#fic: All my promise and my pride (all my fear and all my fight) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allfortheslay25 · 6 months ago

Note

Pls loredump Abt ur new all for the war au

THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!

everyone keep up it’s a doozy☝️

TW: mentions of abuse, torture, human trafficking, assault, murder, and lots of violence ⚠️

Some facts to keep in mind: Based on a draft for a novel I am working on, despite Milo being in this AU it is not 100% based on the Milo fic and has some changes to adhere to my novel, this novel is fantasy with light magic aspects and more godly mythology aspects (so not everyone can do magic cuz it’s more like witchcraft or godly blessings/curses), Neil is sort of intersex (or at least a version of it in this fantasy world) This also isn’t the full story, I left some stuff out because I don’t think I can get through every microscopic detail

The war started when Palmetto country was harassed for the last time. The Moriyamas had sent another army to pass through, use their resources, and bully their citizens. So Palmetto decided enough was enough and declared war. It was Kayleigh Day that accepted and decided to fight back (otherwise the Moriyamas would have closed their boarders and just ignored Palmetto)

David Wymack was in charge of the Palmetto army and fought a long and hard battle against Kayleigh and the Moriyamas defenses. Eventually, they’d met in person and become frenemies. Kayleigh was pregnant with Kevin and after many interactions and conversations with Wymack, decided the war wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want Kevin to grow up surrounded by meaningless bloodshed.

The Moriyamas did not stand for her decision. She started this, she has to end it. They tasked Tetsuji, her closest friend and family, to kill her. Tetsuji did so and raised Kevin as one of his own (alongside Riko) Kevin was told his mother was assassinated by the other side and her war is now his.

So Kevin trained hard, studied war and battle strategy, and worked to finish what his mother started.

Along his journey to becoming the ‘hero’ the Moriyama empire needed, he trained alongside Riko who he considered a brother, and was given two friends; Nathaniel, a young boy belonging to a war driven family aka the House of Slaughter who were well known battle strategists, and later Jean, a teen belonging to a wealthy family aka the House of Pride who were known to own lots of ships and traveling resources.

Nathaniel was always promised to Tetsuji’s unit since his birth. Riko let Kevin have him so Kevin could make a warrior out of him. And, after all, what’s Kevin’s is Riko’s and what’s Riko’s is always Riko’s.

Jean was betrothed to Kevin when he’d completed his first mission. Kevin assumed it’s what Jean wanted since the Moreau family has always been stuck up about letting other families marry into theirs. Their children are picky and if Jean was his fianc��, it had to mean Jean chose him. But Kevin was oblivious to how little Jean mattered to his family.

Nathaniel grew up with Kevin as a brother figure and a mentor. They trained and studied together and snuck away with Riko and Jean to get into childish shenanigans. But every weekend, Nathaniel would need to go home for Wesninski family training where they’d torture him. It was meant to train Nathaniel in interrogation, both how to survive one and how to conduct one. On his first day back, the Moriyamas would hurt him so that he wouldn’t forget to fear them too. Kevin was just as obvious to this and assumed Nathaniel was just very weak and prone to injury.

Eventually, when Nathaniel was 13, he and Kevin got into a fight about how distracted Nathaniel had been these days. He’d kept sneaking off to hang out with some secret friends of his or to follow Riko around. Kevin assumed Nathaniel was purposely getting sloppy and tore into him. Nathaniel had definitely been getting away with those other soldiers, content to let them treat him to food and (appropriate)entertainment in the town. It was an escape from Kevin’s pressure on him and Riko’s abuse behind closed doors (which is why Nathaniel was often following him around)

Kevin said some things he didn’t mean and told Nathaniel to be at the training grounds for night practice or else. Nathaniel left to hang out with the soldiers so he could vent about Kevin’s attitude. He meant to show up for night practice but the soldiers had held him hostage and assaulted him until morning.

Nathaniel had Wesninski training the next day and was gone for two days and an extra day with the Moriyamas abuse. Before he could attempt to go to Kevin, Riko had locked him in his room as punishment for not seeing Riko before he left. When he was finally let out before the next week started, Kevin had to be fuming.

Nathaniel went to Kevin to explain or make up for his absence but running into Riko reminded him that even if he reported it, the soldiers wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Nathaniel was property and if Riko didn’t care that they’d touched him, neither would any other Moriyama. So he showed up to the training grounds to lie about his whereabouts and it set Kevin off.

Kevin laid into him about his sloppiness and hit Nathaniel where it hurts. Kevin decided he had enough and Nathaniel wasn’t cut out to be a soldier so he quit as his mentor. Nathaniel of course had argued back and twisted the knife (metaphorical) into Kevin as a final word. They got into a bit of a tussle in which Kevin slice Nathaniel across the face as the final ‘we’re done’. Nathaniel left the castle grounds for some space and hid away for a week when he’d realized something was wrong. He was pregnant.

Knowing what the Moriyamas would do to him and how they would have decided to use this to their advantage, Nathaniel decided to leave the country. He changed his name and disguised himself (with the help of his mother) so he could go to Palmetto. Renee, a solider who helps people escape from the war and settle down into Palmetto, picked Neil out of the crowd instantly. They had to test him since being pregnant allows extra comforts and resources and many people try to fool them for it every day.

Neil was kept under constant watch by Andrew, a fellow soldier and friend of Renee’s. They talked every day, Neil never giving up any information and doing his best to take scraps of info about the war from Andrew. Eventually, Neil was far along enough for a doctor, Abby, to examine him and prove he was with child. The information wasn’t a blessing to Neil and only made him more bitter and hostile towards the Foxes (soldiers of palmetto tasked with guarding the farms that those with pregnancies stay at) Neil was allowed privacy but that was a favor from Andrew after Neil gave him a truth.

Neil had planned to use the comforts provided for pregnant ppl until Milo was born and he could just give him up and move on with his life. Andrew knew and because no one asked, he never told any of the other Foxes. Andrew would give Neil reports about the ongoing war, they’d play their truths game, and ofc Andrew would just do his duties as a guard.

When Milo was born, Neil decided to keep him, afraid to end up alone in this new country. While recovering, Neil could not stand the Foxes reckless and messy teamwork during battles and provided them with better plans and instructions while in bed rest. Dan was eager to let him since his plans worked and made sense. When Neil recovered, he enlisted and Dan took him under her wing to train him to replace her.

Word got out about this new strategist of there’s and how ruthless he was. Kevin had not been out on the field (he’s one of few people allowed to switch back and forth between battlefield fighting and hq strategy) but Riko had.

Riko one day stormed back into hq to rant about Nathaniel being the new strategist. Kevin didn’t believe it and didn’t think it was a funny joke since everyone had assumed Nathaniel was dead. Kevin instantly geared up to meet them on the battlefield and fought him, using Nathaniel’s old habits to get him on his back and unmask him. Kevin was relieved to find him alive but confused as to why he was fighting for palmetto.

Neil kicked Kevin’s ass and told him to go back home, deciding to retreat for now. Kevin followed his lead in his state of shock. A week later, he received a note from Nathaniel to meet him by a certain lake they used to hang around as kids. There, he explained that he was no longer Nathaniel and he would not be coming back to the Moriyamas. They argued, Kevin begged for him to come back, he told him that the Moriyamas killed Mary for hiding him and her last words were that Nathaniel died, Nathaniel did not mention his assault or his son but threw his abuse in Kevin’s face before they calmed down and talked about nothing. Sunrise came around and Neil left.

Kevin had hopes of convincing Neil back and confided in Jean about his struggles. He told Riko to forgive Neil and naively hoped they could all just go back to normal.

Flash forward to Tetsuji having a mission for Kevin. Kevin, eager to prove himself, agreed to kill an enemies son. Tetsuji tells him to slow down before explaining that it’s a baby and not only is it a child, it is Nathaniel’s one and only son. Kevin begs and tries to convince Tetsuji to see another way, that Milo won’t be a threat, that they can’t do this to family. Tetsuji reminds him that Nathaniel is a traitor and no longer family and that if he cannot complete this mission, someone else (possibly Riko) will. Tetsuji does this to Kevin because he wants to ensure that Kevin is a Moriyama and just like when Tetsuji was ordered to kill a sister (Kayleigh) Kevin must kill a nephew (Milo)

Kevin suits up and heads to the farm where Milo lives, sneaking in with the help of the Moriyamas and a token Neil had given him in case Kevin ever wanted to escape to Palmetto (it was a coin with a fox on it that he’d flash towards any guards at the boarders, and they’d let him in) At the farm, Kevin loses his resolve because of how much Milo just looks like Neil. Kevin had first met Neil when he was three years old at a Wesninski banquet, that’s when Riko had gifted Kevin with the honor of training him. Neil moved in with them when he was eight years old, and started his physical training at 10. Kevin couldn’t fathom killing Milo when all he saw was Neil’s infant face at that banquet.

Kevin instead kidnapped Milo and taken him back to the Moriyamas castle where he begged Riko to convince Tetsuji to let them keep him. Riko had agreed instantly with ulterior motives to raise his own Wesnisnki weapon. They tutored Milo in battle strategy and while Kevin was away on the battlefield, Riko would hurt Milo.

Neil had gone to torturing the Moriyamas ppl to find information about Milo’s possible whereabouts. It had gotten bad enough that the Moriyamas were willing to just toss him back to Neil or even kill him to get rid of the evidence. Riko had a dumbass plan to send an infants mutilated body back to Neil with a threat. Kevin actually believed it to be Milo and had a mental breakdown about the loss until Riko revealed it was all a trick. Kevin began to realize how much of a monster Riko actually was.

Meanwhile, Neil stopped torturing the Moriyamas citizens and instead just started burning down their villages. At first, it seemed like a ridiculous act of grief and the Moriyamas opened their kingdoms city borders for the homeless to reside in temporarily. Once all of their ppl were in one place, Neil broke into the castle and gathered all the Moriyamas to make them beg for mercy.

Kevin was the only one to beg for forgiveness and accept any punishments Neil had to offer. Kevin hadn’t known where Riko hid Milo at the time and didn’t know if he should admit that Milo was in fact alive (after all, Kevin didn’t even have proof) when the Moriyamas made halfassed apologies for Neil’s loss, he told Kevin that he was an idiot and needed to stop treating Neil like a child. Then Neil set the entire city on fire as his men slaughtered as many women and children as they could. Kevin was forced to watch from a window and listen to the people’s screams as the city burned and bled. It was the first time Kevin saw Neil as a monster.

Neil then castrated the Moriyamas, killing Kengo and Ichirou and taking Tetsuji’s hands. Kevin was the only person unscathed because Neil knew how Kevin has the worst case of survivors guilt. Riko was the only person who escaped, hiding away until the next day when the fires died.

Tetsuji was meant to make Riko king now. He first ordered Kevin to kill Milo as a last act of vengeance and fear that Neil would discover the truth. Riko taunted him about it and went to sleep like a baby for his coronation the next day. Kevin almost did kill Milo before deciding to instead kill Riko in his sleep. Kevin took Milo and returned him to Neil’s men.

On his long journey to palmetto (now that the city is burned and the borders are back up Kevin must take the long way) Jean’s spirit follows him, talking to Kevin as he begins to believe he is going insane. He didn’t want to believe Jean was dead but it was the only answer. Tetsuji and his advisors slaughtered Jean for killing Riko. They didn’t bother investigating and brutally murdered him. Kevin eventually is able to return Milo and wanders between the borders, unable to return home or go to palmetto.

Neil later forgives Kevin (after a very long few years) and helps him connect with Wymack. While Kevin talks to Neil about his plans, he avoids the war and Neil never tells him that Tetsuji hung himself and the throne now belongs to Kevin. The war is coming to a close and Kevin needs to let it end before he can claim his title. Except, while Kevin is helping a few ppl escape to Palmetto, Milo (who is a teenager by now) tries to kill him, driving Kevin farther from both kingdoms. It’s why he never gets the news about the end of the war or Neil and Andrew’s brutal deaths.

Injured and weakened, Kevin tries to help as many people as he can as they all make way to palmetto. Crossing the river, Kevin is too injured from Milo’s attack to fight the ripples, causing Kevin to fall and bust his head open on a rock. Kevin drowns until he finally bleeds out.

As for Neil and Andrew, they were still on the war front the day the news of the end came. Neil was asked to help some villagers nearby their camp. He was tricked and captured and the villagers burned him alive for a day and a half. Nearing the second day, Andrew received word about Neil’s kidnapping. He was leaving their tent when he’d had a heart attack and died. Andrew was purposely poisoned so he wouldn’t avenge Neil’s death.

The only survivor of this story was Milo, who had trained himself for his parents war, who was tortured just to end it, who was kidnapped and separated from Neil, who didn’t even get to fight in it. Milo lived to tell their tale and was forced to face it alone.

The end.

#aftg #all for the game #art #doodles #fanart #neil josten #andrew minyard #oc #milo josten #all for the war #miloverse #Kevin day #the Moriyamas #jean moreau #riko moriyama

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notreallythatlost · 29 days ago

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FROM MY SOUL

pairing: halbrand/sauron x female!elf!reader

summary: you were betrayed by your great love sauron a long, long time ago. and when he returned, you want him to pay for what he did.

warnings: 18+, mdni, unprotected sex, jealous!sauron, handjob, oral (female receiving), p in v, rough sex, mentions of sub!sauron but switches to dom!sauron really fast (i couldn’t resist), blood licking, dark!reader

word count: 3k

note: i’m still alive at posting fics! 🙈 i think this is one of my personal favorites and i really hope you’ll like it too. xx also, i wanted to say thank you again, for all your support. it always encourages me so much. <33 and thanks to @sansaorgana for the gif inspiration, it hasn’t left my mind since then. 🤪

this fic is inspired by last night’s mascara by griff

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

The air smelled musty as you entered the prison. But besides that disgusting stench, there was something else that caught your attention. A presence so powerful that it was impossible to resist.

“I'll be honest, when I first saw you here, I didn't want to believe it,” you said, the sound of your voice echoing off the walls. There was no reason to be secretive — after all, you were the only ones here.

“Sauron, the Dark Lord, has returned. And imagine, he is in Númenor. I wonder what he wants here?” you continued as you stopped in front of his cell. You knew how much he hated that name and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it.

The man slowly sat up and kept his eyes on the floor in front of him. “You know exactly what I want here,” he said quietly and turned his head in your direction.

You could feel his gaze gliding over your body. Hot and full of desire. “Y/N, it's been a long time,” he continued, standing up to walk towards the bars and into the light of the torches.

Now you could see his face, which looked pretty scratched, he must have gotten into a fight with someone. “Do I want to know why you ended up in this cell?” you asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, which caused a smile on his lips.

“Dispute about a woman,” he said, leaning his arms against the bars, as you raised your eyebrows. “Don’t start…,” he murmured and his gaze fell down to your hand. “I see you haven't forgotten me. Or the things we did together,” he continued and you rolled your eyes. You hid your hand behind your back, and with it the ring on your finger.

“But that's not why you're here, am I right?” you asked, ignoring his words. “What brought you to Númenor?” With that, you stepped closer to him and looked him in the eyes, without any emotion.

There was a brief silence and only the faint rustling of the torches could be heard, then he began to speak. “To be honest, it was just a coincidence at first. But when I stepped onto this island and felt your presence, I knew that fate had brought me here. Back to the only woman who was ever able to love me. And maybe, after all these years, she is ready to stand by my side.”

In another time, his words might have triggered something in you, but now only an unimpressed laugh escaped your lips. “How long did it take you to rehearse that? A century?” you asked and Sauron frowned.

“Believe what you want,” he growled threateningly, his pride hurt by the slight undertone of mockery in your voice. “I’m only telling the truth.”

“Just as it is true that you betrayed me? Betrayed me at the moment when I needed you most? You knew what you were doing when you set the orcs on me out of fear that I might, one day, have more power than you could ever bear,” you spat out the words, but he didn't even blink.

“And yet you still wear that ring,” he noted, raising his hand as you raised yours in the same way. For a moment you stared at the silver band which shimmered in the light of the torches, remembering the moment he had put it on your finger.

It’s you and me against the world.

That was his promise. And he broke it with turning his back to you.

With a snort, you ripped your hand from his power. “I wear this ring to remind me of one thing. That I will never trust the words of a moron like you again.”

With that, you whirled around and left him behind, alone in the cell where he had brought himself into.

You would have loved to plunge your dagger into his chest, but you would have to wait. And patience was a virtue, after all.

The wine tingled as it ran down your throat and you sighed softly. It felt good and distracted you from the fact that your lover was on this island with you. That he was still alive, even though you had thought him dead for so long.

“You look like you could use some company,” a voice said, and when you raised your head, you looked into Kemen’s eyes.

“To be honest, I'd much rather be alone right now,” you replied, but he didn't seem to care what you wanted. He sat down on the bench opposite you and looked at you with a hungry look. “Believe me, I can tell when someone doesn't want to be alone. And the way you're drinking that wine, you definitely need some distraction,” he explained and you snorted.

“Oh, yeah? And you want to give me that distraction?” you asked skeptically, raising your eyebrows as you placed the mug on the wooden table.

Kemen just looked you in the eyes as he reached across the table for your hand. You looked down at his fingers that were holding yours and then raised your gaze again to look into his eyes.

A few moments later he was pushing your back against the wall of an alley while he greedily devoured your mouth. It wasn't that you found him attractive. He was a nasty little snake, but in that moment he could give you what you needed and that it was a distraction from the man, who hurt you so many centuries before but still held your heart in his hand.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this,” the mortal gasped against your lips and you had to control yourself from rolling your eyes. “You better be quiet and keep kissing me,” you replied and your lips collided again. But just as his hands were about to wander down your body, he stopped.

Or rather, someone ripped him away from you, causing him to stumble backwards into a few barrels that were behind him. “You better get out of here before I kill you,” Halbrand growled menacingly, making Kemen swallow hard. He gave you a last look, before he turned and hurried away.

With a heavy sigh, you wiped your mouth, erasing the feeling of his lips, as you casually pushed yourself away from the wall.

“Now you've chased him away. I just wanted to have a little fun,” you said with a sly smile, which made Halbrand snort.

“Seriously? He's not even attractive. Nor even worthy of you. Besides...” he began, moving closer. “I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you like this.” You could see his eyes darken and you took a step towards him. Your hand went to his chest and you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Sweetheart, who can touch me is still my decision. And it's definitely not you,” you said, pushing past him and wanting to leave to follow your toy, but he grabbed your wrist.

“It's you and me against the world,” he said, making you freeze. You closed your eyes, let the words sink in and gathered all your hatred before turning around and shoving him in the chest. “You damn bastard! Do you really think that I will fall for these words again? That I will give myself to you again as if you hadn't ripped my heart out of my chest?”

By now he was standing with his back pressed against the wall and stared at you with a wild look. Your breathing was heavy and you were about to slap him, but instead your mouths collided.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his clothes while he held your head in his hands. He devoured you completely, just as if he were a starving man. His tongue ran over yours while his other hand clung desperately to your hip.

An angry growl escaped your lips as you pulled away from him again, grabbing the dagger from under the skirt of your dress to press it against his throat. “I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me. You promised to give me everything. Instead, you took everything from me. And I will make you pay for that,” you hissed against his lips, but he didn't seem to care at all.

“Go on, do it. Make me pay for it,” he growled, his voice full of desire, giving you goosebumps. “But you can't deny what your body is telling me so clearly. You're dying to feel me, aren't you?” he continued, his words against your mouth and you pressed him a little harder against the wall.

The dagger was still at his throat and he slowly raised his hand. He wrapped it around the blade and pushed it away, causing pitch-black blood to ooze from his hand and drip onto the floor. “You know I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. I wanted you by my side, believe me,” he said and pushed himself away from the wall, forcing you to back away. The blade was still cutting into his skin, but you didn't think about letting it down.

“Then why did you betray me?” you asked him, your voice shaking with suppressed anger.

“Because otherwise you would have gone down with me,” he answered, the look in his eyes so honest that you slowly lowered the knife. “You want to hear the real reason I came to Númenor? It's you,” he added, raising his hand to stroke your cheek, but you clasped his wrist before he could touch you.

Your eyes were locked, neither of you able to look away as you took his hand and ran your tongue over the bleeding wound in his palm. The sweet taste of his blood filled your senses and you saw his mouth open in a soft moan.

The dagger fell from your hand and onto the ground as Halbrand's lips crashed against yours again. He groaned as his tongue touched yours again and he could taste his own blood.

Soon his hands were everywhere, in your hair, on your ass and your breasts — but you had no intention of letting him take control. In the middle of the kiss you paused and looked up at him with an evil smile. “You really think I'll forgive you that easily?” you asked and he frowned. “I want you to beg. I want you to fall to your knees in front of me and beg for forgiveness,” you continued and his jaw tensed.

Before he could protest, you pushed him back against the wall again and your hand stroked the bulge in his pants. “Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused me? How many times I've wished you were alive so I could be the one to stab a damn dagger into your heart?” you said and Sauron hissed as you applied light pressure to his erection.

You could feel his cock twitching in his pants, desperate for your touch, but you were far from finished.

“I turned my back on the Valar, and yet I begged them to wash you from my soul. Your touches, your kisses, everything that was left of you,” a tear ran down your cheek, “so that I no longer have to bear the pain of your betrayal, but they did not hear me,” you continued, pushing his hand up. Fresh blood had oozed from the wound, but instead of licking it up, you smeared it on the skin of his neck.

You slowly leaned forward, one hand in his hair, pulling his head back. “And here you are and I finally get the chance to take my revenge,” you whispered before sliding your tongue over his neck and licking the blood from his skin.

Halbrand shuddered and gasped as he moved his hips against your body. But you wouldn't give him that release. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

“Please,” escaped his lips and you bit your lower lip.

“Please what?” you breathed and began to massage him through the fabric. “Use your words, deceiver,” you demanded and he growled in frustration at your choice of words.

“Please, touch me,” he said and you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Without saying another word, you opened his pants and took his cock in your hand, which made Halbrand almost gasped in relief. With your other hand you gently brushed some hair from his face and he leaned almost longingly into your touch.

“Of all the faces you've ever worn... this is my favorite, my dearest Mairon,” you whispered, slowly starting to move your hand up and down his length.

His eyes closed and his head fell to the side as you squeezed a little harder, causing him to moan softly. “How does that feel?” you asked, pausing when he didn't answer. “Have you lost your voice?” you breathed against his lips and he growled softly.

“It feels good. Finally feeling your touch again... I've been longing for this for so—” he broke off as you ran your thumb over the tip and smeared the precum.

“Fuck!” he groaned and you couldn't help but smile. “That's the plan,” you replied and started moving your hand faster until his cock began to twitch in your hand. His breathing became deeper and you could tell he was close, but you weren't finished yet.

Just as he was about to reach his climax, you let go of him and his moan turned into a frustrated growl. “You damn...” the words died in his throat as he opened his eyes and his gaze fell on your naked body.

He could see how much you wanted him too, because your arousal was clearly visible on the inside of your thighs, practically inviting him to taste you.

“You will be the death of me...” he said and took a step towards you, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his chest again, brushing your fingertips through the dark curls growing there.

“No, not yet. Not until you're ready to kneel for me,” you said, but he decided your dominance was over now. He came closer, your hand now trapped between your bodies, and slid his hand over the curve of your ass.

“I would always fall to my knees for you, my love,” he whispered against your lips, gliding to the back of your knee with his rough hand and lifted your leg to his hip.

With a smile, you leaned against the stone wall behind you and looked him in the eyes as he slid his finger through your folds. After that, he raised his finger to his lips and licked up your wetness, making you whimper.

“Are you getting impatient now?” Sauron asked, unable to suppress a grin, then, without warning, he sank to his knees and guided your leg so that it was over his shoulder.

Finally, he dove between your legs and ran his tongue through your folds. Your body trembled under the intensity of the touch and you clung your hands to his hair. Your lips were slightly open, but no sound came out.

Only when he dipped his tongue into your wetness, did you moan and lean forward to press his head deeper between your legs. But Halbrand put a hand on your stomach and pushed your upper body back, so you had to lean against the wall again.

He started lapping at you as if you were his favorite meal and didn’t stop until you whimpered his name, then he pulled away from you and stood up.

“I have missed you, you have no idea how much. Even when I was nothing more than a mass without a body or a brain, all I could think about was that beautiful face and how much I loved fucking that beautiful little cunt,” he murmured and began to gently kiss up your jaw. “I wanted to marry you. I wanted you by my side. And in the end, I had no choice but to betray you — so I could protect you,” he continued, pressing a kiss just below your ear, the stubble making you shiver. “If I hadn't done that, you would have suffered the same fate as me. And unlike me, you wouldn't have come back.”

His hand lifted your leg to his hip again and you felt him stroking your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“What if I hadn't managed to escape? What if they had killed me?” you asked him before letting out a shaky breath. “Oh love, I never doubted you, so why should I have started with that?”

With those words, he thrusted his entire length into you. A breathless cry escaped you, and as you looked into Halbrand's eyes, could see the darkness spreading in them. Dark lines became visible on the skin around his eyes for a split second, making him seem so much more menacing — but to you, even more attractive.

It caused your core to clench around his cock and a gasp escaped your lips. Your fingers slid over the lines, which disappeared right after, and his gaze met yours. “You are mine. You always have been,” he said, beginning to move his hips against yours. “You can never escape me.” With that, he pulled out of you before thrusting hard into you again, drawing a frustrated cry from you.

“You will never be able to wash me from your soul. And even if I do, I will find you and defile it again, because you are mine.” Your head fell to the side and you breathed his name. “Mine.” Another thrust and a tremor in your body as you met his movement.

Suddenly he slipped out of you, grabbed with both hands under your thighs and lifted you up so that you had to wrap your legs around his waist. Seconds later he was inside you again and fucked you mercilessly against the wall.

The rough stone scratched your back while the most sinful sounds escaped your lips.

And when he felt you approaching your climax, he put a hand on your cheek and stroked your lower lip with his thumb. Your eyes met again and you could hear him in your head. Heard the words in the Black Speech that made you fall apart.

You and me against the world.

And you realized, that it was true. You could never really wash him from your soul.

2024 notreallythatlost

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rop x reader #halbrand smut #sauron smut

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queen-haq · 11 months ago

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Fic: Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 12

You were seething with anger. So frustrated, you wanted to scream with rage. How dare Billy do this? How dare he fucking threaten you? And on top of that, he hurt Calvin – did he really think that would score him points? Was he really that stupid?

“Stop dragging your feet.” Billy ordered from the other side of the room, packing your clothes into your suitcase. The entitlement in his voice was so infuriating, you picked up the closest pillow to you and threw it at him. As soon as it struck his back, he turned around. For a second he simply stared at you, and fear trickled down your spine. This was a man who kidnapped your friend and tortured him. He had you cuffed and bound a few minutes earlier. As much as you prided yourself in being strong and resourceful, he was an actual soldier, a psychopath and rich. He could kill you in a fit of rage and suffer no consequences.

Then he smirked, his handsome face breaking into a magnetic smile while he retrieved the pillow from the ground. “If it’s a fight you’re looking for, I’ll give you one when we get home.”

His friendly demeanor did nothing to alleviate your anxiety.

Throwing the pillow back onto the bed, he turned around and continued to pack your things.

Half an hour later all of your stuff was packed into a suitcase which Billy was carrying to the elevator. “Rest of your things?” he prodded.

“Storage.”

“We can get it tomorrow.”

You didn’t respond.

The elevator ride felt distinctly uncomfortable, with Billy’s eyes on you the entire time. His gaze felt intrusive, like he was trying to crack through your brain and see every running thought inside your head. You tried ignoring him but it seemed to make no difference.

When you both reached the underground parking lot, you headed towards your car. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Nice try.” He gripped your elbow, maneuvering your body towards the guest parking spots. Once he reached the Wraith, he opened the trunk and stuffed your things inside before pulling open the passenger side door open. “Get in.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “I need my car.”

“We can pick it up tomorrow.”

The bastard had an answer for everything. Fuck him. Angrily you slid inside, wishing you could at least have the satisfaction of slamming his door shut. He closed the door and circled the car to get in. Defiantly you opened the door on your side and slammed it hard.

“Feel better?” he asked, sliding in next to you.

“Fuck off.”

There was his smirk again, goading you, but you chose to ignore it.

This was the first time you were in his car, sitting beside him while he drove. He was a smooth driver, expertly gliding his way through traffic like he did everything else. Prick.

“Where’s Calvin?” you asked.

“He’s fine.”

“You need to let him go.”

“I will,” he replied, nonchalant. “As soon as you keep your end of the deal.”

“I’m already moving back in. What else do you want?”

“A guarantee that you won’t bolt.”

“You’re the one who runs, not me,” you retaliated.

“I’m here now.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his audacity.

“So are you gonna co-operate?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice. You’re smart enough to make the right one.”

“I wish I killed you before.” You expected him to snark back or maybe ignore your hostile words. Instead he smiled, a tender, affectionate smile that made your heart skip a beat because it caught you completely unaware.

“You’ll get lots more chances now. Promise.”

Your eyes locked with his, and for a second the world stopped. You forgot how exhilarating his attention could be, making you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. You were special, you were important, and just as quickly, he would turn on you and throw you aside. Irritated with yourself, you glanced out the window.

Minutes passed before he spoke again. “He’s a decent scammer. Not great, but good enough to fool a lot of people.”

You scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Your buddy, Calvin. He’s ripped off a lot of people with some kind of Ponzi scheme.”

You recalled the portfolio Calvin shared with you, how the returns on investments seemed too good to be true. Fuck. Even though there was nothing to arouse your suspicions at the time, a part of you had known something was wrong. But there was no way you were going to admit that to Billy. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“I had someone look into him.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Want to see what the investigator dug up?”

“Not interested.”

He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Scared to find out the truth about fuckboy?”

“Don’t act like you were punishing him for being a swindler.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, he turned towards you. “I don’t give a fuck about that. He is where he is because he touched you. He. Touched. You. After I warned him not to. And he will pay for that. How much depends on you.”

“Don’t you dare! I’m not responsible for this, you are! You’re the fucking psychopath. You don’t get to put this on me.”

Swallowing the angry lump in your throat, you stared straight ahead. But he didn’t. You felt his eyes digging into you until a car honked from behind. That seemed to snap Billy out of his daze and he started driving again.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with you contemplating Billy’s murder.

***

It was strange to be back in the penthouse that had been your home for a short time. Everything looked the same yet it all felt different. Tainted. You knew you’d have to return eventually because Alistair was an asshole and would make you, but you purposely avoided thinking about living with Billy again. A part of you had hoped he’d avoid you after humiliating the way he had, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t be his way. He liked playing with your emotions, softening you up before going in for the kill, and tonight was the beginning of the same cycle. All the bullshit he spewed was intended to make you feel something for him again but he’d made a big mistake in underestimating you. Because you felt nothing for him anymore. Nothing. And that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he tried to manipulate you or threaten you with Calvin.

The lights turned on automatically as you entered your bedroom. Anita must have cleaned it after you left, because it was perfectly pristine. As Billy brushed past you carrying your luggage, your body stiffened. Everything about him felt obtrusive and too close. He was back in your life, in your head, in your room, and now in your things as he started to unpack your luggage.

“Stop touching my stuff,” you snapped, grabbing the skirts he was holding in his hand.

“I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” You stormed over to the walk-in closet and started hanging the clothes up.

“Fine. Then I’ll go make dinner.”

“Hope you choke on it and die.”

That elicited a full-fledged chuckle from him, which agitated you more. At least you’d get some satisfaction from pissing him off but he seemed determined not to be provoked. Jackass. Over the next hour while you put away your things, your brain spun with anxiety. You didn’t do well with uncertainty. You were a problem solver and that’s how you got through life. Anticipate. Plan. Execute. Except there was no way for you to anticipate the curveball Billy threw at you. You were prepared for Alistair, but not Billy. And now you had to find a way out of this situation. Not to mention rescue Calvin too. Fuck. You needed to know details, exactly what Billy had planned and then find a way to get through it.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Hearing his voice calling from the kitchen, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom. You took your time in freshening up, washing all the make-up from your face. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, once again pondering Billy’s sick mind. Did he really expect you to play along? Was he so used to women being doormats that he honestly thought you would just roll over and give into him? It was obvious he had no idea who you were. And all signs pointed to him being exactly like his grandfather, a rich, entitled bigot who got off on controlling you. Well, fuck that.

After changing into an extra baggy lounge set that did a remarkable job of making you look dowdy, you sauntered over to the kitchen. What you found there was a complete surprise. The small table was adorned with fresh flowers, your favourite bottle of wine, and candle lights. He had also plated the pasta, which looked unbelievably good, and was already seated and waiting for you. What the fuck? Did he think the two of you were going to have a romantic meal together?

“Seriously?” Your eyes narrowed onto him, shaking your head. “This isn’t a fucking date.”

He looked unmoved by your lack of enthusiasm. “Doesn’t mean we can’t eat.” He stood up to pull your chair back. “Sit.”

“Are you asking me or ordering me?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“You’re unfucking believable.” Refusing to give into him, you walked to the table but ignored the seat he held out for you. Instead, you took another empty seat.

He smiled, and started pouring you a glass of wine. When he tried to hand it to you, you stared back at him defiantly. “Not in the mood.”

“It’s your favourite.”

“Not anymore. You’ve ruined it.”

He smirked. “Fine. More for me then.” Deliberately making a show of enjoying the wine, he held your gaze.

“Tell me what I have to do to get Calvin away from you.”

There was that dark glint in his eyes again, the one reminding you of who Billy truly was. “Let’s have dinner first.”

“I’m not eating with you.”

“If you want to save Calvin, you will.”

You shook your head. “That’s how it’s gonna be from now on, isn’t it? You think this is how you’ll control me. You’re exactly like Alistair.”

“I’m nothing like him.” Jaw clenched, eyes darkened with anger, he moved towards you. A part of you was glad for striking him where it hurt but you didn’t like the closing distance between you two. Especially when he sat next to you.

You didn’t like his proximity, the way his body was turned to you. You were the sole focus of his attention and it made you uncomfortable, reminding you of how easily he played you in the past.

“I don’t want to control you.”

The softness in his voice was a ruse, you reminded yourself.

“That’s not what this is about,” Billy continued.

“What is it gonna take for you to let him go?”

He paused a few seconds before answering. “This. I want this. Dinner. The two of us. Every night.”

“Why? What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“I just want to have dinner with you. That’s all.”

“But it won’t stop at dinner, will it?” You sent him a bitter smile. “How long before I have to fuck you?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing up sex.” He smirked. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Go to hell!” His eyes wandered over your face, like he was memorizing every inch of you – and it made your heart beat faster. Immediately you chastised yourself. “How long do I have to suffer these dinners with you?”

“Three months.”

You scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Throwing one arm around the back of your chair, he leaned in. “This is what I want. Three months. After that, I’ll let him go.”

“You’re gonna hold him hostage until then?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s being looked after.”

“I’m supposed to take your word for that? How do I know you haven’t killed him already?”

“I haven’t. But if you want proof, I can show you.”

Your face twisted with disgust. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t respond, still peering at you closely. When his fingers slowly smoothed over the loose strand of your hair, you steeled yourself to his touch. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” There was longing in his gaze, his voice hoarse with emotion.

It was incredible how convincing he could be but you saw him for what he was – a manipulator.

You touched his hand to brush him away but the instant you made physical contact; sparks flowed through your veins. You withdrew immediately. “Then tell me why.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, he finally leaned back against his chair and you breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you. And I want you to love me back.”

The sheer audacity of his response, how he casually stated his intention – it was so flabbergasting that you couldn’t help but laugh. You laughed and laughed, while he simply studied you with a serious expression on his face. And when you struggled to catch your breath from laughing so hard, he handed you the glass of wine from earlier. This time you took it, your throat parched, and swallowed most of it in a big gulp.

“Easy there.”

You put down the glass. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“Oh, I know.” You gave him a condescending smile. “So I fall in love with you in this pipe dream of yours, and then what? You dump me? Humiliate me again? This time in front of dear old Gramps and the whole family?” Your smile stiffened. “Is that the plan, Billy?”

His voice was sincere, regret looming over his face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you at the wedding.”

“Nothing you said or did was a surprise. It’s what I expected from you.” It wasn’t true, he shattered you that night and made you doubt yourself – but you would never admit that to him. You stood up, casting him a snide glance. “You want me to be your puppet? Fine. I will. Because you’re holding someone I care about hostage. But don’t think for a second I’ll buy your bullshit act. I know you. I see you.” You bent forward so that you were at his height, staring into his eyes directly. “And I’ll never love you.”

Grabbing the bottle of wine, you turned your back on him and sashayed back to your room.

A/N - Sorry about the long wait, lovely readers. With the holidays and me getting into another fandom, I was a little negligent towards GY. But I'm back now :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And, as always, comments are loved and cherished :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

Note

Can I buyyyyyyy some cherries and bananas for Lee!satan and Ler!lucifer

Fruit(s): Cherries, Bananas

WHOOOOOO DAMN I haven’t played this in two years @~@. I tried my best to keep these boys in character and flesh the idea out. Hopefully this doesn’t suck(/hj). May or may not have restarted my interest in this fandom… As always, thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Satan

Ler: Lucifer

Summary: Satan becomes engrossed in a new novel, locking himself in his room all day. He forgets about everything else as time flies, accidentally ignoring his duties and MC. Lucifer gives him a reminder he won’t soon forget.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Satan curled up on his bed, the soft pattering of rain on his bay window making the perfect white noise. He had been gifted a new mystery/drama novel by his favorite human and was intent on binge-reading it to the end. Abandoning his worries and silencing his D.D.D., the avatar of Wrath cracked the spine and began to read his new novel.

Lucifer stormed through the halls of the House of Lamentation, heading for the fourth oldest brother’s room. The knowledge-obsessed recluse hadn’t shown his face in over 24 hours. MC was worried, and the blonde demon’s list of assignments was left untouched.

As the oldest, he took it upon himself to punish his brothers for their various misdeeds. Despite this, he had a soft spot for every one of them in his heart, no matter how small. Mammon was a cheeky, greedy little shit most of the time, but he still loved him as his brother. Nevertheless, Satan’s hermiting couldn’t be left unchecked.

Reaching the sturdy oak barrier, Lucifer knocked rather politely. He was too civilized to bang right away, though he definitely felt like it. “Satan! Open this door, now!” He could still yell, though.

The bibliophile jolted, almost dropping his beloved book as the yell shook him. He scoffed, bookmarked his page and moved to open the door. “What is it, Lucifer? I’m doing something.”

That got a huff out of the prideful demon, his eye twitching. “It’s not your list of tasks for today, is it? Or perhaps spending time with the human? You can’t be in there just reading and think you can speak to me that way.” Internally, he facepalmed. He really had lost track of time, hadn’t he? No way he was admitting that to Lucifer, though. “What makes you think you can talk to me like I’m a child? I’ll get them done, and I’ve got plans to hang out with MC later.”

That made the older man’s blood boil. Normally he’d smack the other demon around a bit and call it a day, but that time was different. He had promised his human that he would refrain from harming his brothers, especially satan. They hate seeing the two fight. Violence is off the table, but something else they had shown him came to mind. Bingo…

The smirk on Lucifer’s face sent an odd feeling to his stomach. One he could’ve sworn he’d felt before, but couldn’t quite remember when. “Satan, I’m giving you five seconds to run. If I were you, I’d use them~” He raised one hand, teasingly wiggling his fingers. Oh... Oh.

Satan did what any rational demon would in that scenario; he ran for his life. Luci rarely got into teasing moods, but when he did, they were killer. Every brother in the House knew to fear a playful Lucifer.

The eldest brother chuckled, watching the cat-lover flee. He loved moments like these, though he’d never admit it. He slowly counted to five listening to every shoe squeak and opening door as his brother ran. Finally, when the time was up, he pursued his victim for the evening.

Lucifer followed his mental map, retracing the noises he’d heard. A shoe squeak for a turn, a door slam for a room change. He reached the end of the trail, watching a bag swing on the closet door. There we are…

Taking long, slow strides, he walked over to the closet. The demon made sure every step was loud and slapped against the ground for his hidden brother to hear. Was it mean? Absolutely. Did he care? Not one bit.

Satan kept a hand pressed over his mouth, not daring to make a sound. He knew that Lucifer was just drawing it out. Before their human showed up, the brothers never would’ve considered such a playful option. But now? It was their favorite alternative, often on both the giving and receiving side. Lucifer was still the most revered in the family, even in such a silly sense.

Chuckling to himself, Lucifer flung the closet door open, grabbing his brother’s arm and pinning him to the couch before he could even think about running. Satan kicked and squirmed, his tucked cardigan quickly getting bunched as he tried to escape. “L-Lucifer! Let me go right now!”

A gleam shone in his older brother’s eyes, one that sent a shiver down his spine. He only got that look when he was about to do something evil, usually to Mammon… If only the greedy avatar were there to distract him.

Lucifer leaned in, speaking directly into his brother’s ear. “I want you to know, Satan, that I will be tickling you mercilessly.” His tone was as smug as it was level. The simple gesture made his stomach do anticipatory flips. “And I will be enjoying myself~”

Before he could even breathe another protest, Luci dug into his upper rib cage, scribbling and drilling his fingers between each bone. Satan fell in a giggle fit, his cheeks quickly pinkening. “L-Luhucifeheher! Nohoho! Gehet off mehehehe!”

“Aww, how unfortunate for you, brother. I won’t be doing that anytime soon.” He cooed, climbing up and down Satan’s rib cage with his wiggly fingers. He had the other demon strongly pinned, giving him very little wiggle room. Still, he tried his best to get away. “Gohoho awahay! I-Ihihi’ll stohop reading fohor todahahay!”

Lucifer believed him, though he didn’t care. His sadism kept him going, but more than that, he liked seeing his logical brother laugh. “Go away? What have I said about you speaking to me like that?” He moved his wiggling fingers to Satan’s neck, basking in the high-pitched squeal he caused. “N-NYAHAHAO! LUHUCIFER, PLEHEHEASE!” That had to be one of his favorite spots, though the true winner was up next.

Satan hated begging anyone for anything, especially Lucifer. His neck was stupidly ticklish, though, and he’d much rather beg under Luci than laugh and squeal like a child. The prideful demon had no intentions of stopping, instead moving to Satan’s “jackpot spot” as his brothers called it. He moved two fingers underneath the boy’s chin, attacking the area with his short nails.

Satan was not proud of his reaction.

A mash-up of a squeal, snort and scream ripped from his throat, his whole body jolting at the feeling. The blush had pretty much taken over his face, tinting his neck and ears a vibrant crimson. “L-LUHAHAHA! I- IHI- NAHAHAHO!” Amidst the crazed laughter, unintelligible nonsense reached the other demon’s ears. He couldn’t understand that if he tried.

“Wow, Satan; I never knew a demon could get so flushed. You’re as red as Diavolo’s coat.” Lucifer had no problems being an asshole to his brother; he had promised he wouldn’t hurt the other demon, but he never said he wouldn’t drive him mad. The teasing was just one more way to make sure his punishment stuck.

Satan was lost in his laughter. His nerves felt as if they were on fire with the ticklish sensation, his typically logical and quick mind a squishy, bubbly soup. There was no way he could do anything but laugh and hope Lucifer had a heart. “PLEAHAHA- PLEHEASE! MEHEHERCY!”

While he was greatly enjoying himself, he could tell his cat-loving brother was at his wits end. With a sigh, he retracted his fingers from beneath Satan’s chin, granting the man his mercy. “You’re lucky I’m feeling benevolent today, brother. Next time, I won’t stop my fun so quickly.”

With that, he released Satan’s arms and dusted off his coat as he stood. He had no shame for reducing his brother to a dazed, giggly puddle. Lucifer left the room, leaving his brother to recover by himself. He had a human to inform.

Satan curled up on the couch, rubbing his neck and hugging himself. Such an asshole… He refused to acknowledge the buzzing in his stomach, instead focusing on a revenge scheme. Taking a deep breath, the Avatar of Wrath stood, following the distant sound of his older brother’s footsteps. After he ranted to MC about how amazing the novel he received was, he had the perfect idea for his revenge. It was only a matter of time…

#kasey's fruit shop #obey me! tickle #lee!satan #ler!lucifer #ticklish!satan #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #om! tickle #obey me! shall we date?#fruit shop event #obey me #obey me! satan #obey me! lucifer

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sauronpilled · 8 months ago

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ROT

@angbangweek

angbangweek : injuries | scars

warning(s) : angst. detailed-ish description of an old injury. not-so-happy-angbang-depiction ( they're fighting and some regrets nothing dark. ). emotional wound as well lmao.

summary : when an old wound left unattended, it'll rot.

pairings : melkor/mairon.

@ervona ty to N for beta reading this fic 💕

In the great depths of Angband, Melkor sought refuge in his companion. Mighty he had been, now lay weakened in the chamber—blood spilled from the gaping flesh; a trail of defeat from the battle.

Rare it was for an Ainur to bear a pain only known to the Eldar. A great being such as he, would be left untouched in his strength, but as The Sun had conquered the darkness, his power dwindled. The kingdoms he proudly built, had been taken by the last remaining light of The trees—how The Valar mocked him so.

Mairon shed the armor that Melkor wore with care, looking upon the injuries on his body. His face unreadable as his fingers traced over the bruises and the scars on his Lord's vessel. Gentle was his touch, reserved only to him. It was the peace that he sought, before a discovery of a wound interrupted it.

Melkor expressed pain greater than that of The Eldar, as his roar echoed through Angband. His legions shivered when his voice touched them. He peered down to the thumb of his lieutenant where he saw a sickly brown gash, reopened once more.

"Fret not, my lord. It is naught but an old wound." Mairon soothed the dark lord with a honeyed song. A melody all too familiar in his present, though with the same detachement in his eyes. He brought forth supplies from the side of the desk, as he carefully mend the opened wound. He brought the stitches to his lord vessel carefully, piercing the skins together.

Melkor then, winced similar to that of a snake.

For once in his life, Melkor was shaken. Pride no longer settled in his heart, for uncertainty had taken its place. His lieutenant sensed this, for fear flickered in his golden eyes.

Mairon turned his attention from the wound he's tending, to the face of his lord. Even in horror, allure graced his vessel. Such a sight provided comfort to the uneased Melkor.

"You shall not leave me," Mairon then warned in his true voice, though void of any sound that are familiar to the ear, it trembled with a great fury. "You have taken me from the guidance of Aulë. You have taken me to a life of darkness, where I acted as a lamp for your cause. Then you abandoned me for the very light that detest you. Do not fool yourself, O Morgoth, for my presence comes not from your false promises, but from my own choices. I have sworn myself to you as Ossë once did, only that, I chose to wait for you. You are mine, as I am yours. Not even your undoing can take you away from me."

Melkor found bliss in the cruel reminder, for he smiled with joy. His darkened finger then reached for his companion hair, a sight full of glory for he shone as the flames that sorrounded them. Frailed he may be, yet his sweet voice slipped from his lips with a deep rasp. "How loyal The Admirable one is to me. Always there to assist."

"You do not listen."

"I do, my Admirable One." There was sadness in his song, before he continue to spoke. His finger traced from his hair to his cheek, then to his neck. "But I will not be here long. All that is mighty will be replaced. Time is ever changing. Death or The Void will take me, but I shall not forget you. For even in darkness I shall be there with you, for you have binded yourself to me. Your light shall be my company in my punishment."

"You can not leave me here for what you did to me. I served for you. I lived for you. I sacrificed everything for you." Despair now filled his words. His voice spreaded further and stronger than that of Melkor.

"My Admirable One," there was silence from Melkor, yet his smile remained. He then, laughed—a bright laughed that was honest of love. "You will do well. You are beautiful and mightier than me. I will remember you as you will remember me. My kingdom shall be yours. You will succeed where I failed."

A sorrow, so unspeakeable, and beyond the knowledge of The Eldar, filled the room. The fire dimmed and now the darkness held over the chamber. A kiss to his companion forehead, from the cold lips of The Dark Lord, as he embraced Mairon in his arms.

"As I'm healing in your abode; we shall make best of what we could have."

#angbangweek2024 #tw : blood #tw : injury #the silmarillion #the silm #silmarillions #sauron #melkor #morgoth #mairon #annatar #tar mairon #original work : my writing

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lynnerdo · 6 months ago

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* The Willow's Purpose *

“The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose.”

As sister to Paul Atreides, and trained in secrecy to be a healer Bene Gesserit, you witnessed the rise of the Lisan Al Gaib. As you experience visions and dreams of a certain man, realising that he will be the one fighting your brother to the death changes your perspective on everything. An uncontrollable force takes over you as you revive him, questions lingering in your mind.

***

Fic on AO3

***

Chapter 8 - Vigor

As the days turn into weeks, the bond between you and Feyd deepens, becoming something almost feral in its intensity. The pull you feel towards each other is instinctive, a raw connection that defies explanation. Feyd's loyalty is unwavering, his presence a constant shadow that never strays far from your side. His devotion earns him the nickname 'fashii dimib', 'silent knife' among the Fremen, a moniker that, despite its rough edges, reflects the fierce protectiveness he shows towards you.

Feyd seems to accept this role with a mixture of pride and resignation. He stands ready at all times, awaiting your every command, his eyes always on you, as if seeking reassurance in your presence. The Fremen's initial suspicion begins to fade, replaced by a cautious respect for the Harkonnen prince who now serves Lady Atreides with such dedication.

Despite the growing acceptance, a question lingers in the back of Feyd's mind: what will he do when he eventually returns to Giedi Prime? The thought troubles him, gnawing at the edges of his loyalty and purpose. He knows that his return is inevitable, yet the idea of leaving you and the bond you share fills him with a deep sense of unease.

One evening, as you sit together in the quiet of your quarters, Feyd broaches the subject. His expression is thoughtful, a rare vulnerability showing through his usual stoic demeanor.

"My lady," he begins, his voice tentative, "I’ve been thinking about the future. About what happens when I have to return to Giedi Prime."

You look up from your work, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What about it?"

He hesitates, as if searching for the right words.

"I don't know what I'll do without you," he admits finally.

Your heart skipping several beats at his openness. Your heart aches at his admission, understanding the depth of his fear.

"I feel the same way, Feyd. We need to prepare ourselves for that day to come."

Feyd shakes his head, frustration etching his features. You can sense the feelings he has well enough now, he doesn’t want to lose what you have. You stand up, as he walks over to your desk, and cup his face as he closes his eyes to bathe into the feeling.

"We’ll find a way," you promise. "But you have a duty to your people, just as I have a duty to mine. We have to honor that."

He opens his eyes, piercing blue eyes, filled with determination. His actions are always fast, even when you anticipate them. His face turns to kiss your hand, eyes closed again, as his other hand pulls you towards him. It’s intimate and soft, unlike the ferality you felt from him in the last weeks. You’re almost moved by this, his own feelings shining through. As you whisper his name softly, he turns to face you again, this time closer than before, your noses touching. Feeling his breath on your lips you tilt your head to kiss him, softer than before, purer and innocent.

He reciprocates immediately, his grasp on your waist becoming more desperate, a feeling of dread and loss overwhelming you. Feyd felt deeply about this decision and what the future held but never had the communication skills to express his feelings. Eventually he let’s go of you, his forehead resting against yours. A moment of bliss in between worries striking your heart.

***

In the days that follow, Feyd throws himself into his role with renewed vigor, determined to prove his loyalty and worth. He trains with the Fremen, learning their ways and earning their respect. ‘Fashii dimib’ becomes an integral part of the community, his presence no longer a source of suspicion but a symbol of the alliance you’ve forged.

Feyd often finds himself contemplating the challenges that lie ahead, wondering how he will maintain his loyalty to you while fulfilling his responsibilities on Giedi Prime. One night, as you lie together under the starry Arrakeen sky, Feyd voices his thoughts once more.

"When the time comes for me to leave, promise me one thing." "Anything," you reply, your voice soft in the stillness. "Promise me that you’ll never forget our bond," he says, his tone fierce with emotion. "Promise me that, no matter what happens, you’ll always remember what we have."

You reach up, brushing his cheek. His words sounding more like they came from your heart instead of his at this point. It almost makes you melancholic when you think about it.

"I promise, Feyd.” You say before kissing him softly.

He nods, a look of contentment washing over his features. Little did you know he had other plans entirely for the both of you.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune 2 #the willow's purpose

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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years ago

Note

hii I loved ur Billy x reader fic you did and I sort of have an idea for another one?

Something where Billy goes to the reader after his fight with Steve in season 2 and she helps him clean his wounds etc. I don't mind if it's established relationship or not, I just thought it would be cool to see his thoughts and stuff after the fight and maybe a lil redemption??

here we are, i hope it sounds good i kinda rushed to finish it during my uni work break oops

GREATEST FEAR

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After his fight at the Byers household, Billy Hargrove has only one place to go; to your trailer.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (from parents), neglection, mentions of blood, like a really long intro for no reason, fluffy stuff

[A/N: this was definitely something different than i usually write so it was kinda fun but i apologise for it being awful]

set in ST2 (in this fic, Billy has been in Hawkins for at least a month longer than he is originally because I said so)

GREATEST FEAR

Billy Hargrove’s worst fear wasn’t predictable.

In fact, it would probably be the last thing someone would guess considering his reputation. And, after the fight at the Byers house, that fear was hitting him like a brick.

His greatest fear? The only person he loved seeing him for who he truly was. That person, being you.

It was true that Billy was far from reaching even the possibility of perfect. Not since his mom left. And certainly not since his dad took it out on his only child. For the longest time, he blamed his actions as a repercussion of his father’s treatment, validating these violent urges he had. And then he met you.

You were kind, and unbelievably smart, and you didn’t have a violent bone in your body. Billy remembers the first time he saw you, walking out of the school with a boy that Billy thought was too out of your league to be believable. You had worn a smile, laughing away as you shared something you found exciting. It wasn’t unusual for Billy to check out girls, but this wasn’t the same. He was utterly and completely mesmerised by you.

And all at the same time, he immediately decided who you were; some promising young girl that her parents prided on, growing up in a little cul-de-sac and practically having opportunities presented to her on a dish. In fact, he had presented his opinion to you after a partnered project forced you both to sit together during lunch. And, to say the least, he severely misjudged your situation.

“I’m sorry, what?” You raise your eyebrows at him, confusion flooding your face. Billy expected you to be defensive, angry even. Instead, you looked slightly amused.

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?” Billy chuckled, a little uncertain already.

After a few minutes of making notes on this biology project you were both meant to create, he had assumed you were judging his lack of knowledge in the area and decided to let burst his own thoughts on you.

“Uh…” You appear to stifle a laugh, looking back down at your page, “Yeah. Pretty much.”

You let out a laugh just as the bell rings and you quickly pack up your things. Looking back at him, you bite your bottom lip before laughing once again, walking away before Billy could even react to your response.

Billy had thought about that conversation for days. It became unbearable to a point where he had blurted his question to you one day, hoping you would shed some light on your amusement.

Rather than spill all your secrets to him, however, you had opened up over time. First, he found out you lived in a trailer with your dad rather than a cul-de-sac. And he thought you were joking about it for a while, constantly asking to visit your home for the project rather than his. When you finally granted his wishes, he was only half-surprised to see you were telling the truth.

Going inside the trailer let out the second truth, one that hit a little too close to home for Billy’s liking; your dad was an asshole. Right from when he stepped foot in that trailer, he was met with a drunken shout from the other side of the hallway, you tightening your lips and sending an apologetic glance at him before disappearing towards the noise. When you had come back, you simply smiled away whatever pain hid behind your eyes and led him to your quiet room to study.

One reveal came after the other and Billy finally realised just how wrong he was about you. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to admit anyone could have any kind of life he did, that they couldn’t possibly understand his pain. But you did. Your mom left when you were young, too tired of her husband’s abuse to care for her child anymore. Which led to putting you in your father’s spotlight, bruises appearing on your skin instead. After a while, he had stopped and taken to drinking, but that didn’t heal any of the scars. And now you lived in a trailer with a drunken parent, having to take two jobs to keep the roof over your head.

All of that pain, and you were the sweetest person Billy knew. And Billy couldn’t use his background as an excuse anymore, not around you.

Which made knocking on your trailer door this particular night so much scarier.

The door swings open and your silhouette is revealed in the glow from your living room, hair a little messy, your work clothes still clung to your body. Billy winces; you clearly had only just gotten off from your night shift at the diner.

“Billy, what-” Your voice stops and your eyes widen, staring at the boy in front of you.

Billy’s lip was swollen, blood smeared across his mouth and cheek. His eyes were slightly droopy, making him look drunk as he swayed faintly on the step, curled hair clung to his sweaty face.

He had clearly been in a fight.

“Shit.” You mutter, gently pulling him inside and shutting the door behind you.

You turn around to see Billy has his head down, avoiding your eyes. From down the hall, the faint sound of the TV blared through the trailer and you sigh. Your dad always fell asleep watching TV, thankfully.

“Okay, we need to be quiet.” You tell Billy, guiding him to your room and softly closing the door behind you.

Glancing back as he sits on the edge of your bed, you furrow your brows. He didn’t look well enough to go home right now. So, you grab the chair from the corner of your room and prop it under the door knob, ensuring you were locked in. It was only a precaution; if your dad caught Billy in your room, you wouldn’t want to know what he would do.

Wordlessly, you fish the first aid box out from under your bed and place it on the bed next to you, sitting cross legged beside Billy and gently reaching to cup your hand under his chin.

“Can you please look at me?” You ask softly and slowly, but surely, his head shifts towards you, eyes never meeting yours. “What happened?”

You usually didn’t ask that question. It was almost an expectation for Billy to come to you with some kind of bruise he had gotten from a fight at high school. He would always greet you with a cheeky grin before apologising in a way that said ‘I’m sorry you have to deal with it, but I will probably do it again’.

But this look was different. This look held guilt. And that scared you.

“Harrington.” Billy finally spoke and you frowned. He and Steve clearly had it out for eachother; you’d witnessed it enough times at their basketball practices. But there was never an actual fight.

You quickly pat his hand, slipping off the bed only for a moment to dampen a cloth with warm water before quickly returning to your spot.

Gently wiping away the blood stains, Billy let out a breath, shaking his head.

“I fucked up.” He whispers out and you freeze.

“Fucked up how?” You question and he hardens his jaw. Your eyes widen, suddenly panicking. “Okay, Billy, I need you to answer me because fucked up can mean anything between ‘I said something I didn’t mean’ to ‘ I literally killed a man’.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.” He grumbles and you slowly nod, silently releasing a relieved breath. You never thought he would be capable of it, but you’ve noticed how he’s been acting lately. His sister, Max, has been making new friends and Billy can’t seem to accept that. You couldn’t tell if he was being protective or something much worse. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the only problem he had was with Lucas Sinclair.

“I lost it.” He admits, hissing when you apply a dab of alcohol onto his lip.

“Sorry.” You wince, pulling back and tilting your head at him when he shifts his body away. “Billy? What did you do?”

He lets out a groan before letting his back hit the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. You do the same after a moment, turning your head to his and waiting for his response. He still seemed a little dazed and you wondered if he had drank before the fight.

Billy was terrified to tell you the truth. In actuality, the last words Max spoke to him were haunting. And it wasn't because they were the same as his father's. It was because he did that to her. To his sister. He had let his anger take control of him, and it turned her against him. He should have been protecting her, not scaring her.

“I went looking for Max.” Billy sighs, running his hands down his face and ignoring the burst of pain from his bottom lip, “My dad made me, said I should have more responsibility with her. Got me so fucking mad.”

As he started to explain, he was allowing himself to feel more than he usually did. Before he met you, he had no one to go to after a fight with his dad. A year ago, Billy would never imagine to feel so understood, let alone feel.

“I’m guessing you found her.” You say quietly and Billy takes a breath, moving his head to finally meet your eyes. He hated that he had to tell you what he did.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, even after every punch. But knowing he was the one in control was what kept him going, what gave him that thrill. Billy didn't want to admit that too you, yet.

“She was at the Byers house.” He suddenly let out a spiteful laugh, clicking his tongue, “Harrington was there with some kids Max keeps hanging around. And the dude lied to me about it. I- I was already angry and riled up, I would have hit anyone that ticked me off, ya know?”

He knew you didn’t know. Whenever anything happened with your dad, you would blast it out with music from your Walkman. You didn’t go around picking fights for relief.

“Finally got in the house.” He nods slowly, turning back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to see your face when he told you this. “Saw the Sinclair kid with her. And I know. I know we talked about it. I know how fucking wrong it is. But I- I just… snapped.”

“Please don’t tell me you hurt him.” Your voice was small and he squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how he threw the boy against the wall.

“I hope not.” He whispers out. “Harrington stopped me before anything else. God, then it was all some stupid blur. I lost it, Y/n. I really lost it. Max had to literally stick me with a needle to get me to stop. I-I don’t know if Harrington’s okay.”

There’s a silence and Billy thinks he’s done it. He thinks his greatest fear has finally claimed the room and he will never hear from you again.

And then he feels your hand sliding into his, gently squeezing. It wasn’t until he moved his head to meet yours that he realised he was even crying.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Billy asks with such confusion, you almost laughed.

“I really wish you could see just how much you could achieve if you didn’t let that asshole into your head.” You finally speak, your words catching him off guard. You let out a breathy laugh, “I hate what he’s doing to you. And I hate what you did. But I don’t hate you.”

Billy just stares at you for a while, eyes searching yours for any hint that you’re lying. But you’re telling the truth. He couldn’t see why you put up with him, lord knows no one else has. Each day he spent with you, he was starting to feel more human again, a little more like the boy he was before his dad ruined his perfect life.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers out with such sincerity, you frowned.

“Billy.” You start, shifting closer to him, so close you could feel his breath against your nose. “You deserve to feel loved. Everyone does.”

“I don’t know where to go from here.” He admits, shaking his head against the duvet beneath his hair.

“Well,” You sigh, laying your head down and staring at where your hands were clasped, “We’re gonna fix you up, wait til whatever drug Max shot into you wears off… and then we’ll talk about it.”

“Sounds good.” Billy yawns and you smile, making his own face light up. God, he loved your smile. “How the hell do you put up with all my shit?”

“Maybe I just like having you around.” You shrug, sitting up and finally letting go of his hand.

He props himself up on the bed, smirking. “Is that right?”

You walk over to your bedside table, rummaging in the drawer for one of Billy’s old shirts he had left behind before.

“Yeah.” You nod, glancing over your shoulder, “It’s for entertainment purposes.”

“Ah.” He laughs, shaking his head. He was starting to feel the bruises now, the drug obviously losing its power.

“Here.” You hand him a new shirt and finish tending to his busted lip, making sure it would heal with no problems.

“Thank you.” Billy says and you look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Anytime.” You reply with a kiss to his cheek, kicking off your shoes and climbing under the sheets of your bed.

He changed his shirt slowly, trying not to show how much pain he was in, and threw the old one to the floor before glancing behind him. You had claimed your side of the bed and opened the covers out to allow him to lay down next to you. He didn’t have to be asked twice.

As soon as your beside lamp was switched off, Billy slipped an arm around you and you snuggled in, careful of his bruised skin.

Billy Hargrove would never admit it, but he didn’t mind moving to Hawkins. Especially since Hawkins had you.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #billy #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #st2 #harringrove #reader insert #female reader

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ourtearsofrain · 6 months ago

Text

All Of Me (J.M.K/O.C) (Save a Horse Universe)

Summary: As their relationship develops, Austin knows that he needs to tell Josh a key aspect of his identity; but every time he tries, his nerves take over, afraid of losing him. He’s finally “forced” into the perfect opportunity as Josh gets handsy after their date, pushing aside his fears to tell him.

Pairings: Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: discussions of negative experiences with past partners in relation to gender identity, brief explanation of biological sex anatomy from a trans man, crying, smoking/drinking wine, oral (M receiving), vaginal penetration (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, praise

A/N: This new addition to the SAHRAC Uni takes place fairly early on into their relationship, so a little after Salty Dogs, Anyone? (That being said, this is a fic within an established universe, so it definitely helps if you read at least Ride a Cowboy and Salty Dogs, Anyone? beforehand)

I wanted to wrap pride month up with this, I hope everyone had a very good, very gay June. Remember the first pride was a riot, led by trans women of color; trans people are and have always been a core pillar of our history in the fight for equal rights.

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“Good afternoon, darlin’.”

“Hey baby, how are you?” Austin closes his front door behind himself, clicking the lock into place as he resists the urge to grin at the pet name. Even after having been “official” for nearly two weeks, he still got butterflies at each little name Josh had bestowed upon him.

He slots his hand into Josh’s before offering him a ‘hello’ kiss, beginning their short walk towards the Saturday Market that they never missed. “Been doin’ alright. Doin’ even better now. How about you?”

“I’m good, and excited. I can’t wait to show you how to make that Basil and Pesto Pasta recipe. I swear to god, it’s the best thing you’ll ever eat.”

Austin cocks an eyebrow at him, amused at his enthusiasm and continuous claims of just how good this dish was. “Is that a promise?”

“You fucking bet it is. If you don’t like it, then… ok, I’m not exactly sure what’ll happen if you don’t, but that doesn’t matter cause you’re gonna love it.”

“Mhm, right. So, what do we needa get for it today?”

“Uhhh hold on,” Josh pats his pockets frantically, shifting through everything he kept shoved in each until he pulls out a tattered scrap of paper. “We’ll need some fresh basil and asparagus, and maybe a fresh lemon and bunch of garlic. Hopefully that pasta vendor is set up, we need linguine too. The rest of the ingredients I already have, so that should do it.”

He slips the paper back into his pocket as the market comes into view, the vendors set up along the edge close enough that the smell of their fresh produce and baked goods wafted towards the men as they crossed the street. “Sounds fantastic already, darlin’. Great choice for a late lunch.”

“I know right! It’s amazing, you’ll see.”

“Lotta big talk from you, Kiszka; you’re playin’ a dangerous game by raisin’ my expectations like this.”

“Only talking it up cause I know you’ll love it. I’d like to think that I know you very well, Austin. If I do say so myself.”

Don’t know everything about me… Austin rubs at the back of his neck nervously, his eyes finding the ground. “I actually wanted to talk to you about somethin’-”

“Oh. My. God.”

Austin’s mind races at Josh’s reaction, completely uncaring that he had cut off what he wanted to be a serious conversation as he looks around them for whatever could have caused his interruption. “What?!”

Instead of responding, Josh darts away from Austin, headed straight for a flower stand as he barely even glances back in his eagerness. Finding his side, Austin quickly realizes exactly what had gotten Josh so excited as he picks up a bunch of daffodils, turning towards him with a lopsided grin full of nothing but love. “Your favorite, right?”

Oh my lord. How is one man so goddamn sweet? Austin’s slight frustration that had begun to grow completely melts away as Josh looks between him and the flowers, looking over each to make sure there were no imperfections or wilted petals. “It is, darlin’. You remembered?”

“Of course I did, wanted to know what flowers you liked so I can get them for you.”

Austin’s cheeks tint pink under Josh’s gaze, suddenly growing bashful. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to. No one ever get you flowers before?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Well, I’m changing that.” Josh leaves him before he can respond, quickly making his way over to the vendor and paying for the bundle as Austin can do nothing but watch him in awe. “These are for you.” He offers him that same grin as he hands them to Austin, his cheeks tinting in the soft midday light.

“You didn’t have to… but thank you, darlin’.”

“Of course. Now, I believe we are on a mission, although I will inevitably get sidetracked. Help me stay focused?”

“Sir yes sir.” Austin offers a weak salute as best he can with the hand holding the flowers, his other hand once again in Josh’s as they set off to find the ingredients they needed for their meal.

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

“So, I’m gonna be honest, most of the ingredients were originally in grams so my recipe is a conversion, and more based on how much of something feels right.”

“I bake more than cook so imma letcha take the lead for this one, sound good?”

“Mhm. Don’t worry, I’m the oldest of 4, I’m good at bossing people around.”

Austin barks out a laugh as they set in on preparing the ingredients, Josh barely sparing a glance at his recipe as he had made the dish so many times that he nearly had it committed to memory, while Austin trails behind him waiting for instruction. It doesn’t take too long for them to finish, both men serving themselves up plates before meeting at Josh’s dinner table. Josh props his head up with his hands under his chin, eyes glued to Austin as he waits for him to try the fruit of their labors.

As Austin brings the forkful of pasta to his mouth and takes the first bite, Josh’s eyes go wide, his eyebrows slightly raising as he meets his gaze. “Oh-”

“Oh???”

“This is… this is fuckin’ fantastic. Holy shit, darlin’, you weren’t kiddin’.” Austin takes another large bite, having spent so much of his day devoted to cooking that he had forgotten to eat much else.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing. See, I told you.” Josh grins wide at him before setting in on his own plate, both falling into a comfortable silence as they eat. When they finish, they work together to clean up their mess; all the while, Austin’s mind circles the conversation he had tried to have with Josh earlier, knowing that their time together would come to an end soon. Just as he’s thought he found the perfect way to bring it up, Josh’s voice captures his attention from the fridge as he cleans the last pan.

“Oh my god, I completely forgot. I got us a white wine to go with the pesto pasta. I guess I was so excited to make it that I overlooked it when grabbing ingredients.”

A small frown passes over Josh’s face as Austin dries his hands and meets him, taking the bottle from him to set it on the counter. “Aw, that’s alright, darlin’. I mean, it is almost five and I don’t have any other plans for the day. I can always stay here; we can watch a movie and crack this open.”

“Really?” His face lights up at the offer, already looking around to find a wine corkscrew and glasses.

“Of course. Is Jacob home though?”

“No, he’s at Sebastian’s. Why?” A mischievous look passes over his face as he glances over at Austin, his hands pausing on their way to the wine glasses stashed in the cupboard.

“Get your mind outta the gutter, Joshua.” Swatting him lightly, he finds the corkscrew and sets in on uncorking the bottle. “I was just askin’ cause I didn’t wanna disrupt him by watchin’ somethin’ in the livin’ room if he wanted to make dinner or have Sebastian over.”

“Mhmmm, right. That’s what they all say. But yeah, Jake spends most nights at Seb’s now, so I have the place to myself a lot of the time. No complaints here, I’d rather have them subject Sebastian’s neighbors to the sound of their… fun… instead of having to hear it myself.”

As he laughs lightly, anxiety creeps into his mind as Josh pours them both a glass before handing it to him and pulling him in the direction of the living room. “By the way, uh… I know we haven’t- we haven’t had like, sex sex. Like, you know we’ve had our fun, but we haven’t… gone all the way. Is that ok? I mean we have been together for like two weeks, and I know most people our age have- have done that with their partner by that mark.”

“Of course it is. I love sex, but I don’t want to do anything until you do. No pressure, ever. I’ll wait as long as you need, baby.” He offers one reassuring squeeze to his hand as they sit down on a couch before bringing his attention to the screen. “Alright, what movie we watching?”

“You’re gonna suggest Dirty Dancin’, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well. But we don’t have to if you’d prefer something else.”

“No, no, we can watch it, darlin’. Since you bought me flowers and cooked an amazing dinner for us, it’s your night to choose.”

“You’re the best.” Josh presses a kiss to his cheek before snuggling into his side, quickly queuing up Dirty Dancing as they both get comfortable.

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

An hour and 30 minutes and half a bottle of wine later, both men watch the end credits roll as they giggle through their conversation, their cheeks red and bodies warm from the alcohol in their systems. “No, we are not tryin’ the Dirty Dancin’ lift.” Austin laughs out, trying his best to keep both his and Josh’s glasses from spilling. “Maybe when we haven’t gone through half a bottle of wine in barely over an hour. I don’t wanna drop you, darlin’.”

“Who say’s I’d be the one getting lifted?”

“You cannot lift me, I’m sorry but that ain’t happenin’.”

Josh frowns at his words, seemingly genuine disappointment washing across his features as he sets his wine glass down. “Why not?”

“Because for starters, I’m 5 inches taller’n you. And I weigh more than you. And like I said, we’ve had some wine.” Austin follows suit, setting his glass down before tucking himself back into the couch with Josh’s body pressed against his.

“So, you’re drunk?”

“I am not drunk, thank you very much. Tipsy, maybe. Not drunk though. You however…”

“Woah, woah, woah! I’m not drunk either! Like you said, tipsy, not drunk.”

“Right, sure.” Austin grins down at him, letting himself take in his gorgeous features in the dim lighting, his pupils blown wide as he looks up at him. “Why does it matter if you’re drunk or not?”

“Because I want to kiss you. And I want you to know that it’s consensual on my part, despite the little bit of wine. As long as it’s the same for you.” Something Austin can’t quite distinguish lurks under Josh’s tone, his voice low and calm as he blinks up at him. Austin’s breath hitches at the clear communication, not used to having a partner be so upfront about topics such as these.

“It’s the same for me, darlin’. I want to kiss you too.” Before he can say anything more, Josh leans forward to connect their lips in a hungry, passionate kiss, drinking Austin up as if he were dying of thirst. Losing themselves in each other, Austin doesn’t realize how quickly their kiss had become a heated make out session until Josh straddles him, slightly grinding the tent in his pants into Austin’s lower stomach. Fuck. I want to, he just- he doesn’t know. He might not want to have sex right now right now. Don’t jump the gun, just wait and see what happens.

Austin’s heart rate speeds as Josh’s hands find his sides, squeezing his body through the fabric before slipping them under his shirt, his warm hands ghosting across his skin. This is fine, it’s alright. Enjoy it, see what happens. Trying to stay focused on the moment and not wanting his own thoughts to distract him from enjoying himself, Austin tries to push his worries to the back of his mind as Josh’s fingertips trace the waistband of his boxers, toying with the hem. It isn’t until he dips the fingers of his right hand down into his boxers lower, beginning to brush the hair at the very bottom of his happy trail that Austin freezes, his body taking over in his panic.

“Stop.”

At the word, Josh immediately pulls his hand back before leaning away from him to create some distance between the two. “I’m sorry.” His face heats with shame as he moves to sit next to him hurriedly, his eyes looking everywhere but at Austin. “I should have asked, especially after our conversation earlier. I just got lost in the moment, but that’s no excuse.”

“I didn’t stop you because I don’t want to have sex with you, Josh.” Austin’s voice breaks slightly, causing Josh to tear his gaze towards him, his expression twisted with confusion.

“Then why-?”

Rip the band-aid off, Austin. Now or never. “I stopped you because I haven’t told you everything about myself, and I need to tell you before we take this any further.”

“What’s up, baby? You can tell me anything.” His eyebrows furrow in concern as he takes Austin’s hands in his own, his worry only growing as he tries to meet his eyes only to find them brimming with tears.

Austin finally meets his eyes, adrenaline coursing through his body as he takes a deep breath. “I’m trans, Josh. I’m a trans man. I wanted to tell you sooner, I was just worried. I know it’s unfair for me to spring this on you now when we’ve already been together for a bit, so if you- if you don’t want this now, us, I understand completely. Tell me to leave and I will. But I needed you to know I haven’t been puttin’ out because I don’t want to have sex with you, believe me, I do; I just- I’ve had top surgery, but not bottom, and I don’t plan to. Everythin’ you may have felt is just a packer, I just- I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Why would I not want to be with you anymore, Austin?” Josh doesn’t even miss a beat, his tone serious and quiet as he looks at him with sadness beneath his eyes.

“Because we haven’t really talked about what you identify as. It hasn’t been important, cause you and everyone else thought I was a cis man. I was blessed with bein’ tall, havin’ a small chest and more masculine features already, and I’ve been on T for nearin’ three years, so it ain’t like it’s ‘obvious’. If you have a preference for people with penises, I need you to know that that ain’t me. So, if you do, I won’t take it personally if you’d like to end this.”

“Do you want to end this?”

Austin blinks back tears, praying that Josh would give him some sign, any sign about what he was feeling. “No.”

“Then I don’t either.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. Austin, I don’t care that you’re trans.” Josh catches himself, realizing what he said and quickly backtracking. “I mean, obviously I do. It’s part of your identity, it’s part of who you are. But it’s not the only thing that makes you, you. And I’m queer, I like every identity, every genitalia, doesn’t matter to me. And even if I did identify as strictly ‘gay’, that wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. You’re my boyfriend, not having a biological male penis doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

Austin’s tears escape him as he lets Josh pull him into his chest, beginning to sob into his shirt as his hand comes up to gently cradle the back of his head, the other rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Oh, baby. Thank you for trusting me with this, I know how hard it can be to come out to people that are important to you. If I may ask, why were you so nervous?” Josh’s tone is gentle, making it clear to him that he didn’t have to share if he didn’t want to.

“I was afraid’a loosin’ you. I really, really, like you, Josh. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me if you knew, I didn’t wanna go through that pain again.”

“Again?”

Nodding slightly against his chest, Austin sits up to look at him properly, finding it hard as he inevitably trains his eyes on his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Mhm. I’ve had guys ghost me or- get angry after findin’ out. Obviously, I knew you wouldn’t get angry or anythin’ like some have, I just- wasn’t ready to risk loosin’ you. It’s a bit selfish, I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, please.” Josh’s hands move to cup his face, gently tilting his head to make him meet his gaze as he wipes stray tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “You do not need to apologize for your identity, or who you choose to disclose that information with. Ever. I completely understand, and I’m so sorry you’ve had those experiences. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I like you, all of you, and I want all of you. Everything that comes with it, alright?”

Despite the tears still pouring down his cheeks, Austin grins wide at Josh, his fears and worries evaporating from his mind at the genuine expression of care on his face and his sincere tone. “Alright. Thank you, darlin’.”

“Of course, baby.” Josh presses a kiss to his lips, still gently cradling his face before leaning back slightly and breaking it only to pepper kisses on the corners of his lips and across the skin of his cheeks, drawing a wet laugh from Austin. “Thanks again for telling me.”

Austin looks up at him through his lashes as Josh wipes the last of his tears away, still looking at him with the kindest expression he had ever seen. “Thanks for bein’ so supportive.”

“Always. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? We can watch another movie if you’d like, or go out somewhere. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

Whatever I feel comfortable with? I mean I did- I still do want to- and now he knows and don’t seem to negatively care. “Anything?”

“Mhm, whatever you want.”

“I want you to show me just how much you want me.” Austin locks his eyes on Josh’s, seeing his pupils rapidly expand as the previous, charged energy between them returns. “All of me.”

Josh’s tongue flits out to wet his lips, his eyes dipping to Austin’s lips as his breath catches in his throat. “You sure?”

“Mhm. I did say I wanted to fuck you, didn’t I? Now that we have that conversation out of the way.”

As his hips jerk forward involuntarily, Josh tries to organize his thoughts into some response as his brain short-circuits, clearing his throat before speaking. “I believe the original statement was a little less vulgar.”

“Was it now?” Closing the distance between them, Austin brings his lips to Josh’s, one hand on his neck pulling him impossibly closer as the other slowly made its way up his thigh. Ghosting his hand over his bulge, Austin smiles against his lips as he feels Josh’s breath hitch, the faintest whimper escaping his lips as he tries to press himself up into his hand. To Josh’s dismay, Austin continues his path with his hand upwards, ignoring the whines of protest as his hand moves under his shirt to grip the soft skin of his sides. “Fancy takin’ this to the bedroom? I know Jacob ain’t here, but I’d feel bad if he walked in on somethin’; and I don’t think I could ever look anyone in the eyes again if I saw they sat on this couch after.”

As both lean back slightly, Austin opens his eyes to see Josh grinning at him, a light laugh leaving his pink, kiss-swollen lips. “That’s probably the smartest idea.” Getting up from the couch, they both grab their half-full glasses of wine as Josh eagerly leads Austin to his bedroom, closing the door behind them immediately after entering. Their hands find the other’s body the second they set their glasses down on Josh’s dresser, now empty and free to roam under each other’s shirts as Austin begins pushing Josh backwards towards his bed. Austin draws Josh’s shirt over his head before giving him one final shove, the action causing him to fall back onto the bed as he looks up at Austin, already breathless from anticipation.

He says nothing as he grins down at Josh mischievously, making sure his eyes were trained on him before he pulls his shirt off, throwing it to the side as Josh’s eyes darken. Closing the distance between them, Austin pushes Josh backwards until he’s laying on his back, slotting his leg in between his as their lips reconnect. The second Austin applies the slightest amount of downwards pressure with his thigh, Josh moans into his mouth, his hands tangling in his curls. With his lips still parted, Austin takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue across his bottom lip, his breath hitching as Josh immediately reciprocates, his own tongue snaking in between his teeth as he licks into his mouth breathlessly.

It isn’t long before Austin’s mouth leaves Josh’s, his lips ghosting across his neck and shoulder as he peppers kisses and soft bites across his skin. “What- what do you want to do?” Josh huffs the words out, as if speaking was a strain in his current state as he writhed under Austin.

“What do you mean, darlin’?”

“Like, do you- do you want to- oh fuck-” The end of his sentence transforms into a deep groan as Austin bites a sensitive spot on his neck, beginning to suck a hickey into the skin. “How do you want to fuck-? I have condoms, I’m down for whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well.” Austin’s breath fans across his skin as his lips slow, still placing gentle kisses to his skin between words. “The way you were shovin’ that tongue in my mouth has me thinkin’ ‘bout what it’d feel like between my legs. If you want to.”

“Fucking hell.” Josh groans the words out at his sentence, his hips bucking involuntarily against Austin’s front, only sending another groan through him. “Of fucking course I want to.”

Bringing his mouth back up to Josh’s, he grins against his lips before flipping their positions, slowly leaning back as Josh moves to position his body between his legs. As Austin’s head hits a pillow, Josh begins his descent, slowly kissing a trail down his neck and across the expanse of his collarbones, leaving a path of deep red and purple marks as he continues to his chest. I’m about ten seconds from tellin’ him to hurry his ass up and stop teasin’ me if he don’t- His train of thought completely derails as Josh sinks his teeth into the soft skin to the left of his belly button, his hand not supporting his body pressing down firmly in between his legs.

“Can I?” Austin looks down at Josh to see him gazing right back through heavy lids, his warm, ragged breath fanning across his lower stomach. As his fingers toy with the waistband of his pants and boxers, dipping below the fabric to lightly graze across his skin, Austin understands what Josh was asking.

“Mhm.” Despite himself, anxiety rushes through him as Josh draws both his jeans and boxers down his legs, watching Josh’s face for any signs of reluctance or disappointment. Josh’s jaw goes slack as he stares up at Austin, keeping steady eye contact as he brings his lips to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh and sinking his teeth into it. To ground himself, Austin brings one hand to tangle in Josh’s hair gently as the other fists the sheet below him, his breaths uneven from nerves and anticipation.

“You ok?” Austin barely hears the words, beginning to lose himself in his own mind.

“Mhm. Just nervous.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, we don’t have to keep going if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No!” Austin’s cheeks tint red at how fast the words had left his mouth, not missing the small smirk that flashes across Josh’s lips momentarily. “I want to, really. Just haven’t done this in… a while.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby. Just sit back and let me make you feel good.” Austin swears he can see stars at Josh’s low tone, his eyes hungry as his lips return to his thigh. He continues scattering kisses and bites across his thighs, slowly but surely moving lower and lower until he reaches the crease of his hip, lowering his body until he’s lying on his stomach in between his legs. “You ready?”

“Mhm.” Josh gives him a few seconds before he shifts his weight, lowering his head until he sinks forward, burying his tongue in Austin. He lets out a guttural moan as he feels Josh lick into him fervently, his grip on his hair tightening with each movement. His moans only grow louder as Josh drags his tongue upwards until it reaches his clit, swirling his tongue around him a few times before suctioning his lips around it. Austin tries to keep his hips from bucking up into him as he sets a steady pace, his tongue circling his dick as the sound of his pleasure goes straight to his own, weak moans escaping him as he presses himself against the mattress for any relief.

Josh brings his hand not gripping Austin’s thigh up to his entrance, circling it with the slightest amount of pressure, not yet pressing into him yet as he waits for some form of response. He gets it as Austin nods, his eyes screwed shut and eyebrows furrowed in his ecstasy. Wasting no time, he slowly inserts his middle finger, reveling in the sigh that left Austin as he buries himself in him. Pausing slightly to allow him to get used to the depth, he begins slowing pumping his finger in and out, curling it slightly as he searches for his G-spot. As Josh finds it, Austin’s back arches, his mouth falling open in a silent groan as the hand in Josh’s hair pulls at his roots. The sensation of it nearly pushes Josh over the edge as he weakly grinds into the mattress, his moans vibrating against Austin.

“Oh fuck-” Austin can say nothing else as his breath catches in his throat, pleasure crashing over him as his hips erratically buck forward, riding his high out. Josh’s pace remains unfaltering as he carries him through his orgasm, his neglected erection becoming painful at the sounds leaving his boyfriend’s mouth. It isn’t until Austin’s face contorts with overstimulation, his hand roughly pulling Josh away from him that he pulls his finger from him and leans back, allowing him a moment to breathe and come down as he kisses the skin of his thighs once again.

“You good?”

“Mhm, I am- I am so good, darlin’.” Austin cracks his eyes open, almost immediately ready for a second round as he takes in Josh’s appearance; his sweat slick hair, the curls at the edges of his face sticking to his skin, blown out pupils, and sweat and cum soaked lips and chin sending Austin spiraling once more despite how overstimulated he still was.

“Good.” Josh places one last kiss to his thigh before sitting up and moving back up his body, his slick lips ghosting across his skin until he reaches his mouth. The second he tastes himself on his lips, he makes up his mind, flipping their bodies quickly.

“You said you got protection, darlin’?”

“Bedside table, top drawer. You sure? You just-”

“You’re gonna find out just how high my sex drive is.” Austin grins at him before temporarily leaving him to snatch a condom from the drawer, finding his place between Josh’s legs once more as he begins working at the button of his pants. “Try and remember how high your sex drive was when you were 17 or 18; like I said, I’ve been on T for three years, so that’s about where mine’s at constantly.”

“Jesus fuck-” Austin offers no response as he pulls Josh’s pants and briefs down, his breath catching in his throat as his dick springs free, the tip red and neglected against his soft lower stomach.

Fuckin’ hell- I knew he was big, but I wasn’t expectin’ this big. Trying to stay focused, Austin rolls the condom on quickly before placing his legs on either side of Josh’s thighs, teasing the other man by wrapping his hand around the base of his dick and applying the slightest amount of pressure. Josh sits up to meet him, his hands immediately finding Austin’s hips as he raises himself up, guiding him towards his entrance. “Ready?”

“Mhm.” Austin wastes no time in sinking down onto him, their mouths falling open in unison as he slowly lowers himself until he’s buried completely in him. Neither move as they adjust to the feel of each other, their breaths fanning against the other’s lips as Austin’s hands find his shoulders, Josh’s still firmly gripping his hips.

“You good?” Austin pants the words out, needing to feel him moving inside himself but not wanting to overstimulate Josh if he needed more time.

“Mhm. Please- please move. Please fuck me.”

Fuck. Josh bites his bottom lip between his teeth as Austin raises himself almost completely off him before sinking back down in one swift motion, quickly finding and setting a pace that he knew would have both of them coming undone in minutes. As his head tilts backwards from pleasure, Josh’s eyes squeeze shut as he clamps his mouth shut to stifle a moan, only causing Austin to bring his hand up to his mouth, his thumb dragging across his lower lip. “I want to hear everything, y’understand?”

“Mhm.”

“Say it.”

“I- I understand.” Josh is true to his words as Austin experimentally grinds his hips forward, a loud moan leaving his lips as his grip tightens on the other man.

“Good boy.” Austin feels his dick twitch inside him at the words, setting his pace once more as his lips find the skin of his neck. “Such a good listener, ain’t ya?” Now his turn to bite, suck, and kiss marks into his skin, Austin memorizes each whine and groan that escapes him as he works his way up and down, his own high creeping up on him as he feels Josh’s body tense under his hands.

“Close- Almost there, baby. Just like that- Yes-”

“Cum for me.”

“No.” Josh’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to crack his eyes open, restraint twisting his features as he finds it increasingly hard to hold his orgasm back. “Want you to cum with me.” Austin doesn’t even have time to argue as his hand lowers, beginning to gently rub circles around his clit with his index and middle finger.

Austin’s forehead comes to rest against Josh’s as his eyes close, his senses bombarded with his second orgasm of the night. “Fuck. Right there-” It isn’t long after that he begins to feel that familiar twitch in his thighs and lower abdomen, his muscles tensing before pleasure crashes over him, seeing nothing but a blinding white light as he rides through his orgasm.

The feeling of Austin tensing around his dick sends Josh into his own high, trying to keep his pace on his clit steady as they peak together. They carry each other through their climaxes until uncomfortable overstimulation replaces their pleasure, both men hissing at the contact as Austin quickly raises himself off Josh, collapsing onto the bed beside him.

Josh falls backwards to lay on the bed completely, finding himself wrapped in Austin’s arms and pulled snug against his chest almost immediately. They allow themselves to lie like this for a few moments, not wanting to leave the other by getting up. Finally, they give in to the feeling of needing to clean up, both men quickly realizing just how sweaty their activities had made them as they peel themselves from the other and head to Josh’s bathroom together.

“Want to go smoke and finish our wine in the glasses on the porch?” Josh’s voice is casual and light despite the fact that he had asked the question while discarding their used condom, both men completely naked in the small space as they set in on the bare minimum of cleaning up.

Is this how casual and communicative all people are after or during sex? “Smoke what? And maybe, I know it ain’t too hot or cold out, but I don’t feel like getting’ dressed again and I don’t think your neighbors would appreciate it if we went commando.”

“Weed, cigarette for me. And I have a robe you can borrow, I might have another somewhere I can use, but I’m not sure.” Closing the bathroom door slightly, Josh pulls a silk robe off the hook attached to the back of the door, handing the dark blue fabric scattered with stars to him before making his way back into his room and towards his closet.

“If you can’t find your other one, I can just slip on a t-shirt and some boxers, it’s no biggie.” Despite his reluctance, he puts the robe on, knowing that no matter what, Josh would refuse to take it back. Instead of responding, Josh snorts as he pulls out a massive pile of bright pink silk and faux fur from his closet, unfolding it to reveal a long, billowing robe, the sleeves cascading nearly to the floor as he slips it on with a grin.

“Oh. My. God. You look like your old, rich husband just died under mysterious circumstances; and you definitely poisoned him.” Josh barks out a laugh as he retrieves the wine glasses, his robe ghosting across the floor and flowing behind him like a cape as he moves around the room. “Why the hell do you have that?”

“Went all out on a Halloween costume last year, I forgot about it till now to be honest.” He hands him the glasses as he finds a lighter, a box of cigarettes, and a joint, moving all three items to one hand as he takes his glass back. “What, do you not like it?” Glancing back at him with a smile, they move through the house together, making their way towards the back door in the dim light of the dying summer day.

“No, no, I love it. It suits you, honestly. I just wasn’t expectin’ it, that’s all.” They say nothing more as they sit down on the comfortable couch on the patio, Josh turning on the surrounding fairy lights strung along the walls and railings before sitting as close to Austin as he can. Sitting in comfortable silence, they sip their wine and Josh lights a cigarette after a few minutes, finishing it just as he drains the remainder of his wine glass. Noticing Austin’s glass had been emptied too, he retrieves the joint, lighting it carefully to ensure an even burn before taking a long drag.

He holds it out to Austin, unashamed of how his eyes stayed glued to the other man’s lips as they brush his fingertips, his heartbeat faltering at the contact. They get through half the joint before Austin finally breaks the silence, the weed loosening his lips as he replays the last hour or so of his life.

“Thanks again for bein’ so supportive. I don’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t trust you with knowin’, or that I thought you’d react negatively. That ain’t it, I swear. I’ve just had too many negative experiences with other guys that I just- I just expect guys won’t want me like they did before findin’ out. And I couldn’t shake that, even though I knew that you wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I know. I don’t take it personally, and I’m not upset. Like I said, it’s not important in terms of how it might affect our relationship or sex life. It doesn’t change how I feel for you, or how much I want you. I fully support you and am so grateful that you’re letting me see every beautiful part of you.”

Tears come to Austin’s eyes at his boyfriend’s words, his heart soaring at the level of support and what he could only describe as love that Josh had shown him. “Thank you, darlin’. Thank you for acceptin’ all of me.”

“Always and forever, Austin. Never forget it.”

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

A/N: Since I decided that Austin would become a core OC, not just a background character briefly mentioned in Save a Horse, he has been very special to my trans, queer friends and I. I have woven in our experiences and who we are into him; in a way, he is a collection and reflection of myself and the people I love most. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized we had always perceived him as a trans man, even though it was never explicitly stated. I chose to write this so that we/I can share this part of him with you all. As it was a smut fic, I chose to not put “trans M receiving” or anything denoting that part of his identity into the warnings (besides warnings of certain discussions as I recognize it may be a sensitive topic for other trans people) and will continue to do the same in the future. Trans gay sex is gay sex, it should be considered no different than gay smut between two cis men.

A/N pt 2: normalize👏healthy👏communication👏during👏sex👏

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @sanguinebats @fuckyoutommie

#fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #greta van fluff #greta van angst #greta van smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka x oc #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka

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actuallyevilgay · 1 year ago

Text

The Apathy (Part 1)

Astarion x Male Reader/Tav

DNI if you are a minor. Dead dove don’t eat. Please read my about before replying. Content: Astarion x Male tav, spoiler warning for act 3 and epilogue.

Summary: After the final battle, Tav disappears, perhaps to mend his broken heart. The adventure has done more damage to him than everyone thought at first. Notes: Astarion is the vampire ascendant, Tav is not a heroic figure. Contains headcanons for several characters, contains headcanons for illithid brain alteration but not evolving. Tav uses daggers and magic. Astarion is an Arcane Trickster Rogue. Content Warnings: Tav suffering from depression / ptsd, self-neglect. A/N: This is my first fic idea I wanted to explore. Some of these elements are inspired and used from my oc, I won’t overly describe Tav, but I wrote it with a long-living race in mind. So Elf, or Half Elf, or Tiefling and such. Tav would not age very quickly.

. . . . . .

The adventure had been.. Brutal. From the day you awoke on the nautiloid, all the way until you fought the nether brain. Without much peace in between the night, the fighting, the plot thickening, you remember every horror and every threat. You were not a hero, you’ve told Wyll that much. When he pleaded to hurry after the father that abandoned him, or when Karlach asked you to beat the shit out of some fake paladins.

You were not a hero, even as you helped up Shadowheart from the sands, or saved Gale from the portal or fed him a useless ring.

You told them, time and time again. Especially Astarion and Lae’zel, whose eyes pierced yours with a silent kinship. You did not trust any of them until they somehow managed to crawl into your heart.

Saving the tieflings wasn’t so bad, but everything went downhill from there.

And yet you still helped every friend you made, you kept promises and fulfilled them. You swallowed your pride as you consumed the powers from tadpoles, feeling the illithid magic take from you, childhood memories you might have once cherished. It made you numb, like you lost something- The ability to understand your own experiences. You could not put words to it, perhaps it scratched away the small bits of morality you harboured a very long time ago.

Jaheira certainly was stupid enough to trust you despite your lack of caution to the tadpoles. It wasn’t until the emperor revealed himself that you realised power comes at a price. For a moment, sense returned- you killed the very thing that promised you evolution with a stomp. No, you would not let this adventure take more than it already had.

Perhaps it was too early to think that it could not take more. Baldur’s gate had come. And everything was horrible. You remember the dread as you led Shadowheart back into her cult, to slay the woman who had raised her. You dread with every fibre of your body as Orin kidnapped Gale, you fear for his life. You remember Karlach’s heartbreak at the corpse of the man she once trusted most in the world. As unheroic as you claimed to be, you still helped save Wyll’s father.

And then.. Vampires. The night raid on the camp. It was time to face Astarion’s nightmare. You were in love with the pale elf. Sharing stories of your past as you struggled to keep it together. You needed to be strong for all of them, not just him…

Leading this band of adventurers into the mouth of hell, time and time again, coming out victorious and triumphant. You don’t remember if you were smiling, but you remember their faces clearly, when you let him ascend.

It had occurred to you that you were sacrificing 7000 souls. But you didn’t care about the cost, beaten and broken from the fight. The colourful edges of once rich, lively looking eyes staring down the back of your lover.

Cazador’s screams were delightful. The agony, the pleasure of taking from him what he wanted most and giving it to the person who had been your entire world the past few months. It was everything.

And you were berated for making the choice.. Your friends wouldn’t fight you on it, so close to the end. It wasn’t until Jaheira pulled you aside and fussed over your mental state that your numbness subsided for a moment.

Are you even a good person? ..Does it matter?

The memory of Astarion’s sultry voice thanking you for your actions and talking of a reward was blurry, like it wasn’t real.

‘’What can I do for my dearest pet?’’

‘’Huh?’’ You looked up at him, as if shaken from a dream.

‘’Darling, there must be something you want? Don’t be dense..’’

There was silence, before you opened your mouth again. ‘’I’m sorry, all I can think about is sleep.. We’ll have to face the netherbrain soon. Gods.. I’m tired.’’

You barely remember the rest of that conversation. Astarion wanted something from you and expected you to know what it was, but all you could think about was how exhausted you were.

He hurt you with words, and you hurt him with silence. It numbed you so bad the memory was lost in the sea of nightmares. You don’t remember why you broke up. You don’t remember why, but it hurt you so much to even look at him. It hurt you so much to be around these people.. These people you loved. These people who were your dear friends. After it all was over.. When Karlach and Wyll descended into Avernus and Lae’zel flew away on a red dragon, you just looked to the sky absently. Barely hearing Shadowheart’s suggestion of sharing a drink. You could feel Astarion’s eyes staring into your back as you left without a word, leaving the remainder of your friends bewildered and confused. You couldn’t hear Gale calling for you as you disappeared into the streets and left Baldur’s gate for good.

All these memories were scarce and incomplete. Like a long distant echo of a time you wanted to leave behind. You disappeared like you never even existed, and even the city itself seemed to have forgotten about its saviour.

……

Six months later, your old friends gathered together to talk about their lives, a party organised by Withers himself at your dear old camp.

‘’I did not expect you to be here, out of everyone.. To be honest with you.’’ Gale arrived early, to be met with Astarion who wore his prideful new garments with much flair. ‘’Ugh, you look like a mess Gale. No offense.’’ He eyed the wizard up and down. ‘’I would’ve liked to be fashionably late, but I prefer doing things differently.’’ Astarion added, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

Gale laughed a little. ‘’Ah, I thought I was running late myself.. But yes, I should’ve taken my time before coming. These are my teacher’s robes!’’ He nervously scratches the back of his head, making a faint smile. ‘’It doesn’t take that much time to make an effort. You could’ve tried at least.’’ Astarion speaks in a familiar tone, ‘’But,’’ He takes a breath, ‘’ You were the clumsiest out of everyone, it reminds me of the many times you’ve slipped on your own ice spells, Tav would complain about it a lot. I shouldn’t expect too much from you.’’ His tone remained friendly. Astarion grew tired of the conversation. Pondering when his lost love would arrive. He had so many questions for him.. The memory of his departure haunted him.

‘’And this is why you are never getting married, Mr Dekarios.’’ Tara nearly startled Astarion as she spoke up. ‘’Tara! I do my best alright? Six Months is not enough to recover from several near death experiences, having a netherese orb extracted from- and.. and I’ve only just landed this job!’’

The mind numbing conversations continued as every guest slowly made their show. Even as Wyll and Karlach were magically transported to this familiar place, as shadowheart and Lae’zel joined hand in hand, declaring their relationship. They would not shut up.

Jaheira, Halsin, and Minthara were here too. Even Minsc! Everyone.. Except..

Astarion stared into the night sky, expecting Tav to arrive any moment now. Withers let out a loud ‘’ahem’’ as he made a toast.

‘’Where is Tav?’’ Astarion interrupted. ‘’Are you still expecting him to come, fanged one?’’ Jaheira interjected. ‘’Is that the only reason you are here?’’ Everyone grew quiet.

‘’Oh, I am here for the drama alright.’’ Astarion snarled back at Jaheira. ‘’Do you have the faintest idea why he isn’t here?’’ Astarion’s voice had a growl.

Jaheira’s expression softened. ‘’Don’t blame me, I tried to follow after him as you were satisfied with your diabolical ascension and crimson palace.’’

Astarion wanted to do many things, but arguing was not one of them. He waited for Jaheira to continue speaking.

‘’I could not find him, I tried. It’s like he erased himself from existence. He doesn’t want to be found.’’ The harper spoke with a melodic sadness, but also acknowledgement.

‘’Why did you come, Astarion? Did you want to gloat in front of him?’’ Shadowheart added.

‘’No.’’ Astarion’s reply was quick. ‘’I don’t know why, anymore. Why did he leave? After all we’ve been through?’’ He masked his desperation, not wanting to appear weak in front of his old friends. He knew they judged him for his actions. For the way he spoke to Tav when they broke up. For the way he lied bitterly through his sharp teeth when Tav needed him most.

‘’Perhaps,’’ Karlach’s voice broke slowly. ‘’It was all too much for him, wasn’t it?’’ She turned to withers, expectantly for an answer. The old skeleton shook his head. ‘’His soul remains on the mortal plane.’’ Everyone’s eyes widened.

Jaheira shakes her head. ‘’The question remains, is it even a good idea to search for him?’’

‘’Well.. If I were him, I would want my friend to know if I’m doing alright. Oh- and I am doing quite fine, don’t worry.’’ Gale’s reply was met with an eyeroll of both Jaheira and Astarion.

‘’Maybe he’s fighting battles elsewhere. He was a good leader.’’ Lae’zel suggests, but it doesn’t stop everyone from theorising.

Minsc and Wyll both came up with ridiculous suggestions, from bounty hunting kobolds to slaying giants. Something, something, with dragons? Gods. Shadowheart thought maybe he left to start a new life somewhere, perhaps as a labourer, but it bothered her that he wouldn’t write a letter at least.

Everyone had their own ideas and fantasies about what the hell Tav was doing, coming up with one new thing and the next. Travelling. Carpenting. Exploring the underdark. Farming. Solving murders, painting nobles, crafting potions, writing songs. Astarion could not picture it at all. The idea of not knowing after all this time stressed him out.

If he wasn’t dead, and still in this plane.. He had to be somewhere.. Working, living. Breathing? He had to be doing something.

‘’You did pass him your invitation letter, correct?’’ Astarion eyed Withers intensely.

‘’Yes.’’ A crude response, but it offered no further suggestions to the whereabouts or well being of their old friend.

‘’Then you know where he is.’’ Astarion’s glare expanded. ‘’Tell us.’’ The silence grew heavy. Withers’ dead eyes looked over the vampire, noting the hidden concern in his voice.

‘’Neverwinter. I will not say more.’’

‘’Why in the hells is he in Neverwinter of all places?’’ Astarion questions. ‘’He is baldurian..’’

‘’Perhaps to get as far away as he can, from you.’’ Jaheira’s remark bit through Astarion’s side, but he swallowed his pride and did not bark back.

‘’Baldur’s gate did take quite a hit..’’ Gale looked excited at the prospect of visiting Neverwinter. ‘’Maybe.. If I divine a little.. I could find him, or at least, scry on him?’’

‘’Guys- Guys! We shouldn’t just turn up or.. it might be different. Perhaps he’s.. On an undercover mission!’’ Karlach tried to hide her excitement. ‘’Oh- But I do miss him.. Maybe-’’ The idea of joining in on an adventure to find their lost friend was refreshing, only to realise she still needed to pay Dammon a visit before she could even consider it. And as a result, miss out.. She let out a loud sigh,

‘’..You can scry on him? Why haven’t you?’’ Astarion turned to Gale, who stuttered in response.

‘’Well.. I.. Tried, but something blocked me out. I think he pushed me away.’’ Gale’s reply did only make the matter more concerning.

‘’Push you?’’

‘’You remember when we had those parasites? It was kind of like that.. I only just locked in on him, and felt a harsh push.’’

‘’I’d be godsdamned if he turned into a mindflayer after all-’’ Wyll interrupts, the panic finally hits him too. ‘’After all he’s been through-’’ Everyone exchanged looks and glances, expressions ranging from horror to helplessness.

‘’No.’’ Withers interrupted. ‘’His soul remains.’’ The rising tension calmed immediately.

‘’But you did see him?’’ Astarion turns back to Gale.

‘’Barely, I’m sorry.’’ The wizard shook his head.

Astarion huffs. ‘’I had enough. Forget about the toast.’’ He leaves the party, pondering about all the information he had just learnt, replaying the scene of his departure in his head.

The tadpoles. The god damn tadpoles. He remembers that night, after he ascended. His dearest Tav, barely keeping his eyes open. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ His drained eyes, scattering over the floor. ‘’Gods, I’m tired.’’

He remembers his spat. His little.. Unfortunate mistake. No, the biggest mistake. The yelling, the hurtful words. Tav barely responded, his eyes said so much and yet so little.

After the netherbrain fell, that look on his face remained. Lightless. Dull, empty. Broken.

The job was finished. He must’ve walked without much thought. Astarion curses under his breath as he makes his return to Baldur’s gate.

He should’ve gone after him before. But now he knows where to find him.

#ascended astarion x male tav #astarion x m!tav #ascended astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction

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the-one-who-acts · 1 year ago

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In light of how I started to like Leshy more than Narinder and wanting to ship him more with my lamb than Narinder, I have decided to write this little dabble (is that how you spell it? Idk)

Please note that this was made late at night, so ther might be errors from my sleepy brain

Fic under "read more"

Blinded by love - Leshy x The Lamb

When I sensed you, I saw in my head a being that could not be stopped, you were small and weak, but refusing to kneel.

When I saw you fight my second in command, I admit to have been shocked, no strength like yours was witnessed before, you were a promising vessel, and I was...terrified.

When we fought, I felt my world view crumble, not only did I lost to HIS vessel...but I was somewhat proud, proud to have witness your growth.

I was brought back by you, I did not know what were your intentions, I was skeptical, as u was in the presence of the one I locked away, but you reassured me I had nothing to fear.

You guided me through your land, the community you had built was one who had its basis on trust, i did not felt like a servant of your power, but a member of a friendly place with lovely people, and you stood as a leader who worried for their well being.

I expressed my gratitude, more than once, several times, I knew you were betrothed to the God of Death, but from what I was hearing, not just from you but also your community, my brother had a lack of commitment to your marriage.

I did all you asked of me, even volunteered to do what you did not order, I received gifts from you, I was granted immortality by you, I still have the necklace around my neck, it jingles sometimes like your bell, it brings me...joy.

And then one day, you asked if I wanted to form a union with you, you saw your previous marriage kne built on obligation, and one you sadly could not break, however you refused to let that ruin your view on love...you loved me...and I reciprocated the feeling.

Our ceremony was beautiful, one I wish my fellow bishops could see, but I was glad to see that Heket gave you a blessing.

My brother eyeed me wrong the entire time, I did not mind, all that it mattered was hearing you laugh more often, and I did not forget to express my gratitude for the life you have blessed me with.

I am now a happy husband, I married the one that made me reborn into a new and calmer reality, I left my family to build a new one from the ground up, one with its foundations being the freedom I have felt by your side, and the pride to see that the old faith was not lost, you told our stories to various future generations in your community, stories that would later be passed down and would be remembered and documented, our actions had a effect that not even the red hooded raven could have seen in his cards...and I am so glad that despite no longer having my vision...you made me truly see the beauty in life.

#cotl #bishop leshy #cotl leshy #leshy x lamb #cult of the lamb #my writing

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kiwiana-writes · 9 months ago

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Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

Damn, y'all started early today: thanks @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @onthewaytosomewhere @magicandarchery for the tags!

First of all, thank you so much for all the wonderful birthday wishes/treats/etc—y'all are fucking wonderful and I treasure you ❤️

Here's a little snippet from the prologue of one of my Fandom Trumps Hate offerings, which I am VERY excited about. (I'm excited about all of them honestly; there are no duds in that list of prompts. But this one's... particularly personal, haha.) All it has right now is a prologue in past tense (challenge!) and in Ellen's POV (massive challenge!) before we smash cut to Alex's POV in the canon-adjacent timeline, not because it was a requirement of the fic/prompt or anything but because that's where the ✨ vision ✨ took me 🤣 It also has a tentative title, though that's subject to change... we'll see.

Ellen listened when the long, heavy tresses—the dark colour all Diaz, the weight and texture entirely Claremont—were eschewed in favour of a wild, cropped head of curls. She bought shorts and overalls when CJ’s hand-me-down skirts and dresses were met with a frown and a fierce shake of the head. And when her confident, fiercely intelligent, beautiful youngest child crawled into her lap at five years old, wrapped surprisingly strong arms around her neck, and asked quietly if she thought it was possible that God sometimes made mistakes and gave kids the wrong parts, Ellen swallowed back the lump in her throat and marvelled at the depths of bravery she knew it must have taken to ask the question. She made it through the usual bedtime routine by sheer force of will—a yes, sugar, sometimes that happens, and it’s okay if you think it happened to you and a kiss to the forehead apparently enough in that moment—only breaking down in Oscar’s arms long after both kids were asleep. It wasn’t grief or confusion that had her sobbing; she’d move mountains to make her children happy, whoever they were, whatever they needed. It was sheer frustration, seeing so many potential sources of harm and heartbreak laid out on the path ahead, traps waiting to spring, and knowing she would be unable to clear many of them out of the way.

Tagging @affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#six sentence sunday #kiwiana-writes #fic: All my promise and my pride (all my fear and all my fight)

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simpingcowboy · 2 years ago

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If It Wasn't For The Nights

Pairing: just Marcus Moreno missing his wife, no reader/no pairing

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: ANGST! Themes of grief, fear of loss, feelings of parental inadequacy, widowing, some negative self talk and self-consciousness, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Summary: Marcus could deal with the passing of his wife...if it wasn't for the nights.

A/N: Me writing another grief themed Moreno fic...who would have guessed. March brings us the first angsty fic for my Year of ABBA! Part of the incredible Year of Creations @yearofcreation2023 !

Please heed the warnings and know that this does not have a particularly positive ending! <3

The day began as most, Marcus Moreno waking up bright and early. Lances of light piercing through the soft eggshell curtains. Cloaked in the warmth of day, he begins pacing himself through his extensive morning routine. Wake up. Shower. Make the bed. Wake up Missy. Start the coffee. Turn on the news. Cook breakfast. Check his itinerary. Get dressed. Drop Missy off at school. Before finally, starting his work day at the Heroics headquarters. Beginning a long day of appointments. Meeting with military personnel, government officials, city council, press, HR, the heroics themselves, anyone and everyone who requested a word with him. Accompanied by an even longer day of work. Paperwork, strategy plans, team analyses, weapon development, public statements, heroic training, taking on extra work when asked by teammates. All with the same goal. To keep him busy all the day through. To keep himself from thinking of her.

But as the sun sank down into the sky, so too did Marcus’s resolve.

The first pang of the day followed lunch. With the sun high overhead, Marcus heads out to join the team on the training field. The Heroic’s training regime was strict. Personally adapted to each heroic and their individual skill set. Everyday focused on a different element of their talents. Though Marcus was exempt from fighting, he still chose to partake in the exercises. Always setting an example for the rest of the team. And for a moment, everything feels right. It feels normal. Training on the field with his fellow heroics, basking in the thrill of a fight. Glowing with pride to be a part of the most elite team on the planet, just to be reminded that Marcus Moreno doesn’t fight.

Everyone believed it was for Missy. A promise he made to her so she'd not have to lose another parent so young. But Missy would have never asked had Marcus not said it first. She was too brave. Too bold. Too much like her mother to discourage him from fighting. But Marcus had asked her, with a silent plea that she would say yes. Beg him not to fight. To hang up his katanas like he so wished to do, but was too prideful to admit on his own. Thankfully for Marcus, Missy said yes.

He recalls that first battle after his wife died. His hands, his lifelong companions, had shook with uncertainty. Mind, ever clear and focused, was riddled with fear. No move he made was steady. No direction he gave confident. They’d barely cleared the mission. And all Marcus could think of, was how much more disastrous it could have been if the threat was worse. He imagined losing them. All of them. His friends. Coworkers. People he’d known since he was a child. Losing them to his own cowardice and fear. And if it wasn’t for the nights of lonesome terror, maybe he'd even have strength left to fight alongside his fellow heroics. Instead of being resigned to coaching from the sidelines.

It only worsened after that. Shadows befell the office. Stretching longer and growing darker with the passing hours. A restlessness consuming Marcus, like a great pit in his stomach. Motivating him to fill the time with more and more work. Busy busy Moreno. Who began his days slow and steady, but was a frantic workaholic by day's end. He got jumpy. Temperamental at times. Snapping at anyone who interrupts his work flow. Anyone who makes him think. And it was obvious to everyone who had known him before, Marcus was not alright. But somehow, he thinks, he’d be doing alright if it wasn’t for the nights.

Much to Marcus’s dismay, the day does end. Twilight flitters on the horizon. The crowd of workers in the Heroics headquarters slowly disappear, as if they’d been devoured by the dusk. As the final reminder to leave rings on Marcus’s phone, he too must succumb to the setting sun. After closing up the various tabs on his computer, he heads out the door. The drive is quiet. Just Marcus and his mind locked in a standoff. A contest of wills. Thoughts of her blurring the edges of his vision. Appearing faintly, like the pale light of the moon barely visible in the sky. But there’s still a light, He reasons. Hanging low in the sky, and reflecting off the moon. She’s there too. Missy.

Marcus breaths out a heavy sigh of relief as he breaches the doorway, a familiar laughter is heard from the living room. Missy lounges across the warm suede couch, scrolling through her phone. And suddenly the world is a little lighter. They chat- briefly before he goes upstairs to change out of his work clothes. Both clothes and briefcase haphazardly find their way to the floor. A bad habit he was never fully broken of. He returns downstairs and gets to prepping dinner. Missy sits up at the kitchen island, ignoring the pile of homework in front of her in favor of chatting Marcus’s ear off. All of which he listens to attentively. Basking in the light of her youth. Letting her block out the bitter darkness that infiltrates their home.

Dinner comes and goes. Marcus serves up a mediocre meal. And though it's burnt around the edges and woefully seasoned, Missy still finds a way to compliment him on it where she can. Relishing in the way the corners of Marcus's mouth turn up into a smile when she does. And though she doesn't remember much of what he was like before, she likes to think that in these moments she gets a glimpse at who he used to be. A look at the man her mother married.

A rush of sorrow hits Marcus, as Missy is all too quick to ask to be excused. Bounding from the table up to her room. The tween years came too quickly for his liking. Too large a distance had grown between them. They were still close, but she grew more independent by the day. His pride and joy. Everyday he was reminded that the light of his life, Missy, would never need him as much as he needed her. And if it wasn’t for the nights, even he could take it.

But there’s no one to turn to. No one who would understand. He was not prepared for something like this. The loneliness of being a widow. The difficulty that comes with raising a teenage girl on his own. He sees them all so clearly, all his mistakes. His pitiful failures to be everything Missy needs. And he feels so bad. At the end of the long hallway, the door to her bedroom shuts, drowning the hall in darkness. A terrible panging guilt filling Marcus’s chest as he tirelessly scrubs away at the dishes. He never did get the hang of cooking. Even on his best tries, a portion of his attempt always makes its way into the trash. Cooking was her specialty. The once sweet aromas of his wife’s cooking, were now displaced by the bitter scent of his subpar meals. Just one of many inadequacies he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for. Just one of a million things he misses about her. As he flees the empty kitchen and turns out the light, It feels as if he’s never gonna make it.

Moreno saunters up the stairs. Doing his best to ignore the still hanging photos of his wife on the wall; lest he remain there staring at them til morning. His breath is heavy as his hands land on the knob of his bedroom door. The final pang of his long day was about to incur as it always did when he saw the wide empty bed awaiting him. With his last ounce of bravery, Marcus turns the knob, throwing the door wide open. Fresh linen sheets greet him. Suddenly looking much rattier than he ever recalls them looking in the morning. Moonlight dusts the empty room through the cool toned curtains. The moon itself hangs just in view, taunting his loneliness.

He had work to help him through the day. People he had to write to. Bills he had to pay. A child to care for. But everythings so different when night finally came. Robbing him of the solace of day. Freeing him of the distractions. Bringing him to that precious time of day he’d have just for her. When he’d wrap her in his arms and fawn over her. Spend hours getting lost in each other. Talking about their days. Their dreams. Their memories. All of which is now lost to time. The heavyweight of remembrance pins him to the bed and leaves him staring at the wall. Marcus Moreno shuts his eyes and tries to ease his agony.

His job…

The Heroics…

His friends…

Missy…

Maybe he could take it. Maybe he’d make it...

Yes, even he could see a light, if it wasn’t for the nights.

Marcus even guesses that his future would look bright…

If it wasn’t for the nights.

#am writes #Year of ABBA #year of creation #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfic #marcus moreno angst #marcus moreno fanfiction #Spotify

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hextechmaturgy · 2 years ago

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Do you have any headcanons for how Grief and Andrey's relationship is like? What do you think Andrey has done for the town's criminals? (i saw your tags on the voice lines reblog)

OH FRIEND...... YOU HONOR ME WITH THIS ASK YOU DO..... i got so excited to answer. i'm actually writing an angrief fic atm spanning from when they meet to when the game ends, but because i'm a very very very slow writer it's not coming out anytime soon. if you're interested tho wink i'd be happy to send u a very short sneak peak in dms wink

regarding headcanons tho, i'll try to be concise but honestly i have many unorganized thoughts and feelings about those two. should also be said that i have a timeline in my head for pre-game events that probably doesn't match canon at all, but it makes sense TO ME and time in pathologic is more of a suggestion anyway sooo hihi let's go

andrey is a bit older than grief; they meet at age 19/20. artemy is leaving and grief's losing his friends, his family. he's turning to gangs for company, which only further alienates him from lara and stakh. andrey is making friends for once, a rare thing after years on the run. his head's full of ideas, ideas that someone actually wants to hear, it's exhilarating. they meet at a plot of land where a staircase will stand one day, both immediately clocking Each Other™️, but the knowing looks go beyond a tick in their gaydar. andrey is a free man and grief wants to be free, desperately so, but he's also afraid. what will it cost him? grief fears the unknown, the steppe curses that keep him up at night, the scorn of his friends and the abandonment, the unknown. it's hard to be authentic, isn't it? andrey sees this struggle, understands the want to fight, the want for freedom. andrey tells him it's okay to want

that first meeting emboldens grief, sustains him when his family breaks for good. they don't see each other for months, and a lot changes for the two of them, but they still remember and all too well. andrey asked to see him again, grief is reluctant. just meeting the man was already impactful enough, he's relived it so often, lost in dreams. but he feels bold, andrey makes him bold. he finds andrey bleeding at his own bar. he needs stitches somewhere he can't reach, won't you help me out, sweet filin? he does. his hand trembles, his stitches are terrible. odd thing, piercing skin, sinking into another man's flesh. hope this doesn't awake anything in him!!!

(spoiler: it absolutely does)

it's probably not a huge surprise at this point if i state i write grief with internalized homophobia in mind, and a considerable amount of religious trauma too. the man he wants to be brings him to shame, and that reflex goes beyond sexuality yes but it's also about that. andrey is uncharacteristically patient. he'll push and prod, poke at the hidden layers behind those freckles he's memorized for some reason, but never goes beyond grief's limits. freedom shouldn't be scary. grief will evolve, he will grow, and andrey will look at him with pride in his eyes and something that is definitely not love (andrey only knows violence. what does he do with love?)

grief is becoming a proper criminal now, respected even if he won't cut, perhaps respected because he gets the job done without cutting. he becomes a seller of all things illegal, and andrey is always in the market for something dangerous. he wants a weapon that will allow him to get up close and personal, and he gets something personal alright. grief gives him a knuckle-duster, a gift. places it around his fingers to see how it fits, awfully gentle. it's not a ring, it's not a promise, they're not that ridiculous

(spoiler: they absolutely are)

the first outbreak is scary. peter suffers immensely from it and when peter suffers, andrey agonizes, but peter is fine...... grief wonders if the pest is divine punishment, if he's to blame for it somehow, but surely not....... they're both restless and healthy, alive, and they're sort of neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors). it's easier to call their INVOLVEMENT stress relief. neither is prepared for the truth really

friends who bang! andrey's got plenty of those and this one isn't any different, okay? barkeeps hear all sorts of juicy gossip, and if he happens to perk up at news on grief and his gang, it's only because andrey is a dangerous man too, and he's wise to look out for the goings on of the underworld. i'm actually still unsure what the line 'wasn't long ago he was on his knees, begging before me' is all about, but i'm convinced it's not horny, at least not 100%. they spend a lot of time on their knees before one another, almost anything andrey says sounds like a threat or a preposition. andrey is held responsible for the death of at least one man (rip farkhad) so he's probably feared in the town. his lifestyle alone shocks plenty of people. grief holds his men back with a "no stabbing, no shooting, no killing" leash, but we know they're able, we know some are willing. perhaps grief needed andrey to intimidate a gang member he was having trouble with, truly desperate, out of other solutions. i'm begging you for help, on my knees if i have to. those men are terrified of you, and frankly so am i (but not in the same way, oh never, somehow i know you would never kill me). it would explain why andrey brings it up to artemy during the second outbreak. grief's men will start misbehaving soon - i wonder if he will come crawling to beg again

i think they're amicable for the most part, their personalities bounce of one another. they're insistent on the just friends thing mostly out of habit. i know you will come if i need you, and we have plenty of fun together already. that's enough, no? what else could a bastard need

second outbreak is a mess and we all know just how much. apple basket reunion is awkward because hey grief why did the guy at the bar tell me about you being on your- how about we don't talk for a while? oh also, this is a small thing, but shout out to the day you find grief and peter at aspity's house. i laughed so much imagining that conversation, or the very OBVIOUS lack of one. peter isn't even really there, dozing off lost in his thoughts, and grief is nearby sweating bullets. be cool grief, be cool - wait why are you even trying to impress peter?

when the polyhedron dies - because she is alive, and she is dying - andrey is lost to senseless violence. he doesn't believe artemy's confession because that would mean killing grief's childhood friend. it's easier to be angry at thirty faceless men. we also know that grief is... NOT WELL, after the whole thing with aglaya. grief is sitting at a staircase (THE staircase that once wasn't here) and he stays there until it's dark, until it's light again. andrey finds him, drunk out of his goddamn mind, probably guided there by all the twyrine in his system. it's unsettling to not see her when he reaches the top, it's unsettling to not see grief as well. what can two broken men do but weep? they whisper to each other. come with me, let's kill them all. it's not worth it, nothing is anymore. i'll go without you. you'll die. do you care?

there's stuff i missed, stuff that probably doesn't make sense, i'm writing this at 6 am in a frenzy of angrief feelings because i love them. i love this ask, i had to reply or i wouldn't sleep. what happens after the game is a wonder to me as well. i've said before somewhere that p1 grief is who p2 grief could become after the diurnal ending. andrey is also going to struggle with his place in the world, mourning the loss of a perfect tower that can never be reproduced, of brilliance and hard work, probably mourning the loss of his brother too, not to the pest but to love. peter has grace now and i think that will be jarring, not being the only family peter has. the twins have only ever had each other, is andrey falling behind? how will he catch up? can he? twins are perfect opposites, he says: it's only natural that when peter starts to improve, andrey begins to degenerate

but i like to be hopeful, because i like these characters a lot (i know u would never be able to tell xoxo). two negatives make a positive, so maybe andrey and grief can be miserable together, and maybe then they'll realize that love is fit for bastards too

#ask #i'm having plague thoughts (BEWARE)#angrief #i didn't proof read this hopefully it's LEGIBLE

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fandom-trash-xl · 1 year ago

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DBS Manga vs Anime Differences: Universe 6 Characters

Notably with the Dragon Ball Super manga, there's a bunch of edits that set it apart from the anime. Same basic plot framework, but a few changes that set them apart. So, I decided to compile some of these changes- the ones that affect the Universe 6 characters (may cover other arcs later, sorry for the U6 hyperfixation moment), so this stuff will be in the U6 and Universal Survival Arcs. The differences range from a few small things to things that completely change the development of the character as a whole- why I rely on the anime canon for some elements in my fics (not saying I don't like the manga).

Anyway, here's what I've grabbed.

UNIVERSE 6 TOURNAMENT ARC

When asked about his lack of a tail, Cabba notes that U6 Saiyans used to have them in the past, but evolved away from them. In the anime, Cabba's confusion seems to imply that they never had tails.

Cabba's promise to Vegeta about visiting Sadala is addressed only very briefly before the matches rather than after their fight later on. It is seemingly never brought up again. The Sadalan King is never mentioned until the Universal Survival arc.

Most noticeably, Frost's lore of being a con artist under the guise of a "hero of justice" is completely absent. He's simply a strong fighter within the universe who just happens to be sneaky with a little poison needle.

Consequently, this means he has no pre-tournament connection to Cabba.

His Assault/Charging/Third Form comes as a surprise to the crowd, while he had publicity around it and even an official name for it in the anime. Again, due to the lore being dropped.

Frost does not have reservations over using his True Form and no concerns over strength control (out of fear of killing) with it.

Piccolo's fight against Frost relies on exhausting Frost's energy rather than on a successful hit from the Special Beam Cannon. In fact, Piccolo doesn't use the move at all.

The Tournament is unpaid for Universe 6; the treasure heap from the anime doesn't exist and Frost can't exactly get support for the peacekeeping efforts that don't exist in the manga. Hit is still offered the hexahedron, however.

Frost turns to the poison needles for this reason, to rush the Tournament to the end rather than make up for a disadvantage.

Frost is shown in the end of chapter drawing to be loading his own poison. There's no confirmation if this is the case in the anime as well, but it can be presumed.

Frost and Vegeta don't arrange a zero-rules match.

Vegeta's finisher on Frost knocks him unconscious, so there's no encounter with Hit. There wouldn't be a motive for the assassin to pursue him regardless.

Cabba is able to gain an initial advantage against Vegeta- notably, he uses light to mask his movements (similar to 17 in the ToP). As a trade-off, he doesn't use a Vegeta-stanced Galick Cannon like in the anime.

When Hit opens his eyes upon sensing Vegeta turning Blue, he doesn't spot Goku smiling at him from across the stadium and reclose them.

Cabba doesn't question Saiyan Pride at all, so Vegeta doesn't need to tell him that it means strength.

Vegeta doesn't develop a Master-Student relationship with Cabba.

Hit's Time Skip is noted to have more reliance on a gap in strength between him and the opponent. When Goku's strength exceeds Hit's he is able to cut off skips midway.

Hit's "Pure Progress" simply increases his power and strength and doesn't increase the amount of time he can skip. His Time Skip never evolves past 0.1 second skips.

Color Manga only, but Hit's blood is shown as red rather than purple.

Hit is a lot more expressive and smiles more often during his fight with Goku.

Goku uses Super Saiyan God before using Blue. As a trade-off, he doesn't use the Blue Kaioken.

Champa doesn't retaliate against his team for losing. There's only an argument between Beerus and Champa when Zeno shows up.

UNIVERSAL SURVIVAL/TOURNAMENT OF POWER ARC

Renso is not mentioned at all. Cabba instead knows Caulifla for her infamy as a bandit and how she's considered "untouchable" by the Sadalan army.

Caulifla's gang is depicted in more detail and is revealed to be more of a Robin Hood-style organization under the surface.

Multiple members of Caulifla's gang refer to her as "sis"; it's not limited to just Kale.

Kale's potential is first noticed by Cabba as she moves almost ninja-like, Caulifla not noticing. In the anime, Caulifla sees her potential simply because she has faith in her due to their close relationship.

Caulifla's ascension to Super Saiyan is skipped over. The only detail given is that she took to it with ease. At least it's not the back tingle thing...

Kale doesn't unlock Super Saiyan until later in the Tournament itself.

Frost is noted to have some ruling power of an unknown extent, as he and Frieza discuss a shared preference of ruling with an iron fist.

Goku's "hiring Hit to kill him" mini arc is absent from the timeline. Goku considers the Tournament their "rematch", despite him wanting to see Hit's killing techniques (which he cannot use here).

Frieza and Frost's team up involves more input from Frieza and the two seem to stick closer together. His plan involves giving Frost intel on U7's weak links then prompting him to use his full strength up front to thin out the competition. Frieza gives him the "full strength up front" fake advice in the anime as well, but Frost doesn't really have the chance to apply it.

Frost doesn't seem to have separate motivations for winning the tournament, while he seeks a pardon from Champa if he manages to deal a significant blow to U7 in the anime.

Frost's moves are more up front compared to in the anime. Anime Frost relies more on survival instincts he gained from being on the lam, an experience that Manga Frost doesn't gain. If he needs to escape when overwhelmed, he simply runs rather than using a smoke bomb attack.

Frieza doesn't demonstrate the 100% Full Power state for Frost and only teases Golden to him before his elimination. Frost only sees Golden Frieza from the sidelines.

Frieza attempts to choke out Frost before kicking him off the side to eliminate him while he uses a large energy blast to do so in the anime.

Color Manga choice again, but Frost is shown spitting up purple blood when Frieza kicks him in the jaw. This matches up with Frieza's being shown to bleed purple earlier in the arc, so the blood color seems to be consistent for the species. Frost doesn't bleed in the anime, but if we match his blood to Frieza's, it would be red. (Bonus fact! Full Color Dragon Ball (pre-Super) gives Frieza blue blood.)

Frost does not attempt to fire a retaliation attack at Frieza from the stands, so he is not erased separately for a foul. This also means he's present for Champa calling him a "joke" compared to Frieza... straight to his face.

Hit pursues Jiren by his own choice rather than attempting to take advantage of the Pride Trooper's supposed "dropped guard" after fighting Ultra Instinct Goku.

Hit notes that he has worked on honing his physical attacks' strength and speed so he can rely less on his Time Skip. He is only shown using non-Skip strikes once Goku joins the fight.

Hit's coattails are shown to detach from his coat; it's unconfirmed if this applies to the anime as well. The detachment shows his lessened reliance on the Time Skip, as the lack of coattails prevents him from hiding minute twitches in his hands with his pockets or in his legs with the coat length.

Hit's new secret move in the manga causes the opponent's moves to lag behind, while it involves freezing the opponent in time in the anime. Vados even mentions that Hit can't freeze Jiren in place at his current power level.

Universe 6's slight mini arc about each member having their own part to play is not addressed. As a result, Cabba doesn't have an overwhelming need to protect Caulifla and Kale by taking fights for them to preserve their team's aces. In fact, he advises Kale to stay out of Caulifla's fight with Frieza and trust her capabilities.

Frieza is able to fully pursue his hunting down of the Universe 6 Saiyans and fights all three over time, although he doesn't snag any of their eliminations. In the anime, he only manages to attack (and eliminate) Cabba and threatens to pursue Caulifla and Kale. He never gets the chance to follow up on this, as Goku prevents him from butting into his fight against them. Ironically, manga Frieza attempts to stop Goku from butting in during the U6 fight.

Kale hints to her backstory, noting that Caulifla took her in when she was lost on the roadside.

Kale doesn't gain a controlled Super Saiyan state, remaining in rampage mode until she fuses with Caulifla.

Kale's rampage drastically cuts down the fat of the Tournament and ends several of the other Universes' mini arcs, such as Universe 3's Anilaza, before they can even begin. Thanks Kale!

Kale's Legendary Super Saiyan state is near confirmed. She's suspected by Cabba to be the "Legendary Saiyan", a demonic Saiyan that appears once in a millennium on a power-increasing rampage until they inevitably self-destruct. Since Cabba and Caulifla know of this myth but not about the Super Saiyan prior to Vegeta passing on the knowledge, it's likely separate from LSSJ.

Vegeta's second promise to Cabba, about promising to restore U6 if he wins, doesn't exist in the manga either. In fact, the two's relationship seems lessened in general.

Instead of being given the Potara by Champa, Caulifla is shown to have secretly pilfered them from Fuwa. Likely an art error but, oddly, Fuwa can be seen with his earrings earlier in the Tournament before realizing they're gone.

The hiding spot for the earrings is shown, being stashed in Caulifla's belt.

Cabba's elimination is a sacrifice to prevent Kale's fall and attach the Potara earring to her.

Kale's rampage is seemingly calmed automatically by being fused, rather than learning control.

Kefla's base form is absent.

Kefla fights Gohan rather than Goku and seems to be on par with Mystic/Ultimate Gohan. Due to this fight change, Super Saiyan 3 isn't teased to Caulifla and Kale.

U6's final ranking in the Tournament is third place rather than fifth.

Goku's Ultra Instinct Sign state doesn't make its first appearance until very late in the Tournament. Only the angels, Universes 7 and 11, and the spectating Universes witness it. The remaining Universes likely either have no knowledge of it or learn about it from Universal gossip.

The Zenos' secret test against selfish wishes is not addressed.

The erased Universes are restored at the benches rather than in their home universes.

AND (mini bonus)

BENCH FRIT

(I mean, Frost was directly behind Hit once Hit got eliminated, it looks like he's scooted forward. Anyway, I digress.)

AND those are the Universe 6 relevant differences between the anime and manga! Hope to cover a few other differences in the other arcs later but the U6 hyperfixation is too strong some days.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #dragon ball super manga #long post #anime vs manga #Universe 6 #Frost #Cabba #Hit #Caulifla #Kale #Kefla #analysis #images will probably not be lined up like I set them up because setting images next to each other in the post editor often means nothing

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thedeathofduty · 2 years ago

Text

Little Doe

Summary: Prince Aemond shows you a special place in the Red Keep's gardens. When the two of you return that night, you are able to enjoy his company, but feel burdened by the possibility of a betrothal you thought you wanted. Now, though, you are not so sure.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!F!Reader

Warning(s): Explicit scenes, some light choking, brief mention of Aemond's awful, terrible, no-good thirteenth name day. Minors dni, thank you uwu

A/N: Let's all imagine Borros Baratheon had a younger brother named Davos. There's absolutely no mention of the Dance or any of the crazy family tension in this fic. Also messed with the universe's timeline a bit. 8,243 words!!! Bone apple teeth, y'all. Also, please do not be fooled by the title. Aemond does not dom in this fic.

You stood before your father, fighting to school your features so you would not burst into raucous laughter as he yelled at your handmaiden until there were tears streaming down the young girl’s face. Usually, you were not so cruel, but you could not help but feel she deserved it for nearly soiling your image, and to your beloved father, no less. Everybody at court knew you were the sparkle in Lord Davos Baratheon’s eye, his youngest child and only girl. They knew better than to speak ill of you.

The girl must be new to the Keep. As your father put her in her place, your chest grew with pride.

“My daughter has no need for a chaperone,” he growled, his blue eyes blazing like icy coals. “She is merely going to go for a walk in the gardens with the young Prince. Or do you presume to question my daughter’s virtue?”

“No, My Lord, I-I would never,” the girl whimpered, shaking like a little leaf in the wind next to you. You had to cover your mouth to hide your smirk.

“Do you think he would fuck her in the gardens, for all to see? Do you hear how stupid you sound, you cunt?”

“Father,” you chastised him. He pointed a stern finger at you and you bit your lip to try to hide your irrepressible smile.

“If he touches you in a way that displeases you, you are to show him no mercy and leave the rest to me. I promised your mother you would return to Storm’s End a maiden and I intend to make good on that, even if I have to cut out Prince Aemond’s other eye.” At this, you let out a girlish laugh as your handmaiden gasped loudly.

“Yes, father.”

“Very good.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the girl next to you. “Have the Prince ask the Queen to fetch us another one, little doe. This one is a bit too fucking stupid." You nodded.

These handmaidens never lasted long under your father. Even though he was soft for you and your mother, he was a harsh man. You loved him dearly, and he, in turn, lavished every affection on you and let you run as wild as you wished. Whatever your transgressions, he either did not see them or merely pretended you were innocent.

You led the girl out of the room with a sly grin, offering quiet apologies. She said nothing offensive, but you could see the fear and anger in her wet eyes and it gave you great pleasure to know that she had no choice but to keep it all to herself. Perhaps after today she would learn you were nigh untouchable. You were a Lady of a Great House and clearly favored by the oh so terrifying Aemond One Eye. Was it your fault that two bold, fearsome men cared for you?

You strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, making your way to the gardens to meet Prince Aemond with your chin held high and a smile so wide, two deep dimples adorned your cheeks. Your mind felt cloudy with excitement, your thoughts racing with what you and your Prince may get up to today. Usually, he took you for a ride on his dragon and, while you had resisted at first, it had quickly become one of your favorite things to do with him.

Sometimes he would take you to one of the small spits of land in the Blackwater and other times, your journey would end deep in the Kingswood. No matter where the Prince took you, the story ended in the same way: with you naked in his lap, his soft hair between your fingers, and his mouth on your neck. The fact that he let you have him was a privilege and a pleasure you had no intention of giving up. Sacrificing the happiness of a lowly handmaiden was nothing to you and you would ask Aemond to allow you to feed her to Vhagar yourself if it meant you got to feel his tongue thrusting into your cunt again.

It was odd that he wanted to trade those private trysts for a public stroll through the gardens. Your father held no ill-will towards the Prince despite his earlier threat, but nor did he have much love for the Targaryens as a house. You imagined it would take a lot of convincing to get him to agree to a betrothal, if that was what Prince Aemond was attempting by walking with you somewhere public.

You hoped that was not what he wanted.

Though you held the Prince in high regard somewhere perhaps very near your heart, your heart itself was as of yet a land unclaimed by any man, and you preferred it that way. You were no longer a maiden and had not been one for years, not since your fifteenth name day here in King’s Landing, but your heart retained its maidenhood and had never been bloodied by love. Perhaps someday all this practice with him would prove useful when you married whatever Lord your father ultimately deemed worthy of his little doe.

The moment you saw Prince Aemond, you bit your lip and let out a laugh without thinking. As always, he was in his black leathers you found so dashing on him, but in his hand he held a single flower, your very favorite: a yellow plumeria. They grew in some of the hidden alcoves of Storm’s End. Back home, you always had the servants replace the vase of them you kept in your chambers.

He looked every bit the roguish gentleman, out of place in the brightly colored gardens clad only in black, with his dark eye patch and scar marring half his pristine face. His bright blue eye seemed to glow in the sunlight, nearly the same shade as yours. You did not think you could remember a time when the Prince had worn a different color. It was as if he was ever a widow in her mourning period.

“My Prince,” you said with a small bow and an outstretched hand. Gently, he grasped it and brushed it against his lips.

“My Lady. Your flower.” He handed the plumeria to you and you gave yourself a moment to breathe in its soft scent before sighing fondly and pressing it against your chest. “Does it remind you of home?” he asked, offering you his arm, which you took without hesitation as the two of you started walking.

“It does.” A pause. “Though I do not miss it. Storm’s End was wet and terribly boring. King’s Landing is much more exciting.” You gave him a meaningful look, and he chuckled under his breath.

The day was warm and a little damp. There had been a big storm the night before and a heavy fog had settled over the Keep. Everyone around you was wading in it, even your companion. As the two of you passed the various members of court who had ventured into the gardens on such a humid morning, you said your quiet greetings and remained a touch too close to one another. You wondered how the two of you must look from a distance, your thick black hair next to his silver, your bright yellow dress next to his black leathers. Did the two of you walking arm in arm look natural to the people you were greeting?

“Did Lord Davos like Aethia?” he asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“Who? Oh, the servant girl.” You snorted, brushing your flower under your nose. “No, father called her stupid. As he should! That bitch was trying to come and chaperone me today. Can you believe the nerve of it?”

Prince Aemond grinned, happy to indulge your ego just as your father usually was. “Those are the rules, Lady Y/N.”

“Not for me, My Prince.” You slipped a finger under the cuff of his sleeve, feeling his steady pulse on the inside of his wrist. When you spoke, you leaned close to him and let your words out in near whispers. “My father said there was no chance you would fuck me here in the gardens where anybody could see you.” His pulse quickened under your fingers and you could feel yours do the same.

“Oh, and you believe him, do you?” He raised an eyebrow at you, mirth shining in his eye.

“My Prince,” you gasped, clutching your flower near your heart, “I would never think you capable of such depravity.” You often laughed together, as you were both doing now, and you often felt that it was your favorite part of spending time with Aemond. “And with a pure maiden such as I.”

He hummed, his gaze dropping to your lips. In the distance, the waves of the Blackwater crashed against the lower walls of the Red Keep and your face flushed with desire. “You’ve not been a maiden for some time now, My Lady.”

Your fifteenth name day had been a boring affair. Your father had gifted you a chest full of new dresses and a small orange kitten you named Perzys after the Valyrian word for fire. You had spent some time having wine and delicate pastries with some of the other young Ladies at court, including the Princess Helaena who unfortunately did not quite seem to fit in with the rest of you. She was a sweet girl and, though you had no issue with her, you never quite knew what to say to her.

That evening, you had wandered with a goblet of wine in your hand and a scowl on your face. You had felt like a big fish in a small pond, like the Red Keep was too small a pen for so large a stag. You had found Prince Aemond in the Godswood by himself, reading as he often was when he was without a sword in his hand. The two of you had taken notice of each other before and you knew he had found flimsy excuses to barge into his sister’s chambers on the few occasions you decided to spend some time with her. His one gleaming eye seemed to be stuck on you like a searing hand and you could deny it no longer: you wanted to have him.

‘It is my name day,’ you’d all but whispered to him, nearly in his lap already with your eyes raking all over him at all the places you wanted to touch but would not dare to just yet. ‘Even your brother sent me a bottle of wine with the Princess Helaena. What have you gotten me, My Prince? What will you give me?’

‘What is it you want, Lady Y/N?’ His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you stared at it, completely rapt. ‘I will see it done.’

‘I want you, Prince Aemond.’ Your hand brushed against his cheek and he clutched it, his eye narrowing as it bored into yours. Slowly, you allowed yourself to lean into him. ‘I am not so lost in my cups that I do not know what that means. Will you make a woman of me? It would be the best gift anyone has given me today.’

When he finally kissed you, a loud moan bubbled past your lips and into his. He led you hand in hand through the halls to his chambers, taking great care to make sure the two of you were not seen. The moment he shut his door, you connected, pulling each other apart until you both tumbled into his bed. It was funny. Your mother had warned you it would hurt, that you would cry and bleed and curse the gods. But it had not been like that at all.

Your body felt like the night sky, like a void filled with a swirl of dizzying stars. Even your fingertips were humming with pleasure by the time Aemond was guiding you into his lap with a firm grip on your waist. When he finally entered you, you cried out in relief and ecstasy, not pain. It was as if there was a terrible itch inside of you that was finally being scratched.

He gasped and groaned as you moved your hips, slowly at first, then as quickly as you could manage. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him close so he could kiss and bite your neck as he had been doing before. Gods, you had loved that. When your fingers snagged on the strap of his eye patch, you growled and yanked it off without thinking, tossing it off to the side. For a moment, you almost missed the way his entire body went rigid until you opened your eyes.

You had never seen something so wondrous and beautiful, not even the giant she-dragon he called his. His one good eye was wide and fearful and in place of the other was a dazzling, glittering sapphire. The sight of it made heat coil low in your belly like a plumeria blooming after rain.

‘You,’ you panted, ‘you have been hiding this from me this entire time?’ He opened his mouth to speak and you ducked down to lick the pale column of his throat.

‘I-I do not wish to scare the ladies at court,’ he stammered and you huffed a gentle laugh into his wet skin.

‘I am not afraid, Aemond,’ you murmured, letting him feel your teeth against his neck. ‘I am wet. Do you feel my desire?’ You moved your hips again, and you both moaned. ‘Do you think it has it waned?’ He shook his head and pulled your mouth up to connect with his. The kiss was slow and languid, your tongues dancing as you quickened your pace in his lap. The desire that had bloomed inside you only grew, threatening to engulf you in a wild passion hotter than dragonfire.

‘Oh gods, you feel incredible,’ Aemond groaned against your lips, a wail torn from his mouth as you gripped his hair in your fists and rode him viciously. He had given himself as a present for you, so he was yours, all yours. The thought swirled dangerously in your head as you chased your release with gritted teeth.

‘Aemond!’ you cried. Your hair was sticking to the side of your face and the back of your neck. The reward you had been working for was so close you could taste it on your tongue and yet it eluded you. Your eyebrows pinched together in frustration, then smoothed as he ran his hands up your back until they came to rest on your shoulders. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your chest heaving.

His sapphire was catching bits of moonbeams from the open windows. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen and nearly red from your kisses. He was... You loosened the grip you had in his hair, trying to catch your breath as he leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. You wanted to tell him he was beautiful and fine, like a Dornish knife made of ivory or a piece of the moon come down to lie with you, but you found you could say nothing as you stared at him. His hands gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away the frustrated tears you had scarcely even noticed. You furrowed your brows under his studious and gentle gaze, your heartbeat growing louder in your ears as he pressed another kiss just shy of your lips.

‘May I?’ You were not sure what he was asking for, but you said yes all the same.

He taught you much that night, about your body and about pleasure. Sometimes it was better to go slowly and let it build until it immolated you from the inside. You knew that now. When your release found you again that night, it was with a shudder and a silent scream. Aemond finished on his stomach with a low groan and just the sight of him in the throes of pleasure had you wanting him all over again.

Afterwards, you lied in his bed with your legs tangled together and spoke softly to one another. They were not words of love, no promises of betrothals or heart wrenching confessions of secret fondness plagued the two of you that night. It was easy speaking to him now that the deed was done where before it had been so difficult. Of course, how many secrets could there be after someone has seen such a hidden part of you? He had forced you, whining and bleary-eyed, out of his bed and helped you dress before accompanying you back to your chambers. Again, your hand was in his and he kissed it gently as he wished you pleasant dreams.

It was a good night, a fine way to lose your maidenhead. One month later, your family returned to Storm’s End, and you assumed that would be that. Years later, however, here you found yourself again, playing this little game you loved so much with the Prince. This game had never included a scenic walk through the gardens, but you enjoyed his company enough to allow him access to you with your clothes on.

“You dare question my virtue, Prince Aemond? My father will have your other eye for that,” you joked, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“Your father is overly indulgent.”

“As are you,” you purred, batting your lashes at him and giggling when he looked away.

“Hm, you are right. Perhaps today is the day I deny you that which you seek and you learn some discipline.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that, My Prince,” you declared with a cocky toss of your dark hair over your shoulder. “When you deny me, you deny yourself the pleasure of giving me what I want.”

“You are a bold one, Lady Y/N. Were it not for your hair, I would take you for a dragon.”

You smiled coquettishly at him, leaning your head against your shoulder and peering up at him through thick lashes. “The only dragon here is you. I’ve merely the privilege of being your rider.”

Fondness softened his smile into something you could not stare at and you sighed, looking ahead at the flowered path before you. The air was thick with the smell of pink roses and salt water. The ocean breeze stirred the trees and bushes, the sound melding with the waves. You could still feel him staring. He led you through the gardens and you allowed him to guide you to places you had only ever seen from afar in the windows high above. As you walked together, you saw fewer and fewer people until it was just the two of you surrounded by high walls and luscious blooms still dripping with morning mist. When you spared a glance back, the walled path simply narrowed and turned and you could no longer make out any clear voices at all.

“Remember this path,” the Prince said and you gazed up at him with a question on your lips. “We will walk it again tonight.”

“Why not only walk it tonight?”

There was a thin rectangle of golden light on the ground ahead and the roaring of the sea grew louder as you walked on. Your dark hair was sticking to the back of your neck and you moved it to the side so a cool breeze could soothe you. “I thought you might like to see it like this as well.” You squinted up at him with a quirk in your lips and stepped into the warm light as a brisk gust of salt air pushed all your hair across your face.

Your body instantly cooled, and you struggled to keep your dainty flower in your hand as a single petal was plucked off and spiraled away. Prince Aemond released you and you took a careful step through the archway into the rotunda with wide eyes. Your gaze darted around, trying to settle somewhere to take in every little detail, but it simply could not. The space in front of you was round, the floor laid with tiles depicting red dragons mating with fair-skinned maidens. Vines and thin branches wrapped around the slender columns, small dark blue fruits growing in bunches near the tops. Dark, curved shingles layered the dome above you, making you feel like you were inside a dragon’s egg. Just beyond the structure was the Narrow Sea, the high morning sunlight dancing on its shifting surface and feeling like a pressing weight on your eyes. If you wanted to, you could sit at the very edge of the tiled floor, your legs dangling far, far above the crushing waves below.

You had all but forgotten the Prince was even there and when his hand came to rest on the small of your back, you jumped with an undignified yelp. Mercifully, he did not comment on it or even laugh. Perhaps he was as entranced with the view as you were.

“Do you like it?” His voice was soft like a flower petal against you, his lips coming down to caress the tender skin just below your ear. You turned and drew him in closer with a searing kiss, humming as his hands crushed your body against his. When he pulled away, you were dizzy with longing.

“Must you make me wait until tonight?” He pressed long open-mouthed kisses against your neck and your eyes closed, seemingly all on their own.

“You will be happy I did.” With a huff, you let yourself accept it, trusting that you would be just as pleased at night as you were now.

When the two of you separated for the day, it felt as though you had been floating for hours, only to be forced to contend with the weight of stable ground once more. You often felt similarly after riding Vhagar, like your stomach was still rising and falling freely through the air even as you walked along the ground with the other mere mortals. This was different, though you could not name how.

The day was long, and each hour seemed to stretch on forever. The Ladies you often spent your time with were delightful enough, but your gaze continuously drifted towards the gardens, your mind conjuring images of what you knew was to happen there tonight. It seemed Your Prince held an unjust amount of power over you if he could still excite you like this.

That night with him those few years ago was a secret you guarded fiercely, but there was one you kept even closer to your heart. After you and your family had returned home, you had felt changed by the experience, more like a woman. Several nights you found yourself unable to rest, plagued by a need that had settled in between your thighs. Though you had felt it before, it had never been so loud and insistent, dominating your sleepless nights with visions of the Prince moving against you, that gorgeous sapphire glowing with the flashes of lightning that fell outside your chamber windows. Young Lady of a High House you may be, precious daughter to the harsh Davos Baratheon, burdened with three older brothers who would geld any man who presumed to touch, but you were still not without open admirers back home. You were not without opportunity to dampen the flame of your desires. But for one reason or another, you never sought out a bedmate to entertain you.

The nights leading up to your journey back to King’s Landing had been long and agonizing, your heart thundering in your chest and sleep unwilling or unable to find you until you had taken matters into your own hands and given yourself that which Aemond had gifted you years before. As you pressed your palm against your wet cunt, you imagined him in bed curled next to you with his voice in your ear urging you on, whispering about how good you tasted, how soft and sweet you were, how he needed you to finish just one more time before he could fuck you again. It was not until you had felt your release at least twice that you would drift off in pleasant dreams, the tips of three of your fingers wrinkled and sticky.

It was nearly evening now, the sun setting slower than it ever had before just to taunt you, and you were stomping through the halls of the Red Keep, hoping to see the Prince just once before your meeting with him. Wherever he was, he was very well-hidden. You passed a pleasant, albeit very dull supper with your father, your mind elsewhere, until...

“What do you think of the Lannisters, Y/N?” You blinked in confusion and savored the cherry wine on your tongue.

“As a house? They are wealthy and powerful. I find them all to be a bit self-serious, though. The Targaryens have their signature arrogance and the Lannisters have their pride. Ultimately, there is little difference between one and the other.”

Your father nodded across the table, taking a bite of his rabbit with a pensive look on his face. “One of their boys has taken a keen interest in you.” You choked, the bit of drink still in your mouth burning your throat on its way down. “I know you are a fan of fineries, so I thought their vast coffers may be of interest to you. You would be well taken care of as the Lady of Casterly Rock. What say you to that, little doe?”

“I... I must admit, father, I’ve not given marriage much thought, and no Lannister has approached me.” Your hands found your skirts in your lap, thumbing at the embroidery there.

“Of course not, the boy understands that he must speak to your Lord Father first.” He smiled. “If it does not interest you, consider him gone, but it would please me if you took the night to think about it. I believe the Lannister boy to be a fine match for you. It would elevate our house, and you, considerably.”

Think about it you did as you sat rigidly in your bed and stared at the flimsy little yellow plumeria on the table beside you. A Lannister would be a big step for you and certainly it was the sort of opportunity you had been waiting for. Casterly Rock was a fine seat for you and you would have everything your heart could think to desire there. You’d wear the finest dresses, drink the sweetest wines, and your hands would glitter with gold and rare jewels. With all the experience you had gathered with the Prince, you doubted you would be unable to make your Lord Husband a lucky man. You knew even Perzys would grow to be fat and happy there.

When a knock came at your door, it dragged you from the depths of your pondering with a start. A flower of relief bloomed in your heart as you opened your door to find the Prince before you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head.

“My Prince,” you giggled, your earlier woes instantly forgotten. “Have you finally come to spirit me away? I was just about to send for a servant to help me dress for bed.”

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but I had to ready everything myself.”

“Ready everything?” He offered his hand with a small smile on his lips and you clung to it as the two of you crept through the halls. The Prince seemed built for stealth and you were careful not to make the slightest sound, walking on your toes and holding your breath as much as possible.

Your nerves nearly forced a giggle past your lips and perhaps he could feel it coming because he shushed you and you covered your mouth with your free hand. It wasn’t until you were safe in the gardens that you released it, letting it flow from you and into the Prince’s mouth as he kissed you. Your heart fluttered in your chest, beating its wings like a nervous little bird, as you tugged him deeper into the labyrinth of flowers, hoping your memory served you well enough to get you where you needed to go.

As the two of you stumbled through, you kept grabbing at each other with a feverish insistence. He littered your face with quick kisses, his one sparkling eye closing as you ripped through the metal fastenings on his clothes and touched his bare chest underneath. His whispered voice was like silk and honey in your ear. “Have you been thinking of me all day, little doe?” If it weren’t for the mystery of what awaited you in the rotunda, you would have had him fuck you right there. It was unfair. He knew how it unraveled you when he called you that.

“Yes,” you gasped, flashing him a breathless smile with all your teeth. Gods, you wanted to pick him apart until he was a mess of bones and blood, devour him whole, and lick your fingers clean. “You left me wanting you, my dragon. Will you give me what I need?”

Hunger burned in his eye and, with a firm tug, he yanked through most of the laces on the back of your dress. “Of course. Now follow me and you shall receive your gift.” When he moved to walk around you, you grasped at his arm and guided his hand under your skirts with your eyes trained on his.

“I want you to feel me,” you murmured, your throat tight. Your hand stayed on his wrist as his fingers slid past your knees.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he touched the slick coating the inside of your thighs on either side of your flushed cunt. You were already so open and ready for him, you could feel your heartbeat pounding between your legs. You never felt quite so powerful as when you reduced Prince Aemond to cursing and calling to the gods. His nostrils flared, and he snatched his hand away, dragging you along the rest of the way.

The sight earlier had been beautiful and left your mouth slightly agape at the brilliance of it, but that paled in comparison to the sight before you now. Lit candles sat in silver dishes along the tiled floor, some black, some red, some gold. Your mouth curled into a fond smile. Though a thick black sheet and plush red cushions covered the design on the floor, you remembered it well enough and knew you were soon to recreate it. A cool wind brushed through the open archways, a brilliant full moon casting its pure light over all that delighted you. The Prince seemed to glow with it, his alabaster skin kissed by moonlight and his blue eye appearing even truer to its color.

“The night sky suits you,” you said. Your nerves returned, and they forced a wide smile onto your warm face. His deft fingers brushed through your thick black hair, rubbing the ends of the wavy locks between his fingers.

“As it does you.” You needed only to spare a quick glance to the dark eye patch still covering his gemstone eye before he was taking it off and tossing it down onto the sheet. The sapphire glowed with the rest of him, the candlelight reflected inside twinkling as golden stars and piercing you like a hail of arrows. The first thing you’d done when you first found yourself alone with him on your return to King’s Landing was slide that offensive garment off his face. Any Lady who would be frightened of a simple sapphire was unfit to lie with a dragon and you were no craven.

As if a tight cord had been cut, the two of you collided. You loved the violence of it, how you both sank your teeth into each other and tore and ripped until nothing false remained. You’ve heard it said that the purest view you can have of a man’s soul was mere moments before the Stranger pulled his soul from his body, but you were certain that was not true. As the two of you moved as one, falling into the cushions on the ground with ease, unwelcome thoughts prodded at you.

Would the Lannister boy make you feel as good? Would he take the same pleasure in granting your every wish and desire as Aemond did? You shook your head to try to regain your focus as your dress slowly slid off your body. The Lannister boy was nowhere to be found. You were in the gardens with the Prince and he was pushing your bare thighs apart with a glint of fire and hunger in his eye. Your cunt clenched around nothing at the sight, aching to have him so deep inside you that you could never pull him out. Your eyes closed and head dropped back as soon as his mouth touched your heat.

He was always so good at this, at pleasing you. It was like- “You were made for this,” you moaned, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders as he dipped his tongue inside you with a pleased hum. You ground your hips up against Aemond’s mouth, climbing higher and higher up your burning rope until your legs trembled on either side of his face. “Look at me,” you gasped, “please.” The sight of his blue eye gleaming next to his sapphire from below your short crop of dark hair sent you keening and coming completely undone for him. You hoped Aemond felt no shame about his eye anymore. You hoped he wore his leather eye patch out of a sense of belonging to you instead of any silly concern about the delicate fears of the weaker Ladies at court.

His mouth climbed up your body, planting kisses like bright hot flowers on your skin until he could suck the pants right from your lips. The bittersweet flavor of your pleasure was on his tongue, sharp and tart like a pomegranate. Your fingers wound their way into his hair, pulling him closer and groaning into his mouth as he pressed his hips into yours. His cock was straining against the fabric of his pants and you brought an angry hand down to tug at his waistband.

“Take this off,” you growled. “I want you.”

“You love to demand things from me, like a petulant child.” He clicked his tongue at you in admonishment, but obeyed you all the same. As he set the last of his clothes aside, you sat up and stroked along the scarred half of his face, one of your fingers grazing the edge of the sapphire that had haunted your dreams for years now. But for the scar you were touching, the rest of him was smooth and unmarred, the small flames surrounding you dancing on the pale expanse of his chest. He was pure gold and silver, and with his jewel, how different was he really from a beautiful necklace or even a crown? Aemond was a precious bit of finery and right now, he belonged to nobody but you. Your touch grew possessive, your sharp nails leaving pink trails in their wake as you raked them down his torso to wrap a hand around his cock. His breath stuttered.

“You complain and yet you obey, my dragon,” you purred as you pushed him onto his back. Pride, or maybe arrogance, swelled in your chest as you smirked at him. “I really am your rider.” His chest rose and fell sharply, his long legs braced against the floor and hips moving of their own accord. As you moved your hand, you leaned over him and caged him beneath you. The emotion swelling your chest was probably avarice, the little green cloud with sharp teeth that filled your mind with longing and a very distinct sort of anger. His wet lips were bright pink and parted, little gasps and moans falling past them every time you swiped your thumb across the thick vein just below the tip of his cock. “Do you like this?” He nodded eagerly, tugging on your hair until you leaned down to claim his mouth as yours.

There it was again, that feeling in your chest, blackening your thoughts and resting heavy in your gut. It was that feeling that made you want to possess him entirely and haunt him like a specter. You imagined yourself somewhere different, somewhere perhaps across Westeros on the coast of the Sunset Sea, and you could not help your frown. When you stopped touching him and pulled away, Aemond kept a firm hand behind your head, scanning your face with furrowed brows.

“Is something the matter?”

The corners of your eyes wrinkled as you beamed at him and shook your head. Hopefully, it would be enough to convince him. "No, My Prince. I am just eager to have you." His eye narrowed, but he ultimately released you and followed you up. Without ceremony, you settled into your preferred seat in his lap. All these dumb Lords fighting over the Iron Throne and here you were with the true best seat in all the Seven Kingdoms. And you were to leave it all behind? Surely, it would have to happen eventually, but why now? Another question circled you like a kettle of vultures. Why did you have to leave at all?

You sank down onto him, taking him in with a soft gasp. His fingers dug into your hips and he hummed, kissing up your neck. If all men were weapons, Aemond was closer to a Valyrian steel dagger than a boring longsword. You would always keep him on your thigh with leather straps. Though his eye was closed, his sapphire twinkled in front of you and you pressed a gentle kiss on it before licking up his scar.

"Fuck," he cried, clinging to you like he was dangling over a cliff by the mere tips of his fingers, "again, do that again." You leaned in, savoring the salty tang of his skin on your tongue.

You clenched a fist in his hair, pulling his neck tight. If you were lucky, he was having a hard time breathing, just as you were. "Tell me you are mine," you hissed, grinding your hips down until you felt him touch where you were most sensitive.

"I am all yours, little doe." His voice was brittle, brilliant tears just starting to shine in his eye from your brutal hold. Your cunt clenched around him, squeezing a moan from his lips. With rapt attention, you marveled at how his tears grew when you tightened the fist in his hair.

"And you will take care of me, protect me?" There was a question in his eye. When he closed it, a single tear fell and you followed its short descent into his hair. "And always obey?"

When he said your name, it was with blissful reverence. You wanted nothing more than to topple the Seven in his mind and take their place. "You are my rider."

Yes. Your mouth stretched into a sharp, lecherous grin as the hand in his hair moved to wrap around his neck. Sometimes you wanted to laugh at the Ladies who mentioned their apprehension regarding Aemond. The man beneath you was too docile to inspire fear in the heart of any woman. Aemond felt no fear in the presence of Vhagar, so why should you feel any when you were around him?

"I..." You paused, kissing the corner of his mouth as you moved your hips in a steady rhythm. Warmth curled around your pounding heart. "You darling thing," you murmured, squeezing the sides of his throat. His answering moan vibrated under your palm as his eye flew open. It was barely blue now. His pupil has nearly finished consuming it entirely. His hips met you beat for beat, his hard cock pressing against that spot he always abused when he curled his fingers inside you. "Yes, yes, yes, my- Right there!" You howled, leaning back so you could take even more of him. Aemond's steady hands kept you in that perfect place.

The slick sound between your legs flooded your sense. You imagined what Aemond must be able to see: your pink cunt swallowing him whole, your quivering thighs, his cock shining every time you rocked back. Maybe one day you could have him in your chambers in front of your tall mirror and watch how the two of you fit together. If it looked the same way it felt, you were certain he would have you sobbing with it.

Your fantasies ran rampant behind your closed eyes. You imagined Aemond on his knees in front of you with his hands tied behind his back, feasting his eye on the sight of your fingers in your cunt as you forced him to watch you find your release. You imagined him begging, you imagined him crawling, you imagined him crying. Heat licked up your legs and spine. He had never said no to you before, never deprived you for long. Your hand tightened possessively around his throat. He was yours, yours, yours.

With a shuddering scream, you hit your peak.

The moments right after always felt hazy to you. You were outside yourself, floating in the warm air above your bodies and letting Aemond move you as he wished. When you found yourself again, you were splayed out on the soft sheet and Aemond was tensed above you, pinning you in place with one eye glowing with hunger and desire. You moaned helplessly as your gaze settled on his hand furiously stroking his cock.

"Can I?" he begged, his face screwing in pleasure, "on you?" You nodded and he finally slackened, the whine that left him pulsing through you. He finished on your abdomen, some of the white liquid landing in your patch of dark hair, and it chilled almost instantly in the night air.

With a groan, he collapsed next to you, his face landing directly in one of the cushions. The two of you lied together in companionable silence, both trying to catch your breath as you listened to the wind and the waves.

"Come, little doe," Aemond cooed and you curled into him, caring little about the come rubbing on him. A giddy smile played on your lips, only widening when he planted a wet kiss on your forehead.

"Are you really mine, my dragon?"

His nose brushed against yours and you let him draw you in to a soft kiss. "If you want all of me, I will give it to you," he whispered, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke.

"I am gluttonous," you warned him.

"I know." He kissed you again and you could not help but smile into it. Fondness plucked at the strings of your heart and you melted deeper into the floor below you as he placed a gentle hand against your cheek.

As your bodies found their equilibrium once more, the two of you stretched out side by side. It was so easy to talk to him. A dark cloud drifted over your thoughts once more. Whether you were to agree to meet the Lannister boy or not, this... whatever it was that you had with Aemond, would end. It was inevitable. While he had set a golden standard for you, it was not as if you could fuck that other boy to see if he knew how to please you. You knew most women went through married life completely unsatisfied while their Lord Husbands carried on with mistresses and whores, siring bastards left and right. Would that be your fate?

You sighed, running a tender hand through Aemond's tangled hair and smiling softly as he hummed contentedly. There was a spot that made him wince, though, and you scooted closer to him. "Was I too rough with you?"

"I enjoyed it." You smirked and continued to card your fingers through his hair.

"Aemond, do you know of any of the Lannisters at court?" Though you knew he was not exactly the most popular man, he was observant enough that you trusted he was likely in possession of the information you needed.

"I assume you mean other than Ser Tyland on the small council?" You nodded. "Well, there are his young nieces, who I do believe I have seen you with, and his nephew Loreon."

"And... what do you know of him?"

There was an unnatural stillness to Aemond's body before he spoke, each word coming out carefully. "I am afraid I do not know much. He spends much of his time in the city with Aegon." You frowned, staring up at the dome above you. "Why?"

"My father said a Lannister boy was interested in me," you sighed, "but I doubt he knows how the boy spends him time, or else he would never have mentioned it."

"Did your Lord Father bring you to King's Landing to find a match for you?"

"N-no," you stammered, your face growing hot. In truth, the only reason you were in King's Landing was because you had begged to accompany your father when you had learned he was to return. "I asked to keep him company and he said yes." Aemond hummed next to you and you continued speaking, almost to yourself. "If I am wed to him, I will be the Lady of Casterly Rock. The Lannisters are a wealthy house, so I doubt I would be living like a pauper. My father has given me the night to decide if I wish to be introduced to him."

"What stays your hand, My Lady?" You furrowed your brows, tucking your chin into your shoulder as you gazed into Aemond's blank face.

"I do not rightly know." A secret danced at the edges of your mind and you sat up, running your hands through your hair and letting out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I am afraid. And I am not usually afraid."

The candles around you were starting to die and it made your chest hurt. Behind you, Aemond sat up and pressed a small kiss to the back of your shoulder. It was so easy and natural to turn towards him and soften under his touch, to tilt your head towards him in anticipation of a kiss that never came. "Aemond?" You tilted your head back and opened your eyes.

He was so close to you, you could clearly make out the ring of darker blue around his iris. His lips were pursed together. "Do you want to know how many women I have been with?"

The thought of him with anyone but you had your nose curling in disgust. "No."

"Three." You scoffed, starting to turn away from him before he put a hand on your face and kept you where you were. "Two whores when Aegon took me to the streets of silk for my thirteenth name day, and you."

You froze, your mouth falling open before you snapped it shut. A cold wave rushed through your body, quickly followed by heat and sweat. "But... you knew so much! I thought you were at least as experienced as your brother."

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes, well. Unlike my brother, I can read. My family has enough unhappy women, and I'll not suffer one more. I told myself that even if my future Lady Wife were ashamed of me for my deformity, I could at least find some other way to make her happy."

A huff of laughter punched its way out of you. Little pricks of fire sparked behind your eyes. "My sweet, darling dragon," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him and tugging him close even as he tensed. "You've been with only three women, two of whom were paid to be with you when you were still just a babe. What could you know of the hearts and desires of women?"

"I know your heart and desires," he said, "do I not?"

A smile melted onto your face and you shook him in your arms, your heart thundering in your chest. "You do."

"That Lannister boy... He would not please you as I do, not for the pleasure of it. I give you everything you desire because to give to you is my desire." You remembered words he had whispered in your ear years ago.

'There is pleasure in the giving.' He had been between your legs then, the entire bottom half of his face wet from your cunt. You had thought he'd grow bored down there as you had with him, but he never did. In the end, you were the one who'd had to move the two of you along to the act itself.

"So you would take me as your wife?"

"I would give myself to you, as your husband." He pulled away and placed your hand on his bare chest. His heartbeat was hard and fast. "You will want for nothing, little doe."

You met his eye with a sly grin, leaning up to press a gentle kiss just below his sapphire. "Then you will speak to my father tomorrow, and ask him for my hand."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fic #mine #my inspo for the reader's relationship with her father was cher from clueless and her dad

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