#but this is a longer list of side characters than i usually come up with

[nymphomatique]

wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻

this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.

cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!

“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”

miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’

you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.

peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.

you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.

immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”

you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.

you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.

a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”

miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”

you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.

after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.

peter 🚮

| is that fucking o’hara..?

| you’re fucking with me???

| fucking whore

| you sleep with nerds now??

you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.

you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.

fucking dweeb.

[torchwood-99]

There's a bit of a role reversal with Faramir and Eowyn, in terms of how their narratives include tropes and plot points that are often traditionally applied to characters of the other sex.

Eowyn goes to war because she refuses to be left behind to be burned inside the house when the battle is done, as is often the fate of women.

Faramir actually is nearly burned alive at the hands of the patriarch of his family when said patriarch believes the battle is over and hope is lost. While Eowyn is out on the battlefield, fighting, Faramir is stuck inside the home, burning.

Between the two, Eowyn is the one we see go on more of an inner journey. She changes more over the narrative, and has to deal more with her own flaws and personal demons, as well as the injustices inflicted upon her. The climax of her story comes with a great moment of heroism and courage in battle. She is rescued by a hobbit, but as an ally in battle, not as a damsel in distress.

Faramir in the books doesn't feel tempted by the ring, and is almost a paragon of virtue. About as much as a Man in Middle Earth can be. He's closer to Arwen and Galadriel than Eowyn is, in his near perfection, in how he inspires and guides others. He is also rescued by a hobbit, but in that moment he is helpless, a damsel in distress. He is rescued because others love him for his virtue and goodness.

So often it's the other way round. Not only is the woman usually the one trapped inside, in need of rescue, while the man is out there fighting, the woman's heroism traditionally comes from the list of virtues she possesses, while the man's heroism comes from his deeds and the things he accomplishes. The man fights, the woman inspires.

But during the Battle of Pelennor fields, it is Eowyn who fights, and while she does inspire Merry, she inspires him not as a paragorn, but as an example of courage that Merry finds himself compelled to live up to. He is inspired to fight by her side, instead of fighting for her.

Faramir is sick and unconscious. His agency is denied him by his father, who decides on his behalf there's nothing left for him to live for. And it is a rush for the heroes; Pippin and Beregond, to save Faramir, and it is explicitly stated that Beregond only broke the law because he was inspired to do so out of his great love for Faramir, which is shared by all. In that moment, Faramir's role is closer to the traditional fairy tale princess, whose goodness inspires the heroes into fighting for her during her peril.

And afterwards, it is Eowyn who has to fight to find meaning in life again, to choose joy and hope over despair, which Faramir, with his loving kindness, wisdom, and gentleness, inspires her to do.

I love that, and love thinking on how that affected their relationship going forward.

Eowyn must have liked that with Faramir, she's not being married to someone who will require her to take on every aspect of the so called "woman's role" (necessary, but limiting) which has been inflicted on her at her own expense by the men in her life, so they can be free to partake in the "man's role". Perhaps in turn, Eowyn's predisposition for more martial pursuits; even if she has embraced healing and gardening and no longer lives for battle, would also mean she can take on some of the certain necessary duties that Faramir finds taxing.

Between the two, there must have been a more equal division of labour and responsibilities, and therefore more freedom on both sides. Neither one of them fully suits the roles that society has assigned to them due to their gender, and in marrying each other, they no longer have to.

[zephyrchama]

ZephyrChama's Obey Me! Masterpost

Updated October 7th, 2024.

Hi! I'm zephyrchama. I don't read much fanfic but it seemed fun and I wanted to try getting closer to the fandom, so I started writing Obey Me stuff as a self indulgent treat. As this is a side blog that I never expected to get followers, I can't follow or like anybody's posts or send asks from it, only with my main blog. I've also started writing some Twisted Wonderland stuff on another blog.

More info about me can be found at the bottom of this post.

You can find almost everything I've written in these links, sorted from shortest content to longest. Though, it is possible I've missed a few stories.

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Headcanons

Self explanatory, these are headcanons! My shortest posts, some are even just a sentence long.

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Longer Headcanons and Super Short Writings

This is for more fleshed out ideas: headcanons that are 2 paragraphs and longer or really short stories/ideas.

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Short Stories / Detailed Headcanon Lists

These are posts with multiple paragraphs. Detailed headcanon lists with at least a paragraph per character and fics that aren't a page long.

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Fics

Full one shot stories.

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Ask Requests

Obey Me! posts that are submitted requests.

My ask box is always open and I"m happy to receive requests! Please know that it may take me literal ages to respond as there is a large backlog, but I earnestly think about every submission and greatly appreciate each ask. If you praise me, I'm probably going to hoard the ask and smile and giggle every time I see it.

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Series

Multi-part fanfics. Usually one segment for each character or segments that can be read as one-shots but are part of a bigger tale.

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More about me!

I've been playing Obey Me! since literally the day the OG was released. I am a hardcore cosplayer so whenever a convention is coming up this blog will get slow as I focus on sewing. I'm close to 30 years old. I'm ace, so this blog has suggestive content but won't really get more intense than that. Everything on this blog is SFW. I have an A03 account courtesy of a friend who referred me, but it's pretty barren and mostly used to cross post more popular stories. Anything explicit I write will go on the AO3 with proper tags.

My asks are open but expect a really slow response because I am so shy hkgahkj. I take requests but no guarantee I'll write them, or it may take several months. I don't do much proofreading at all so I'm very open to constructive critique, if you see a typo please let me know! Thanks for reading.

[yu-huuuu]

Hey there! How about having the madara, hashirama and itachi's way of celebrating an anniversary with his wife as headcanons? Thank you!

[ 🌸 ] oh...! If I were married I would like to go to a beach to do you know what thing… that's right, I'm talking about drinking pineapple with my partner while I tell him the gossip that my grandmother told me the other day-

characters: itachi uchiha, madara uchiha, hashirama senju

genre: fluff with a touch of comedy

warnings: none, spicy parts, reader being pampered by three adult men, happy married couple

...

...

..

.

Itachi Uchiha

—My sweet boy.

—He sleeps a little longer than usual to enjoy the warmth of the morning by your side, even though he has a whole list of plans of what he wants to do with you. —When he feels he's had enough rest, he gets up quietly and heads to the kitchen.

—When you wake up, he brings you breakfast in bed with a smile so beautiful and bright that it makes you fall in love with him for the thousandth time.

—He gives you a shy smile if you decide to share something from your plate with him (he'll eat it, but, don't expect him not share from his own plate with you too).

—In the end, the two of you end up feeding each other while laughing like lovestruck teenagers.

—After that, he takes you to the bathroom for both of you to take a shower before starting your day.

—He is gentle as he scrubs your shoulders, back, and chest while you just sigh relaxed with his soft touches.

—Of course, he'll let you help soap up his back.

—In the end, he wraps both of you in towels before carrying you in a princess style to the bed.

—Things… happen when you get there.

—Let's just say your legs wouldn't stop trembling for a good few minutes.

—Anyway!

—You both go out to eat at a nice place.

—While eating, Itachi's free hand plays with yours under the table.

—When your stomach is satisfied along with his, you go out holding hands and walk through the park (which was surprisingly empty) before sitting on the grass under a tree. —And now it feels like a dream to Itachi. You by his side as he feels the fresh breeze. —Your head fits like a puzzle piece on Itachi's shoulder while he wraps his arm around you, resting his head on top of yours. —You stay like that for a while until Itachi tells you he has a little surprise for you. —You’re a little surprised when he takes you to a spa. —And Shisui suddenly appears, telling him that the Hokage is calling him for an emergency. —He kisses you on the forehead before telling you he'll come back for you and to relax at the spa in the meantime, giving you some money before disappearing. —You stay there, trying not to feel too disappointed but thinking it will be quick. —When you're relaxed and your hair is styled and shiny, you're surprised to see Itachi outside the place. —Waiting for you with one of his lovely smiles along with a bouquet of flowers, as if he hadn’t left you there for two hours. —"Shall we go?" he asks, giving you his hand and the bouquet to take. —On the way home, you wonder what has him so smiley until you enter the house and find out why. —He made you dinner. —Well, it looks more like a buffet with your favorite foods combined with his. —He guides you to the table and pulls out the chair for you to sit before sitting next to you. —That's when you realize it's impossible that Itachi could have done all this by himself in such a short time. —"The Hokage didn’t call you, right?" "No, but I made you dinner." —Enjoy his food, please. —He had a great time enduring Shisui’s cheesy jokes on the way home. —When you’re both satisfied, he gives you something he’s been working on for several months as a gift. —As a gift, Itachi gave you a small book in which he wrote some poems that perfectly describe the love and affection he feels for you. —Every feeling that your words, touches, and voice evoke in him is written in its pages. —It’s a very personal and special gift for him, one that he made exclusively for you and only you, and no one else. —Please! Don't cry or he might get alarmed. —Anyway!

—At night, when you enter the hallway leading to the bedroom, you’ll see a path of petals.

You let out a soft laugh when you saw the petals on the wooden floor. Your heart was pounding hard against your chest, making you feel excited.

A small blush crept up your face as you imagined what Itachi had prepared for you. "Itachi! What is all this?"

"Another gift for the most special woman in the world," he replied with his own quiet laugh while leaving several kisses on your shoulders, as far as his position behind you allowed him to reach.

The walk to the bedroom felt relatively much shorter than it had all the previous times.

You let Itachi guide you, feeling so in love while feeling his hands over yours, caressing them with his long, cold fingers as he accompanied you.

A gasp of awe escaped you when you saw the bed. There were several petals on the bed and the floor, the window curtain was open, letting the angelic moonlight into the room, making it look ethereal and so intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat when Itachi cupped your face with such tenderness. He kissed you so gently that it almost made your knees want to give out. You smiled when you felt his hands slowly and methodically undress you.

He was definitely the man of your dreams.

...

Madara Uchiha

—Many will say that Madara is already prepared to celebrate your anniversary four days in advance.

—Well, that is half true and half false.

—Don't look at me like that, the man has been preparing since the beginning of the month.

—Although…

—Don't get me started on your first anniversary (the poor guy was running around like a headless chicken since the beginning of the year. He was like that until you saw him nervous because he couldn't find a good gift for you… and there were still five months left).

—He will want to give you a special (and expensive) gift. —Although sometimes he runs out of ideas or has them but doesn't know if they are good and if you'll like them, the poor man is like: "😦, now what?"

—Sometimes he goes and asks Hashirama for suggestions (once the good man suggested for some reason that he bake a cake and bring it to you in bed as a nice surprise, he even offered to help him… it didn't go well).

—Sometimes he goes to the cemetery to talk to his brother's grave and ask for advice. He knows it's useless to ask a dead person for help, but somehow it makes him feel better and gives him more confidence with the ideas that come to his mind.

—And, in turn, it fills him with energy to continue. —Because your man may be stubborn and confident when he's on the battlefield or when he's face to face with a tailed beast, —but then you come along and weaken him, and he doesn't know what to do, aww! —Going back to before! —Girl, you hit the jackpot. —It's like it's your birthday. —He spoils you a lot, he just wants to pamper his beautiful woman (not that he doesn't do it every day, though). —He takes you to eat wherever you want and buys you whatever you want, because you know, in his words: "My wife's happiness is my happiness." —When you get back to your house, he'll ask you to stay in the room for a moment while he disappears into the bathroom. —And when he comes out with a big smile, you know he's up to something.

“What are you doing?” you asked, letting out a small breathless laugh as he held out a hand to you, which you took with amusement.

Madara smiled at the sound of your little laugh. “It’s a surprise,” he replied, looking into your eyes with love, his own body trembling with anticipation and longing at seeing the subtle playful glimmer in the rich color of your eyes.

He gently guided you towards the bathroom door while still holding your much smaller hand compared to his. Before entering, he turned to look at you, “close your eyes”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth as you did what he had asked; to tell the truth, you were excited, very excited in fact. You heard the soft sound of the door opening and then felt the gentle warmth of the steam on your face and a smell that at first, you couldn't distinguish but had escaped when the door was opened.

A smile spread across your lips from the excitement, but you held back, not wanting to ruin the surprise your husband had prepared for you.

You quickly identified the smell, it was… lavender? A soft laugh wanted to escape you, it was your favorite and your husband’s too.

You felt his body press against yours from behind, giving you a different kind of warmth than the steam. His chest found its place pressed against your back while his strong arms wrapped around you. His chin rested perfectly on your left shoulder.

When it came to him, everything felt like a puzzle; every piece always fit in its place, your hands when you interlaced your fingers, when you both hugged or when your lips met, it felt as if the world had made you for each other.

“Open your eyes”

You did.

Your eyes opened to see several petals on the floor and on the water in the bathtub. The candles lit up the bathroom, the light was soft, giving the bathroom a special and romantic touch.

“Happy anniversary, dear,” your lover whispered before making a trail of kisses on your shoulders and back. You squeezed his arms as his hands moved over your beautiful body with the sole mission of pleasing you.

...

Hashirama Senju

—Fun guy.

—He has several gift ideas he wants to make (I feel like if Hashi-Hashi had Pinterest, he would have a board specifically for ideas to make for your anniversary).

—In fact, in modern times, I can see him making ice cream with milk and crushed cookies just because he saw it while browsing the internet looking for easy desserts to make 🥺 Hashi-Hashi solves.

—Okwy, okay, okay

—Let's get to it!

—My handsome guy will wake you up a bit early to make the most of the day (he managed to escape after signing all the papers the day before and somehow left his younger brother in charge of the Hokage Tower).

—Also, he is somewhat excited and nervous about what you will say when you see his wedding anniversary gift. I mean, he spent a few months making it with such care that he fears something might go wrong.

—He insists on making you breakfast as a reward for all the times you have kindly made and prepared food for him when he has to go to work.

—But it doesn't turn out so well, you know?

—Poor thing, my boy 😭.

—Please avoid the burnt part of the egg and the overly toasted side of the bread. He did what he could 😭✨.

—After eating, you both wash the dishes (you insist on helping him after the last time you let him wash the dishes alone, he managed to break a cup… and it didn't even fall to the floor to begin with, you are still trying to figure out how he managed to break it).

—After that, you both stayed on the porch enjoying each other's presence until lunchtime.

—He will take you to the forest for a picnic lunch in nature ✨ The guy has some ideas.

—He will lean on your shoulder while nibbling on his ham sandwich (he leaves some crumbs on you, although he removes them afterward).

—After eating, he will ask for permission to lie on your thighs, he simply loves the feeling of being with you.

—You both stay talking for a while as you gently run your hands through his hair, relieving all the accumulated stress he has from his job.

—Sometimes, the leaders of other villages drain all his energy, but he keeps going, for you and for all his people!

—After that, he takes you to another place.

—He looks nervous yet excited. When you reach a part of the forest, he is practically smiling from ear to ear.

“Close your eyes”

“Why?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Just do it, I promise you won't regret it”

You smiled. Although you were nervous, you trusted your husband— whatever he was planning in that head of his.

You felt his rough hands gently taking yours to start guiding you. Some giggles escaped you when you heard him nervously trying to guide you and tell you not to trip over a rock.

Although, to be honest… you didn't feel as many leaves under your feet— could it be that Hashirama had cleaned the path you were now walking on?

Your heart bubbled at the thought of your husband trying to keep the path clean and perfect for you, and suddenly you understood why Tobirama was sometimes alone in the Hokage Tower and seemed a bit nervous when you asked about your husband's whereabouts.

A laugh threatened to escape your throat, but fortunately, you held it back. Both brothers were terrible liars, maybe it was in their genetics.

“We're here, darling,” Hashirama said excitedly. You could practically feel him bouncing a little with excitement, like an impatient child wanting to show something he was proud of.

“Alright… open your eyes”

You opened them only to marvel at the variety of vibrant colors dazzling your sight.

In front of you was a landscape with several flowers of different shades and colors. The soft scent that filled your lungs made you sigh with pleasure, freeing your mind. You vaguely wondered how you hadn't noticed the smell of the flowers before; maybe you were so focused in your mind that you didn't pay attention to it.

The gentle squeeze of Hashirama's hand softly brought you out of your thoughts. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was tinted with various colors, which only added to the beauty of the landscape before you.

“Shall we?” your husband asked, excited to show you around.

Your eyes shone, “Yes...”

And if you both did something else that afternoon, well, that would stay between you two and the flowers surrounding you.

[fluentmoviequoter]

It's Not About You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When Tim overhears his fellow police officers and your other neighbors flirting with you, he gets jealous, and takes it out on you.

Warnings: jealous!Tim (he's hot), brief angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Over the last few years of impromptu visits to the Mid-Wilshire LAPD station, you’ve gotten to know most of the front desk staff. They know you too, and you’re often wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge and wished good luck. You’ve heard the stories about the man you come to visit: how intense and grumpy he can be, but you’ve never seen that side of him for yourself.

Today, two people sit at the front desk, and you’ve never seen either before. Moving into one line, you wait until you reach the desk. You smile as you look at his name tag and are surprised to realize that you have heard his name.

“How can I help you today?” he asks, clearly displeased with his current position and forcing his smile.

“Officer Nolan, I am here to visit Officer Bradford,” you answer.

“Bradford,” Nolan repeats. “Tim Bradford?”

“That’s the one. I just need to drop something off and ask him a quick question.”

“Oh, sure,” Nolan replies. “Just fill this out for me and I’ll get you a badge.”

You nod, stepping to the side as you fill out the paperwork you haven’t seen since your first visit. Knowing that Nolan is new, though, and seeing just how busy the station is, you decide to do as he asks rather than argue with him.

“So, do you know Officer Bradford?” Nolan asks.

“I do. I’m his neighbor,” you answer.

“Ah, I see. I’m surprised someone as nice as you would intentionally visit him.”

“What does that mean?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you pass the clipboard back to him.

“Nothing, just- Hang on, I’m out of badges. Jackson, do you have visitors’ badges over there?”

“Uh, yeah,” the man beside him, Jackson apparently, answers.

“She’s here to visit Bradford,” Nolan explains.

“On purpose?” Jackson asks.

“That’s what I said!”

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, smiling.

“He’s just… grumpy, and you seem so kind and fun to be around,” Nolan replies.

“You think I’d be fun to be around?”

“I- I mean, yeah. So envisioning you and Bradford talking to each other is just weird.”

“And concerning,” Jackson adds. “Have you been tested for any cognitive issues?”

“That’s not cognitive-related, you’re just questioning if I’m a good judge of character,” you argue.

“What’s your impression of me?” Nolan inquires. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well,” you begin, tapping the desk as you think.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim looks down at his watch before glancing at the door. You should be here by now; your text said ten minutes, and it’s been twice that. Tim abandons the conversation he’s been ignoring and walks to the door behind the desk. He hears you say why you’re there, but when Nolan starts talking to you about how different you are from Tim and then dips into what sounds like flirting, Tim's jaw tightens as he listens.

“As much fun as this has been,” you say with a chuckle, “I’m really late, and-“

“Bradford hates that. Trust me, I know,” Nolan interjects. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I do. Thank you, Officer Nolan.”

“John.”

Tim watches you smile as you use Nolan’s first name, and his nostrils flare. Usually, he can recognize his own emotions (and he’d admit - to you, at least - that he doesn’t have much emotional range). Right now, he can’t place the feelings he’s experiencing watching you and Nolan.

“Uh, Tim?” you ask, stepping through the door to go to the bullpen.

“Hey,” Tim replies, turning quickly. He picks up a folder and adds, “Everything okay? Took you longer than usual.”

You look at the folder in his hand and answer, “Yeah. My favorite cop wasn’t at the front desk so I actually had to go through the whole visitor thing.”

“I’m not your favorite cop?” Tim asks.

“Depends on the day,” you reply, smiling as he steps beside you.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when you look over at him, you’re surprised to see him looking straight ahead, bending the folder with a tight grip. You stop, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Never been better,” Tim answers. “Why’d you stop by?”

“Oh. I wanted to let you know that Kojo is at my house, but also have a question.”

“Then ask.”

You bristle slightly at Tim’s disinterested tone, but you know his job is tough, and he’s probably had a long day.

“Do you-“

“Bradford!” someone calls. “Let’s go!”

Tim looks toward you, and you say, “Go ahead. My question can wait. Have a good day, Tim.”

“You too,” he mutters.

Tim takes the time to watch you leave, despite his seeming indifference. When you stop by the desk to say bye to Nolan, Tim destroys the folder as he realizes what he feels. Tim Bradford is jealous. Worse, he’s jealous of a rookie.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo is on a leash in your front yard, and you smile as you watch him jump after a ball. Tim lives directly beside you, so you’ll know when he gets home. Hopefully, the rest of his shift went okay, and he’s in a better mood now.

A deep voice calls your name, and you look away from Kojo. Your neighbor from the other side stops on the sidewalk before your house to continue talking to you.

“Hey! How are you?” you respond, staying by your porch.

“Better now,” he replies with a flirtatious smile.

He’s not a bad neighbor, but he makes you uncomfortable because he flirts with you every time he sees you. Having Kojo nearby makes you more comfortable, but you hope to get through the small talk and move on.

“I’m having a little get together on Friday if you’d like to come over.”

You call Kojo to your side, and he happily sits before you, another buffer between you and your neighbor. Tim’s truck turns into his driveway, and you sigh in relief. He gets out quickly, stopping by his passenger door as he watches you and Kojo. You smile, unsurprised but disappointed when Tim doesn’t return it.

“Friday?” your neighbor asks.

“I’ll, uh, I’m not sure if I can make it,” you offer. “Thanks for the invitation, though.”

“Open invite,” he adds before walking back toward his house.

“Hey, Tim,” you call, walking across your yard with Kojo’s leash in your hand. “Work go okay?”

“Yep. Thanks for taking care of Kojo.”

Tim takes the leash, his hand covering yours for just a moment. He pulls his hand away quickly and nods before he turns toward his house.

“Do you need me to watch him tomorrow?”

“No,” Tim answers, keeping his back to you. “Have a good one.”

You stand in your yard for a moment, wondering what happened. You’re starting to see the Tim Bradford that the officers at Mid-Wilshire talk about, and you’re not sure you like it.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim was hoping that you’d ask your question when he got home. When he saw your other neighbor talking to you and, from what Tim heard, asking you out, he decided he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Turning his back on you felt wrong, but his jealousy is calling the shots for now. Everyone close to you, close to Tim, seems to be making a move on you. Tim doesn’t want to admit it, but part of why he likes you so much is because he’s falling for you. He knows he’ll never be good enough for you, so he’s happy to be your friend... until today, and now he’s not sure if he can stand by and watch another man attempt to make you happy.

“Any chance you can tell me that I saw that wrong?” Tim asks Kojo. When Kojo huffs, he replies, “I didn’t think so.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo starts barking as soon as you return home from running some errands. Tim said he didn’t need your help today, but Kojo needs something. You text Tim, asking if he wants you to check on Kojo, but he doesn’t answer. After a few minutes, you use your spare key and enter Tim’s house.

As you walk into the backyard with Kojo, you call Tim, but he still doesn’t answer. Kojo is fine, simply lonely, so you take him back to your house. After texting Tim to let him know, you walk back to your car to lock it. A police car stops across the street, and when you see Nolan exit the driver’s side, you yell his name and jog toward the road.

“Hey,” he greets.

“What’s going on?” you ask, walking into the street so you can hear him.

“Noise complaint. How long have you been home?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

“They called about excessive dog barking, and that’s a direct quote.”

“Oh… that was Tim’s dog. He’s fine now, but he was barking at me when I got back because he was lonely.”

Another shop parks behind Nolan’s, and Tim slams the door as he exits.

“It was Kojo, I’m so sorry,” you offer.

“I told you he was fine today,” Tim replies.

“He started barking and I was worried about him. You didn’t answer, so I-“

“It’s fine,” Tim snaps.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Nolan nods as he gets back in his shop. Tim waits until he drives away to take a deep breath. He begins to speak, but another neighbor stops as he drives by, rolling his window down to ask how you are. Tim opens his door, and you rush to his shop and look through his rolled-down window.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” you repeat.

“It’s fine.”

“Clearly it isn’t because you can’t even look at me. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s not about you,” Tim argues. It is, but he can’t tell you that.

“Got it,” you murmur, stepping back. “I’ll take Kojo back to your place and leave my key.”

You cross the road, walking through your yard as you think about what you’re losing by accidentally pushing Tim away. Tim yells your name, and you stop but don’t turn toward him. He walks up behind you, and you can’t see his hands flex at his sides as he tries to find the words to say.

“It is about you, but not about you taking care of Kojo,” Tim begins. “It’s about you and me.”

Turning your head, you watch Tim’s hand fold into a fist as he continues.

“I just- Nolan was flirting with you, and…”

“You think he was flirting with me?” you ask, turning so you’re facing Tim.

“He was. And it made me angry. When I came home and saw what’s-his-name flirting with you too…”

“You got angry?”

“I got jealous,” Tim forces out.

“Why?”

“Because they’re doing what I want to do.”

“What does that mean, Tim?”

“It means that I want to be more than your friend but I’m not relationship material. Watching guys try to be what I want to be makes me jealous and angry, and for some reason I took it out on you.”

“And Nolan?”

Tim pauses before nodding.

“You know the worst part of this?” you ask. “That if you had just told me, I would have let you know that I feel the same.”

“You don’t get jealous,” Tim argues.

“That’s not true. Every time someone flirts with you or stares a little too openly, I remember that you could have anyone you wanted. Being your neighbor was the closest I thought I could get.”

Tim steps toward you, and you match his movement, closing the distance together.

“So…” you begin.

“So. What did you want to ask at the station?"

"If I could come over, but I feel confident assuming that you'd say yes."

Tim closes his eyes when your neighbor says your name.

“Cute,” you murmur.

“I realized that a big gathering like that wasn’t a good choice, so I wanted to ask if you were free Thursday? Maybe we could get some dinner or something."

“She’s busy,” Tim answers, his eyes on you.

“But-“

“Let me rephrase, she’s taken!” Tim yells.

“Oh, sorry man, I didn’t know.”

Tim watches him scurry inside before turning back toward you. You smile as you look at him.

“I’m taken?” you repeat.

“Only if you want to be.”

Nodding, you lay your hands on Tim’s chest. He moves a hand up to your waist, pulling you against him. Kojo barks before he can do anything, and you laugh against Tim’s uniform.

“Aren’t you still working?” you ask.

“Technically. How about dinner when I get off?”

“Only if you cook.”

“Like I’m taking you out in public this soon. I just got over the jealousy.”

You kiss Tim’s cheek just before dispatch alerts him of a call in the area.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you walk away.

“Home!” you call as you walk into his porch. “My boy lives here. And you do too.”

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - portgas d. ace

a/n: this is long overdue, but here is finally the ace version and that marks the end of this series!!! i have lots more series planned in the works, however, i like to keep my secrets every now and then, so you'll just have to stay tuned and find out 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

when he comforts you:

-like his brother, ace hates to see you sad. while he might not be as outwardly determined as luffy, he definitely puts in more effort than usual to make you laugh or smile.

-he'll never stop to hesitate before he pulls you into his arms, carries you into his bedroom, and give you endless cuddles. using his devil fruit, the feeling of his soft warm tan skin against you is one that brings instant relief. the sound of his soft voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. his strong arms wrapped tightly around your body as he gently whispers "i'm not going anywhere"

-ace is both an amazing listener and advice giver. he always knows exactly what to say to comfort and calm you while also either solving your problem or making you feel drastically less stressed about it.

-this man showers you in attention and affection. ace will grab your face and kiss you hundreds of times, or until you smile or giggle, with absolutely zero care for who is around to witness it. his eyes are always on you, and when you catch him staring, he'll give you his iconic little smirk. his hand is either intertwined with yours, or placed on your thigh when the two of you are together, he'll run his fingers gently across your skin drawing shapes or lines into you.

-ace does not hesitate to remind you how amazing you are and everything he loves about you. he'll give you a long laundry list of reasons why he is absolutely obsessed with you. never giving you time to doubt yourself.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: you've never been more grateful for your boyfriend being a human heating pad than when you're cramping on your period. no matter the time or place, ace will slide his hands up under your shirt and place them against your stomach, warming them to the perfect temperature to ease your pain. while he is typically a bit clingy in a normal scenario, when you don't feel good, ace absolutely refuses to leave your side. he will be curled up in bed with you the entire time, napping with you, providing cuddles, chatting with you, and all with his charming boyish smile never leaving his face.

when he needs comforting:

-ace really values your opinion and advice. being able to talk to you about his problems is something that took some time to get used to, being an older brother tended to hardwire him to always have the answer, and admitting that he needed help was a struggle at first. since you tend to have an extremely objective and fair stance when it comes to giving advice, it grounds him and calms him down, making him less anxious about any problem he is having.

-despite his confident energy and personality, ace thrives off of praise and words of affirmation. telling him that he's doing a good job, reminding him of his kind nature and character, how much you love him, makes all the different to him.

-physical affection is an instant relief to ace. crawling into his lap wherever he may be, dragging him to bed for cuddles, lots of kisses, constant hand holding, playing with his hair, tracing the tattoo on his arm or back, anything and everything is on the table, as long as you have your hands on him in some way, he'll feel much more at ease.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i have no idea why i struggled with this ace fic as much as i did, but i simply can no longer look at my laptop anymore 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc.

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You sweep in with an armful. Two! You push through the door with your ass and barely keep from falling onto it. As ever, you enter in a whirlwind of to dos and currently being dones. You breeze over to your desk and carefully lower your load, blowing out through your lips. Whew. 

You peer over at the office door. The place is desolate. You’re always the first in, the last one gone. You can blame your boss’ high standards but that’s not fair. You put just as much pressure on yourself. 

You unlock Mr. Hansen’s office door and set about sorting through your list. You hang his suit jackets that you picked up last night and put the new pair of Prada loafers he ordered on the little rack across the bottom. Then you bring in his usual coffee in the gold insulated mug engraved with the company logo. Then you set out that special little treat you spent your morsel of free time baking. 

You carefully place the numbered candles on the mini cheesecake and stand with a proud smile. You never forget to dot and i or cross a t. You think that’s why you’ve lasted longer than any other PA under Hansen’s wise guidance. You anticipate his needs before they even come up. 

You hear him coming and light the candles before you rush to the door. You swiftly step outside and out of his way as he shoves his briefcase into your arms and tosses his jacket at you. You catch the latter and wait for him to enter before you trail after him. You put his briefcase on his desk as he goes around the other side and swiftly hang his jacket with his freshly cleaned suits. 

He noisily flicks back the lid of the travel mug then let out a hum. You know that hum. He’s not happy. He hasn’t even tasted it. What’s the problem. You turn and smooth the ruffles of your polka dot skirt. 

“Sir? Is the coffee not hot enough?” 

“What the fuck is this?” He stares at his desk with a sneer. 

“Sir?” 

“What the fuck!” He raises his voice. 

“Oop! Happy birthday, sir!” You trill and come closer, peeking past his iMac at the flickering flames on the 4 and the 6. 

He snarls at the candles and picks up the waxy 6. You blink, surprised by his reaction. You don’t understand. It’s a nice birthday surprise.  

“Sir, It’s tiramisu cheesecake. I know you like the stuff from down at White’s but--” 

He throws the little candle at you and the melting wax drips on your ruffled collar. You cry out and catch it as the flame goes out. He does the same with the other and scalds your inner arm. You cradle the candles as he takes the cakes and tosses it like a frisbee toward the door. You gulp. 

You’ve seen Mr. Hansen angry before. It’s his favourite emotion but it’s never been because of you. His blue eyes narrow at you and he curls his lips. 

“I don’t need some young fucking bimbo like you reminding me how old I am,” he snaps and picks up the travel mug, slurping loudly, “get the fuck out of my sight. And clean that up.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought--” 

“You thought?” He barks, “not hard enough, hips.” 

You wince. His little pet names aren’t as sweet as they might seem and he rarely hurls them at you. No, he calls the women in the copier room sugar tits and baby, but not you. You look down at your skirt, the frills don’t make you seem any less wide. His reminder of your size stings, not that you hate yourself, but he can be so nasty. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer brightly. 

He sighs and falls into his large leather chair. He mutters into the cup as you go off to grab paper towel to clean up the desecrated cheesecake. You return with the wastebasket from beside your desk and set to wiping up the ruins. 

“You really need to make those things look any bigger? I should send you down to HR,” he snips. 

You look up, confused. You shake your head as you put another clump in the bin, “Mr. Hansen?” 

“Whatever that is...” he gestures to his collar and you look down at your ruffly collar, “it’s not doing you any favours.” 

“Thank you, sir, I’ll donate the blouse,” you agree. 

“Even the poor idiots down at Goodwill don’t deserve that,” he scoffs. 

He’s in a mood. You’re not prepared for it. You assumed his birthday would be a happy day. It’s your own fault for trying to predict him. He’s hard to account for.  

You finish up and grab the roll of towels and the bin. You stand and something flies over your shoulder. You flinch and turn to look down at his golden pen. You stare, perplexed. 

“Well, pick it up, hips.” You shrug and obey. As you bend over, he chortles, “damn, wide load.” 

You snap up, embarrassment singing your neck and cheeks. You turn and hurry over to place the pen on his desk. You dip your head and quickly retreat. 

“Ah, cheeks, don’t be so shy. Some guys like the extra cushion,” he snickers. 

“Sir, can I get you anything else?” You stop by the door. It’s better not to feed into his little game. This is fun for him. 

“Some fucking peace and quiet. Get out.” 

You don’t hesitate to do exactly that. You shut the door and cross to your desk. You put the bun down and swerve towards the break room to put the towels away. You return to your desk and sit, recentering yourself as you ready yourself for the daily rundown. Before you can open up the calendar, a notification pops up in the corner.  

Mr. Hansen? 

You click on it and revealed in the chat is a picture of your ass as you bend over to grab the pen. You cringe. He can see that you read the message. The little eye icon pops down beside the picture. 

‘Cancel my nine o’clock’ his next message pops up. 

‘Yes, Mr. Hansen,’ you type back. 

His dot turns to red. Unavailable. Right. He is bristly this morning, it’s best he doesn’t have anyone else around to provoke him. 

[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

[residentialsinyomakai]

I was tagged by the wonderful @jqmon ! Thank youuuu and here I go;

Favorite color: Purple, navy blue, and neons in general! They're pretty nice and can stand against a black background.

Last song i listened to: I have just had a random playlist on right now actually, but I think its called A Mask of my Own Face by Lemon Demon!

Currently Reading: "Camouflage of Great Reknown" by RatCandy! Again AUGH i love this fic Zote is me and i am Zote. Anyways, I would go on a tangent about that but this shouldn't drone on longer than my usual ramblings wahahazzzzz Also, "To Kill a Mocking Bird" By Harper Lee.

Currently watching/rewatching: "Yokai Watch!" and "Brave the Animated Series!" I've watched the latter almost 17 times in counting now aodjoeod, it's one of my faves that rivals Yokai Watch (which is pretty impressive if you know me!)

Want to watch/rewatch: "Yo-kai Watch" (OG), "Good Omens", "The Good Place", the new TMNT show and "ROTTMNT"! Quite the list but y'know =u=.

Currently craving: What I would do for some tiramisu right now...

Coffee or Tea: Same as prev, I like em both! I do like them like my chocolate though; a little more on the bitter side!

Hobbies in Mind: Drawing (digital and traditional), singing, playing videos games, and general crafts. I'd try to make anything once ○°w°○ wwwww.

Current AU: I have an unnamed Yokai Watch AU featuring my sona/character Caspian! I like making random stuff for it but I don't have a post or anything on it yet tho aifkoeod. Not to say I haven't fleshed some of it out or come up with a plot+official refs rho! (Fun fact if you've seen some of my posts; the yokai redesigns I showed yall a while ago were mostly just an excuse to show you the AU versions wwwww^) That, and a little personal world thing with two irls that I love <33 (COUGH. @samiisams and @sketchdeath22 ..... they have amazing stuff go look ooooo......)

People who I wanna get to know better: Hope y'all don't mind the tagggggggg!

@analog-smiles @c00kietin @strange0-0storm @amf-studios @aura-bug @suppai-limes @sketchdeath22 @samiisams

Love y'all!/p (hope I didn't accidently tag anyone whose already participated auiemdhjcr...)

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XVI

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

After Aemond disappears, Valaena sets out to find him.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Confrontation, Confessions, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex (M & F Recieving), Come Swallowing, Fingering, P in V & Sex on Dragonback!!

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5405

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The cold wind stung Valaena’s face, but she barely noticed as she pushed Silverwing faster through the clouds.

Her gloved hands tightened around the handles of the saddle, thoughts storming through her mind as she remembered Aemond’s tortured confession—'Because I tried to kill you’.

The look of horror on his face had seared itself into her memory, leaving her shaken. She hadn’t had a moment to respond before he had bolted from their chambers, mounting Vhagar and vanishing into the sky.

Now, he’d been missing for three days, gone without a word or trace, his absence hanging like a shadow over her heart.

Valaena had waited, given him time to grapple with the storm raging inside him, but she could bear it no longer.

Mounting Silverwing, she’d taken to the sky, knowing instinctively where he must have gone.

There was only one place he would seek refuge: the small cabin by the Wendwater, hidden deep in the forest—their sanctuary, their place.

The memory of his haunted face made her stomach twist as she imagined him alone, suffering with the weight of his guilt.

She would find him, speak to him, and bring him home.

Silverwing must have felt her urgency, for the dragon roared and pushed her wings harder, cutting through the clouds as they descended over the Wendwater.

Valaena’s eyes swept across the dense trees below, searching for any sign of Vhagar.

Though Vhagar was massive, her scales often blended with the shades of the forest; it was only when Silverwing gave a chirping call—a sound she reserved only for Vhagar—that she knew for sure.

In answer, a familiar low rumble echoed through the trees. Relief surged through Valaena’s chest.

He was here.

Guiding Silverwing to a clearing, her wings stirring up the sand as she landed with a powerful thud.

Unhooking herself from the saddle, Valaena slid down Silverwing’s side, one hand reaching to rest on her dragon’s neck.

“Sȳz riña,” murmured Valaena, her voice low and gentle (Good girl).

Silverwing trilled in reply, before turning to lumber toward Vhagar, who gave a softer rumble in return.

The two dragons, as familiar with each other as their riders, seemed to settle close, forming their own quiet comfort.

Valaena took a deep breath and turned her gaze toward the cabin, her heart steadying with each step.

She had come here with one purpose—to break the silence that was consuming them both.

Valaena took purposeful strides, the weight of her determination pushing her forward.

As she approached the cabin door, she paused for a moment, gathering her resolve.

Then, she opened the weathered wooden door.

Aemond sat slouched in the chair by the fire, his face illuminated by the flickering flames, his singular eye bloodshot and rimmed with tears.

He stared blankly into the fire; his usually sharp features worn down with anguish. He looked up as the door creaked open, his shoulders stiffening when he saw Valaena standing there.

“Aemond?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Valaena asked, her tone edged with frustration.

“You know why,” Aemond murmured, refusing to look at her.

Valaena scoffed, stepping inside and letting the door slam shut behind her. “Because you said you tried to kill me?”

His breath hitched, but he nodded. “Yes-I did.”

“And that’s why you’ve been acting so strange lately,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his tone hollow.

“Aemond” exclaimed Valaena as she unclasped her cloak and draped it over the back of a wooden chair.

“Do you not fear me?” he asked suddenly, the words spilling out unbidden as he turned his head slightly toward her.

“No,” she said softly. “Never-”

He shook his head in disbelief, staring back into the fire. “I admit that I tried to kill you, and yet you do not fear me.”

Valaena crossed her arms over her chest and stepped closer. “I know there’s more to it than that. You wouldn’t just decide to end my life. You had your reasons, didn’t you?”

Aemond clenched his fists. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

“Well, I do,” she shot back.

His voice rose, raw and sharp. “Go home, Valaena.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not without you.”

He huffed, finally turning to look at her. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Look who’s talking.”

Aemond sighed, his shoulders sagging as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look, Valaena, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her tone resolute. “We’re going to talk. Whether you like it or not.”

He scowled, his temper flaring. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

The words hit her like a blow, and her face fell. For a moment, she said nothing, her hurt clear in her eyes.

But then she straightened, her voice unwavering. “Because I am your wife, and I love you. Aemond, please, don’t shut me out.”

He turned away again, pressing his hands to his face.

“I can’t-I-can’t” muttered Aemond.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Valena asked, her voice breaking. “To us?”

He didn’t answer, his silence louder than any words.

“So that’s it, then?” she demanded, her frustration boiling over. “This is how it’s going to be from now on? You confess something like that and then flee like a coward instead of facing me?”

Aemond’s head snapped up, and his eye narrowed. “You think me a coward?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” she challenged.

Aemond stood suddenly, towering over her, his voice sharp with pain. “Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

“No, I don’t!” she snapped back. “Because you won’t talk to me! How are we supposed to deal with this, to move past it, if you won’t talk?”

He took a step back, his breathing uneven. “I’m afraid.”

Her voice softened. “Of what?”

His eye glistened with unshed tears. “Of what you’ll think of me. Of what it will mean for us.”

“For the love of all that is holy, please,” she pleaded. “Just talk to me.”

He exploded, his voice raw and desperate as he surged forward. “You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk!”

She stood firm, her gaze unwavering. “I’m listening.”

Aemond began pacing, his movements erratic as he wrestled with his emotions. “Growing up, I never really knew what love was. My father barely acknowledged me, and my mother-well, that’s not something I wish to discuss at the moment-”

“Aemond—” Valaena began, but he raised a hand to silence her.

“-But then there was you,” he said, his voice softening, trembling. “You taught me what love was, you showed me something that terrified me and enraptured me in equal measure, and I quickly found myself craving it-”

Valaena nodded silently a tear slipping down her cheek.

“We were supposed to hate one another, stand opposite sides of the chasm that had opened up within our family, yet when everything seemed to conspire against us, we found a way to be together.”

“Because you are everything to me,” said Valaena, more tears brimming in her violet eyes.

Aemond nodded, his own tears slipping down his cheeks. “And you are the love of my life. When you were in that coma-” His voice cracked, and he had to pause to gather himself. “-Something inside me broke. No one knew if you were going to wake up. Your mother and Gerardys-they began discussing giving you a high dose of sweet sleep.”

“What?” whispered Valaena, her face pale.

“They thought it was kinder than letting you suffer as you wasted away,” he said, his voice hoarse. “-And at first, I couldn’t accept it. The pain of losing you was too much. But then I realized they were right. And even though it tore me apart, I knew it was kinder to let you go.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Go on.”

Aemond met her gaze, his face contorted with anguish. “I remembered what you said to me. That if you were to die, then you wanted it to be by my hand.”

“Yes,” she said, her heart aching.

“And I swore that if anyone was going to end your life, it would be me. So, I stood over you with a pillow in my hands, ready to keep my promise.” His voice broke as tears streamed freely down his face. “But I couldn’t do it. I lost my nerve.”

Valaena stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him as he sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s okay, my love.”

“No, it isn’t,” he choked. “I could have killed you. I almost did.”

“You had your reasons,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “You didn’t know that I was going to wake up.”

“But you did wake up,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “And what I almost did haunts me every single day.”

She cupped his face, her thumb brushing away his tears. “You should have told me. Instead of pushing me away.”

“I was ashamed of myself,” he confessed. “For what I almost did. For what I almost cost our children.”

“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore,” she said, her voice steady. “Let me help you.”

His arms came around her then, holding her tightly as if afraid to let go. “I’m sorry, Valaena. For everything.”

"Aemond," she said, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Why won’t you lay with me?"

His head shot up, his single eye meeting hers briefly before flickering away, shame and guilt etched into his features.

"Valaena, it’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me," she pressed, "Because I’m at a loss. You won’t touch me, and you won’t even kiss me as you used too. What is it? Do you not desire me anymore?"

Aemond stared at her aghast "Gods, of course I desire you. You’re all I think about, Valaena."

"Then what is it?" she demanded, exasperation slipping into her voice. "Do you have any idea how much this hurts? To feel like I’ve done something wrong?"

Aemond took a deep breath his expression raw and vulnerable. "I’m scared."

"Of what?" asked Valaena softly.

"Of losing you," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I can’t-I can’t risk my seed taking root and getting you with child again. Carrying another child so soon could kill you. I couldn’t bear it. I can’t lose you-I won’t"

Valaena’s eyes softened, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Aemond, there are ways to prevent that from happening. You know there are."

Aemond shook his head, pulling away. "What if it doesn’t work? What if it fails? Valaena, we already have four children"

A smile tugged at her lips, a hint of playfulness breaking through the gravity of the moment.

"Rhaegar happened because there were several occasions where I forgot to take the tea, Elaena was planned, as was Daenys. And Aemon-" she added, arching a brow, "-was conceived because moon tea was in short supply during our sail back to Westeros."

He stared at her, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came.

Valaena stepped closer, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Your fear is valid, my love, but you cannot let it control you. I promise, I will take the moon tea. I’ll even drink the damn stuff it in front of you if that’s what it takes to ease your mind. But please-" her voice softened, laced with longing, "-do not let the fear of a possibility rob us of being with each other in that way-

“Valaena-” muttered Aemond.

“I know you miss it too and I’m telling you now I do not wish to be deprived of your cock any longer”

A soft chuckle escaped him, the sound warm and unexpected, and he reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Is that so?"

"Yes-" she replied with a grin, her hand sliding to his chest. "I will not stand for it-I have needs Aemond, as I know you do-"

For the first time in what felt like forever, Aemond smiled—truly smiled. He cupped her face with both hands. "Can you ever forgive me?" he asked softly.

"Oh, my love. There’s nothing to forgive," she whispered, leaning into his touch.

Aemond’s smile grew, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate, all-consuming kiss.

He poured everything into it—his fear, his love, his apology—and she returned it with equal fervour, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if to anchor him.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, he murmured against her lips, "Come. Let me deprive you no longer."

And with that, he swept her into his arms, reclaiming what they had nearly lost.

Aemond watched with a hooded gaze as Valaena began to remove her riding leathers, letting them fall to the floor.

Whilst she removed them, Aemond hastily pulled off his own tunic and breeches, he sighed in relief as his already hard cock was free from its confines.

Valaena smiled slightly as she hooked her fingers around her own small clothes and slowly pulled them down, Aemond could feel himself salivating as he stared at her cunny.

“Come here-” growled Aemond, as he reached out and pulled Valaena onto the bed.

“Let me take care of you” muttered Valaena as she placed kisses along Aemond’s sharp jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down gently.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Does issa dārys like that?” asked Valaena as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same attention, (My King).

“Oh. Gods” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the light trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” begged Aemond (Please my love).

“Ao līs umbagon issa zaldrīzes” replied Valaena (You must wait, my dragon).

Aemond stared down at his wife, his mouth hanging open as Valaena’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off the drops of pre-cum that had started leaking out.

“Fuck, Valaena!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through his wife’s dark hair.

Valaena ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond’s heart almost stopped when she moved down to suck his stones into her mouth, one at a time.

Her warm hand moving slowly over the hard length of him.

When Valaena moved and engulfed Aemond’s cock in her mouth again, he squeezed his eye shut. She was driving him crazy.

But Aemond forced himself to open his eye, he needed to watch as his wife sucked his cock. 

“Your taking me so well. Such a good girl for me-” moaned Aemond.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Valaena’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around the length of him.

“I’m not going to last-It’s been too long-too long-gods” groaned Aemond.

Valaena smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Valaena responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of her husband’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his stones.

“Shit-Valaena. I’m going to spill-. Oh, fuck, I’m-” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

His wife took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Valaena’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking my darling husband?” asked Valaena.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“Are you sure?” whispered Valaena.

“Get up here and sit on my fucking face” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Valaena hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty cunny-" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Valaena’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Valaena her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it Issa dōna. Let me hear you” (My sweet).

“YES. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Valaena.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond” shrieked Valaena.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Valaena, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Valaena "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against his face, his nose bumping against her pearl.

“That’s it baby, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond, his cock was so hard that it was boarding on painful.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, peak for me baby” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Valaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Valaena’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped his fingers slowly and lapped at his wife’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged his wife to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerking involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Valaena as she slowly sunk down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please-” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Valaena shaking her head from side to side.

After a few torturous minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized his wife’s hips, before surging up and ploughing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Valaena.

"Gods. You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Valaena, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

“P-Please. Husband” whined Valaena as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Valaena as Aemond began to move.

"Faster, please" begged Valaena.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Valaena.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Valaena" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond-oh please" whispered Valaena "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need”.

Aemond knew exactly what Valaena was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Valaena wanted faster and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips as he pounded into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to peak. Oh, fuck!” screamed Valaena.

Valaena always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her amethyst eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Gods he had such a fool to deprive him and her of this, that moment in the world where only the two of them seemed to exist, that moment they were connected as one.

“I-I’m going t-to f-finish-” groaned Aemond,

“Y-Yes, A-Aemond-Give it to me” whined Valaena as she clamped down around his cock so hard he could hardly move.

That, combined with how glorious Valaena looked, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“God. Valaena” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed inside his wife’s wet heat.

The soft glow of the fire bathed the cabin in warmth as Valaena lay sprawled across Aemond, her leg slung lazily over his waist.

His hand traced idle patterns along the bare skin of her back, a touch that was tender and unhurried.

Her face was pressed against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I could hear you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond’s hand stilled. “What?” he asked, tilting his head to peer down at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“When I was in my coma,” she continued, her tone soft and contemplative. “I could hear your voice.”

His eye widened, surprise and disbelief flickering across his face. “Truly?”

She nodded slowly, shifting to look up at him, her violet eyes glinting in the firelight. “It was kind of muffled, like I had my head underwater, but I knew it was you. I would recognize your voice anywhere.”

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. “I never left your side,” he confessed. “Not for a moment.”

“I know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I wanted so badly to reach out to you, to let you know I was still there, but I couldn’t. And then-I saw you.”

He stilled, his fingers pausing their soothing motion on her back. “You saw me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded again, her lips curving into a faint smile. “We were flying, you and I, soaring through the clouds. And then there was a light. It was warm, so inviting. But then you called out to me. You wouldn’t let me go.”

His chest rose and fell beneath her as he exhaled shakily. “I had a similar dream,” he admitted, his voice rough. “You wanted me to take you home.”

Her smile widened as she nuzzled against him. “Maybe our souls were reaching for one another.”

“I’d like to think so,” he murmured, his hand resuming its gentle patterns on her back.

A low rumble from outside broke the silence, the unmistakable sound of Silverwing grumbling.

Valaena sighed, reluctantly lifting her head. “I think she’s telling us it’s time to head back to the Red Keep.”

As she began to sit up, Aemond’s arm shot out, pulling her back down against him. “I haven’t had my fill of you yet,” he said, his voice husky with intent.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she arched a brow. “Oh, is that right?”

In one fluid motion, Aemond shifted them, rolling so that she was beneath him, his weight a comforting pressure as he nestled between her legs.

His lips brushed against hers, a teasing whisper of a kiss that left her yearning for more.

“I have some making up to do,” he murmured, his tone deep and low, sending a shiver through her.

Valaena grinned, her fingers tangling in his silver hair as she pulled him closer. “I’m glad to hear it,” she whispered.

As they approached Vhagar and Silverwing, Aemond grabbed Valaena’s wrist and spun her around. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, full of passion and longing.

Valaena gasped against his mouth but melted into him for a moment, her hands curling into the fabric of his tunic.

When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed. “Aemond,” she began breathlessly, “we must return to the Red Keep.”

He pouted, his eye narrowing playfully as he nuzzled his nose up her cheek. “Do we have to?” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing.

Valaena giggled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “For our children.”

His lips curved into a smile at that, his expression softening. “Ah, yes. Our little dragons.”

As she turned to mount Silverwing, Aemond caught her wrist again. “Fly with me,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

Valaena glanced at Silverwing, who snorted in annoyance, stamping her clawed feet in protest. “I’m not sure-”

Aemond leaned closer, pressing a trail of kisses along her neck, each one a gentle persuasion.

“Please,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m not ready to be parted from you just yet.”

She sighed, her resolve weakening as his lips found her pulse point.

Stroking Silverwing’s neck apologetically, she murmured, “Vaoreznuni, riña” (Sorry, girl).

Her dragon grumbled but relented, watching as Aemond quickly led Valaena toward Vhagar.

Aemond gestured toward the rope ladder hanging from the saddle. “Ladies first,” he said, a roguish grin tugging at his lips.

Valaena laughed, giving him a playful curtsy. “Why, thank you, good sir,” she teased before starting her ascent.

Aemond followed close behind, his eye fixed on her with a smirk.

When they reached the saddle, he settled behind her, guiding her to sit in front of him. His chest pressed firmly against her back as his arms enveloped her, taking hold of the reins.

“Sōves, Vhagar,” he commanded, his voice steady (Fly.)

The ancient dragon groaned as she shifted her massive weight forward, the ground trembling beneath her.

With a mighty thrust of her wings, she surged into the sky, her colossal form cutting through the air.

Behind her, Silverwing reluctantly followed, still grumbling.

As they climbed higher, the chill of the air surrounded them, though Aemond hardly seemed to notice.

Resting his chin on Valaena’s shoulder, he whispered, “I love you.”

She turned her head back to him, her lips brushing his. “And I love you, too,” she murmured.

Aemond released the reins with one hand, sliding it around her waist. His fingers grazed the ties of her breeches, and a sly grin tugged at his lips as he began unlacing them.

Valaena stiffened slightly. “What are you doing?” she asked, though her voice betrayed a mix of amusement and anticipation.

He chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. “I think you already know the answer to that, ābrazȳrys,” he replied, his voice dripping with mischief. “Now lift up and sit forward.” (Wife).

Biting her lip, she obeyed, lifting her lower half and leaning forward in the saddle. The cold air nipped at her skin as Aemond worked quickly, tugging her breeches down to her thighs. He shifted behind her, freeing his hard cock with practiced ease.

“Sit on it-” he instructed softly, his hands steadying her as he guided her back onto his lap.

She let out a shudder as she felt the blunt pressure of his cock at her wet entrance before it slide inside her as she settled back against him, the heat of their closeness chasing away the chill of the sky.

Her head lolled back onto his shoulder as he pressed kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before biting down gently.

His hips moved, rolling into hers with deliberate intensity, his hand slipping around her front, his long fingers teasing her pearl as she rolled her hips.

“Oh" whimpered Valaena; her chest heaving as she began to roll her hips faster.

“That’s it-” groaned Aemond, his cock throbbing inside her.

“Ohhh Aemond” whined Valaena.

“Come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shoulder blades.

Finally, he felt Valaena’s inner walls start to flutter around his cock, squeezing him. Her back arching as she screamed her release.

“Lean forward a bit more” urged Aemond as he removed his fingers.

“Hmmm yes” whined Valaena as she moved forward.

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” muttered Aemond as he completely released the reins and grabbed hold of Valaena’s hips and increased the pace of his thrusts.

“Ooohh-fuck” muttered Valaena.

“Gods-" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond’s grip on Valaena was fierce, his movements relentless. He drove into her with a force that seemed almost brutal, but Valaena took every thrust with an almost frantic eagerness.

Her body began to tremble, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered completely to the intensity of their coupling.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

“Give it to me please” pleaded Valaena her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder, her arm reaching behind her to tangle in his hair as their lips connected in a messy, passionate kiss.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

“AEMOND” screamed Valaena her vision going white as she came around his cock.

His grip on Valaena tightened as he neared his own climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful.

The noises he made were almost otherworldly, a mix of guttural growls and breathless moans.

“I love you-I love you-I love you” groaned Aemond as he finally exploded.

Afterwards, as they floated through the clouds, Aemond help her close against him, his arms securing her in a protective embrace as he retook the reins.

His voice was a low murmur against her ear. “Keep me inside where it’s warm, darling.”

Valaena nodded, her cheeks flushed as she adjusted her leather skirts to cover them both, concealing any trace of their heated moment.

Vhagar and Silverwing soared onward, their wings cutting through the air as the Red Keep loomed on the horizon.

Aemond carefully descended the rope ladder first, his movements precise and measured.

Once his boots hit the ground, he turned, reaching up to help Valaena climb down. His hands found her waist, steadying her as her feet touched the earth.

Before she could step away, he pressed her back against the warm, scaled flank of Vhagar, caging her with his body.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

Valaena’s arms instinctively looped around his shoulders, her fingers threading into his hair. “My life,” she whispered in reply, her eyes soft as they gazed into his.

Aemond leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was nothing short of fervent, his hands cradling her face as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

The heat of their kiss defied the chill in the air, and time seemed to slow for them.

But their stolen moment was interrupted by Vhagar’s deep, rumbling grumble, a sound that reverberated through the ground.

Aemond sighed in irritation as he reluctantly broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Valaena’s.

“Sȳz sia jāre,” he muttered begrudgingly, glancing at his dragon. (Fine, we’re going.)

Valaena couldn’t suppress her laughter, her lips curving into a teasing grin. “Do you think she knew what we were doing up there?”

Aemond’s eye narrowed playfully as he glanced back at Vhagar, who regarded him with what could only be described as an unimpressed glare.

He smirked. “Oh, she absolutely knows.”

Valaena studied Vhagar’s disapproving expression for a moment before meeting Aemond’s gaze, and both of them burst into laughter.

Their mirth echoed across the clearing, the bond between them stronger than ever.

When their laughter subsided, Aemond shook his head with a fond smile.

“Come, it’s rather cold. Let’s get you warm.” He offered his arm, which Valaena took with a smile.

Before leaving, Valaena turned to Silverwing, who had landed nearby.

The smaller dragon trilled affectionately, and Valaena gently stroked her neck. “Sȳrī sōvegon hēnkirī aderī sepār ao se nyke” (We’ll fly together soon, just you and me).

Silverwing trilled happily, head lowering so she could nuzzle Valaena affectionately, her nostrils exhaling warm air.

“Gaomagon ao gīmigon skoros īlon gōntan?” whispered Valaena (Do you know what we did).

Silverwing trilled again, her tone playful, almost as if mocking.

Valaena glanced at Vhagar, who responded with another rumbling growl.

“You know,” Valaena said with a smirk as she looked back at Aemond, “I think Silverwing is actually laughing at Vhagar.”

Aemond chuckled as he patted Vhagar’s neck, his tone affectionate. “I think you’re right.”

When their dragons were settled, Aemond took Valaena’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together as they began the walk back toward the Red Keep.

TBC

[thydungeongal]

D&D 5e being poorly designed issue #499:

Flesh to Stone requires three failed constitution saves to actually petrify anything, and even then requires ten rounds of concentration to make it last longer than a minute. Constitution is the most common save to have a bonus in in this system, and since it is a sixth level spell, this bonus tends to be quite high. As a result, this spell pretty much never actually does what it is billed as doing.

If the target does make their saves, this effectively translates into 3-5 rounds of a single target being restrained, at the cost of a sixth level spell slot and concentration.

The web spell, meanwhile, creates an area of effect in which any creatures that fail their dexterity saves are restrained. Dexterity saves are pretty common, but they have to keep making them as long as they're in the webs, and it's a strength check (rather than a save, so usually a lower bonus!) to escape. The spell requires concentration, but the maximum duration is an hour.

That's right. Web is objectively and unambiguously better than Flesh to Stone, despite being four spell levels lower. This is because the people making 5e wanted to get rid of save-or-suck effects, but didn't want to get rid of the spell names, and so nerfed them all to the point of uselessness. There is no use case for Flesh to Stone that would not be better served by Web or some other, notably lower than sixth level spell. You could cast Web with that sixth level slot, and it'd be a waste of resources, but it would still be less of a waste than Flesh to Stone, because it lasts longer, is slightly harder to resist, and can affect more than just one creature.

This is your game design on nostalgia and self-reference.

Yeah there's a lot of weird and conflicting ideas going on with spells in D&D 5e because they really lacked a coherent set of design goals: the designers seemed to have lacked a clear consensus on whether they wanted the game to be a balanced (albeit tipped in the player characters' favor) tactical combat game like 4e or an old-school experience with lots of nasty save or die effects. Part of the issue is that at an early point in the design process they decided not to take 4e's lead on monsters effectively having their own unique spells and spell-like abilities, and instead decided that the same spell lists should be available to both monsters and player characters.

And as anyone who's played 3e will tell you, when spells are as readily available and effortless to use as in Hasbro D&D and both sides have save or death spells available, it leads to rocket tag. And rocket tag is really not conducive to a fun tactical combat game that is supposed to be slightly tipped in the player characters' favor.

(Rocket tag is also the name of the game at higher levels in TSR editions of D&D and I feel it does harmonize better with the sheer amount of "fuck you" design in those editions. I think the assumptions written into the rules that combat isn't supposed to be fair or fun affects that very much.)

Anyway, so it's not just pure nostalgia, it's a combination of nostalgia while at the same time trying to copy D&D 4e's homework but not understanding the assignment. The biggest issue with D&D 5e in the context of all the various editions of D&D is that it had the benefit of more than thirty years of design and still ended up without a clear set of design goals besides "let's make the game that's the most D&D!" Like, ultimately as a dungeon game it's fine, but given the context of what's come before it should've been great.

[bunnyreaper]

wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders. 

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.) 

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge. 

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora. 

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door. 

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me." 

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing. 

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in." 

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does. 

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail. 

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over. 

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be. 

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show. 

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club. 

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you. 

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently." 

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats. 

"Yeah, she's really worried." 

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything." 

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge. 

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour. 

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon." 

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party." 

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better." 

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections." 

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass. 

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work." 

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree." 

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse. 

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted. 

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously. 

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to. 

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye." 

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure. 

"How many friends?" He asks. 

"4." You answer instantly. 

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave. 

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass." 

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless. 

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.  

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through. 

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature. 

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni." 

"We can go over names and details when you're ready." 

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do." 

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say. 

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?" 

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners. 

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do." 

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours." 

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then." 

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out. 

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?" 

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."  

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter. 

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits. 

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine." 

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"  

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly. 

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man. 

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home." 

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment. 

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain. 

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party. 

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside. 

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you. 

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?" 

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further. 

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin. 

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms. 

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly. 

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then." 

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw. 

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road. 

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so. 

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it." 

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security. 

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things." 

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

 *

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit. 

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct. 

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more. 

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?" 

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me." 

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics." 

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover. 

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive." 

"I'll try to make it as little as possible." 

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?" 

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please." 

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?" 

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work." 

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations." 

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause." 

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me." 

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."  

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it. 

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan." 

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions." 

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable." 

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common." 

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."  

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine." 

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?" 

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass." 

[theroseredreaper]

The Sea Calls Me Home

Twisted Wonderland

You are a witch who lives on the beach of a seaside village. You've always done all you could for the people of the village who gave you a home after you washed up on their shores ten years ago. This season should be no different.

Word Count: 5,037 ✯ AO3 Version

Character(s): Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Can Be Read As Platonic or Romantic (it's up to reader interpretation), Mild Horror Elements, Unedited

Inspired by this writing prompt list and my friend Ames's writing.

“I wish to go back. I want to forget everything.”

Cool gray eyes stared back into yours as you fought to keep your focus intact in the smoky haze of the cave you found yourself in. How did you get here, again? The thoughts were languidly coiling in your mind, unable to fully form, teasing you to distraction.

“Can you afford the price of ignorance?”

The sharp command of that voice snapped up your attention back to the present, the dampness of the cave a cool balm on your feverish skin, body shaking from the wild magic choking you. The very air was saturated with it and your body was rejecting it. Your focus lapsed against a tide of nausea that rolled over you. A hand touched your cheek, the brush of fingertips a whisper of relief as your eyes opened again. You couldn’t make out his face anymore in the haze that seemed to thicken the longer you stared in search of his eyes. You had to close your eyes again to hold onto the clarity he had returned to you; your voice cracked against the last dregs of your consciousness.

“I’ve more than paid all that you’ve ever asked of me.”

Townhall was always sweltering whenever you’d enter at the request of the villagers to come in for a meal, a welcome change from the wet cold that clung to every stone and building in the village you’d come to call home ten years ago. Cheers welcomed you as you waved a greeting to everyone, who used the town hall as both the place for hearings and gatherings of meals, a communal space where everyone endured against the storms that plagued this seaside village year round.

“Come, sit!”

“Take this coat, warm yourself, dear!”

“You’ve yet to eat, haven’t you? Here, take your portion!”

Laughing and exchanging greetings with the faces you’d come to know these past ten years, you sat among them, the bowl of oats and eggs warming your frigid fingers as their boisterous chatter warmed your heart. Resources in this village were always short, the land poorly suited to farming, while the mercurial shores made the primary way of life - fishing - difficult to maintain. Despite all this, the people of this village were always joyous. They did not shy from their hard life, they always shared as if they were as rich as the people of the plains. Among the round, smiling faces, it was easy to take note of the utter lack of children. Given that winter had begun to grip the village, it was not usual for the children to begin staying at home, yet there were no children present at all.

“How’re the children?” you asked the man next to you, who looked up at you with a smile sweetened with indolence.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You need not worry about them, witch. Your miracle cures always work.”

“You’ve not done us wrong yet,” his wife, on his other side, giggled. They were just as the day you’d met them, bronzed by a life of fishing, hair grayed by hard labor. Their children came to them late in life, but they always were industrious, eager to help their parents.

“The potion hasn’t taken yet?”

If this was true, then it would be quite worrying indeed. It’d already been a week and a half since you made it for them, assured of its efficacy. You were no doctor, not by any means, but you knew the way of the land and sea enough to ask of nature how to spell together ways of healing to aid the body back to health. But the villagers tittered at you to not concern yourself.

“Please, you know how easy I worry over all of you. You all took me in when I washed up on your shore, gave me a home when I had none. I won’t be able to relax until I know how the children are doing. I don’t want to see any of them die.”

They hushed you quickly.

“Don’t speak such ill omens!” the fisherman’s wife's sweet voice squealed with humor. “We’ve endured no hardship since you came to our shores, don’t jinx it, dear witch!”

The other villagers laughed in agreement. Your lips pursed, your bowl of food cold and unappetizing now. Their positive outlook despite their dreary livelihoods endeared you most days, but when it came to serious issues like this, it truly irked you. Whenever they needed your help, they had become more trusting in your ability to seemingly wipe away all worries with a sweep of your hand over the years, to the point where you seemed to sit apart from them.

“My spellwork is only what any human can ask of the land and sea. I’m no fae or spirit. Please, won’t you tell me if the potion has taken?” But the crowd only laughed off your concerns, at ease and indolent from the warmth of the hearth and meal before them, assured that your potion would work just like every miracle you’d brought them before. You’d get no answer on the health of the children of the village from them.

Sighing, you took your leave to the raucous farewells of the villagers, a sharp shout of a brawl breaking out over your leftovers as you stepped back into the wet chill of the morning air. It gladdened you that even with the scarcity that winter would surely bring and the disease that was coming for each child, that the villagers were plump and without want for good clothes or good food. Still…the lack of concern grated at you. Of course, you’d never know their inner thoughts. Perhaps it was their way of hiding their stress and woes. But you wouldn’t be truly able to know how the children were doing unless you could see it for yourself.

You’d be unable to enter any homes to investigate without express invitation - it was only polite, after all - so you’d have to seek out the only people in this village who were always honest with you about the state of things. They’d come to this village at the same time as you, but had remained aloof from the rest of the village, which suited the other villagers just fine.

Petrichor and rotting sea gross stung at your nose as you followed the road from the town hall to the fringes of the village along the far side of the rocky cliffs that face the sea, over the cave system that snaked underneath the whole of the neighborhood. The wind coming in from the sea whipped and nipped at you, turning your fingers numb with cold even as you shoved them into the threadbare coat you’d been given that morning. It was hard to make out their forms against the near constant gloom of the gray sky and pale sunlight, but the twins who’d come to regard you fondly were fishing off the edge of the cliff, as they usually were every morning.

“Oh? I was wondering when you’d visit,” one twin grinned while the other jumped up to greet you, his fishing pole abandoned, “Shrimpy, you came by!”

You waved with a smile as you approached, unphased as Floyd ran over to scoop you up into a bruising hug, “Hello Jade, Floyd. How’s the catch this morning?”

“The same as always,” Jade dismissed, setting aside his things to pick up Floyd’s abandoned pole and tackle. “What questions do you have for us today?”

Floyd pouted, squishing your face against his chest as you limply let him hug you. It was usually best to just let him out of his system first. “Shrimpy could’ve visited us just to see us, Jade.”

“I actually did have questions,” you interjected quickly, wary of one of Floyd’s mood swings. “But we can have dinner together today, Floyd.”

He sulked, but put you down, somewhat mollified. “You’re worried about the guppies of the village, aren’t you?”

“You’ve always had a bleeding heart,” Jade mused, shaking his head. “Your potion hasn’t taken, it seems.”

You shrugged. “The villagers seem to think that I’m something of a miracle worker now.”

“They’d be worshiping Azul instead if they knew how much you went to him for his cures,” Floyd laughed, only to be cut off by Jade harshly elbowing him in the rib. “Sorry, Shrimpy. I know you just ask him to teach you stuff. Still, it’s weird.”

“Indeed. Azul is knowledgeable; it is odd that the potion hasn’t taken. There’s yet to be an ailment he doesn’t know a cure for yet.”

You swallowed down another sigh.

Azul the sea witch…

He was an enigmatic mer of the sea who’d been introduced to you by the twins one fateful night ten years ago, during your first winter in this village.

Once a deal was struck with him…

It was difficult to not seek out another one from him.

“Will you just tell me how the children are doing? Have any died?”

They shook their heads, relieving some of the tension from your shoulders. A roll of thunder had the three of you looking to the sky, which had begun to darken.

“They’re the same as when you first saw them,” Floyd turned to you with a frown, his golden eye seemingly to glow in the dimming day.

“None have been taken yet. Your potion has halted whatever haunts them. But it has not cured them,” Jade continued, his golden eye flaring brighter than Floyd’s.

You nodded, used to their matter of fact answers. You’d learned not to ask how they got these answers without ever leaving their hut ten years ago.

“He’ll arrive soon,” they said as one.

It was your cue to leave the way you’d come, following the cliffs down to the beach you had come to call home.

The horizon promised a storm the likes of which would continue to swallow the sky whole and flood the tide caves that were under the cliffs of the coast. The beach was always a disgusting thing to behold on the eve of a storm. Bleached coral, jagged and sharp, would dot the shoreline like spit-up bones, the rust of sediment thrown up by the tide always stained the sand like blood. Here, between the advent of a storm and the rejection of the sea, was the best time to harvest materials from the sea for spells and magic.

It was also the only time one would be able to exchange with the sea witch when he came to shore.

Despite having dealt with him since you’d arrived on this same shore ten years ago, shipwrecked and with no memory save your name and how to bargain a spell from the spoils of the sea and land, Azul was as unchanged as the ebb and flow of the tide itself. His skin was ashen, his tentacles a writhing mass that spoke of the abyssal depths he usually resided in, his hair neatly coiffed despite the waters he rose out of to offer his bargains.

“How quick you are to sell yourself for those who would sell you for half a loaf of bread,” he sighed in lieu of a greeting, towering over you as his tentacles pushed him up from the sea before he stepped down in front of you one human foot at a time, into the form of the bespectacled gentleman he always took when coming ashore. “Have you not heard of the tale of the fool who gave and gave until nothing of him was left? It’s been less than a week since you asked me to check over your potion.”

“You’re so cynical, yet you never decline a deal with me. Hypocrite, much?”

He scoffed, shaking his head at you. “It’s natural for a business man to weigh his risks against his potential profit. If you’re not in good condition, how am I to exact a price from you?”

You giggled as he walked away, already familiar with the path up the beach to the cottage the villagers had given you on the outskirts of the village proper. Despite the threat of the sea swallowing the ramshackle thing whole with the frequent storms that plagued the village, never once had it ever occurred to you to move residence, despite a certain sea witch’s snide remarks over the years. You would be loath to be away from the sea, and there was no home that could possibly be closer to the sea than your cottage upon the beach.

“So? What is the issue plaguing your helpless villagers this time? A charm for their nets for the season? A spell for the hearths to catch flame against damp wood? Grain for the winter?”

He looked about the single room of your home impatiently as he asked, scowling at the empty fireplace in the kitchen. It had gone out when you’d left that morning, the old window liable to drafts. The lumber in it caught fire with a single glare from him before he sat at the sad excuse of a dining table, nodding in satisfaction. You hid your smile behind the busyness of preparing tea for him, though it was really nothing more than some mint leaves and honey in tepid water.

“Medicine this time, actually. The potion I’d ask for your consultation on was for -”

“The villagers, I know,” he interrupted. “I’d gathered as much. It’s always for others, never for yourself, with you.”

You laughed, serving him the ‘tea.’ He took a long draw of it, setting it down with a huff, eyes lingering on every chip and fracture line of the cup. They mended themselves with a quiet slosh of liquid.

“The children have caught something that the potion isn’t helping. Floyd and Jade said that it’s halted whatever it is, but…it seems the children are in a stasis or sorts, it seems. None have died, thankfully. And I would like to keep it that way.”

He nodded slowly, summoning a style of fish bone as you brought out the paper you kept specifically for the deals you made with Azul. “Yes, let’s. I’ve no love for those villagers you care for so much, but the children hold no blame here. Describe the illness to me. Then we’ll see if I can grant what you ask of me.”

So you did, listing the symptoms as they had appeared nearly a month ago now.

Each symptom appeared three days apart.

The first sign was a loss of the legs. Useless and weak, the child would become bound to their bed.

The second sign was a hallowing of the body, until the child was little more than skin and bones. They lost weight and muscle mass in a matter of hours, despite no fluids being expelled from the body, in spite of any meals or medicines given to the child.

That was when you’d begun brewing your potion to give to the children, having dealt with a similar such plague harming the village some winters before, though the rapidity of the symptoms were starkly different from what had happened in the past.

Then three days later, the day you’d been able to administer the potion after consulting Azul on the efficacy of your potion, came the latest symptom in the children you were too slow to reach.

A loss of vivacity, a stillness of the chest and breath, eyes utterly dim and vacant; as if the child had drowned. Dead in all but reality.

Azul’s stylus paused from his note taking as you described the latest of the symptoms, inks pooling onto the paper and blotting out his neat, looping script.

“The price of this is too high for you to pay.”

You didn’t blink an eye.

“You know this disease.”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand of Azul to honor your ten years of bargains to answer you.

The fire in the hearth flared bright and wide, stray sparks freckling your cheeks, kissing them with sharp burns. You sat unmoved. The fire shrunk back when Azul noticed the ash that fell from your skin.

“I’m not teaching you the cure for it. Wash yourself of this situation.”

“What happened to the innocence of the children? I can take the cost of you healing them in my stead.”

The fire roared long enough for the edge of your window curtain to catch flame before it snuffed itself abruptly with a hiss, in time with Azul pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

“You cannot afford even that,” he hissed out from behind clenched teeth. “Must I spell it out for you? What a cost this high even means? This disease is inhuman. It is dark. Do not involve yourself in it.”

“Can’t I? You’re clever about your loopholes, Azul. Won’t you make one for me?”

He glared, standing and flicking away the stylus with a wave of his hand, the thing disappearing back to where it came in a cloud of ash, right along with the paper he’d been taking notes on.

“I’m not making this deal with you.”

Your brow twitched. “What? What do you mean you won’t? The children - “

He looked down at you, sighing out your name almost apologetically, the command effective immediately as you found yourself shackled to your chair indignantly.

“Azul!”

“Hush.” Your mouth clamped shut and you squealed your ire at him as he looked at you with pity. “You really are a bleeding heart. Know that I take no joy in the harm of children; I am an opportunist, not a monster. I will not make this deal with you. Nor will you make such a deal with any other. You will leave the humans be. If the children are not well another week from now...then I will come to shore for you. But you will leave the humans be.”

You’d be struggling in your seat against his command, but his order shocked you into stilled silence. After these ten years of knowing you, never once had he ever used your name against you like, not once, and now he used it against you in the cruelest way you could have ever imagined.

“Too sweet, you are,” he murmured, hardly able to meet your betrayed gaze. He glanced at the hearth, the flames gently leaping to life again, before turning to the door and stepping out with a look back. In a flash of lightning, he was gone, back into the sea from whence he came.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next seven days consisted of your anxious pacing along the shoreline, unable to enter the village proper, or even trek up the coastline to visit the twins and ask after the health of the children. You knew none of the villagers would come to see you, none of them ever entered your little beach, not once these past ten years. You wouldn’t be able to ask them anything because of Azul anyways, but it still disheartened you that no one even looked your way as you paced the shore, alternating between cursing at the sea and busying yourself with collecting the things that washed up on shore for spells that you could sell. You supposed it was just business as usual, for the villagers to not even check up on you, since you would disappear into your home for days at a time to work on the magic you used to help them each season.

The anxiety over the fate of the children was getting to you.

The minute Azul’s command lost hold on you on the dawn of the eighth day, you all but sprinted into town, anxiety practically choking you as you asked each villager how their children were fairing. Again, as they had the week before, they’d laughed and waved off your worries. Each villager you asked, the same lack of concern. Until you reached Ms. Spade, the widower who always made sure you had your own supply of grain and linens each winter before she went to visit her mother in the mainland with her son Deuce for the season.

She called out your name in relief upon seeing you, grasping your hands with such a grip that your joints ached. “I haven’t seen you in days! What happened?”

“I wasn’t able to leave my home,” you grimaced, “How is Deuce? Is he still okay?”

Ms. Spade’s sober expression was all the answer you needed.

“We were sure it wasn’t contagious, helping the Clovers care for their youngest alongside Trey, but three days ago, both Trey and Deuce lost the use of their legs. It won’t be long now before both of them…”

You squeezed her hands in turn as her voice cracked before reaching into your pockets to produce more of the potion you’d made before, pushing them into your hands. “This is what I gave the other children. It didn’t cure the other children, but it did halt the symptoms.”

She pulled you into a brief, fierce hug before bolting off in the direction of the Clover household, her speed enough to rival her own son. Exhaling slowly to calm your racing heart, you observed the village to gauge the moods of the people around you. The majority of the villagers were indolent and smiling, but after speaking with Ms. Spade, you began to notice the wary faces of some haunting the shadows of their doorways, looking on in contempt and weary compliance.

Thunder rolled in the distance.

“You’re back in town. I thought Azul would have commanded your banishment to be longer.”

You whirled around to find Jade carrying a cooler of his morning’s catch, observing you and your nerves. Floyd was nowhere to be seen, as was to be expected. He did not enter the village proper if he could help it, always preferring to be by the sea, much like you.

“The children.”

“Still in stasis,” he reassured, pausing as his gold eye flared briefly in a glow. Something about its glow nagged at a memory that would not catch in your mind. “None have died. More have fallen ill, though. It will not be long before all of them are affected.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, Jade’s arm shooting out to steady you as you wobbled at the news, a hot wash of anger towards Azul blinding you.

“Is the storm close enough for me to see him?” you managed to spit out, clinging to his arm as he steadied you. His concerned silence had you looking up at him, eyes narrowing. “You and Floyd know more about this disease than you let on.”

“Not anymore than you did, until Azul told us. It was after he’d visited you.”

You gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him in until you were nose to nose, your voice rough with rage, “Tell me. Tell me all of it, Jade. I’m not some child, too naive to know about the consequences of dealing in spellwork! Why the footing around the issue the minute this disease is discussed? What is happening to the children?!”

He remained calm, shifting his arm to below your waist to hoist you up into a carry, hushing your indignant shriek with a whisper of your name to command your silence. The second time in ten years that they’d dare to use your name against you.

“You’re bringing unwanted attention to us. Come, we’ll go see Azul. I’ll explain as we walk.”

You were forced to sit in his arms in silence as he carried you through the village, the curious gazes of the villagers sliding off the two of you like water as their eyes glazed over and something else caught their attention. You squeezed his shoulder with your nails as hard as you could, irritated when he hardly spared you a glance.

“At first, Floyd and I thought it was like that illness you prepared for five years ago. That was why we fished for the memory of that potion you made at the time and helped you gather the ingredients for your potions. But then Azul came to us after he confined you to your home with the symptoms you’d described to him. You hadn’t told us nearly half of what you’d told him. Floyd was quite cross with you.”

You winced, aware that Jade was cross with you as well, even if he left it unspoken. He continued on, just as matter of factly.

“As Azul told you, the disease is inhuman. To be more precise, it is a dark, forbidden magic. It is drenched in the work of fae dealings.”

He glanced up at you, making eye contact.

“Unlike Azul, the fae deals in the way of an exact, equivalent exchange.”

He looked forward again, taking care as he steps onto the beach, so as to not drop you on the uneven terrain.

His command on you had lost its hold, but you were too tremulous to open your mouth. Azul was already waiting at the shoreline, in his human form, the tide creating a semi-circle around him as it ebbed in and out.

“The children are wasting because they are being traded for - “

You slapped a hand over Jade’s mouth, unable to hear the rest. He was unbothered, setting you down. Your knees gave up, but he kept his arm around you to hold you up.

Azul approached with sigh, taking you from Jade’s hold to support you himself.

“The children have not improved on their own, I take it?”

You could barely manage a shake of your head, a cold nausea rising up within you. Azul’s hand rubbing up and down your back slowly, soothingly, kept your focus in the moment.

“These humans are why I didn’t want you to leave home,” he sighed, easing you down to the sand so that you could sit together. Jade walked off in your peripheral vision, but your focus was on Azul and his words. He hesitated for a moment, removing his glasses and looking down at them for a moment, before looking up at you. “I am…sure you noticed that the humans of this village have always been the chipper sort, despite the harshness of the land they live on. It’s what drew you to them, after all.”

You nodded slowly, fighting against the urge to close your eyes and cover your ears.

“Have you not wondered why that is? Why their life is so plentiful, when their land does not take seed, when their shores are wracked by storms so often that their one means of sustenance is not sustenance enough?”

He paused, waiting for a response, then continued on while you remained silent.

“Did you not wonder why they were so eager to welcome you and give you a home out of the abandoned shack on the beach when you offered magic in exchange for nothing but a hot meal?”

You shut your eyes, refusing to open them even as his hands cupped your face and his thumbs stroked your cheeks.

“You’ve always been a bleeding heart,” he sighed, pulling away. The air grew damp, and it was becoming hard for you to breathe as the magic in the air began to concentrate.

When had the two of you moved from the beach? Where had Jade gone?

“Do you still wish to save the children?”

You opened your eyes to meet his, swaying as your brain fought against what he was telling you, what he was asking of you. You were beginning to gag on the magic in the air.

“I wish to go back. I want to forget everything.”

Cool gray eyes stared back into yours as you fought to keep your focus intact in the smoky haze of the cave you found yourself in. How did you get here, again? The thoughts were languidly coiling in your mind, unable to fully form, teasing you to distraction.

“Can you afford the price of ignorance?”

The sharp command of that voice snapped up your attention back to the present, the dampness of the cave a cool balm on your feverish skin, body shaking from the wild magic choking you. The very air was saturated with it and your body was rejecting it. Your focus lapsed against a tide of nausea that rolled over you. A hand touched your cheek, the brush of fingertips a whisper of relief as your eyes opened again. You couldn’t make out his face anymore in the haze that seemed to thicken the longer you stared in search of his eyes. You had to close your eyes again to hold onto the clarity he had returned to you; your voice cracked against the last dregs of your consciousness.

“I’ve more than paid all that you’ve ever asked of me.”

Azul caught you, cradling you to his chest. He sighed, stroking the top of your head with a frown. You were haggard and drained, your human form ill-suited to take in the untamed magic of the cave he’d brought the two of you to, away from the beach where villagers lingered at the edges, unable to actually enter the cursed beach themselves. He traced gentle touches down your face, your shoulders, your arms, undoing the spells he’d layered upon you ten years ago when he’d delivered you to the shores of this village.

The one deal he’d regretted in the past ten years.

He kept watch over you until your breathing eased and your body adjusted to the magic saturating in the cave, laying you down in the pool of water that’d begun to grow as the tide came into the cave.

Your true form was just as breathtaking as the last he’d seen it, before you’d left home to come onto land, to be with these humans you loved so much.

“To think I’d ever break my rule to never negotiate with the fae,” he murmured, taking in your peaceful, sleeping face.

He hated humans, yes. They made it so easy to prey upon their greed. He truly did not understand what you saw in them.

But he was still no monster.

Likes and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated! If you have any questions about this story and the elements that were left open ended and up to interpretation, please feel free to send me an ask!

[nomoreusername]

How Maze Runner Character Would Help If They Found Out You're Bipolar

(I am not trying to stereotype bipolar at all. I have it so when I use terms like mania and episodes I am basing it off of what I know. I know it's a spectrum and different for everyone, but I'm still trying to generalize it as best as I can without being disrespectful)

Doesn't know a lot about it at first so he's a little lost

Secretly looks up stuff about it so he knows and can help better

Catches on to the signs and what helps you very quickly

Never tells anybody and reminds you that you don't owe anyone an explanation for something you can't even control

Will sit in comfortable silence and hold your hand when he can tell things are getting rough

Will journal with you so that you feel connected with him but not pressured to talk

Suggests speaking to him through writing when you physically can't talk

Is very patient when you do

Would drop everything the second you needed him

Basically, he doesn't care whether you need silence or a thousand words as long as you're safe and comfortable

Notices the red flags due to his past experience

Very gently coaxes what's wrong out of you

Opens up back so you know you aren't alone in your mental health

Makes you a list of reasons to live and gives it to you for the next time your low comes

Would have an alarm for when you need to take your medication

Would drive you to and from any psychiatrist and therapists appointment

Doesn't mind when he needs to remind you to eat, sleep, or so basic things when you're going manic

Lets you know when he's worried about you without talking down to or babying you

Would help you schedule a doctor's appointment when your crash or mania is worse than usual or goes on for too long

Would be on the lookout for side effects from any new medications or treatments so he can let you know to bring them up at your appointment

All in all, your most caring and loving supporter

Can tell when you're upset about having it and will try to make jokes to cheer you up

If it doesn't work he'll sit with you in silence and hold you

Would never, ever, ever let anyone talk bad about the mental illness, even if you aren't there

Would sometimes give you too tough love (telling you that you're crashing or having an episode when you're in denial)

When he can tell that it hurt your feelings and just made you defensive he would stop and give you a minute to cool down

After that he would calmly explain why he believes that and would help with whatever you needed if he was right or if something else was going on

Could sometimes be too much when getting you out of the house and doing stuff that's good for you when you're crashing but would realize before it does any harm

Would apologize about it and spend the day laying with and comforting you

To sum it up, his love and concern can be pushy but he will always be there for whatever you need

Would have a little bit of trouble understanding at first

When you had an episode for the first time he made an internal comparison to him lashing out when angry to help with that

Would be good at knowing when you can be calmed down, when you need to be with someone, and when you need to be alone

Would be your first and most intense defender if someone starts stereotyping, being rude, or assuming things about you because of it

Sometimes he would have to catch himself when he's about to lose patience when you're having mania but gets better at it

Knows when it's better for both of you and still safe for you to separate for a little bit (around an hour or two) before helping you work through whatever it was

Would be extremely proud of you when it's very under control and would let you know but also assure you he's aware it's a cycle

Overall, the longer he's with you the better he gets at supporting you

Would sometimes struggle with not taking what you say during episodes to heart but would still understand that you didn't mean and were working on it

Would stay awake and try to soothe you to sleep when your mania causes you to stay up

If you're up for really late he would drive you around and either let you have silence until you fall asleep or talk with you to keep your mind off of it

Would be good at remembering triggers to episodes and help you avoid them

Better at helping you with crashes than mania but isn't in any way bad at either of them

Sometimes would pull away from everyone when he could tell you just needed someone to help you

Sometimes would take your mind off of it and others he would let you talk about it or would hold you when you cried

Generally, very patient and loving while giving you any reassurance you need

Has a basic understanding at first

Researches things about it and keeps what she finds in a journal

Learns and memorizes all the terms and symptoms

Keeps track of patterns she sees with mania and crashes

Has comfort food, movies, and things you'll need near her when she can tell you're going to have an episode

Will watch whatever you want with you while cuddling you until you fall asleep

Gets worried when it happens but doesn't let that blind how you're actually doing

Will eat with with you to make sure you actually are

Tells you she loves you as much as she can so you know you'll never be alone through it

To cut it short, she'll learn everything she can so that she can be everything you need

Listens to what you tell her about it and remembers every last bit of information

Would ask how it went after every psychiatrist/therapists appointment but not pry for details

Knows that even though you need a little extra help from medication or people, you're capable of looking out for yourself

Will bring you your favorite fast food every time she finds out you're not eating because of it

Sits at the table and stares at you while eating her own meal until you finish

Gets you some kind of dessert if you want it when you eat what you can

Will lay on top of you so you can't get up and walk around at night when you aren't sleeping

Sometimes tricks you into thinking her telling you to look out for yourself was actually your idea so you listen

To sum it up, she'll let you be a person while also doing what she has to to make sure you're treating yourself right

Realizes something's wrong during a crash because it reminds her of when Newt was depressed

Tells you she's worried and gets you to open up

Feels a little bad when you do since she didn't expect that answer

When she gets over it she asks if you want to tell her more about it

Listens to every single word

Tells you she loves you and how important you are what when you're finished

Generally better at helping with mania since depression brings back some memories

Will stay up late and read to you when you're manic until you go to sleep

Tells you when you're making a rash decision and suggests you sit down with her and really think it though

Will start adding a "make sure to take your medicine," into her goodmorning/goodnight texts

Notices every change in your behavior and will reassure you she'll be there if you have an episode

Essentially, she makes sure you're being logical when manic and safe when crashing

Asks what she can do to support you when you actually tell her

Makes sure to always know your answer

Would pick up your medicine for you when she sees you're running low

Reminds you when you have to make another psychiatrist or therapist appointment

Has the appointments on her own schedule so she can be ready to drive you to or from there if it ends up being a rough session

Takes you to a quiet place outside if it was to get your mind off of it

Will drive you to her place after that so you still aren't alone

Talks about things that aren't actually important but make you happy until you fall asleep in her arms

Will ask if you want to talk about it in the morning after making breakfast

Respects whatever answer you give her

Overall, she'll make sure you speak for yourself while supporting you when you can't find your voice

[wanderingswampbeast]

Long Post: Why I Don’t Like The Drow

I’ve been ranting about this to a friend on discord (a lot of points I make will come from him) but I’ve finally figured out what my issue with the drow is outside of inherently evil groups being dumb.

The drow are boring. Drow lore is less of a dive into a unique culture and more of a list of fucked up things they do. Like, I cannot name a single interesting aspect of typical drow society that does not directly involve murder, sexism, or slavery, or Lolth. And even then, most of those things are written about in an incredibly bland fashion with them.

The Drow don’t really have much depth to them, and are just kind of evil for evil’s sake (or “because Lolth said so”). They do slavery, but the only real purpose of doing slavery for them is “because Lolth said so”. It isn’t for cheap labor, it’s to be more evil. They betray each other purely because that’s what evil people do. They’re misandrist, not for any real societal reason, but because Lolth hates men. There’s none of what would make slavery an interesting topic or story element, no justification for why they should be allowed to commit one of the worst injustices possible, no real economic reason for it. They just do it because Lolth says they should, and from a writing perspective it hammers home the fact that they’re evil. They aren’t evil because they enslave and murder, they enslave and murder because they’re evil, if that makes any sense.

Them being written as comically evil as they are also hurts them from a worldbuilding perspective. They’re so reliant on slaves for menial labor that the lower class of their society struggle to get jobs. Drow culture so obsessed with betrayal and dumbass house wars that even when actively under attack from the outside they sabotage each other. They’re so decadent that their buildings are held up with magic and semi regularly collapse when a spell fails. To put it bluntly, drow society feels like one that should have collapsed in a few centuries, which, funnily enough, is way longer than D&D elves live.

Their culture being so monolithic also makes writing anything about them difficult. Every drow antagonist is going to have near identical motivations, methods, and ideologies as every other drow antagonist. Every drow protagonist is going to ultimately feel very similar to Drizzt, because leaving their fucked up society to become a do-gooder is such a common backstory element that they added a whole extra god just for doing that. In fact, you can divide 90% of drow characters from any official materials into these categories:

Manservant

Ambitious male, usually a wizard (5 bucks says he has long hair and a widow’s peak)

Dommy Mommy Warcrime Woman

Drizzt Do’Urden or one of his many duplicates

Self-loathing and/or resentful Drider

And finally, their existence almost purely to be humanoid enemies you can fight at nearly any levels is just kind of lazy. This is a problem that I have with the “evil races” of a lot of fantasy but having a group that’s evil by birth just feels like an excuse to not have to write actual motivations for your antagonists. It’s the difference between “go attack this camp of soldiers because they’re part of the SkullMurder army and their general wants to use our land to build a dread fortress” vs “go attack this camp of soldiers specifically because they’re drow/goblins/orcs/the dreaded peepee-poopoo folk”. Using stuff like this just feels like an excuse to not have to write an actual antagonist since it comes pre-written in the group’s lore. This has the side effect of whenever such a group is the antagonist of the plot, the players or audience know near exactly what to expect. The orc is here to conquer, the goblin is here to steal, and the drow is here to enslave or do some dark ritual.

I’ve legitimately heard people say “well if XYZ can’t be inherently evil anymore, who will we use as bad guys?” It’s very simple: whoever the fuck we want. Write an evil queen, or a scheming wizard, or an underground slave trade network. For God’s sake, anyone can be evil, you don’t need to tie that to a specific ethnic group and write it as “they’re just like that”. Write an actual character for your antagonist.

[liliavnrg]

i wanted to try to write something longer for lilia. this will most likely be, at the very least, slightly out of character, and i wrote it at 2am so there'll be some mistakes here and there. warnings; hurt/comfort, crying, hints of bittersweet ending, slight hurt/no comfort for lilia.

The old fae stood in front of your bedroom door, his eyes wide open in surprise as his hand stopped right before his knuckles knocked on the worn wood to announce his presence, frozen in place after being caught off guard by a strange sound. 

And there it was again, but this time he realized what it was: a sniff. 

It was a small, fragile sound that could easily fade away with the wind coming through the windows, but Lilia’s hearing was still much sharper than a regular person’s, catching it without much trouble. 

Even with the door separating your room from the hallway where he stood, his ears picked up the gentle rustle of a page being turned, confirming that you were inside. There was no sobbing, no wails or whimpers, only that single sniffle… but it was enough for him. 

Keeping his usual, friendly smile on his face, Lilia energetically knocked at your door, listening as the sound of turning pages ceased and, after a few seconds, your footsteps getting closer before finally opening the door. 

“Good evening! I hope you don’t mind my little surprise visit.” His red eyes were focused on your face as he greeted you. At first sight, there was barely anything unusual, but there was the slightest glint on your eyes that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. 

His suspicions only increased when you cleared your throat before replying. While there were many reasons, he was used to following his instinct, and this was no exception. Having raised a son taught him to pay attention to certain details.

“I don’t, I expected that you would just drop in after I told you that you could visit whenever you wanted.” Your reply only added something else to his mental list, your voice was croaky.

Lilia simply sent you a playful smile before following you inside your bedroom, leaving the box he carried on one of his hands on top of your desk, noticing the closed book to the side. It was old, even the magic spell used to preserve it couldn’t stop the letters making up the title to fade with time. 

“What an interesting book you have here.” His gaze moved from the object to your face, watching your reaction. “Would you mind telling me about its contents?” 

Ah, there it was. A small frown, your lips turning down ever so slightly as you fought to keep your expression neutral. He noticed how you played with the sleeves of your shirt, too, probably because of stress. 

“It’s just a book I picked from the library, it’s nothing special.” Your attempt to avoid the question was cute, but it wouldn’t work on someone like him. 

“I see. Although I find it strange how something that you claim isn’t special would make you cry.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“What? I wasn’t crying, what are you talking about?” And yet, there was the smallest of tremors in your voice, your body tensing.

“Maybe not crying, but I can tell you’re holding it in.” Lilia took a few steps forward, slowly reaching to caress your cheek with his gloved fingers, the fabric cold against your warm skin. “If you’d prefer not to talk about it, I can simply stay here with you and lend you my shoulder. But it isn’t healthy to hold your tears for too long, little one.”

Silence was his reply, but the expression on your face said enough. Faced with someone lending you a hand, it was more and more difficult to hold it in, the coldness of his touch feeling warm, his understanding eyes breaking your walls so easily that it was almost pitiable. 

“Come here, I’ll hold you.” The man’s deep voice sounded so comforting as he guided your body closer to his own, his movement slow to give you the opportunity to pull away if you wished to, and yet his arms were firm as he wrapped them around you.

Your own arms felt awkward, so you wrapped them around him in return, your embrace much looser than his while you hesitated. There was no rush from the fae, no comments, only his gentle touch as one of his hands stroked your back, as if he was willing to give you all the time in the world. 

With each caress, you felt your eyes burn, a lump in your throat as your vision began to turn blurry. You fought to keep your feelings inside, it was a habit. Your lip trembled, your skin felt warmer, too warm. Even in Lilia’s firm hold, your body shook, but it was a lost battle from the moment the fae looked at you with his soft gaze.

A sob escaped, followed by another, even as you tried to hold back the tears. Your head hurt, painful pounding against your skull from bottling your feelings for so long until the bottle shattered. 

Lilia’s hand never stopped stroking your back even as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, your loose embrace turning into a desperate one, your hands clinging to his coat as he felt your hot tears fall on his skin and the fabric of his shirt.

You clenched your jaw to try and put a stop to your sobs, but it proved to be useless as they continued escaping your mouth, your body trembling with each one as you tried to regulate your breathing. 

“I- I just miss my home so much, Lilia.” You sobbed, your voice croaky and muffled. “I know the headmaster isn’t trying- he’s always avoiding the topic! He- He only mentions it when he wants me to- to do something for him!” 

You sniffled, your body shaking even harder as you finally let your feelings out of the cracked bottle you had been trying to fix for months ever since the first time you noticed how nervous Crowley had acted when you asked about when you’d be able to go home, or if he had discovered something. 

“I’ve been- I’ve been trying to look for a way myself, but it’s just so, so useless.” You continued. “I like this place, I love you guys so much, but I- I-” A sob cut you off, and you didn’t try to continue talking, knowing that it would be nothing but incomprehensible words.

Lilia didn’t say anything, he knew that there was nothing he could say to comfort you at that moment. He didn’t know anything about how you got to Twisted Wonderland, at least no more than you did, and he couldn’t tell you that you’d be able to go back soon, as it would be empty words. 

So he chose silence, his hand moving from your back to your head, letting you weep on his shoulder without any rush. Your sobs and whimpers broke his old heart, he hated to see someone like you cry, as you had quickly become someone he held very dear.

And yet, what hurt him the most was the reason for your tears. You longed to go back to your world, to your real home, where you had been born and raised, a place he knew nothing about. A place where he couldn’t follow you if you managed to find a way back.

But Lilia knew that he couldn’t tell you about how he feared the day when you’d leave this world, about how much it’d hurt to see you go. A farewell should be happy, someone should be sent off with a smile rather than with tears and a frown, and he wanted you to go wherever you wanted as long as it made you happy.

How could he be so selfish to ask you to stay, when he himself didn’t even know how long he had left? He’d rather you went back to your home before you could see him grow weaker, and keep your memories always dear to your heart. 

Lilia stood there with you sobbing in his arms for a long time, until the tears finally stopped. He let you pull away from the hug, but kept one of his hands on your arm, giving a gentle, comforting squeeze before letting go. 

“Feeling better?” His voice was as soft as his eyes, putting a small stop to his playful self to pay more attention to you. 

“Yeah, I… I needed that, thank you.” It felt a bit embarrassing to admit, but you were truly grateful that the fae was there to convince you to stop holding back your tears. Even if your face still felt a bit too warm for your liking as you wiped away the remains of your tears, your chest felt lighter. 

“That’s good! Now, I brought something that will make you feel even better.” With a big smile on his face. Lilia reached to grab the box he had placed on your desk, opening the lid. 

Inside you could see cupcakes, except the color was extremely weird, even sickly-looking. There were strange ingredients used as toppings and, while you could see some decent frosting with colorful sprinkles, you were pretty sure there was a lizard tail, or something else in there, too.

“Did you… cook this?” You asked, trying very, very hard to keep a smile on your face, although the answer was obvious. 

“I did! So, which one would you like to try first? I made sure that all of these would be highly nutritious.” Lilia replied, the grin on his face showing nothing but pride for his cooking, completely unaware of the grimace you were fighting.

Your heart felt lighter, even with the danger of the suspicious-looking treats. At the same time, his chest felt heavier, with the reminder that your presence was even more temporary than he was used to.