, say of course, but he refrained, watching as she moved, sitting next to Asher but slightly behind him. “I know my own baby girl, Taryn,” the High Lord said. “Your dimple gives you away.” He couldn't help but reach for her cheek, but a firm hand stopped him from touching her.

“I don't believe my sister gave you permission to put your hands on her face.” A smirk of pride grew on Tamlin's face as Asher now fully looked at his father and little sister. “You may touch her when, and if, Taryn allows. Until then, no.”

Taryn leaned her head onto Asher’s shoulder as Tamlin lowered his hand. “You two are close?”

“Very,” they answered in unison.

“How were Darya and Amaya?”

“Who?”

“The river nymphs twins,” Taryn glared at Asher. “The two you've been trying to bed for a week now?”

Asher sighed and laid back, “They're impossible!”

Taryn and Tamlin glanced at him, “How so,” the high lord asked.

“They're identical! They said they only sleep with males who can tell them apart! Their hair is the same length. Their eyes both sparkle like a clear lake. They both have the perfect little nymph figure. Hair black as coal. They're gorgeous, fun, witty.” Asher covered his eyes by dramatically laying his arm across his face, “One of them I am most interested in. I believe it is Darya.”

“Does she have a shell braided Into her hair?”

Asher nodded at his sister's question, “She's.. she's just stunning. Inside and out. I may be in love."

Tamlin hid a smile as he reached into Taryn's woven basket filled with fruit and stole an apple. Asher continued telling Taryn his woes before sighing. "I wrote a new poem for her," he whispered with an air of insecurity. "I just.. wish she would respond some way, any way really.

He stood and then reached down to grab each basket, “I'll take these home. I.. I'm going to try just her. Maybe that will help?" He looked to his sister and father for some reassurance.

Taryn nodded, “I like that idea.”

“I think she's special.”

“Then she is,” Tamlin answered simply. “Go. I'll take care of Taryn.” Asher nodded, disappearing in the same gate his mother had opened.

Silence fell between the two on the blanket. The air was thick and heavy, a contrast to the brightness of his daughter's garden, to the smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

“You may hold me.”

4 words. 4 soft words. Spoken with hesitation, anger, grief, fear. 

Yet they opened a floodgate as a father pulled his daughter to him, the process beginning again as the sunset behind them. 

Tamlin knew his goal as he took him the scent of strawberries lingering in her blonde hair.

Board by board. Brick by brick. Nail by nail. He was going to rebuild his family. Even if doing so hurt him in the process.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

And my fellow Tamlin girlies:

@nocasdatsgay @pit-and-the-pen

[tenseoyong]

Hi can you do Aemond x betrothed reader at the dinner scene he’s jealous of jace and reader dancing?

Aemond would scarcely admit he hadn’t expected to become so quickly enamored by his sweet tongued, kind-eyed, gentle handed betrothal. Honestly speaking, Aemond had assumed his arranged marriage would follow a similar pattern as his parents’ and siblings’—loveless and constant avoidance—he was sure that the lovely Lady that had arrived at court would have little interest in the Scarred Prince beyond the gain of gold and the title of Princess.

Yet, Aemond was surprised to find a less than timid woman, one who did not shy away from his cold gaze, nor did she pity or fear his childhood maiming.

Yes, the Prince had grown rather fond of the unusual Lady. Often Aemond spend hours with her, hidden from prying eyes by the many shelves of books of the Keep’s library.

She listened to him attentively—not just keeping up appearances of a doting and obedient wife-to-be—no, she actually enjoyed Aemond’s company; hanging off his every word as he recounted his daily training, or when he told of the history of dragons, even dared to attempt to teach her a word or two in High Valyrian. In turn, she spun tales of her home, how her brothers bickered as children, and how she feared riding a horse just as one would fear facing a dragon.

Aemond would grow to love his Lady Wife—that much he was sure of—and he had dared to hope that she would return that love ten fold.

She had all but extinguished the dragon’s fire that lived in him.

Yet, the moment his darling nephew, Jacaerys, had stepped forward—folllowing his sweet sister Heleana’s speech of marital neglect—and requested she accompany him in dance, Aemond’s mind filled with vivid images of Jacaerys burned to a crisp, curtesy of Vhagar’s breath.

To see her, in the arms of his bastard nephew as she politely accepted his dance proposal, turned his stomach to stone.

Aemond believes he knew true anger. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood angry—angry at his father, and his nephews, and at his dragon-less status. Though, as violet eyes watched his Lady and Jacaerys is dance, Aemond knew then he’d never truly experienced anger—until this moment.

It burned inside him hotter than dragon’s fire, boiling his blood and scalding his heart.

And as his nephew spun his betrothed about the empty corner of the room, Aemond could bare to witness it no more.

The whole room came to a screeching halt as Aemond slammed his fist into the table as he rose to stand tall, and mockingly held his cup in the air, “I’d like to toast to my nephews—Jace, Luke…Joffrey—each of them handsome, wise, brave…” He paused, turning to stare directly at the hand Jace had placed to the small of his Lady’s back. “And Strong.”

Not to give up the game, Jace didn’t release his partner, only twirling the pair until Jace was between his uncle and his intended before demanding, “I dare you to say that again!”

“Why?” Aemond tsked, rounding the table and taking several calculated steps towards the stationary duo. “T’was only a compliment—I would extend my toast to my beloved betrothed, I shall pray to the Gods that they make our sons as Strong as their cousins.”

The fury was evident enough on young Jace’s face, all while the quiet satisfaction of getting under his skin flooded Aemond’s.

Though, the satisfaction didn’t last nearly as long as he’d hoped—for as soon as Jacaerys fixed Aemond with a mischievous look and devious smile, Jace reestablished his hold on his uncle’s bride-to-be, and taunted, “If only there were such a way to ensure your sons’ strength, perhaps I’ll be of some help, if the Lady wouldn’t mind me—“

All at once, Aemond closed what little space remained between him and the dancing pair, and curled his fingers into his nephew’s neck like a claw, snatching the younger boy up much like a kitten at its scruff, “You’ll remove your hands from my Wife.”

“You misspoke, Uncle.” Jacaerys smirked, ignoring Aemond’s seething rage. “The Lady is not yet your wife, is she? I believe that gives her leave to do as she pleases, while she can.”

“I care not for the beliefs of a bastard,” Aemond’s words dripped with venom. “She is to be my bride—since you are so keen on pretending to be of your status—you should be aware that you are greatly overstepping.”

Jacaerys only cocked an eyebrow—a silent challenge—before his fingers curled into your side and what little room between your bodies had been erased, “Oh? Have I overstepped—“

“You will remove your hand,” Aemond was through playing this game, he did break the eye contact he held with his nephew, yet he could still see the obvious annoyance and displeasure growing on your sweet face. Aemond’s hand fluttered above the dagger strapped at his hip. “Or I shall remove it for you.”

The threat lingered in the air momentarily before, much to anyone’s surprise, the Lady squirmed out of Jacaerys’ hold and took her rightful place at Aemond’s right and placed a gentle on Aemond’s tensed arm.

“My Love,” She all but cooed at the furious dragon she would soon claim as a husband. “Let us not ruin the single night your father has requested with his family—I am unharmed and unbothered—let us not have further bloodshed between kin.”

Aemond won’t not soon let go of his hatred for his bastard nephews, but as his Lady-to-be stood by his side and looked upon him with such care and affection Aemond would afford her this kindness.

He released his blade, and his grip on Jacaerys’ neck—though he paused a moment to admire the half-moon shaped nail marks he’d left in his stead—before collecting his betrothed and whisking them both from the disastrous dinner, desiring nothing more than to be hidden away with his Lady love where they belonged.

Soon after, as the servant folks spread tales of the exciting night—a song would emerge—that of a Lady, who had managed to tame the dragon.

[masterlist]

@moonchildrenandflowercrowns

[firelordsfirelady]

XIII. Pinky Promises

Author: @firelordsfirelady

Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess? 

Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal

Word Count: 3089

Destined to be Yin and Yang 

I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story. 

Author’s Notes

The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16 

Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.

See Y/N’s inspiration here. 

Destined to be Yin and Yang Soundtrack (YouTube)

Thankfully, the crew and Zuko let me rest till very late in the afternoon the next day. As I sat at my desk brushing my hair, I stared at the firebender I had been drawing before the Fire Nation rudely drug me away yesterday. I had been busy adding a small amount of shading to the picture, and the small firebender I had drawn looked more alive now than it did when I started. A smile subconsciously found its way to my lips as I reminisced on my conversation with a certain firebender last night.

I will honor my agreement to marry you. Zuko’s words echoed in my head as I lightly touched my lips. He had kissed me last night, and, by the way the butterflies in my stomach fluttered, I may not ever recover from the kiss as my cheeks tinted a deep shade of pink.

Walking out of my room, I knocked on Zuko’s door, but there was no reply from within. I shrugged my shoulders as I walked down to Iroh’s door and knocked gently. Iroh’s friendly voice welcomed me inside the room, and I smiled as I walked in and greeted the older Firebender.

“Ah, Y/N, please have a seat. Would you like some tea?” He asked with a smile as he held up the tea pot. “I got some lovely ginsei tea from the last supply run we did.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you knew where Zuko was.” Iroh gave me a knowing smile as I asked my question.

“Ah, yes,” Iroh said as he poured three cups of tea. “He is in his prayer room.” Turning around, Iroh handed me two cups of tea. “He has specifically requested that no one disturb him until they have news of the Avatar.” The smile on Iroh’s lips had me furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I grabbed the cups, then I realized why Iroh was giving me two teacups.

“You want me to tell Zuko we have no news about the Avatar?” Iroh lightly laughed at my question and handed me a rolled map.

“What better way to receive unwanted news than with a beautiful woman bringing you tea?” I rolled my eyes as my cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“If only the young prince saw it that way.” I laughed, careful not to spill the tea. Iroh smiled a knowing smile at me.

“Besides, perhaps, the two of you might be able to talk.” I rolled my eyes at Iroh’s attempt to set Zuko and I up on a date.

“I’m going to tell him you sent me there for a date.” I teased the older man who laughed at my statement. 

“I am not the one who called it a date.” Iroh teased back before he turned around to hold a small tea tray towards me. “Then take this tea tray.” I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue at the Firebender before setting the two cups on the tray and taking the offered tray from his hands. “Good luck on your date.” Iroh laughed as I rolled my eyes and left the room.

My heart thudded against the bones of my ribs as I walked towards the set of double doors that separated the hall from the prayer room. I felt nervous as I shifted the tray to rest against my right forearm as I raised my left hand and gently knocked on the door.

“I said to only come if there’s news of the Avatar.” Zuko’s calm voice came from the other side of the door. I took a deep breath before I answered.

“Even if I have tea?” My voice was light as I carefully opened the door. Zuko sat cross legged on a small stool in front of four lit candles that sat on a table. The candle flames grew then dimmed as Zuko sat with his back to me, but he turned to look at me as I gave him a warm smile.

“I was clear when I told Un—“

“And Iroh was the one who sent me to tell you the news.” Zuko’s eyebrow raised itself as I looked around the room to set the tray down. “But, you must remain calm with the news.”

“Uncle always said that a great leader keeps their cool.” Zuko calmly spoke as he turned his attention back to the candles in front of him.

We shall see how calm you remain. I stood there holding the tray of tea before I straightened my shoulders and smiled.

“We have no idea where the Avatar is.” The flames of the candles erupted into larger flames that reached the ceiling as he turned around with anger.

“What?” 

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” I clicked my tongue and shook my head before I took some water from one of the cups and put out the candles. “You’re lucky to have me around with that temper.” I smirked as the Firebender struggled to calm down. Now that the candles were out, I carefully walked over to set the tray down on the table.

Zuko was dressed in a loose robe that stopped above his knees. I had yet to see him dressed so casually before, and it was sending my heart into a whirlwind as I tried my best not to stare at the handsome man as I turned back around. 

I shook my head as the thought crossed my mind, but I straightened up to give the prince a smile.

“Your uncle wanted me to deliver the news because,” I dropped my voice to imitate Iroh. “What better way to receive unwanted news than with tea delivered by a pretty lady.” I let out a light laugh before I turned around to find Zuko’s ears had reddened. “I told him that you might not see it as such.” A friendly smile was on my lips, but my heart hammered in my chest.

“Uncle has a way of exaggerating things.” Zuko said in a calm voice before he looked away. “He’s not wrong about the tea though.” My cheeks reddened as I looked away from the Prince. “Let me see the map.” Zuko took the rolled up map from my hand and unrolled it. I could see a black line drawn from several random points on the map as I looked over Zuko’s shoulder.

Had that been a compliment? I didn’t linger on the thought as I looked back up at Zuko.

“I couldn’t help but notice there’s two cups on the tray.” Zuko’s eyes brieflylooked towards the tea tray before he continued looking at the map. My ears reddened, but I tried to play it off with a laugh.

“Perhaps he thought you’d like some company while you drink your tea.” Zuko smirked at me as he rolled the map back up again. “It looks like the Avatar has been all over.” I said as I nodded my head towards the rolled up map, and Zuko sighed heavily.

“How are we supposed to find him if we don’t know where he is.” Frowning slightly, I walked up and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“We will find him, Zuko.” I smiled at him. “I know it.” He stared at me briefly as if I had two heads. “Matter of fact, let me see the map.” He gave me the map as I had asked and I unrolled it. Scanning my eyes over the map, I was drawn to a small island in the earth kingdom. Pointing to it, I asked Zuko what the name of the island was.

“That’s Kyoshi’s Island.” Zuko said as he looked at it. “Nothing significant other than it was Avatar Kyoshi’s birth place.” I blinked at him.

“I have a feeling that we might find the Avatar there.” I casually shrugged as I rolled the map back up. “Giving his random path, he could be marking things off of a bucket list or something.” 

Zuko and I stood there awkwardly in silence before I cleared my throat.

“Well I’ll be go—“

“Do you want—“ Zuko and I started at the same time, and I let out a laugh.

“We need to stop doing that.” I laughed, and Zuko let out a small chuckle.

“Do you want to have some tea with me?” Zuko asked before I could finish my sentence, and his cheeks turned red as spoke.

“I thought you weren’t to be disturbed until there’s news of the Avatar?” I teased as I raised an eyebrow at the Firebender to cover the heart pounding in my chest. “I’d hate to disturb you with no news.” Zuko rolled his eyes at me, but the corners of his mouth raised a bit. 

“Who said you were disturbing me?”

Mentally his words have me screaming, but physically I tried to keep calm as I gave him a smile.

“As long as I’m not a bother,” I bowed my head slightly before I looked into the golden eyes that were looking at me. “I’d love to have some tea with you.”

A few hours later, Zuko had me in tears.

“It’s seriously not that funny.” Zuko said with irritation as his ears betrayed his embarrassment as I held my stomach with laughter. Wiping tears from my eyes, I took deep breaths to try and calm my fit of laughter.

“Oh, trust me, it is that funny.” A small laugh left my lips again before I smiled at the Prince. “I just can’t imagine you stuck in a tree dangling..” Another fit of laughter threatened to bubble out of me as I spoke. “It’s almost as funny as the time I got my tongue stuck to the ice cap back home.” Zuko and I looked at each other before we both started laughing at the same time.

“How did you get your tongue stuck to the ice cap?” Zuko asked as his laughter calmed down. An easy smile rested on his lips as he leaned against the wall of the prayer room with his hands behind his head. I laid on my back as I looked at him from my spot on the floor.

“Five year-old me thought it was a brilliant idea to lick the ice cap after Mayuh had done it and said it tastes like sushi.” I laughed at the stupidity of my younger self. Wiping tears from my eyes, I smiled at the fond memory. Zuko’s face scrunched up as he looked disgusted.

“You believed it would taste like sushi?” I laughed before reiterating that I was five years old at the time. A comfortable silence fell between us as I happily laid on the floor by the casually sitting Prince. I looked over to admire him as he stared blankly at the liquid in the cup between his hands. His eyes swam with such uncertainty that it broke my heart.

“Do you remember the dream I told you about the koi fish--the moon and ocean sprits?” My quiet words left my mouth as I looked at the Prince. Blinking slowly, Zuko slightly shifted his attention to me.

“Yes, and I remember the story about them coming to be mortal for a day.” Zuko’s eyebrow raised and I knew as he opened his mouth that he was going to ask me a question.

“I started having those dreams as far back as I could remember.” I looked up at the ceiling above me as I spoke. “I dreamt about one of the fish--the moon fish--dying during some dreams. Other dreams were me climbing into the pool to swim with the spirits with a young girl with snow white hair.” Zuko stayed quiet as I talked.

“When I was ten, my father said he had business to discuss with the Northern Water Tribe, and he would be gone for a few months. I begged Father to take me with him.” I let out a small chuckle at the memory. “And I mean I begged. I did all my schoolwork for that year and the next because he worried about my schooling.”

“Dad finally agreed, and I was ecstatic to arrive at the Northern Water Tribe. I met the King’s daughter, Princess Yue, and she looked just like the girl in my dreams.” Taking a small strand of hair between my fingers, I twisted the strand around my fingers as I sighed.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Zuko.” The firebender was as calm as ever as he patiently waited for me to continue. “Father and I stayed long enough for the day to come that the Moon and Ocean spirits would spend an evening as mortals among us.

“I followed Princess Yue to the sacred spring and was in absolute awe at the sight of the koi swimming in their water. I remember Yue put her hand in the water and the white koi playfully swam to her, so I did the same. The Ocean spirit came to greet me before the two koi playfully swam between our hands.” The memory made tears come to my eyes as I smiled fondly at the memory. “I could hardly believe something like that was possible.”

“We returned home shortly after, but I was never the same after that interaction.” My chest felt heavy as I prepared to let Zuko in on a secret I had been keeping from him. “Ever since I returned from that trip, I’ve had these dreams or visions that are so vivid and feel so real that I have to question if it happened or if I imagined it.” My words were slightly unsteady as I continued.

“When I was ten, I had a dream that began seeing Mayuh laying on a pile of wood with her hands folded neatly over her chest. She looked peaceful as I approached to tell her my final goodbye. I remember reaching out to her and touching the cold shoulder of my grandmother as she laid in bed. My touch caused her to fall back slightly and I screamed as I saw dried blood from her nose and lifeless eyes staring back at me.” I closed my eyes at the memory. “Mother had assured me that it was just a nightmare.” I let out a bitter laugh. “She heard my scream three weeks later as I found my grandmother dead.”

“My best friend died when I was fifteen after being chronically ill for years.” Turning to look at Zuko, I bit my lip as his golden eyes looked at me with sadness.

“What are you saying, Y/N?” Zuko asked quietly as I looked back to the hair between my fingers.

“Do not be upset about what I am about to say.”

“You’re not about to tell me I have died in your dreams, right?” I let out a small laugh at Zuko’s question.

“No. You didn’t die.” I sighed as I closed my eyes tightly. “I dreamt about the light we saw in the sky and I heard your voice say something about the Avatar before I saw the Airbender standing in your room.” I heard a sharp intake of breath from the surprisingly calm man near me. “I had a vision of Avatar Kyoshi’s Shrine happen that same night.”

“Are you asking me to believe your dreams are predicting the future?” Zuko’s words sounded dubious as he spoke, and I let out a bitter laugh.

“Absolutely not.” I said. “Life just has a strange way of making the visions happen.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I hope some of them are just dreams.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried to give Zuko a smile, but he looked at me with concerned eyes.

“There’s more that you aren’t saying.” Zuko’s words were quiet, and I tried to keep my face stoic while he stared at me. 

“Hey,” Zuko’s soft words was accompanied by the soft caress of my face with a gentle hand. Forcing me to look at him, Zuko gave me the softest smile as he looked into my eyes. “You can talk to me.” My lungs ceased to work as I mulled over telling Zuko about my dream. “As long as you’re not about to tell me I died in your dream.” Zuko said in a slightly joking manner, but I didn’t find it funny as I replied. 

“I drowned.” My words were softly spoken in a volume barely audible to me as I blankly stared at something other than Zuko’s eyes as the flashbacks of the dream washed over me. “It ended with me drowning.” Silence greeted my heavily said words only briefly before a gentle hand moved the hair out of my face. My eyes focused back to the golden orbs looking back at me with so much emotion, but his facial expression held determination.

“You won’t drown while I’m around.” Zuko’s honest words made my heart jump in my chest.

“Pinky promise?” My voice sounded small as I held out my left pinky to him. “It is against the law to break a pinky promise.”

“A pinky promise?” Zuko’s ears reddened at my suggestion. “What are we? Children?”

“No. We are soon-to-be twenty year-olds who still believe in the binding magic of a pinky promise.” I tilted my head and slightly raised my eyebrow as I smiled at Zuko, offering my pinky again with a small bend of the finger at him.

“On one condition,” Zuko started, and I raised an eyebrow with curiosity. “You tell me about any visions or dreams you have.” I nodded in agreement. With cheeks tinted red, Zuko wrapped his right pinky tightly around my left one.

“I pinky promise that you won’t drown while I’m around.” A wide smile grew on my lips as I tightened my pinky around his too.

“I pinky promise to tell you about any dreams or visions I have.” I repeated then a yawn escaped my lips as I slowly moved to sit up.

“Thank you for having tea with me.” I said as I gathered the cups and the tray. “I enjoyed spending time with you.” Zuko’s face was red as the earnest words effortlessly left my lips.

“Are you free for another training session soon?” Zuko looked at me after he stood up and handed me the tray from the floor. “I feel well enough to train some more.” A smile rested on my face as I looked at the golden eyes staring at me.

“Do you think I’d miss the opportunity to beat you?” Zuko’s cocky smile greeted me. “Never.”

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[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Aaaah more about stepdaughter and daemon

Some years pass and they have more children and Rhaenyra start to become jealous because daemon prefers her daughter

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader

summary: Some years pass and they have more children and Rhaenyra start to become jealous because daemon prefers her daughter

Word count: 1,0K

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Jacaella, be careful" You called after your eldest child and first daughter. She ignored you and resumed running after her younger brother Maelon who was only a year younger than here being five namedays old.

"They are very active today" Daemon chuckled from beside you. You turned to scowl at him playfully. His gaze was fixated on the little babe in his arms, your youngest child, your baby girl Vael who was six moons old but still your belly was housing a three moons old babe.

"Only because you spoil them, Valzȳrys" Husband. You huff leaning back against the chair you were sat upon in the gardens. A rare moment of peace between you two and your children shared only from you two.

"Valeron is still in his own little world, how long has it been?" Daemon questioned. Your eyes trailed to your third born sitting under a tree not far away with his wet nurse babbling to himself like any three namedays would.

"Leave him be, otherwise he will be screaming for Elaerys" You shook our head. Your second daughter was enjoying some flowers with her nurse only a couple of feet away. She was only one nameday old with some moons.

"They will end as lovers, just like you and I" Daemon teased. His hand reached over to lace with yours. You wanted to remind him that you were not lovers, that he forced you into this and that your heart belonged to Aemond but held your tongue. Your children were the reason you tolerated him and was nice to him.

"Right" Was all you said. You have never once told him that you loved him yet he followed you like a little puppy and for every night he spent with your mother he spent twenty with you. During this time she had given him two sons only, Aegon and Viserys while you had five with a sixth on the way.

"Will you not let me hear it?" Daemon begged. Your eyes flashed over to him. Before you could find an excuse you caught sight of your mother walking over to you two over his shoulder.

"Mother" You greeted nodding at her. You pulled you hand out of his. He frowned turning to your mother.

"What is it Rhaenyra?" He asked. You moved to take Vael from her father to give them some space thanking the gods that your mother came to take her husband off your back but they were cruel, all of them were cruel.

"Stay daughter" She hissed. You froze shocked and afraid from her tone. You looked at Daemon for an explanation but he only shrugged. He sat back on the chair arrogantly and placed his hand on the hand rests.

"What is the matter, wife?" Daemon asked faking his worry and care. You wanted to hit him for treating your mother this way.

"How long is this going to take?" She asked pointing between you and Daemon. She had hopped that at one point he would grow bored of you and move his love to her.

"How long is what going to take?" Daemon smirked as she took a step closer to him, threateningly but he feared her not.

"You have been neglecting your duty as my husband?" She accused. You felt awkward standing there listening to this. You turned to one of the wet nurses here with you and she walked over to take Vael, she was not part of this conversation.

"Have I not fucked you at least once a week? Have I not cared for our children everyday? What more do you require?" He stood up angrily glaring at her. Her face scrunched into a hurt expression.

"That is not all to a marriage! You have been showing her affection and love and you have fucked her at least once a day not a week and you pay attention to her children more!" She yelled earning the attention of the other wet nurses.

"Tell them to take the children and leave" You whispered to the wet nurse with Vael. She curtsied and scrambled around to gather the rest of the wet nurses and your children.

"This is ridiculous, she is just as much my wife as you and I am entitled to love her as well" He huffed dismissivly.

"You love her more!" She accused. You clenched your fists with anger. Your mother was acting like a spoiled brat, it was not like you liked any of the attention Daemon was giving you but you had to for your children and it was your duty as his wife now.

"So what! I love her more and I will always love her more and fuck her more and I will have even more children from her while you rot! What are you going to do about it?!" Daemon finally snapped. You gasped shocked at his outburst. Your heart dropped at the sight of tears on your mother's cheeks. She turned to look at you seeng your hurt expression, her sweet daughter who was forced into this.

"Fuck you" She hissed at him turned around to look at you one last time before storming off.

"You are ruining my relationship with my mother" You glared at Daemon. He rolled his eyes annoyed now that both his wived were cross with him.

"You don't need her" He shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah? like jacaella won't need me if Jacaerys turned out to be like you, huh?" Your words dripped with venom.

"No man is worthy of my Jacaella and I will cut off the cock of any many who comes near here even if it were your brother" Daemon grabbed your chin in a tight bruising grip.

"You're hurting me" You whimpered. Daemon smirked and kissed your lips to silence yours sounds.

"Now go to our room. My cock needs some attention" Daemon was an evil and vile man. Tears build up in your eyes but obeyed nonetheless squeaking when he slapped your bottom as you walked away.

[pursuitseternal]

“Cleansing:” bathing smut and surprises in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Named Tav (F!OC) | E | 4.6K of the calm before the storm

Summary: Securing rooms at the Elfsong was the easy part. The harder part, overcoming the wash of memories from their separation before. They both need a good cleansing, one where they will indulge each other.

CW: angst, banter, bathing handjobs, I was told to “let them fuck like rabbits” which is implied, one more memory flashback, and danger.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 16: Cleansing…

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

“Does it… have to be here?” Cordehlia turned her cute little nose up at the smell in the tavern. To the rest of her party, it just seemed like she didn’t enjoy a stay at a public inn.

To Astarion, now he knew, it was sheer loathing, disgust, and almost a century of pain this place forced her to confront.

The Elfsong.

“Gale said the keeper is giving us the rooms for free, since we…” Shadowheart whispered behind her hand, all sneaky, “know about the murder upstairs…”

“It seems cheap here,” she shrugged beneath her armor. “Seedy, disreputable.”

“Sounds like you’re describing your intended, Cordehlia,” Gale taunted with that friendly smile. Even though it didn’t meet his eyes. Still that lingering jealousy and doubt she knew.

“Please,” Astarion laughed off the slight even as he put his arm around his love’s shoulders. “I was the son of a High Lord once, Gale,” he grimaced at the name on his tongue. “Cordehlia’s right, however, a place for disreputable debauchery and plotting, the Elfsong,” he laughed with a wave of his elegant hand. “We will all fit right in, I’m sure. Besides, we can't beat the price, and I won’t be sleeping on the streets.”

“Well,” Gale grinned again, perhaps a bit forced, “Can’t argue with that. Keeper said up the stairs.”

The party moved ahead, barely noticing that Cordehlia lingered back, rigid in Astarion’s arm. “Why here…” she huffed. “Won’t the keeper recognize his regular?” she hissed with spite.

“Darling, I haven’t hunted here for decades. It’s not even the same innkeeper.” He placed a kiss on her temple, feeling how her jaw clenched. “Maybe it’s time we make some pleasant memories here… together,” he purred right into her pointed ear, tracing up its delicate point with a feathery touch of a single digit.

She giggled at the tickling touch. “Fine,” she huffed. “But don’t expect me to spread my legs so easily. You’ll need to work for it if we stay here, my love. You have many years to make up for, you know.”

“Oh I know,” he smirked, one hand sliding to pull her in for a kiss by gripping the curve of her ass. “I am well aware of that fact, and that you will never let me forget it, my darling.”

He followed her up the tavern stairs, letting her slip from his arm’s hold. Lungs burned as he held his breath, worried and plagued with his old memories of his place. He tried to force them back down in the dank dungeon where he kept all those feelings from his centuries of torment. From all the targets, victims, hazy moments of disgust he had endured. He could swear it made his undead heart rap with dread. Calmly, slowly he stilled his breath, even as it grew more rapid and ragged as he climbed those same fucking stairs as he had a thousand times before.

This time was different, instead of trailing after some miserable wretch, some target, all he could see was the sway of Cordehlia’s hips and the way her ratted, unkempt, fiery red hair matched that rhythm down her back.

That made the panic subside.

As long as he had her, he would survive this.

The hall opened to a massive suite, a grand chamber filled with a dozen beds and every amenity. It was off limits to the likes of him before; he had only ever been here once, fortunately not on Cazador’s business. That night was fuzzy in his mind, a jumble of fear and exhilaration he recalled, slipping in the shadows with his contraband before being compelled back to the palace. A few moments to himself to steal a moment of respite…

Shaking his mess of curls, he followed Cordehlia towards a corner bed, one tucked away at least a bit, a few slatted screens here and there for privacy.

He smirked as she set her pack down, her toned shoulders rolling themselves out finally relieved of its weight. So graceful and lithe, she made quick work of her armor, dropping back a step at last to see him waiting at the foot of the bed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she gestured to the massive collection of rooms.

But he only slipped his bag from his shoulder, dropping it on the mattress beside her from a great height.

Letting it fall, his claim to her space.

“Oh, my love,” she tugged its great weight over the covers with effort, “this one is mine…”

“But darling,” he grinned, snatching the bag from her hold and letting it rest at their feet, “what’s yours is also… mine.” Growling that last word, he swept her in his arms, pushing her back into the feathered bed. She yelped and giggled as she fell to his attack, his thin elven armor flexible enough for him to cover every inch of her unbound body. He kissed her, there in front of them all, pushing her legs apart even covered in the light metal that clung to his frame. Her hands dug at the bare skin at his nape, lips dancing with his, all in time with the buck of her hips.

“Insatiable minx,” he rasped between her pumping lips. “Why do you pretend?”

“I’m not, my love,” she chuckled, “you can have the neighboring bed…”

He hissed at that, caging her into the bed all the harder. Mouth trailing quickly to her neck, he sucked on the supple flesh, the skin already scarred from his fangs, bringing her blood to pump there all the faster before he…

“Ah,” she moaned, her skin giving way to teeth, sending her right to the edge of her climax in an instant. He sucked loudly, lapping and popping his lips from her flesh just to draw attention.

“For fucks sake, get a room!” Karlach guffawed from across the space.

“We have one,” Astarion laughed, sarcastic and dark as he raised his blood-drenched face to speak. “You just happen to be in it.”

“In all reality…” Cordehlia pushed her palm against his turned cheek, shoving him up with all her might. “You stink, my love.” She laughed, managing to lift him only slightly from her frame. “You need a good cleansing bath.”

“Tch,” he huffed and frowned in indignation. “I would never say such a thing, even if it were true.”

She scowled, “How loving of you…” Teasing, with just that hint of sarcasm behind it, she doubled her effort, a smile on those rosy lips of hers before she braced against his neck and lifted.

Crimson eyes wide, Astarion smiled wickedly in return. Obeying. Relenting as he raised himself from her body, his own muscles ached to return, taught with the need to do what they always had done in this tavern, longing to fuck her until she was incoherent, this time for pleasure and not from coercion.

But instead he huffed, sliding the plates of his armor off, watching her bare feet tread across the wood floorboards. He could smell her, as he said. But it was more than pleasant. That scent of her sweat, the way her arousal’s musk instantly filled his nose the moment he bit into her neck…

But first, he gathered himself, glancing around to ensure a moment of privacy before he adjusted his growing erection at her scent still in his nose. “Fucking hells,” he groaned as he dug out of his pack to get his cleanest clothes, all the way at the bottom of his bag. Finally, he fought with all the trinkets and loot in his sack to pull out a fresh set of trousers, when something heavy landed on the floor with a thud. One delicate hand reached to gather it up next to his feet, the green, leather bound tome right in her pale palm.

Cordehlia narrowed her eyes at the title embossed on the side in gold. “The Curse of the Vampyre?” she scanned the book and then locked those silver eyes with his, questioning, mischievous and suspicious. “Some light reading while I bathe?”

“Just a little research, darling,” he slipped it from her grasp to tuck it in with his clothing.

“How to kill Cazador?” she speculated, turning to head towards the now-steaming tub in the side of the room. That look she threw him from over her shoulder sent an instant shudder of warm desire to his groin.

“I think I’ll follow my instincts on that one, my love,” he chuckled, dark and tickled with the promise of violence. “No, no,” he hummed as they stopped at the side of the tub, watching as she closed the slat-screen separator, just a bit of privacy despite the wash of voices that floated around the suite. “I’m just… preparing for what it might be, between the two of us.”

Cordehlia slipped from her trousers, that hem of her undershirt barely covering that sweet apex of her thighs. Astarion swallowed the huffing moan he could have made. “Hmm,” she tossed him a smirk before turning her back on him. That little cream shift tugged up over her head as she let her voice lilt and flirt, “and what might that be for us? An eternity in love as Mistress Cordhelia Ancunín?”

“Close, my darling,” he set his clothing in a jumbled mess at his feet. The clean ones, too. And Cordehlia rolled her eyes as she watched him. Arms crossed over her bare breasts, she gave him a rueful yet desirous smile. He made no extra show, tugging his ruffled shirt off from over his one head, juggling the book between his grip. “You see, there’s a difference for a Vampire Lord in the creation of their servants or equals, whoever they should choose to make their own… to make them powerful like them…”

“Whatever fits their fickle, half-formed plans?” she taunted, stepping herself into the water, dunking her long, gnarled hair into the water.

Suddenly, tenderly, two hands fished her long hair from the water. Cordehlia turned slightly, his smirking face grinning with total mischief as he used those skilled hands of his to work the snarls from the end of her hair. A little rose scented oil on the tips of his fingers, and he worked them each out. No noise but the rasp of his breath down the back of her neck as he leaned over the tub. Warm water barely heated his touch, the pads of his touch brushed her cheek. Her head leaned into his palm, but a gasp from her lips slipped out as she felt his other hand close around her breast. His teeth scored over the sensitive shell of her ear, a whispering laugh tickling the inside. “Who’s to say I would be fickle… or have half-formed plans, if I were a Lord?”

A fang dragged over the soft curve of her earlobe, making her sigh, half-swallowed as her back arched at the sensation. “So… if you turn… if you can ascend, that’ll make you…?” she whispered, voice thick in that milk white throat of hers as she turned, water splashing in that tub as she swiveled.

“Lord Astarion….” He sighed, an intense and dreamy look in the dark red of his eyes. “Vampire Ascendant.”

“Is that what’s in your book, my dear? Is that what you’ve been researching?”

“No,” he rasped, standing as he slowly brought his hands to the waistband of his leathers. Pale fingers slipped the small buttons barely holding it closed free one at a time. “If you can’t tell… it’s you and your wellbeing that’s on my mind, darling…” Hands tugging that flap apart, his cock sprang free, and he couldn’t help but give a low, rumbling chuckle as she bit her lip at its sight.

Cordehlia slid over a smidge, her own lithe fingers massaging through her damp hair. Silver eyes were locked on his every move, the way he slipped from those leather pants, the way he slowly sank into the waters beside her.

The way his own right fang peeked out as he chewed his lip and wrapped his arms around her body at last. “I’ve never met one before, never even heard aside from rumors of their existence among my kind. They are rarely created, the perfect match for a Vampire Lord, the perfect threat to them too. But they say there is no greater love than a trusting Lord and his loving… Bride.”

She shivered in his arms, shaking her whole body despite the swirling steam that surrounded them.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he purred right into the folds of her ear again, a single hand stealing underwater to run down her belly. “To be mine… forever?”

Her mouth opened, he could hear it, feel it in her jaw, but no noise came out but breath. Not until he slunk two fingers between her thighs, finding the even warmer, wetter slick that gathered there.

Her legs bent under the water, feet braced on the side of the cloth and wood of the tub. But he slowed his hand, dragging a single fingertip, a single nail even, over that hard little clit of hers. “You have to tell me, darling, if you will be mine… no matter what…”

Her hand reached behind her, clawing into the mess of his own damp curls and slotting her body between his own clenching legs. “You know my answer. It’s the same. It’s unchanging. Constantly beating yes when it comes to you, Astarion, for two-hundred years.”

“I’m so pleased to hear it,” he hissed, gratifying the little bucks of her hips by sinking his long fingers deep inside her channel. “Best keep it quiet though, I would hate to offend the rest of our group’s sensibilities…”

“You would love to give them offense,” Cordehlia snarled back, pulling him by his hair to whisper back in his own ear. Giving him just what he gave her. “You would love to make me give little whimpers, make me moan your name just loud enough to have one of them chastise you, hmm?”

“For what?” he growled back, starting to pick up his pace as he stroked her and crooked his touch inside her. “For being the consummate lover I am? For making you, the great warrior, whine for me, my little pet and darling?”

A hand reached behind her, her fist closing firmly around his cock, making a noise not unlike a moan come from his own throat through his gritted teeth.

“So are you going to share your research…” she pumped him, hard in grip and slow in measure, as she rode his fingers. A smile on her face. “Going to tell me more about what you think might happen?”

“Three bites,” he panted, those fingers of his working inside her, determined to make her squeal and come first. “And then… I drink you almost dry…” His voice in her ear is feral, more monster than man, and Cordehlia shivered, rapture taking hold at his touch and words and… all of him.

“Go on…” she murmured, voice thick in her throat, even as he hand gripped tighter and sloshed more water as she tried to keep up with his own fingers fucking inside her.

“I give you my blood, letting it fill you and make you mine. They say it will be far more pleasurable than anything you have ever… ever… experienced.” He panted, her thumb sweeping right over that spot only she knew, beneath the dip of his head. His thighs clenched, his balls tightened. “Gods,” he groaned, too close now to back down.

“And then I would be your Bride?” she replied, trying so hard to sound perfect and calm, hiding her own approaching pleasure with a pressed and quiet tone.

He held his breath, scoring a nail over that patch inside her, the one he knew always pushed her, careening towards her climax. “Yes,” he finally ground the single word out, definitely louder than he had hoped. “You’ll be your own being, your own set of powers linked to mine. We will walk in the sun, share our minds, share every bit of pleasure and … pain.” He whimpered loudly, too loudly, as she tugged and fondled him mercilessly.

A knock sounded on the divider, Shadowheart’s lyric voice only a bit muffled from the other side. “Can you hurry it up? The longer you take, the longer the rest of us poor peasants need to wait until it’s our turn…. And we obviously need to get fresh water now…”

“Shut up,” he growled, that hand on his cock not slowing a second even as their moment was invaded.

“Shh, play nice,” Cordehlia corrected him, hand leaving his shaft for a moment to clutch those smooth, hard balls in her palm, tight and ready to burst any second now. “Two people in one tub deserve twice as long, logically. Give us five more minutes.” She called so politely.

Their cleric huffed and stamped away, but not before her fingers stroked that flushed, fleshy head in their touch. Once, twice more, she pulsed that grip and stars covered his vision. Coils of heat burst inside him, spurts of cum sullying the water, and best of all, her own cunt flared and clenched in time. Her freehand flew to her mouth, covering it tightly to not make a sound. But he had her, the extra oily slick of her arousal shot around his fingers, her thighs shaking in the water as she bucked out her climax on his touch. And just when she neared the supple pleasure after, fangs sliced into her.

Her shoulder was pierced once, twice, three times. Nips in rapid succession until the final one. That, Astarion let his teeth sink fully into the crook of her shoulder, savoring the sweet, almost floral bouquet of her blood on his tongue. Filling his belly.

Her head rested back against his chest, body limp and warm. A comforting weight against where his heart would have beat, a sad smile on his lips as he released from her neck. Tenderly, he didn’t want to disturb her, he nuzzled into her damp red hair. As he breathed in, that rose-scented oil barely masked her own floral scent.

He didn’t want to disturb her, but maybe she needed to know….

“There’s a bit more to the Dark Kiss… umm the way that a Bride is made…” He trailed off as she turned. Her face was lined with confusion as she wrapped her legs around him in the water, looking hopeful, worried, waiting on his every word.

Astarion sighed. “It’s a bit dangerous,” he continued at last. “Once you wake to feed for the first time, you… you won’t be yourself. You will be feral, ravenous,” he paused, realizing the weight of his words, “dangerous. I’ll have to subdue you to make sure we both remain safe…”

“Alive you mean,” Cordehlia nodded, sage and slow as his meaning took hold. She looked over his shoulder, eyes distant as she thought for a moment. “More than anything, Astarion, I trust you.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips tighter, hiding the way tears stung behind his eyelids and the way his jaw wanted to tremble.

“Besides,” she shifted closer to him, running a hand down the ridges of his belly to grip him by the balls again. “You will love the chance to subdue me for once, even if it’s in unfair circumstances.”

Astarion swallowed the grunt at the delicious pressure she put on him, turning it to a laugh. “You're no different you know, not letting me bend the rules so I can win, just like when we were children.”

“Never,” she shook her head, coy smile and flirtatious glints in her eyes. “I’ll never let you off free, not even if you are some exalted Lord.” Those lithe fingers clutched one more time harder around his manhood. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way, my love.”

“Whatever makes you happy, my darling,” he purred, still hiding that lump in his throat. That niggling guilt over what he had done before, now that he knew. Now that he remembered. “I’ll try to be worthy of all that trust you have in me.”

She leaned against his chest, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. A tender smile turning one corner of her lips, she kissed him. “I know you will.”

There was so much to be done… but for this evening, for tonight, they all rested in comfort for once. Every other member in their group gave them a massively wide berth, treating them like newlyweds, letting them hide behind the dividers around their bed, ignoring the little noises that came from behind it. Only once a meal was brought out did Cordehlia leave their little hideaway, just long enough to avoid everyone’s knowing smirks and make a simple plate of cheeses and breads.

Then her bare feet hurried back, for a moment of silence before the subtle and constant rustling resumed from behind those partitions.

A few hours later, silence finally fell. Night in the city was still so loud, too loud. And Cordehlia just couldn’t trance no matter how hard she tried. Even as Astarion fell into easy rest beside her, one arm braced behind her head and the other resting on his belly as it rose and fell. He was comfortable here, his home away from her for almost two centuries. That old pang of bitterness flared in her chest, and she sat aright. All she could hear was soft breathing in the night.

She looked out the window, dawn just starting to break with light. Climbing from the bed, she slipped into her clothing, that fresh cream undershirt, sensible black leathers. She would be quick, that pain from her past pushing her to return one more time to that place where agony had taken root.

One more glance to his beautiful, pale, naked body resting in their bed, she kissed her fingers and pressed it featherlight to his forehead. She’d be right back. One last visit to his grave to close the pain of the past.

Boots on her feet, she reached for her dagger. Just the one, her most favorite, if only to make her feel completely dressed; it would just be a jaunt around the corner to the graveyard, a couple of turns in the safety of the sun before she would return. And after all the ways he’d had her last night, she was sure he’d trance his way through that time.

She stepped silently through the dim room, paying no heed to anything other than that door, than her mission to bid the past farewell for good.

Astarion turned in his trance, his sleep restless and uneasy, the memories of being in the Elfsong mostly inflicting those little cuts and wounds of torture from his past as Cazador’s spawn. Except that one time he had been in this suite of rooms….

His dream swept him back to that time, the way his feet hurried away from the other spawn sent there with him to hunt. That little piece of paper in his hand secreted beneath his arm as he hurried silently up the stairs, picking the lock quickly into this empty set of rooms. It hadn’t been hard to find a dark corner, a loose floorboard…

He didn’t know why it was so important to him, but he had known he wanted to keep it. Even if he couldn’t bring it back to the palace, even if he knew that stealing away from his siblings and coming home empty handed tonight meant a spell in the kennels and a session with Godey. His chest rose and fell with the thrill of insolence. That parchment, that news flier unfolding in his hands made him smile.

Eyes scanned the words too quickly to really take in the story, some account of a battle… some fearsome tale of this warrior goddess… All he could do was stare at the printed likeness of her face on the paper. Black and white, just ink and fading parchment, but he had wanted it. And when Petras had tried to tug it from his fingers, he had snarled and disappeared into the crowd. Now he could savor his treasure, enjoy his stolen goods.

She was alluring, that long hair drawn to tease behind her, that sculpted body covered in dark armor, her face hard and fearsome and yet… something about her lips taunted him. Coy and teasing, beckoning him to look closer.

And closer he did look. His mind had raced over the words, no memory of them now almost a century later… but he remembered clearly what he did with that image in those few stolen moments. How his cock had hardened instantly, how it had been only a few moments of rough and dry handfucking for him to come.

How he had wiped himself clean quickly, breathless from actual pleasure for once in his long, broken memory, before he stashed that flier with the pretty She-elf on it under the floorboard.

Astarion bolted awake at last. Hardly noticing he was alone, he scampered from the bed, tripping as he slipped on his trousers too quickly and scuttled across the suite to the opposite corner.

“What in the hells are you doing, Fangs?” Karlach huffed a laugh, amused and annoyed as she had to hurry out of his way.

He said nothing, fingers pulling the wood up to free that long lost, buried treasure. Flinging himself against the wall, he shook his head. If he didn’t have company, he would have, could have cried.

Victory of the Bone Picker.

Clear as the day that dawned outside the window, he finally took the time to look at the words. To look into the printed eyes of his love.

He knew, somehow all those decades ago, he knew.

“Damn, Fangs, is that Cordehlia?” Karlach peered from the other end. “You knew that was here… you saved it here after all this time, didn’t you?”

“I guess so,” was his honest reply. Those crimson eyes looked up wide and shining wet. “Where is she?”

Karlach shook her head, taken aback. “Isn’t she sleeping her climax marathon off in your bed?”

“No,” he suddenly went rigid. Standing, flying to his feet to peer around the rooms. “Has anyone see Cordehlia?” he couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice now.

Gale looked up from his book at that. “She went for a stroll early this morning, first light. I don’t think she saw me here… not that she pays me much mind at any rate…”

“Shh, shh,” Astarion hushed him right up once he sounded as if he would start another one of his diatribes. “Not now, Gale,” he snipped. “That must have been an hour ago already, so where is she?”

“You could always use our little friends,” Gale suggested, two fingers tapping on the side of his head.

“You mean reach out?” the Vampire frowned.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” the Wizard gave a terse reply. For once.

Astarion closed his eyes, feeling the waves of the tadpole’s power emanating from his mind, searching for the other end.

Something faint returned. A flash of a cemetery, a headstone with his name on it, and a pair of glowing red eyes and stringy black hair staring down at her before… darkness.

Silence.

Nothingness.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Our Blood will update again in 3 days, so your arms don’t get too tired hanging from that cliff 💞💞

[barrenclan]

Got a heartbreaking one for you: I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie.

This one works well for a Rainhaze and Slugpelt song, pre-defiance. It comes from their differing views of death we’re shown, how Slugpelt sees it as hopeless and desolate while Rainhaze sees it as comforting and warm.

Especially this one verse here

In Catholic school / As vicious as Roman rule / I got my knuckles bruised / By a lady in black / And I held my tongue / As she told me, "Son Fear is the heart of love" / So I never went back

In my mind I can see this with the younger siblings. Dustfeather being awful to Slugpaw, then later coming to Rainpaw and explaining that this was how love was supposed to be, for her, and Rainpaw severely doubts her. (Cut to the last line “so I never went back”, with Rainhaze leading Dustfeather into the territory late at night).

The very last chorus could be once Ranger reveals Rainhaze to his old clan, and Rainhaze tries to explain to them that death isn’t just something that shouldn’t be dreaded, but something benevolent, the best option. And then Slugpelt can go and Dustfeather him to close it off. (This ask was sent post issue 36, cannot guarantee any of this will happen. Fingers crossed though!!)

Oh yes, I remember this song! I like your analysis on it.

Vocaloid's not really my thing but I take your word for it. The Defiance attack is very apocalyptic for the BarrenClan cats.

Any songs about women doing murder and being hot and excited about it is a perfect Spike song!

Oh, you like me now? Bad bitch on the prowl Straight dudes, big dogs Lock 'em up chow (ciao) Pink tag wrapped around his big toe Put the scum in a bag, let his wife know

It doesn't seem like anyone has suggested it yet, or at least it was long enough ago that my YouTube doesn't remember it. I don't listen to much Will Wood but I like these lyrics with him!

Have you ever died in a nightmare? Woke up surprised you hadn’t earned your fate? Have you ever felt like Atlas, threw your back out on the axis And collapsed and threw the planet away?

Ooh, whatever you think of me (It’s the norm for chemicals, it’s the norm for particles) If you were in my shoes, you’d walk the same damn miles I do (Yes, it’s only natural)

You, could you take a look at me? (You could break an angel’s fall, and ignore the Devil’s call) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (Still forsaken shoulders fall silent now)

SO Rainhaze coded. The Ashfur MAP is one of my all time favorites too.

Every word that I say seems far too contrived What are your intentions? I'm ashamed by mine When I'm thinking too much, I realize I'm unkind

Pretend that I'm nicer than I'll ever be I am selfish and deluded, enjoy my hypocrisy <- och... remember this Complain that I'm bored, when being bored is a privilege Act like I'm suffering, there's no suffering in this

Hah, yeah.

Early BarrenClan/post-RoseClan vibes to me.

I miss the friends I had to leave behind My dad saying "I'm proud of you son" It makes me wanna go home Could I ever call this place home?

I used to dream about the other side The sun rising on the skyline And a beautiful rainbow Such a beautiful rainbow

[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN (29 PART TWO)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

Masterlist - click here for all available parts

Aemond didn't hesitate when Ser Criston Cole came to meet him the next morning. 

He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him close. Cole looked at him confused for a moment until a knowing look crossed his face. He knew immediately.

"You dare disobey my orders?" hissed Aemond.

"You didn't order me to keep quiet about it. The plan was different, my prince."

"The correct address is, your Grace, Ser Criston. I am Prince Regent and you have given information that you were not entitled to without my permission. It could be considered treason. Are you a traitor, Cole?"

"I would never betray you. I ask for forgiveness, your Grace," Ser Criston began quietly and tried to pull away, but Aemond's grip tightened, so he quickly gave up. "But I only had good things in mind. The girl was with Rhaenyra Targaryen. Our enemy. Either she is loyal to her or she has heard things that could be useful to us."

"She didn't hear anything, Criston," Aemond defended. "She told me everything."

"And you believe her?"

"There is nothing to prove otherwise."

"Then let her be taken to the dungeon. They will question her there and-"

Before Ser Criston could continue, Aemond had pushed him against the wall behind him and the man groaned painfully. Aemond's hand went to the man's neck, who looked at him with wide eyes.

He suggested putting a pregnant woman in the dungeon? To interrogate them, whatever torture meant. His pregnant wife?

"If you ever speak of this again, even hint at something like that, I will rip out your tongue and offer it to Vhagar as a snack, understand?"

Ser Criston nodded. He tried to keep his composure, but Aemond saw the fear in his teacher's eyes. He felt no pity. He had himself to blame for that.

"Rose is under my protection. She belongs to me and anyone who acts against her is also acting against me."

Aemond took another searching look into Criston's eyes before letting go of the older man and pushing him away. He turned around without another word and left the man behind.

Nobody would dare touch Rose.

No matter how deep his arguments with her were, in the end she was still his.

And he wouldn't allow anyone to harm her.

He realized that he would kill for Rose. That after all this she still possessed his mind. The only thing he could keep from her was his body. Her return had affected him more than he had expected. Seeing her look at him, her eyes judging him, was almost unbearable. He wished he could forget his feelings for her, erase them from his mind forever, but it wasn't possible. Rose was like his own shadow. She would never leave his mind and his heart.

D R A G O N S T O N E

Rhaenyra took her necklace out from under her dress. She always kept them hidden between fabric and skin, afraid of losing them. It was the only thing she had left of Aemma. She played with the chain between her fingers and looked at it. She read the inside writing.

In dreams we are united.

She had given the necklace to her little daughter for her fourth name day. Aemma's eyes were shining. Her daughter was overjoyed as she held the necklace in her small, soft hands. The necklace was made of Valyrian material and just as Daemon had once given her a necklace, she had given the same gift to her daughter.

"I'm sorry, my queen," Baela said suddenly and Rhaenyra looked up. Baela and Jacaerys sat across from her. Her son looked up, his eyes focused on Rhaenyra's necklace and an inexplicable emotion flashed across his face. His eyes widened before fixing on the table in front of them. He's been different lately. Closer. She would have to talk to him. She looked at Lucerys. He looked sad, but it wasn't like Jacaerys. Something was different.

"What are you apologizing for, Baela?" Rhaenyra asked, looking at her stepdaughter. She was the spitting image of Baela. Beautiful, graceful, proud. "And call me Rhaenyra. We are a family."

Baela smiled briefly, but her smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

"It's my fault Rose was kid-, I mean Aemma, kidnapped."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Rhaena asked. "Maybe she went voluntarily? Maybe she was the one who hurt you? Even if she is Aemma, she has no memory of us, right?"

"She didn't hurt me. The attack came from behind. She was standing right next to me."

"Then she saw the attacker?"

"No I do not think so."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just know, Rhaena," Baela raised her voice and looked annoyed at her sister. Rhaena jumped and looked away. She bit her lip.

"Whatever happened to my daughter, Baela," Rhaenyra interjected, drawing attention back to herself. "It's not your fault."

"But I wanted to go to the market with her, Rhaenyra. It was my idea."

"Then there would have been a different situation," Daemon agreed with Rhaenyra. "Someone kidnapped Aemma and we will find out who and bring them to justice. Whoever is responsible for her disappearance will wish they were never born."

He looked at Rhaenyra and she reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it. She was grateful for his support. A pushing back a chair drew her attention to Jacaerys, who was suddenly pale.

"Jace?" Rhaenyra asked, jumping up to go to her eldest child, but he just shook his head.

"I think I'm getting sick, mother. I'm going to retire so I can recover."

Jacaerys turned away from Rhaenyra and she watched her son go. He seemed so changed. She hardly recognized him. Maybe he had grown more attached to Aemma than he was letting on. Maybe she meant more to him than he was letting on. She would talk to him when the opportunity arose. Even though he was an adult, he was still her child. He would always be her child.

. . . . .

Jacaerys threw up when he was in his room. He shivered all over and slid down the wall to sit on the cold floor. Panic had taken over his entire body and he desperately clutched his brown, sweat-drenched hair. He stared aimlessly at a spot in his room. He couldn't take it any longer. His mother's pained look. She was suffering and because of him. What he had done was wrong and now he had to live with the consequences of his actions. He would never forgive himself for this. He had only wanted to protect his family, but he had ended up causing more evil than he wanted to avoid. He still doubted that Rose was his little sister, but that wasn't the point anymore. He had patronized his mother. He had decided for her whether Rose was worth a chance and he had decided against it. He knew his mother would never forgive him. Just like Lucerys. He had felt Daemon's gaze on his neck as he left the room. He didn't know if his stepfather suspected something, but his words were clear.

If Jacaery's secret were discovered, everyone would consider him a traitor.

And maybe he was.

K I N G S L A N D I N G

Aemond hadn't visited his sister for days. Her sight hurt too much.

She was sitting there without participation, sunk in her own world, tortured by the guilt that she was wearing.

It has always been withdrawn, but this condition was not normal for her either. And yet he looked for her closeness. Their affection. They have always had a special band and he longed for their touches, their loving words. He longed for his sister. He needed her. He felt so alone. Even if Helaena had changed. Sitting here, with her, even when they didn't talk, gave him strength.

"How is Rose?" "Suddenly an voice illuminated the room and Aemond looked up. Helaena looked at him and her gaze was clear. He saw no confusion, no dreaming. Aemond leaned forward. Helaena looked him directly in the eye. "How is the child?"

"You know of the child?" Asked Aemond irritated. Had his mother went to Helaena and told her about it. Helaena put his head at an angle and gave him a meaningful look. No, his mother hadn't told her. She knew it. Just as she knew a lot that she couldn't know. He looked at his sister.

"Are you still answering me?"

She pulled up an eyebrow.

"I think she's fine."

"You think?," She asked and put her head wrong. "Why do you think? You should know."

Aemond snorted. "It hard at the moment. We don't talk that much."

"Hmmm," summed up Helaena, "that's stupid of you."

Aemond looked at his sister surprised. "Excuse me, what?"

"You have to open your eye, Aemond. Look over the horizon, into the distance. Don't be fooled by whispering," and there was. His sister who spoke confusing words. What did she mean? Shouldn't he be fooled by the whispering? 

"What do you mean?"

Helaena leaned her head to the side. "You don't see properly, Aemond," she said as if it were the most understandable in the world. "You must not keep your happiness away. The paper dragon burns to flesh and blood. Dragonseed in Dragonseed. Old guilt must be paid, but you have to be happy."

Dragonseed in Dragonseed?

Aemond knew what that meant, but not in this context. She had said it before. Dragonseed in Dragonseed. But he still could not place it.

Dragonseed was said to speak of bastards of the Targaryen clan, but Rose was not a Targaryen. Was Helaena pregnant? Had Aegon planted new life in her before everything went down the stream? It would not be unlikely. He would ask the Maester to check it in the next examination.

He didn't understand the rest. It was nothing new.

"You have to be happy, Aemond," said Helaena and suddenly she looked so unhappy. 

So incredibly unhappy. "Don't let me go, promise me," her words sounded as clear, more clearly than ever and Aemond searched for a answer in the face of Helaena that she would not give him.

"Do it for me. At least one of us should be happy."

. . . . .

When Aemond was in his bed at night, he could think of nothing other than Helaena's words. They followed him every second, and no matter how much he puzzled, he understood only half. If he understood anything at all. He straightened up in bed and stared at the window. The light of the moon illuminated his room.

"You have to be happy, Aemond." she said.

But he wondered how he should be happy when he was kept taking it again and again?

He had thought that he would be happy as a prince regent, with power as a king, but the desired effect failed to do.

"Do it for me. At least one of us should be happy."

He wanted to be happy. He longed for it. He wanted it more than anything and he also knew that his luck was only a few steps away. He looked at the wall behind him as if he could see it. Whether she was awake at the moment and was just as tormented as he was? Or was she sleeping calmly and dreamed of being far away? He couldn't even blame her. He had treated himself badly. He had blamed her, but he was the blacksmith of his own misfortune. He had spoken words that he shouldn't speak. Even if he had only spoken to her so that he could protect her.

He got up and slowly went to his desk.

His bare feet tingled through the cold of the floor.

He reached for the drawer and opened it. There was a dagger and another eye patch (he owned plently), but his focus was on another object. Aemond reached into the drawer and took out a necklace. He looked at it. It was beautiful. Just like her. This necklace didn't belong to him and it would never belong to him, but he knew every single inch of it. He had found Rose's necklace when she left him and although the anger had tempted him to throw it away, he hadn't. He couldn't. This necklace meant something to her. She had received her from her dead mother. He couldn't take that away from her. 

She had lost it in the attack and Aemond had found it.  It was stupid. Through this necklace he had the feeling that he also had something from her. That he owned something from her if it wasn't her heart.

He turned the necklace in his fingers and read the engraving on the back.

In Dreams we are united.

It was true. 

He was united with her in his dreams.

. . .

"The Blacks are gaining more and more power."

"Various men of the Kingsguard have joined as well as men of the Night's Watch. Traitors, oathbreakers, it doesn't surprise me that they are joining the Black Queen. A bullshit name!," Wylde spit. "They must all be beheaded, hanged. They are not worthy of an honorable death."

"Is there any news from Dorne?" Lannister asked and all eyes turned to Otto, who shook his head bitterly.

"Dorne will not take sides."

"Hmm, I guess they're hoping we'll tear each other apart."

"Well, as long as they don't support the princess."

"House Stark has spoken out in favor of Rhaenyra. But our men have not yet seen any mobilization of the Northman army."

"Winter is coming," Lannister said. "Lord Stark is aware of this. What do the Northmen always say? 'The tunic is closer to me than the trousers'?"

"And Harrenhall?" asked Aemond and all eyes turned to Lord Larys. 

"Harrenhall is strong. Our walls are sturdy. We are prepared for the attacks of the blacks."

"Well, but you can't do anything against their dragons, right, Lord Larys? Harrenhall doesn't have a good history of dragonfire." Lord Lannister loved to test those around him. But he had chosen the wrong opponent.

Larys just smiled at Lannister's provocation. "I guess no big house has that, right? And the ones that have been spared so far could burn quicker than we'd like."

Aemond watched the spectacle, but his mind was elsewhere. They were with Helaena and her words and with the woman who haunted him day and night.

A tentative knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Otto allowed entry and an old man, past his prime, stumbled in.

"Your Grace, please excuse the interruption," the maester began, bowing to Aemond, who was sitting at the table with his mother and grandfather, as well as Larys Strong and Tyland Lannister, discussing possible strategies in the fight against the self-proclaimed queen.

"Can't you see we're having a conversation, Maester?" Lannister interjected and he saw his mother roll her eyes out of the corner of his eye. This man really liked to hear himself talk.

"Forgive me, but the Prince Regent has instructed me to contact him immediately if there are... complications."

"Complications?" Alicent repeated. "Which type?"

"Well, I would like to discuss this with the honorable Highness myself, if you allow me."

"You can speak freely in front of us, we-"

"We will continue this conversation tomorrow. Everything is settled so far," Aemond interrupted Otto, who looked at him in surprise.

"Aemond, you-"

"The correct address is still, your Grace, Lord Hightower," he exchanged a look with his grandfather and he saw the rebellion in his eyes. He looked at him challengingly, a raised eyebrow inviting him to contradict him. But Otto was wiser and he bowed his head and nodded.

Aemond gave his grandfather an unimpressed look. He treated him like a little boy. He had forgotten that he was the one who made Aegon, and therefore Aemond, the most powerful man in the empire. Now he had to live with the fact that his grandsons were above him. Just like she always had.

He left the room without further comment.

"The girl refuses to be examined by me," the maester began as they walked together down the hallway to her room. "My words don't bring them to their senses."

"You call me because you can't control a woman?"

The maester bit his lip in shame. "I don't know how far my authority extends with her." He swallowed. "She had light bleeding this morning. That shouldn't happen, but it can under certain circumstances like stress or too fast growing of the child in her womb. That's why an examination is important so that I can rule out any danger."

Aemond nodded. The words made him nervous. He tried not to show anything and to keep calm.

He would not allow Rose to risk her life and the child's life by refusing to be examined out of spite. He would persuade her to allow this search, otherwise he would force her for her own good.

Suddenly a guard came towards them and looked frantically at Aemond. He was one of the guards he had assigned to Rose. "Your Grace, the prisoner is attacking the other servants."

Ah, wonderful.

. . . . .

The imagination and reality of how Rose attacked guards and servants were completely different and yet completely the same. Pillows and various other objects lay on the floor and when Aemond entered the chamber, another pillow flew towards him, which he threw to the side with a careless movement.

"Get away from me," Rose shouted and the silver food tray flew towards the guards, who were able to dodge at the last moment. At least the one in front, because the one in the back was hit in the face. She could aim, you had to give her that.

"Rose, we mean no harm, please, you need the examination!" pleaded a servant and came towards her, but Rose continued to back away. They seemed to know each other, which wasn't particularly surprising considering Rose had worked for her.

"What I need is fresh air and freedom. That's the only problem here! I'm fine. The child is fine!"

Rose was still in her nightgown and Aemond was overcome with jealousy. Had these men seen her in this effort? He ordered the guards out of the room, and Rose's raging gaze fell on him. Her eyes were full of anger and reproach.

Rose stared at him like he was her worst enemy. He probably was at that moment too.

"Me too, your highness?" the maester asked and without taking his eyes off Rose, Aemond nodded. "Everyone should get out but stay within earshot."

The maester nodded and left the room, as did the other two women.

Aemond came towards Rose, but she grabbed a vaser and signaled him to stop.

"Stop immediately, don't come any closer, Aemond," she snapped and he obeyed.

"You need the exam, Rose."

"What I need is for you to let me out of here. I'm going insane and this is all your fault!"

"My fault?" Aemond repeated. "I wouldn't have to keep you here if-"

"If I hadn't left you, yeah yeah, blah blah, we all know it, Aemond. The whole fucking world knows it, but you were the one who drove me away," Rose screamed. "I would never have left you. Damn it. I was ready to die for you, don't you understand that?"

The first tears rolled down her cheeks and he gave Aemond a stab in his heart. Seeing her like that, so desperate, so hurt, hurt him more than he expected.

"Rose, calm down," he began soothingly, "no matter what differences we both have, don't be unreasonable and get yourself checked."

"Not until you let me out of here."

"That's not possible."

"Well, then it's not possible to be examined," Rose said defiantly and Aemond had had enough. He came towards her with quick steps and Rose threw the vase at him, which he caught in the air and threw away. The vase broke on his hand, leaving a deep cut, but he didn't care. He grabbed Rose and pulled her close, but Rose wasn't willing to give up without a fight. She hit him, pinched, scratched and bit. It was difficult to keep them contained without resorting to violence. Fascinating how such a petite body could suddenly gain strength.

"Calm down, Rose," he yelled to bring her to her senses.

"You're not telling me what to do anymore," Rose screamed. "You treat me like trash, make me look like a villain, but I haven't done anything to anyone." She struck at him again and Aemond intercepted the blow. She was shaking with anger and her breathing was rapid. Rose needed to calm down before she hurt her child, his child, their child.

Her punches caught him in the face and he felt his eye patch fly away. Rose jumped in shock and stared at the spot where his second eye should be. Hadn't she seen it yet? He did not know. He wasn't ashamed of the way his face looked thanks to his nephew. Now he saw it as a weapon against his enemies, who hopped away like frightened rabbits at the sight of him.

Now she saw the real him.

He pushed her back and she fell backwards onto the bed, him on top of her.

"Let me go. Get off me, Aemond," she ordered, but he didn't think about it. He pushed her wrists down and pushed her onto the bed.

"Do you want your child to die?" Aemond asked, looking down at her. She still resisted, but his words reached her. "The Maester just wants to check that he or she is okay. That you are okay. Don't be unreasonable, Rose."

Her resistance weakened, to the point where she lay on the bed beneath him like a lifeless doll, looking up at him in desperation.

"I hate it here so much," she began. "Please release me, let me go, give me some freedom, I beg you, Aemond," she begged and Aemond was pained by the sight of her. But he was too selfish, too afraid of losing her again, that he wanted to let her go. could let go. He needed her. He missed her. Even as she lay here beneath him, so close, she was so far away. And it was largely his fault. "Do you hate me so much? Do you want to see me suffer?"

"I don't hate you. I could never," He confessed and he knew that he was revealing his weakness for her, but he didn't care at that moment. He gave her a knife, a dagger, and he would run in gratefully if she wanted him to, she had dominated him so much by now.

He thought he was in control. But in the end it was Rose who had control over him. 

"But I can't let you go," he spoke, looking into her eyes. He saw her disappointment. "I'm doing this to protect you too."

"Protect me?" Rose breathed. "From what? From who?"

Aemond examined her beautiful face. "From these who want to harm you. You said it yourself."

Rose looked at him in surprise. Her eyes looked tired. "So you believe me after all?"

He didn't give her an answer, but he didn't need to. The four bodies were proof enough and consistent with Rose's story. Yes, she had tried to leave him, but that didn't change the fact that someone had tried to kill her.

"I will protect you, Rose."

She looked at him incredulously and snorted. "And who will protect me from you?"

Her question hit him harder than he expected. Was he really the monster she painted him as? Had he really become so cruel and cold that he only did wrong? Anger and bitterness had guided him in the beginning, but he wondered if his pride had ultimately harmed him more than protected him. He didn't want to appear weak, not in front of her or anyone else, but no matter how hard he tried to put a wall up between the two of them, it always ended up breaking down.

"You scare me, Aemond. I don't recognize you," Rose breathed as her eyes watched him. She tried to touch his face, but he pushed her hand down.

"I guess you're not the only one," he said, seeing her sad look. She should stop looking at him like that. He couldn't stand her looks anymore.

What had become of them? What had become of him? Sometimes he didn't recognize himself. Sometimes he was afraid of the person he had become.

He pulled away from her and got off the bed. Her eyes followed his movements.

"If I allow you to leave these rooms with two servants, provided under constant supervision, will you cooperate with the maester and allow yourself to be examined?"

Rose saw him surprised and for a moment she seemed to think. She probably wondered if he was trying to trick her, to deceive her, but he meant the words as he said them. He would give her more freedom if it made her feel better.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and Aemond exhaled contentedly. He ran his gaze over her once more before leaving the chambers and ordering the maester to enter and continue the examination.

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @malfoytargaryen

[lighthouselesbian]

for the record this was about putting miya folick’s gorgeous cover of i’ll follow you into the dark into my AE playlist

nothing makes me feel more galaxy brained then when i put a song on a playlist bc it fits the vibes super well and then apple music goes “this song is already here are u sure” like damn past me knew what tf was up !

[painterofstars]

i held my tongue as she told me, son, fear is the heart of love

[so-long-soldier-writes]

comfort

kai parker

summary: a flashback to his childhood. a terrifying memory he thought he had repressed.

tags: dead dove, non-graphic descriptions, physical abuse, child abuse, sexual abuse, nonconsensual / noncon, underage, parent/child incest, mother/son incest, hand-jobs, blowjobs, repressed emotions, minor character death, sociopathy, anger/rage

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this not an 'x reader' fic, however, i may write a separate one-shot where he does talk about this stuff with her, and actually gets some real comfort from a person he's grown to trust.

also, i don't know why i wrote this. i don't know why i'm posting it, either. but i do feel like writing and reading this kind of fiction has helped me with my own traumas, in some way. i don't understand it, but as long as it's recognized as fiction, i don't think it's wrong to engage with it. if it bothers anyone, i can take it down, or move the page break to the top, before the warnings.

On the night of his mother’s death, Kai had never felt so numb. 

He was crowded in a room with his father and seven siblings, all of them sobbing and sneezing as they huddled around her body, willing her back from the hands of death, but he felt numb. Nothing. No sadness, no joy, no emotion at all. He stared at her, mind completely void, as he tried to think up a good memory of the woman, as prompted by his father to his siblings. 

“Everyone share your favorite memory with her,” he said in between sobs. The children immediately started spilling out their hearts. Snot dribbled from their noses and dripped down to the carpet. The oldest two were dry heaving in an attempt to catch their breaths, and the youngest were crying. His twin sister held one, while his father held the other, but nothing helped. “Malachai?” His father turned to him, “your turn to share something.”

Kai had nothing. When he opened his mouth, his tongue tripped over the first word - the I, in ‘I don’t know’.

“Malachai?” He asked again, nostrils beginning to flare. If Kai didn’t say something soon, he knew what would happen. But when he tried to speak, nothing would come out. “Would you give us a moment?’” He addressed his children.

Joshua took his eldest son by the hand then, gripping tightly, and dragged him to the garage. There, he slapped him across the face, pushed him up against the wall, and hit him in the stomach. Everything he needed to say, he said in his actions, and that was enough. Kai had grown used to his father communicating with his fists. 

“Twenty-four hours,” he spat, wetness hitting Kai’s cheek. The boy wasted no time getting up and heading to his room, where he’d be for the next day. Only this time, he wondered what it would be like without his mother. 

---

Madeline never had the same relationship with her firstborn son as she did her first daughter. They were twins, and expected to be loved the same, though that quickly proved not the case as they grew older. 

The change started around the time they turned four. At this time, his sister, Josette had begun to develop her magic, but Kai was never able. First impressions were that Kai was simply behind his sister in his development, but soon, whispers of something more sinister were born. 

At age six, the coven’s deepest fear was confirmed as true: Kai was a siphon, and could not produce magic himself. Then, like a black sheep, he was casted out from his family. His sister could not play with him, his coven could not give him affection, his own mother was not allowed to touch him. They feared he’d steal their magic and hurt them in the process, and so contact became forbidden. 

Madeline cried when told she could not reach for the child she bore. Her own flesh and blood, yet if she touched him, he could cause her harm. Her relationship with him became an obsession. She would cast him aside like the rest of the coven, but when given even a second alone, she’d return to him, coddling him with affection. She craved closeness she could not give, and her desires made her spiral out of control. 

Malachai was eight when his mother’s attention became one of his greatest threats. What happened was something he didn’t understand until much later in life, a sinking feeling in the soul as the memory resurfaces. Buried deep to protect himself and only remembered when he came across an old story she used to tell him to lull him to sleep.

Joshua would sit beside her as she’d read the story of Peter Pan, and she wouldn’t dare to brush the hair from his face. She wouldn’t kiss him goodnight, nor would she tuck the blanket up to his chin. She put her son to bed, and then she and her husband would leave the room. 

But on nights where Joshua had meetings with the coven leaders, and Madeline would stay home with her three children, she would visit him in the night. The woman would creak the door open very quietly and check to see if the boy was awake. Usually, he’d be fast asleep. Madeline would then crawl up next to him on the bed and trace her fingertips along his blanket. If Malachai did not stir, she’d slip a hand underneath the sheets and feel for his soft skin. First on his stomach, but her hand always traveled further than a mother’s should. One hand held his waist while the other felt his length, at the time, barely three inches. Her heart swelled with pride - three inches at eight years meant he’d grow much thicker by puberty. Girls would be tripping over their feet to sleep with him, she’d smile to herself. 

Sometimes while she was rubbing him, Kai would wake up. He would be confused at her presence in his room, but he’d never question it the way she held a finger to her lips. 

“I just missed you, baby boy,” she’d say, “mommy never gets to see her baby anymore.” And Kai, with a deep suspicion that something was wrong, yet never knowing what, didn’t ever ask. It was nice to receive attention from his mother, he had convinced himself. 

But by age twelve, it wasn’t such a nice feeling anymore. Madeline snuck into his room whenever possible, her head immediately ducking underneath his blankets. Her wet mouth would wrap around his length, a whole inch larger now, and pleasure him in a way he didn’t understand. If he fought against her, or begged her to let him sleep, she’d shush him and continue without a care. She called these nights her Mommy Time, and if Malachai interrupted, she’d grow inpatient with him. Twice she slapped him across the face before putting her hands back on him. So, he eventually learned to let her have her way. 

At fourteen, like most children his age, Kai was a tenacious kid. The more he acted out against his father, the more time he served in punishment. And every time he would be barred from being with his family, his mother would be his only visitor. Kai hated every aspect of his home life. He hated his siblings’ chatter, he hated his father’s hand, he hated his mother’s tongue. Most of his days were spent in his room, by choice or by rule, leaving him to rot through his teenage years. 

Ten years had passed from the date he was banned from human contact. Eight had gone by since his mother took it upon herself to break that rule.

Madeline would have other children as the years went by. Year after year, his father would impregnate her, and she’d bear him another. It soon became more unusual to see her not pregnant than carrying. But whether she had just given birth or was still round, she would still come to see him in the night. Sometimes, her breasts would be full and leaking milk, and she would offer him a taste, but Kai would narrow his eyes and shake his head. The woman would shrug and continue her ministrations on his lower body. Kai would squeeze his eyes shut until the sinful pleasure lulled him to sleep. 

A few times throughout his teenage years, Kai would ask questions about the rituals. Most of the time, she would refuse to answer, again, with a finger to her lips, but sometimes she’d give him something vague to chew on, 

“This is common for boys your age, exploring your body. You’d be learning about this in school if you hadn’t gotten expelled. Since you can’t learn it there, I’m teaching you.” 

Another common one would be, “you should be lucky to have someone touching you at all. Your father has forbidden it, and if you are to tell, we’d both be in trouble.”

So Kai never told. Because as much as he feared nights with his mother, he feared days with his father more. He knew, partly, that his mother was right. If she weren’t going to show him attention, he’d never get it again. 

Nothing changed at sixteen. Nothing, except for the fact that he’s longer now and produces more. The feeling of his mother’s hand still feels wrong upon his body. Though with nothing to compare it to, nor anyone with whom he could discuss it, he doesn’t. 

A couple of times, he’s felt a tension in his stomach not caused by her unlawful touches. Something needy from inside himself. He tries to ignore it, but ignoring it, he learns, only makes it worse. The few times he’s reached for himself, to follow some internal instinct he doesn’t understand, he’s retracted his hands immediately. The trashcan in his bathroom soon finds a new residency beside his bed.

Eighteen isn’t a healthy year for Malachai. He’s skin and bones, and face is a sickly pale color. Old clothes hang off his shoulders, barely fitting his frame. Bruises cover his body, both those visible in their purplish tint, and those invisible, known only in his mind. 

His parents don’t seem to notice his decline. If they do, they don’t care. That is, until his little brother, Joey, pokes his arm one time, and looks up to his father. “Malachai doesn’t look so good, daddy.” 

Joshua’s eyes go wide at the sight of his younger son touching his eldest. He sweeps him off his feet and scolds Kai, “do better.” Like Kai can control the way he looks when his father more often beats than feeds him. 

After that, though, his parents give a little more attention to his appearance. His father makes sure he eats three meals, and his mother applies a salve to the bruises that his clothes don’t hide. 

By twenty, he’s back to a normal weight. For the first time in years, he feels a strength accompany him, something he refuses to let slip through his fingers. His mind wants to fight; his body wants to escape. He’s been held down and tormented for twelve years. Twelve years too many, and won’t stand for a single one more. 

Twenty, it seems, is a year of change for more than just Kai. The year prior, his mother fell pregnant again, but that time, with twins. When the ultrasound of the unborn fetuses was produced, the coven had a small celebration, as if this was something they’ve been waiting for. Kai, feeling confused, angry, humiliated, and anxious all in one, watched from the window. The longer he stared, the more numb he began to feel. 

The twins’ arrival stole a lot of their mother’s attention. They were restless children, always seeming to need something from her. But despite their constant cries, she still made time to visit him in his bed. Fewer nights she’d come, though she demanded from him the same. So he let his mother do as she always had done, but now, instead of squeezing his eyes shut in the midst of the pain, he let his mind run wild. The pain turned to anger - red hot and eating him alive. Revenge carved itself a corner in his head, and hours were spent planning how he’d get it. The more space it took, the less he cared for other things, but Kai didn’t feel it necessary to occupy himself with anything else. In that moment, he chose to survive. 

Later that year, his planning was cut short by his mother’s death. She went in her sleep, in her own bed, and beside her husband. There was no warning, except for a mild flu she had earlier in the week. It was sudden, and unexplainable, but the doctor on call assured it was at least painless. Kai’s eye twitched at the news. Some dark part of him wanted her to suffer in her last moments. Just a little slice of what she made him feel would be enough retribution. Yet, she never paid. And now she was gone. 

Twenty-four hours later, when Kai had served his punishment in silence, and was allowed to return to his mother’s bedside, the paramedics came to take her body. He didn’t care to see it, nor smell the rotting corpse his father had probably slept beside that night. The paramedics entered quietly and worked swiftly, as if spelled to not ask questions. A doctor spoke to Joshua in hushed silence, careful to not let children overhear. The children, herded in a corner by Josette, only stared at the scene of their mother being carried out. His twin sister had tears in her eyes, but none of them fell. She locked eyes with Kai. A face wet with rain met a desert. She looked away in disgust, while he looked down, feeling nothing. 

“All due respect, Mr. Parker, if you had taken her to a doctor, we may have been able to catch if something was wrong earlier,” Kai heard the doctor say. His heartbeat quickens knowing there was a way to prevent this. Maybe she did suffer. 

“Madeline hated doctors. I’d never make her do something she wouldn’t want to do.”

“It might have saved her life. You can’t have eight children without any medical intervention and expect no complications, sir.”

“I would never go against the will of my wife. She hated modern medicine. Speaking of, release her body to me after you find the cause of death. I would like to bury her in my family’s tradition.”

“Very well, Mr. Parker. And again, I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Kai watched the body as it was wheeled out of the house, knowing in only a short time, it would be brought right back. His mother would be buried alongside the rest of the family, and the coven would gather to celebrate her life. Kai looked over to the small gravesite by the side of the house. Flowers had grown atop it, but they wouldn’t be there for much longer. 

When paramedics finally began to drive away, Josette cracked. A whine escaped her lips, and it quickly became a sob. She fell to her knees. Her father and their siblings rushed to her side, offering comfort he’d never felt. Comfort, to mourn the loss of a woman who had only ever hurt him. Kai’s throat dries. His head hurts, and there’s a pang in his heart. But it’s not for love, nor mourning of the woman, but for rage. Rage that his childhood was so different from his twin’s. Jealousy, anger, resentment, towards all those in his family who didn’t share the same fate of his youth. Kai’s need for revenge didn’t dissipate after his mother’s death, though that’s what he had expected. In fact, it only grew. 

It became his only comfort. Something he never felt from his family, but could find deep within himself. But to have it, he’d have to separate himself even more than he already was. A small price to pay: to sacrifice his sanity for survival. It was a price he was willing to pay. 

[azzuredragonstrikemain]

Hold on I still need you

WARNINGS:Angst, no comfort, character death, trauma. Mentions of war.

She lay there, her pale scales no longer hardened. If you touched them it would flake off her skin. Her two tails, languidly twitched despite the poison coursing through her. Looking to her brilliant blue flamed eyes that flickered from human to slitted. Her son stood beside her, a worried look in his eyes, eyes that resembled his father before he was turned into a vampire spawn. Pale scale like his mothers littered his cheeks and arms in patches.

The boys eyes glanced in my direction. “Is there truly no cure?” He asked. Silvanus steel my heart. Shaking my head, “I’m afraid it is far too late. The poison has already settled in her heart.” Deep sympathy held deep in my being. Looking back to his mother his brow furrowed.

The two of us stood there myself not knowing what to say. That is until his mother spoke, “I know what your thinking , but even Withers can not bring me back.” her voice calm. Her son looked to his mother. I could feel his want to hug her but then the poison would spread to him. “So your just going to lay down and die!” He growled his aggression coming out. His mother laughed at his aggression, looking so fondly at him she smiled then stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a good life, and that’s enough for me.”

Her son gritted her teeth, his nails sharpened and curved. “What about father? Shouldn’t he get to say goodbye.”

The boy didn’t know about his fathers history of pain and his mother was trying to save him the trouble of feeling this. However I resonated with their son. Astarion should get a chance to say goodbye to his lover and wife. However she was insistent on nobody being here, save for me, but her son found out. He was smart and compassionate like his mother.

Turning her eyes back to her son she smiled. “Seren, take care of everyone.” With that she teleported him out of the room. Now it was just us two. Looking to me her eyes filled with tears.

“Halsin, I’m scared. I’m so scared of this. Scared of death and what will happen. Scared of not seeing everyone again. Scared of leaving everyone and thing behind! Of never seeing them again. And gods Astarion! I won’t see him ever again. ” revealing her fears. My eyes filled with sadness. I did not have wisdom to share with her but I sent a silent prayer to Silvanus asking him to guide her to wherever she may go.

Slowly my eyes shot up in shock. “Tav, what is going on?” my voice in shock. Lifting her hand up from the covers.

A forlorn smile graces her lips. “Ah I didn’t think I’d get this.” Her hand started turning to bubbles as fire swirled around it. Her brilliant blue hues looked to me again. It appeared as if she wanted to say something but then she smiled. Closing her eyes she smiled one last time before her last breath escaped her.

Her remains floated as if they were wind swirling around myself and then traveling to the open window.

—

Astarion's hair is ruffled by the wind. Looking up he saw blue flames the color of his love eyes and sea foam bubbles intertwined. “How odd.” he mumbled but then he gritted his teeth. The scar that once held the infernal writing had long been replaced by something else. Upon his request he had asked his love to carve her own sigil onto his back. He remembers how she gave her tail to him and he remembers the taste of her blood on his tongue. He remembers the tears she shed for his pain.

The sigil on his back burned but then it quickly faded. Breathing in through his teeth, he steadied his breath. "Father!" red hues looked to Seren, his sons face distraught. "Its mother," as soon as those words were uttered the vampire ran to back home his son not far behind him. Running into his home he ran up the stair piratically throwing his door open.

Halsin stood there in the fading light, tears in his eyes. Looking to his friends face he knew that the boy told him. "She, she said that that it was just a cold. Nothing more." Astarions shaky voice made Halsin turn. "She said that it was nothing more than a cold." his light steps went towards their once shared bed. "She said that-" his voice breaking the more he approached. The large elf grabbed hold of Astarion hugging him in his arms. "This can'-can't be happening." the pale elf' breathing hard. Knowing the signs, Halsin pulled Astarion down so that he was kneeling. Screams of grief came from his fathers being. "No, no, she's not gone, she can't be!" his father yelled.

Serens heart broke, "Tell me it's not true, please tell me it's all a stupid joke. Halsin!"

"Brother," his sister yawned, immediately shutting the door he looked to his young sister. "Why's father yelling?" she asked. Picking up his sister he walked back to their room. Her siren tail lightly tapping against his side. "Lets leave father to himself for now."

Years had passed, and Astarion had changed. It was almost like he had done the ascendant ceremony. His hair had grown not having the urge to cut it. Tav was always curious what it would look like if he had long hair. If not for their children and their friends the pale elf would have fallen apart completely.

It seems father has returned from another battle. Seren thought as he watched his father and the army march through the street. Sighing he watched his fathers forlorn face. Mom, why didn't you and your sister ever make up?

His fathers red hues glanced up to the sky but Seren stood up as he felt his scales twitch at the same time a spark lighted up in Astarion' red hues. Looking across the way from his apartment he saw a glimpse of someone. Shifting his attention back to his father, the long haired elf was also turned to the apartment.

Could Marle' wish truly come true! Did mom reincarnate!

------

I might make a part two, it depends on whether or not people like this.

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

I Will Follow You into the Dark

Written By: Benjamin Gibbard

Artist: Death Cab for Cutie

Released: 2006

Even on a concept album whose main theme is death, “I’ll Follow You Into The Dark” is a standout moving song about the transcendental power of love, even when that boundary is death. This song was recorded unexpectedly while the band was having technical difficulties in studio. Chris Walla, Death Cab for Cutie’s lead guitarist and producer, said the following. “We were going to track the vocal for another song and there was something screwy happening with the headphone mix. We were having problems, so I said, “Ben, this is gonna be a few minutes. Take a break.” Ben’s version of taking a break while we addressed the headphone problem was to pick up this Stella guitar that he loves and start playing this song we were planning on recording sometime later during the sessions. He was still coming through the vocal mic as he was playing this, and it was sounding really cool to me, so I went up and said, “Let’s track this real quick,” and we did and that’s what’s on the record. It was a mono recording with no effects. Nothing. I added a little compression and de-essed it a bit. It’s really weird. It’s totally there and it’s happening.”

[Verse 1] Love of mine, someday you will die But I'll be close behind, I'll follow you into the dark No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark [Chorus] If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied Illuminate the "no"s on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark [Verse 2] In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black And I held my tongue as she told me, "Son Fear is the heart of love," so I never went back [Chorus] If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied Illuminate the "no"s on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark [Verse 3] You and me have seen everything to see From Bangkok to Calgary and the soles of your shoes Are all worn down, the time for sleep is now But it's nothing to cry about 'cause we'll hold each other soon In the blackest of rooms [Chorus] And if Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied And illuminate the "no"s on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark [Outro] Then I'll follow you into the dark

I Say a Little Prayer

Written By: Hal David & Burt Bacharach

Artist: Aretha Franklin

Released: 1968

Originally recorded by: Dionne Warwick, 1967

Cover included: Dianna Agron for Glee, 2009

Originally written for Dionne Warwick by Burt Bacharach and Hal David in 1966, Aretha and her ‘Sweet Inspirations’ were fooling around before a show and warming up by singing “Say A Little Prayer” when it became obvious that they should make their own version. A second chance for Bacharach who wasn’t happy with his original version and told the L.A Times: “I thought I blew it. The tempo seemed too fast. I never wanted the record to come out. So what happens? They put out the record and it was a huge hit. I was wrong.” Although Aretha’s never quite reached the fame of Warwick’s version, it did reach 10 on the Hot 100 chart and 3 on the R&B chart. Even Bacharach finds Aretha’s version more pleasing: “Aretha just made a far better record.”

[Intro] (I say a little prayer for you) [Verse 1] The moment I wake up Before I put on my makeup (Makeup) I say a little (Prayer for you) And while I'm combing my hair now And wondering what dress to wear now (Wear now) I say a little (Prayer for you) [Chorus] Forever (Forever), and ever (Yeah) You'll stay in my heart and I will love you Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever) We never will part, oh, how I love you Together (Together), together (Together) That's how it must be to live without you Would only mean heartbreak for me (Ooh-hoo) [Verse 2] I run for the bus, dear But while riding I think of us, dear (Us, dear) I say a little (Prayer for you) And at work I just take time And all through my coffee break time (Break time) I say a little (Prayer for you) [Chorus] Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever) You'll stay in my heart and I will love you Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever) We never will part, oh, how I love you Together (Together), together (Together) That's how it must be to live without you Would only mean heartbreak for me (Nobody but me) Forever (Ever), and ever (Ever) You'll stay in my heart and I will love you Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever) We never will part, oh, how I love you Together (Together), together (Together) That's how it must be to live without you Would only mean heartbreak for me (Ooh, ooh-hoo) [Bridge] My darling, believe me (Believe me) For me, there is no one but you Please love me true I'm in love with you (Answer my prayer) Answer my prayer, baby (Answer my prayer) Say you'll love me true (Answer my prayer) Answer my prayer, baby (Answer my prayer) [Chorus] (Ey) Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever, ever) You'll stay in my heart and I will love you Forever (Forever), and ever (Ever) We never will part, oh, how I love you Together (Together), together (Together) That's how it must be to live without you Would only mean heartbreak for me (Oh, nobody but me) [Bridge] My darling, believe me (Believe me) For me, there is no one but you Please love me true [Outro] This is my prayer (Answer my prayer, baby) Answer my prayer now, baby (Answer my prayer, baby) This is my prayer (Answer my prayer, baby) Answer it right now, baby (Answer my prayer, baby) Say you'll love me true (Answer my prayer, baby) This is my prayer, baby (Answer my prayer, baby) I'm in love with you (Answer my prayer)

[exmcrtis]

Love of mine, someday you will die But I'll be close behind I'll follow you into the dark No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white Just our hands clasped so tight Waiting for the hint of a spark

If Heaven and Hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black I held my tongue as she told me "Son, fear is the heart of love" So I never went back

If Heaven and Hell decide That they both are satisfied Illuminate the No's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark

sutton & jäger || @backmaskcd

[dizzy-boy]

Late night Good Omens theory because I can’t sleep:

Okay so I was listening to “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie, which I’m like pretty sure is on Crowley’s playlist?? Or maybe Aziraphales I can’t remember but for the sake of the theory let’s say Crowley’s.

Anyway there’s this one lyric, “in Catholic school / as vicious as Roman rule / I got my knuckles bruised / by a lady in black / and I held my tongue / as she told me, “son / fear is the heart of love” / so I never went back”

And okay I don’t know how to organize my thoughts here but like??? This is so Crowley. Like what if he, after questioning the Almighty about the idiocy of only keeping the galaxy or whatever around for like 6 thousand years, was punished/reprimanded (by the Metatron potentially?) and then told that “fear is the heart of love” or something and that you must fear God in order to love them or whatever, and that was the start of Crowley’s “sauntering vaguely downwards”???

In hindsight this isn’t so much a theory as it is a ramble because at least half of this is confirmed but idk brainrot. Also the song is really good. It made me physically ache with pain the first time I listened to it because of how much it fits for Crowley & Aziraphale

Shit I just realized that if this song was on Asiraphales playlist then that has very different implications like maybe the plot of s3??? When (because I know it’s a when, not an if) he questions the final battle or Armageddon or apocalypse (I forgot what they’re calling it now) and is then potentially reprimanded?

[little-peril-stories]

Character Backstory Playlist Tag

I was tagged in this post by @mysticstarlightduck. Thanks for the tag!

Rules: Pick 5 songs you feel represent/inspired your OCs' backstories, or just otherwise fit their past's vibe/aesthetic. Choose as many or as few OCs as you want.

I'm leaving this an OPEN TAG - please play if you want, and let me know if you do! 💕

So I did once make a playlist for The Prince of Thieves (find it here), but it is a typical WIP playlist - not backstory-focused. (I *did* steal a few songs from there, though.) So this was a fun challenge!

Will and Jamie Wardrew

Tough to be a Dreamer by Felix Hagan & The Family

I built my castle on broken dreams, and as time goes by, I must admit it seems that I was sold a lie.

In the Meantime by Randall Kent

You’ve got a friend when times get mean; yeah, in the meantime, I’m on your team.

Same Suit, Different Tie by The Maine

All done up in my hand-me-down clothes, shaking off the dust and assuming a pose. Well, these threads are so old, but they'll never know. No one will ever know.

Is It Really You? by Loathe and Sleep Token

Face away, deal with the pain your own way.

Some Days by Brent Morgan

Some days I'm overwhelmed. Some days I'm lost inside this hell.

Bree Cooper / Breanna Hatchett

Sleepless Nights by Faber Drive

Put yourself in her position; all she needs is recognition. Love's not enough when you say it. Don't you know you gotta mean it?

Because of You by Kelly Clarkson

I will not make the same mistakes that you did; I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery… I was so young; you should have known better than to lean on me.

Running Away by Midnight Hour

I'll never let you find me; I'm leaving you behind with the past. No, I won't look back.

All I've Ever Known from Hadestown

I was alone so long, I didn't even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn't even know that I was cold.

(Un)Lost by The Maine

And you are not allowed to be anybody else. Control what you can and confront what you can't, and always remember how lucky you are to have yourself.

Colette Meunier

Boulangerie by Recent Rumours

She's gone, she's gone, she's gone; she's not coming back.

The Man by Taylor Swift

I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man.

mars by YUNGBLOOD

She can't be herself when she's somebody else... Do you feel like you're irrelevant?

Perfect by Simple Plan

Hey, Dad... Did I grow up according to plan? Now it's just too late, and we can't go back. I'm sorry I can't be perfect.

Safe by All Time Low

Gotta take your time, find your space.

Geoff Marks

3 Hours of White Noise

Bonus Songs

Jamie & Will: I Steal Everything from Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier

Want food, but got no money? I’m screwed, or so it would seem… That’s why I came up with this brilliant scheme! Just steal everything!

Bree & Colette: What the Hell by Avril Lavigne

All my life I've been good, but now I'm thinking, "What the hell?"

Will: I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie

In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule, I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black, and I held my tongue as she told me, "Son, fear is the heart of love," so I never went back.

Will: Where Dreams Go to Die by The Downtown Fiction

Teacher thinks you're rude, says, "I don't like your attitude." Well, maybe you're just condescending. But bring us up to follow rules and throw us all in cubic rooms - but we're not gonna sit by idle.

Breanna H: According to You by Orianthi

According to you, I'm stupid, I'm useless, I can't do anything right

Me begging my sisters for song recs because I had NO CLUE…