#here have a mountain with his braid down

[autumnblooms]

When he wakes up from a five hour nap on the forest floor and smells like sun warmed grass 👀

[tallulah477]

Hunting the Tawtute

Kinktober Day 19: Threesome

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader x Lo’ak

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Neteyam, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Primal Kink (Hunter/Prey Kink), Oral (female receiving and male receiving), P in V, Fingering, Handjob, Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, Alien Genitalia, Slight Knife Play, Multiple Orgasms, Bukkake, Hair Pulling, Slight Humiliation, Slight Thigh Riding, Knots/Knot Play (but no actual knotting), Marking Kink/Biting

Word Count: 5.4K (of pure self-indulgent fantasy)

A/N: I don’t even know what to say about this. This one kinda like so fucking much got away from me. It’s like I went crazy, blacked out, and this happened. Hopefully some of you guys will like it too as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: When the Omatikaya raid an RDA outpost, you just barely escape the carnage with your life. You're stumbling through the forest when they find you, and the dark grins on their faces make shivers run down your spine. You try to run, but they’ll catch you - they’re little beautiful prey. 

Extra: Pretty, But Not Stupid

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute -  Human

Mountain Banshee - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Sevin - Pretty

Vrrtep - Demon

Paskalin - Sweet Berry (term of endearment)

The ground is shaking underneath you as you run, booming with the force of the explosions and gunfire racking the now nonexistent RDA outpost. You can still hear the screaming, both war cries and cries of terror, echoing through the forest as your tired legs carry you further and further away. 

You’re gasping for breath, heart feeling like it's going to pound out of your chest as you sob. You hated the RDA, they were mostly all power hungry assholes anyway, but some people in the outpost were good - innocent people who fled Earth just to get away from the horror there, only to be met with a fate possibly crueler here. All the cooks, cleaners, and medical professionals who just wanted a chance - all dead within minutes of the start of the emergency alarm that blared through the base. If not by the explosions, then currently being picked off without mercy by the Na’vi. 

You’re lucky to even be alive right now. 

You shake your head, trying to ignore how your heavy, panicked breathing is fogging up your mask and how you can barely see through your tears. You need to keep going. You can’t think about it now. Can’t think about the carnage you're running from and the people you’re leaving behind. You need to find safety. 

You run a little further, trying not to trip on any more upturned roots. You fell over one a little ways back, and your ankle protests the more weight you put on it, but the fear of being found and killed keeps you going. You quickly round another tree and stop, bracing your hand on the bark of the massive trunk and lifting your hurt ankle up a bit just to relieve the pressure for a moment. Your eyes hurriedly scan the area, trying to keep an eye out for danger you wouldn’t even be able to defend yourself against. Even if you did have some kind of a weapon (which you don’t, you barely had enough time to sprint away with your life as it was, let alone grab any kind of form of defense), you wouldn’t be able to win against the strength and prowess of one of the natives anyway.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when your eye catches movement a few trees down from you. There’s a male Na’vi standing there, long braids still swinging around his shoulders from his abrupt movement, and he has an arrow notched and pulled back, strong muscles and chest bulging behind the bow as he steadies the arrow - the arrow that’s pointed directly at you. 

“Wait!” You yell, hands instinctively coming up to protect your face as if they could ever stop the Na’vi sized arrow. “Wait! Please, don’t shoot!”

The male stops, curious amber eyes locked on your trembling figure, and to your complete shock, he lowers the arrow. Why isn’t he killing you? The Na’vi kill humans on sight, they don’t hesitate. You should have been dead the second he saw you. But you’re not. He lowered his arrow, and for a brief moment relief and hope flood your chest. 

“I mean you no harm,” You call, voice shaking. “Please, don’t k-kill me,”

The male tilts his head at you and you watch cautiously as he puts his bow away, reattaching it to his back, before reaching up to touch his throat. From this distance you can just see the outline of a necklace. A throat comm, you think. He has his fingers pressed against the buttons and you can’t hear what he’s saying, but you see his lips moving as he talks to whoever is on the other line. 

A dark smirk curls at his lips as he speaks. He’s looking directly at you and whatever hope you had disappears as dread fills your entire being. 

You are going to die. 

You can’t stay here, staying still even as he’s watching you is a risk. If you’re going to die, you’re at least going to go down trying to live. 

You turn to run, making it just a few steps away from the tree before the canopy bursts above you, a roaring shriek piercing your ears as a large blue and purple mountain banshee descends down towards the forest floor. You scream, falling back on your ass as the dragon-like animal lands just feet from you, the wind from its strong wings beating over your body and making your hair whip around your face.

The banshee’s rider descends from its back, landing on the ground with a thud and disconnecting his neural queue from the animal. He stalks towards you, golden eyes gleaming behind a few loose braids falling in front of them, and he grins, long pointed canines biting into his bottom lip.

“Where you running to, sevin tawtute?”

With another terrified sob, you scramble to your feet. The second Na’vi’s low chuckle, despite being fairly quiet, rings loudly in your ears, and you can hear the footsteps of the first’s getting closer and closer to you each second. 

“Don’t do it,” The second warns, and you don’t even have the mental capacity to realize that he’s speaking to you in English. You’re already spinning and darting away in the opposite direction. 

You run as fast as you can through the dense Pandorian forest. They’re chasing you, you can hear their footsteps pounding against the forest floor behind you. They mock you, first just making quick yipping and whooping calls, communicating with each other in a way you would never even begin to understand. And then they switch to your language.

“Better run faster, human!”

“Getting tired already, baby?”

“Can you feel my breath on the back of your pretty neck?”

“We’re going to get you!”

Your sobs get louder, terrified as you try to push yourself harder. They sound so close, like they’re right behind you, like they could just reach out and grab you. But they don’t. They’re playing with you. They’re faster than you, their legs significantly longer than yours and more adept at running and navigating the forest terrain. They’re letting you keep going on purpose, finding glee in your terror and enjoyment in chasing their prey. 

Your ankle is aching, pain shooting from the twisted limb, and your running is quickly turning into panicked hobbling. You can’t do it anymore. Can’t do it - they’re going to get you. Without thinking, you dive under a slightly uprooted tree - the tilt of the base giving you just enough room to crawl under the trunk, thick roots caging you in and separating you from the two male Na’vi. 

The second you make it through, there’s a burst of movement as the long haired male slides in front of the opening, long arm sticking through the roots and reaching for you. You whimper when his fingers brush your mask and you try to scoot yourself further back against the dirt, but there isn’t much room. 

“Come out of there,” He says, voice soft like he’s trying to coax you out, but the underlining reverb of a growl taints the attempt. “It’s dangerous under there,”

“Yes, tawtute,” The other says, long legs visible from behind his brother’s upper body. “Much safer out here with us,”

You can’t help the anger and frustration that wells inside you as you hear the absolute lie they are trying to tell you. 

“Bullshit,” You spit.

The long haired male removes his reaching arm and peers at you through the roots, eyes alight with mirth. “Oh, you hear that, brother? Our little vrrtep has a mouth on her,”

The other male chuckles and squats down to peer at you through your self imposed cage. “And what a pretty mouth it is. Can’t wait to see what else it can do,”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. That sounded . . . suggestive. That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like, right?

“What do you say, sevin? Want your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock?” He asks, playful fingers lifting up the front of his loincloth slightly as if to tease you. And then, suddenly, there’s a new fear taking over. 

They don’t want to catch you to kill you - they want you. 

“My name is Lo’ak,” He continues, lifting his hand from his loincloth to wiggle his fingers at you in greeting. Five fingers, you notice. “You know, just so you know what to scream out later when I’m fucking you,”

More tears well up in your eyes, cascading down your flushed cheeks. “P-please. Don’t hurt m-me,” You beg, wide eyes pleading with the large blue men holding you hostage to show you mercy. “I’ll leave! I promise! You’ll never see me again,”

“She begs so beautifully already,” The other male says, nudging his brother’s arm. “She’s gonna sound so good when she’s crying in pleasure. Go ahead and try it out for me, paskalin. Let me hear you say it: Neteyam,”

Neteyam looks at her expectantly, golden green eyes dark from where his pupils have nearly completely taken over. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. You try to put as much malice and ferocity in your words as you can muster, but Neteyam only grins at your curse.

“Yeah, tawtute. That’s the idea,”

Lo’ak suddenly moves, shifting over to the side of the tree and you panic at the abrupt movement, scrambling over and pressing your back against the roots on the opposite side just to be as far from him as possible. 

“Come on out, baby,” He purrs, eyes hooded as he stares at you. “Don’t you want to take a ride? Feel some big alien cock in your pretty, tiny pussy?”

You open your mouth again to shoot some more choice expletives at him, but all that comes out is a scream when the roots behind you rip and a large hand grips at your hair, dragging your body from its hiding spot and into the dimming light of the forest.

Neteyam hauls you up on your feet, fist tangled in your hair keeping you from running and grabs one of your swinging arms, pinning it behind your back. Lo’ak steps in front of you, tall and imposing at nearly twice your height, but you still try to fight, fight for your life and your freedom, and your hand smacks as hard as it can against his hip.

It doesn’t do anything to him obviously, you’re not even sure if he felt it, but all the fight leaves you in an instant when the large knife the size of your forearm waves in your face.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us now, okay?” He says, tapping the glass of your mask with the tip of his knife as if he were trying to boop your nose. The tip of the knife travels down your neck, over your collarbone, and towards the center of your chest. If you were able to think correctly, you would be amazed at the control he has over the blade to not let it cut you despite your chest heaving with your frantic breathing. “Stay still now,”

The knife travels towards the valley between your breasts, taking the neck of your t-shirt with it and pulling it down and down until Lo’ak just cleanly slices through the whole front of it. Neteyam releases your arm now that you're not fighting against them anymore, but still keeps a firm grip on your hair. The ruined shirt slips from your shoulders and Lo’ak brings the knife back up to hook underneath the band of your bra, slicing through the material like it was paper and pushing the remnants of that off of your body as well. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” He muses, running the flat of the blade across one of your exposed breasts, the cool metal making you shiver as it presses against your heated skin. Lo’ak twists the knife and places the very tip of it at your nipple. The sharp edge makes you gasp, the bud starting to harden immediately at the feeling and you can’t help but feel mortified when you feel wetness pool in your panties. 

Lo’ak’s nose twitches, a wicked grin pulling at his lips as his large amber eyes catch yours, but it’s Neteyam that digs the metaphorical knife deeper, furthering your humiliation and making your face burn.

“Aw, is the cute little tawtute getting wet for us? We can smell you,” Neteyam laughs, dragging your head back further so he can get a good look at your face. “Look, brother. Look how flushed she’s getting,”

“You think that flush is going all the way down here?” Lo’ak asks, the tip of the knife leaving your nipple to tease your clit over your shorts.

“Rip them off and find out,” Neteyam suggests, and you start to wriggle again in his unrelenting grasp. 

���Wait!” You shout. Your neck is still craned up towards the sky, so you only feel rather than see Lo’ak undo your button and zipper. “Wait, please. I’ll do anything,”

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees, looking down at your pleading face. His fingers latch onto one of your hard nipples and pulls on it, eliciting a sharp gasp from your plump lips. “You will,”

In an instant, Lo’ak yanks your shorts and panties down and Neteyam moves behind you to kneel on the forest floor, one knee pressing into the ground while the other acts as a stabilizer, foot flat against the ground. Neteyam’s grip on your hair is released as he grabs you by your hips instead, pulling you up to sit on his thigh, bare pussy pressing against the bulging muscles. 

The feeling of his muscles tensing under you makes more heat pool in your stomach, and your pussy is wet and sticky already as you squirm against him. Your legs fall on either side of his and even with him kneeling your feet still can’t touch the ground, toes just barely brush against the grass and only if you’re actually stretching to reach it. But the additional stretch just makes you push your cunt harder against his thigh and you whimper, not knowing what to do or how to move.

Neteyam wraps a restraining arm around your chest, trapping one of your arms under his and grabbing onto your other bicep, his large hand practically spanning the entirety of your upper arm and pinning it down. His other hand moves up to his mouth, long middle finger sliding between his lips, licking the long digit and pulling it out when it’s wet and glistening in the setting sunlight. He brings his wet finger to your core, dipping it between your folds and circling your clit. 

“So wet already, tawtute,” He whispers, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.

You whimper as he rubs you, dipping his finger down lower to gather more of your wetness and dragging it back up to tease small circles around your pulsing nub. When his fingers trail down again, it's to press at your entrance, and you can’t help the whiny moan that escapes you as his finger slips easily inside your leaking hole.

Lo’ak’s been watching you this whole time, crouching down to get a good, clear look at your glistening pink cunt, and the sight of his brother’s finger sliding inside of you prompts him to have some fun of his own. He stands, fingers moving quickly to untie his loincloth, the material loosening and sliding down his legs, flittering to the ground below him.  

You’re distracted, Neteyam’s finger is rubbing against your gummy walls, sliding in and out effortlessly while his thumb plays with your clit, so you don’t realize what’s so wrong with Lo’ak’s body until he’s directly in front of you - naked pelvis and even more naked center only a foot away from your face. 

Your eyes widen as you look at it, confusion written all over your face as you stare at the empty, flat space where his member should be. Lo’ak laughs at the bewildered look on your face and Neteyam mouths at your shoulder to hide his own grin. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” Lo’ak says. “I’ve got plenty of cock for you. It’s just hidden. I’ll get it out for you since you're a little tied up.”

His fingers reach down to rub at the empty space and you watch in fascinated awe as he plays down there, fingers pressing in harder and sliding against the hidden slit you hadn’t seen before. His fingers dip inside, eyes closing in pleasure for a moment before they flick back open, sultry hooded orbs locked on your own. 

“What the f–ahh!” You cry, eyes squeezing shut, back arching in pleasure against Neteyam as another of his fingers pushes inside you. They’re long enough on their own, the combined thickness enough to feel like a cock inside you already. 

When your eyes open again, they lock immediately on what’s happening between Lo’ak’s legs. There’s something poking out from the slit and it takes your scared and pleasure hazed brain way too long to realize it’s his cock. It’s just the head peeking out, the mushroomed lavender tip like a bright, slick beacon between his dark blue thighs. He grins when your mouth falls open at the sight, fingers dipping back into his wet slit and pulling out another inch.

Every inch of his cock has your eyes widening, the long and hard length now fully unsheathed and bumping against his belly. Blue skin and even darker stripes litter the shaft, small bioluminescent freckles scatter towards the top and lead to the light purple tip. A fleeting thought has you thinking it's pretty, the colors blending in beautifully with one another, but when you see the textured bumps decorating the entire length, the panic hits you again.

“Let me go!” You scream, fighting against Neteyam’s hold, but hold is firm. “It won’t fit! You can’t! It won’t fit!”

“That’s why we have to stretch you out first,” Neteyam mutters, mouth pressed against your shoulder. His third finger nudges at your entrance and you stop breathing when it pushes against your already stuffed hole. The stretch is intense, your small body struggling to take the invasion as his long finger pushes in beside the others. His thumb rubs lovingly at your clit, distracting you from the stretch and working up the pressure starting to build in your belly. 

Lo’ak strokes at his cock, shuffling forward until the weeping tip of it is inches from your face. 

“You wanna taste it?” He asks, his other hand gripping onto the bottom of your mask. 

You whimper, terrified at the prospect of him pulling your mask off, but can’t get out anything more than a stuttering, “P-please,”

“Be a good girl and hold your breath for me,”

There’s a loud hiss of air as the seal around your face breaks, and then you can’t breathe. Can’t even make a sound when he pulls the mask halfway up your face to free your mouth, letting the bottom of it sit below your nose as he pushes his fingers into the hinges of your jaw to pry your mouth open. 

The lavender tip of his cock pushes between your lips, the underside dragging along your tongue. You can feel every bump and ridge as it pushes in further, the texture both unusual and intimidating as it slides against the warm wet muscle. 

And then it’s gone, your mask replaced and the burst of oxygen rushing into your lungs makes you feel even more lightheaded than without having any oxygen at all.

“Good girl,” Lo’ak coos, hand once again gripping the bottom of your mask and leaning down to press a sweet kiss against its glass. 

Neteyam’s fingers are still working themselves in and out of your stuffed pussy, and you see Lo’ak’s ears twitch a second before you even hear it: the horrible squelching sounds your pussy is making as it rocks against his three fingers.

“Such a good girl,” He grins. He stands up, holding his cock steady and pulling your mask up again, the hiss of air mingling with the wet sounds coming from your drenched cunt. “Let’s go again,”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth again, barbed length sliding against your tongue and nudging the back of your throat. You gag, choking from both lack of oxygen and Lo’ak’s thick cock, and you can barely register the light and strangely sweet taste of his precum as it coats your tastebuds. 

Neteyam’s fingers are ruthless inside of you, curling and dragging against your gummy walls with skilled expertise and his thumb is practically a blur on your clit. When Lo’ak replaces your mask and air once again fills your lungs, it's only there for a second before you’re screaming and gasping, the coil in your stomach almost too much to bear as it tightens, threatening to rip you apart when it snaps.

Your screaming is cut off again when Lo’ak lifts the mask away, shoving his cock harder and deeper into your mouth until the glass of your mask is pressing against his pelvis and his cock has slipped down your throat. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you take it, legs shaking against Neteyam’s thigh. When it's replaced this time and air is once again allowed into your lungs, Neteyam’s teeth latch onto your shoulder, sharp canines digging into the tender skin. The bite brings about a sharp pain immediately followed by a flood of intense pleasure - your body jerks in his hold, shaking violently as the coil in your belly snaps. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, gushing against his hand as your orgasm rips through you without mercy. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Lo’ak grunts, fisting his cock with one hand while checking to make sure your mask is secure with the other.

You mumble a weak reply, but the words don’t make sense, they don’t even sound like real words to your own ears - and your ‘not words’ turn into a forlorn whine as Neteyam pulls his fingers from your still pulsing pussy. 

He tilts your upper body to the side, sliding most of you off of him except for your leg still draped over his thigh at the knee while your other foot presses onto the ground, leaving you spread wide. His free hand falls behind you, somewhere around his hip where you can’t see, and then something large and round shaped is nudging between your folds and prodding at your entrance.

“No,” You mewl. “Won’t fit,”

“Shh, be quiet, ma sevin tawtute,” He grunts, pressure pushing at your hole as he starts forwards. “It will fit,”

You take in gasping breaths as the pressure intensifies, dripping hole resisting the push as much as it can before relenting to the large male Na’vi’s wishes and the thick mushroom head of his cock pops inside. Neteyam groans when he breaches you, unwrapping his arm from your upper body and gripping both of your thighs with his large hands, hauling you up and in the air as he stands up.

Your back is pressed tightly against his chest, thighs spread open and vulnerable to Lo’ak’s hungry gaze as gravity pushes you down further on his brother’s cock. You whimper loudly, hands desperately gripping at Neteyam’s forearms as he impales you on him. The bumps on his cock drag without mercy against your sensitive walls, and your right leg shakes in his grip from the overwhelming intensity. 

It feels so good, so devastatingly good inside of you, the barbs and ridges sliding just right against your gummy walls and you toss your head back with a silent scream as he bottoms out, tip nudging against your cervix.

You’ve never felt so full before. It feels like he’s all the way in your stomach, cock barreling through your important organs and rearranging your guts just to make enough room for him to fit. You chance a look down, letting out a wailing cry that’s half pleasure, half horror when you see the large bulge protruding from your abdomen. 

“Fuck,” Neteyam moans. “She’s so tight,”

Lo’ak grins mischievously as Neteyam lowers his mouth to the side of your neck, pressing gentle kisses there as he starts to rock into you. One moment he’s in front of your face, sending you a cheeky wink when you gasp as the cock inside of you hits just the right angle to brush against your special spot, and then the next he’s crouching down, textured tongue lolling out of his mouth and licking against your swollen clit. 

You squeal at the feeling of his rough tongue, textured similarly to that of a cat’s, lapping at the sensitive nub. 

“T-too much!” You cry. You can’t close your legs, Neteyam’s hands holding them firmly open as he thrusts harder inside you, and your hands push against Lo’ak’s head, but he doesn’t budge - large head staying put while his tongue continues to swipe against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

When Lo’ak decides he’s had enough, he lifts his head, trailing kisses up your stomach starting just above the disappearing and reappearing bulge in your belly and up your chest, tongue laving over the swell of your breast and latching onto your nipple, sharp teeth nibbling on the hard bud as you yelp.

His lips wrap around it, suckling on it for a moment before pulling off with a pop. 

“You taste so good, baby,” He murmurs, reaching down to play with your clit. “Like the sweetest little treat,”

“Feel so good, paskalin,” Neteyam grunts, lifting your body up and slamming it back down on his cock to fuck into your harder. “Snug little pussy squeezing me so well. You were made to take Na’vi cock, weren’t you?”

“Oohh my goooooood,” You moan, eyes rolling back into your head from the overwhelming stimulation. “C-can’t t-take i-itt,”

“Sure you can,” Lo’ak teases, face so close to yours that in your haze all you can see is his bright golden eyes. “Didn’t you hear what he just said?”

Neteyam’s thrusts are getting sloppy, moans and grunts a constant source behind you, and he hisses a quick “Fuck, take her,” at his brother. Before you know what’s happening, you’re suddenly pressed against Lo’ak, chest pressed tightly against his and Neteyam releases one of your thighs in favor of gripping your hip. Lo’ak’s hand cradles your released thigh instead, keeping you steady against him as his brother uses his new found leverage to pound into your tight cunt. Your arms instinctively wrap around Lo’ak’s neck, holding on for dear life as you moan and whimper loudly with the cool glass of your mask pressed against his collarbone. 

You can feel the knot in your belly tightening again, and you can’t think about anything other than how impossibly full you feel and how good the ridges and bumps on his cock feel as they scrap and drag inside of you. Neteyam’s grip turns bruising, fingers digging into your hip and thigh as he fucks you harder. 

“Who’s pussy is this?” Neteyam growls, mushroomed tip pounding into your cervix. “Go on, tawtute. Say it!”

“Neteyaaamm,” You moan. “Please, please, please,”

Distantly, even through your hazy, fucked out brain, you can feel something thick and round prodding at your entrance, bumping and stretching you out even more with each thrust. You cum, sobbing as you contract tightly around him, body shaking in Lo’ak’s hold as his large hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. 

Neteyam pulls out of you with a tortured groan and your eyes flutter shut, pussy still contracting and squeezing and wanting - wanting his long, hard length inside of you again, wanting it splitting you open, and now that it's gone, you can’t believe how empty you feel.

Lo’ak lowers you gently to the ground, resting your exhausted body on the soft moss. You feel the way he pulls your thighs apart again, settling himself between them, what’s left of the setting sunlight filtering in behind your eyelids getting blocked as he hovers over you. 

“Stay awake, vrrtep,” He says, smacking your thigh lightly to wake you back up. Your heavy eyes peel themselves open, watching as Lo’ak braces one hand above your head while the other guides his cock to your core. You whimper as he drags the head of his cock through your dripping folds, teasing the tip against your clit before running it down your slit and lining it up with your entrance. “It’s my turn,”

The slide is easier this time as he pushes in, but still no less intense. Your tired and overstimulated body tenses at the intrusion, tightening around him as he spears you open with his thick girth. 

“Such a pretty demon,” He moans, pleasure shooting through his veins at the feel of your tiny body hugging his cock like it never wants to let him go. “Tempting us the way you did,”

His hips start up a gentle tempo, rocking inside you to help you get used to his size and letting you feel the pleasurable drag of his barbs against your oversensitive walls. 

You whine, denying his comment. “D-didn’t do anyth–”

He silences you with a sharp snap of his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts and leaning down further so his pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust. Already you can feel another orgasm barreling towards you, threatening to rip you apart the same way his cock is splitting you open. 

“Fuck!” You squeal, back arching as your pussy squelches between your bodies. “Oh my god, fuck!”

“Say my name, baby,” Lo’ak grunts. “Wanna hear you moan it,”

“Looo’aaaaak,” You moan, bliss clouding your judgment as your hips buck into his in return. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Neteyam, standing just to the side, watching as his brother fucks your very soul from your body as his hand strokes along his raging length. Your eyes catch on something unusual towards the base of his cock -  a thick, round bulb that shouldn’t be there and he smirks as he sees you gaping at it, hand stroking down to the base and squeezing the thick engorged knot of tissue tightly, moaning at the sensation.

Lo’ak thrusts in you harder and you feel that same thick, round ball bumping at your entrance that you felt when Neteyam was fucking you. The same bulbish ball of tissue that must be the same as the one you're looking at right now.

“Great Mother,” Lo’ak groans, face scrunched up in pleasure. “I wanna knot you so fucking bad,”

“Don’t,” Neteyam growls, jerking forward as if to pull his brother away from you, but Lo’ak curls his body around yours protectively, a deep hiss of warning ripping from his throat as he bares his teeth at his brother. 

Neteyam freezes, hands up in surrender but he glares at the brother inside you all the same. “Don’t. We don’t know if her body can take it yet.”

Lo’ak grunts, resuming his thrusts. “I know. Just back off,”

His cock pounds you relentlessly, kissing your cervix and his hand reaches down to caress the bulge in your belly. He presses down on the bulging bump firmly at the same time that his teeth sink into the still unmarked side of your neck, making you scream, the blissful agonized cry echoing through the forest as you cream all over his cock.

He pulls out, groaning woefully like his brother did, and fists his cock furiously, aiming the leaking tip directly at your puffy, spent pussy. Neteyam does the same, crouching low and close, stroking his cock beside you as he aims for your chest. 

They cum within seconds of one another, shooting hot, thick stripes of pearly bioluminescent cum all over your body, covering your chest and lower half with their release. 

You can barely feel your body anymore, can’t move a single limb on your own, and, despite not having any use of anything, your body won’t stop shaking - oversensitive and overstimulated and completely satisfied in a way you never thought you could be. 

“Ready to head home, sevin tawtute?” Neteyam asks, breathing heavy as he recovers from his orgasm. He just came but his eyes are still dark and sinful, looking at you like he wants to eat you whole. Your exhausted eyes flick to Lo’ak only to see the same desirous expression. 

There’s a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach as you close your eyes, listening to their dark chuckles as your body forces you to rest. The last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is a low, deep voice say . . .

“You’re ours now,”

Extra>>>

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife

[rivendell-poet]

Hihi! Can I please have headcanons with the fellowship and Thorin's company having a short (like 5 feet) human s/o. And they be part of the fellowship/company, please? Please take as much time as you need!💕

Hello again! Here's your fill for thorin's company and a short reader. Again, the height isn't specified - but I used 4'9" and 5'0" respectively on height comparison charts. Last one was platonic, this one is definitely romantic - hope you enjoy!

*･༓˚✧❝𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Thorin ○ Fíli ○ Kíli ○ Dwalin ○ Bofur ○ Bilbo ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Wordcount : 1k

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧

✧ He’s unusually tall for a dwarf, so is actually around your height. It’s a pleasant surprise for him and you don’t miss the satisfied grin on his face as he realises it.

✧ Doesn’t believe height should have to be a huge factor in most things, but doesn’t deny it’s nice to have the human he’s in charge of not be incredibly taller than him.

✧ It also means that when he gives you his cloak, something in him hated your shivering, it actually fits very well.

✧ Teasingly asks why you look surprised as you realise it’s not very small on you.

✧ Very relieved that he can give you proper dwarvish steel and armour, even when you aren’t sure you’ll find a set.

✧ Drags you into Erebor’s armoury to make sure there’s something for you, and there’s a second of silence as he checks your measurements. You both hope the blush on your faces isn’t too obvious.

✧ Thorin is also grateful you’re not much taller than him, because it makes it that much easier to dip you.

✧ And he can give you a quick kiss without needing to ask you to bend down.

𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐢

✧ You’re still taller than him, but not by an uncomfortable amount. And he’s completely fine with that.

✧ He still greets you with the same bow he greets Bilbo with, except this time there’s a wink.

✧ Doesn’t particularly care that you’re human and not a dwarrowdam - he can still love you just as well.

✧ It also means when he gives you one of his knives it still fits perfectly in your hands. Which means that, when he can make you a knife, he only has to worry about making it worthy of you and not about proportions.

✧ Sometimes tries to braid your hair standing up, if he’s got nothing better to do, but often asks you to sit down so he can do something more elaborate.

✧ (Is secretly sad that he can’t give you surprise kisses if you’re not already bending down.)

✧ Very excited to show you the jewellery still in the mountain.

✧ Both because he thinks it looks beautiful, and because you have a bet the majority won’t fit you.

𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐢

✧ Is the one who gets teased the most, out of the company. He’s also the one who’s most obviously in love with you.

✧ Kíli is almost late to his bow when he first sees you, instead staring for a bit too long before hurrying to dip down alongside his brother.

✧ Also the dwarf who most easily puts away his pride when he asks you to kiss him. You have to dip slightly, but in the second you do his eyes completely light up as you close the gap.

✧ Still big on hand-holding, even though he needs to have his arm slightly up for you.

✧ Really enjoys you braiding his hair, finds it very relaxing and almost completely leans into you when you do it.

✧ Is also happy to braid your hair, although that requires a little less spontaneity and a place for the two of you to sit together.

✧ Has a specific tug on your hand he uses to signal that he wants a kiss. It’s adorable, and also very obvious because he always starts blushing.

𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧

✧ If anyone is going to be taller than you, it’ll be Dwalin.

✧ Although he’s very grateful that he’s not massively taller than you - that at most it’s an inch or two. Because otherwise he’d be missing out on so many of his favourite things.

✧ He’d be missing out on seeing your smile so clearly, he’d be missing out on looking easily into your eyes as he says he loves you, he’d be missing out on easily being able to kiss you. The list goes on.

✧ Dwalin is one of the least obvious with his affections to you, but to almost everyone else in the company he’s obviously smitted.

✧ Makes a conscious effort to be gentle around you, although you reassure him he doesn’t have to be.

✧ You like his height because it makes it much less awkward for him to pick you up off your feet and twirl you.

✧ (But he’s probably strong enough to do that even if you’re a lot taller.)

𝐁𝐨𝐟𝐮𝐫

✧ An inside joke between the two of you is that, with the hat, you’re the same height. Of course this isn’t actually true unless he’s wearing a top hat.

✧ Which he does get, after Erebor is reclaimed. It’s just tall enough - and perfectly fitted - although depending on the height difference it does start to look comically tall.

✧ Doesn’t mind the height difference at all, it doesn’t stop him from admiring you.

✧ It does, however, make him leave a lot more ‘mess’ around his workspace in the form of wooden blocks.

✧ He can then easily kiss you when on them (although denies it if asked by anyone but you).

✧ Just tall enough to be able to dip you - and is very happy about this fact.

✧ Also grateful you're not much taller, because it means the toys he sometimes makes can still fit easily in your hands and he doesn’t have to adjust them.

✧ (He certainly would adjust them for you, however.)

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐨

✧ Largest height difference of any characters here. Would not let that stop him in any way.

✧ Except perhaps a little frown at the fact it’s harder for him to kiss you whenever he wants.

✧ However, he’s completely fine with walking up to you when you’re not busy and doing puppy-dog eyes.

✧ “Can I have a kiss, my love?”

✧ Is sad about the fact he can’t dip you. Doesn’t know how to feel about the fact you can - and do - dip him.

✧ He enjoys it overall, he can actually initiate the kisses. (And is ok with being gently moved around, in the appropriate context.)

✧ Winces the first few times you come into his house and he sees you almost hit your head on the beams. Covers a lot of the ceiling in fabric and pushpins until he can get a more permanent solution.

✧ Hides behind you when there’s a mild conflict. But goes in front of you to protect you if there’s ever any actual danger.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed! I also have one for lord of the rings - although it's a lot more platonic - and it can be found here. Thanks again for requesting <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @ferns-fics / @fleurdemiel-145 ✧ wish to be tagged?

[dadvans]

Your latest ficlet is so good… I can’t stop thinking about Tommy having to tell Buck about their 10 year old, it’s delicious

(part one)

There really isn’t much cool to do in Ukiah. Buck told Tommy this and he could hear Tommy rolling his eyes over the phone the way he said, “Buck, we live in Tehama, she’ll cope,” and then Tommy had said, “we can all go to a park, you can kill me and they’ll never find the body, it’ll be a great way for you two to bond.”

So, just before noon on a Saturday morning one month after the CFCA, Buck sees his daughter for the first time in person, watches her as she practically dislocates Tommy’s arm as they enter his favorite coffee shop and she bounces right up to the counter, braids swinging. It’s quiet, morning rush over and lunch rush yet to come, so he hears Tommy say, “you can have one flavor.” He hears his daughter’s voice for the first time when she leans on the butcher block counter top, smiling, and says, “a white hot chocolate with raspberry, please,” like she’s getting away with murder.

“That’s a small,” Tommy says, “and a medium drip, thanks. For here.”

“With whipped cream,” their daughter adds.

“None for me,” Tommy says, as if automatic. Like they’ve done this a hundred times. Maybe they have. He digs out his credit card and taps it against the register screen before he actually looks up and around to spot Buck sitting in the far corner. He nods. Buck raises a tentative hand, gives a small wave, and then Tommy is leaning down and getting their daughter’s attention, pointing him out.

She skips over while Tommy waits at the counter.

Buck wants to puke.

“Hi,” she says, and she reaches out a hand like she’s a little adult. “I’m Mary.”

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” Buck says, by some miracle finding his voice. He shakes her hand. “I’m uh, I’m Buck.”

“Daddy said your name is Evan,” Mary says, letting go and sitting down.

“Oh, yeah, Buck’s just my nickname. It’s what my friends call me. So, you can call me Buck too.

“Evan’s my middle name,” she continues, as if she didn’t hear or care. His daughter. “Mary Evan. Evan’s usually a boy’s name, but girls can be named Evan too. Like Evan Rachel Wood. She’s the mom in Frozen Two.”

“Yeah,” Buck says weakly. He didn’t know that, even if Jee made him watch everything Frozen before she hit high school. “My niece used to love that movie.”

Tommy walks over to join them, two mugs on little plates in hand. The smaller one has a mountain of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a straw.

“Here’s your cup of sugar, kid,” he says, sliding it in front of Mary before sitting down with his own. He takes a sip and gives an approving nod. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, I like this place,” Buck says, trying to keep his tone even. “They roast their own beans, so my house gets their coffee from here.”

“That must make you popular,” Tommy says, voice wry but not unkind, “Chief.”

“Daddy says you’re a Chief that doesn’t fly helicopters but still fights fires,” Mary says. The table shakes a little, because she’s kicking her feet.

“Uh, yup, just a boring, regular firefighter,” he replies. He can’t stop looking at her. Even with her braids she’s got frizz coming out from underneath her beanie bright red, redder than he was when he was her age but without ever seeing a picture of Tommy as a kid he’s sure she gets it from him. Her eyes are blue like the Pacific Ocean, murky and deep. She’s wearing a puffer vest and long sleeves even though it’s late September. Tommy always ran cold too, he remembers, thinking of the one summer they shared together.

“That’s not boring,” Mary tells him, so serious, before taking a sip of her drink. “I like engines more than helicopters. Did you know helicopters have a thirty-percent higher chance of crashing than planes? I’m learning percentages in school.”

His heart bursts. Yeah. She’s his fucking kid.

[maybe-its-5sos]

Dad (All Might Headcanon)

Requested: No Idea: What Toshinori would be like as your dad!

He's the softest sweetest dad!

He just wants to keep you happy and safe

He also wants to make you super proud!

He's absolutely wound around your little finger....what ever his baby wants, his baby gets! "Daddy, I wanna go to the zoo!" Toshinori having just sat down after an exhausting day of fighting crime "Of course dear, get dressed and lets go!" "I want that big bear plushy!" "okay!" he smiles reaching for his wallet.

He'll let you style his hair all you want. The mountain of a man will sit in front of the couch while you climb his back like a jungle gym, putting in cute hair clips and braiding it! "Daddy what do you think?" you cheerfully ask giving him a little hand held mirror. "I look fantastic, you should be my stylist, pumpkin!" He grins proudly, flipping his loose hair.

He'll absolutely play pretend and take part in tea parties, tiara and all... tho he had to have the chairs be made sturdier so he didn't flatten them with the power of them cheeks.

Lets you use his capes as blankets.

He always makes you walk towards the inside of the sidewalk. Tho when you're really young, he wont even let you walk at all and carries you around.

He would hold your hand at every doctors appointment! Knowing that you hate the hospital issued bandages because their industrial strength-, skin removing-, soul ripping-glue, he brings his own to make for a less fussy appointment.

He also does a full monster check in the house before putting you to bed. "Yep, no monsters there!" he says getting up from the floor after looking under you bed. "What about in there?" you ask pointing at the slightly open closet, hiding under your blanket. "Nothing in here either!" he smiles, after shuffling some clothes and looking around. He closes the door.

He'll read you bedtime stories and tucks you in. And yes, he gives all the characters voices.

Absolutely will let you sleep in his bed if you have a nightmare ("don't fear, why? Because I am here!" he says groggily with a smile), or even if you're just super fussy about going to bed.

He'll spoil you without making you a brat. He explains to you that not everyone can afford everything you two have. It absolutely warms his heart when you want to donate a bunch of toys to the less fortunate!

He doesn't expect you to ever become a hero, he just wants you to do whatever you love doing. Plus he doesn't want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger.

Kinda gives him a heart attack when you come home from school telling him that you want to be a hero like him. He won't try to change your mind (too hard) tho. He might try to sway you a bit, but gives up when he realizes that you're just as stubborn as him.

If you get hurt, that man is there with a first aid kit before you even realize you got hurt in the first place. "dad it's just a scratch." your roll your eyes as the large man cleans and puts an obnoxious bandage on your wound.

When you get older (teenager and so on) ya'll will absolutely have dinner/movie nights. Toshi loves spending any time with you that he can, especially when he can no longer be in his larger form

He thinks he isn't the cool dad anymore, but you constantly have to remind him that he's the best dad you could've ever ask for, plus now he doesn't take up 90% of the couch, so honestly you prefer it.

You're the light of his life and you'll never know how much your good ol' dad truly loves you.

Masterlist

Ask

With love,

-K

[zweetpea]

Bride of the dragon: Prologue

CW: talks to heirs

Summary: The princess has been taken by the dragon as his bride while a mysterious knight has been tasked with getting her back. The only problem is that the princess wants to stay with the dragon. She went with him willingly as his bride. The two must now learn to love each other which seems to be easier done than said (yes you heard me right). But is their love story as simple as it seems on the surface? read to find out!

IT'S FINALLY HERE! THE FIC YOU"VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! BASED ON THIS!!

.....

“Princess! I’m here to rescue you!” The blonde night with long braided hair and golden eyes rolled up on a white horse to the desolate, ruinous castle.

“No thanks! She called out, unbothered. She lounged on her balcony reading a book and sipping some tea.

The knight blinked twice in surprise and confusion. “...What?” 

“I’m good.” She shouted flatly as she turned the page.

“But- but I’ve been sent to rescue you!” He laughed slightly, hoping that this was some sick joke or that she was lying for some reason.

“Listen buddy! I’m not leaving so you can either leave now or you can get your butt handed to you by my husband!”

“Wha- HUSBAND?! You can’t possibly mean the dragon can you?” He growled condescendingly.

“I do.” She sneered. She walked back into her cleanly kept and extravagantly decorated room. “Neuvillette!” The princess screamed acrimoniously.

“Yes, my dear?” He smiled politely at her as he rushed into the room.

“There's another guy trying to rescue me.” She spat annoyed. It was rather frustrating that hundreds of people were shaming her life choices. They had no right to tell her how to live or what to do. “Could you please help me out?”

“I suppose I could… in exchange for something.” His voice was playful as was the smirk that graced his lips.

The princess scoffed and smiled slightly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” She couldn’t contain the teasing tone in her voice. She walked over and pulled his pristine suit down so she could kiss him. It wasn’t easy being married to someone 6 '10 who constantly demanded (pleaded) naked for affection in return for the comfy, private, pampered life you now lead with him. Though you suppose you couldn’t exactly blame him. He was a dragon hybrid and thus it was in his nature to constantly seek the affection of his mate.

He pulled her closer for a second. His soft lips danced against hers in a way that comforted her. He pulled away slightly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice was soft and reassuring as he looked her in the eyes: “I will be back.”

“Don’t kill him.” She teased with a soft smile.

He laughed slightly. “No promises~” and with that he excused himself.

The princess looked around her room. It was so beautiful. Different shades of blue lined the walls in creative patterns like raindrops on windows. White and silver columns sat in the corners and around the doors to the hall, balcony, walk in wardrobe, and en suite. A four poster bed sat on a platform at one end of the room. Her royal blue, silk sheets still smelled of Neuvillette from the last time he came over to cuddle. 

She sat on the bed and reminisced about when she and Neuvi made this deal. She agreed to be his wife on the condition that she would never have to go back to the golden leash that was the throne. Her younger sister was more than understanding and willing to take up the burden of the throne so their kingdom wasn’t left to ruin. Of course, Neuvillette had a condition as well. She would have to be willing to be intimate and eventually mate with him. She didn’t mind, as he hadn’t asked for more than cuddling and kissing so far. Eventually she thinks she’ll love him enough to have his hatchlings but she wasn’t exactly concerned with it right now as everytime it was brought up Neuvillette became a flustered mess.

She walked out onto the balcony and saw Neuvillette dragging the unconscious knight away from the mountain castle. She howled with laughter at his pouty little walk. He was so cute when he was protective of her. She couldn’t blame him though. It was extremely irritating having someone new every other week show up in the hopes of “rescuing” her. All she wanted to do was cuddle her husband and read in peace.

When he came back he pulled her into his embrace again and just breathed in her scent. On one hand it was nice having her ground him like that, but on the other hand his instincts screamed for him to envelop her in his smell as a warning to all other creatures that he had won the beautiful princess’s hand in marriage and he would never let her go.

“Neuvi?” She looked up at him with big, pleading, doe eyes.

He was quick to respond, “Yes, my dear?” He tried not to sound desperate.

“Can we get some lunch? I’m hungry.” She smiled sweetly.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Of course, my dear. I’ll have the Melusines prepare your favorite meal. Unless you’d like to try something new?” He raised an eyebrow prodding for her preference. 

She thought for a moment before her face lit up. “Black Bach Perch Stew please!”

“Then that is what we shall have. Come. let’s head off.” He smiled softly and grabbed her hand. She intertwined their fingers and walked off. Yeah… there was no way he’d ever let her go…

[iliketangerines]

Hey, Tangerine! Love your x Reader fanfics! They're sooooo addictive! I'm wondering if you could write afab!reader x Fujin? I don't think you've written him yet!

Here's my request: Already in a relationship together + they're in a meadow together to forget about their troubles + reader sings him a song w/a beautiful voice, which Fujin loves + he's soft & fluffy & caring w/them, even during sex.

like an angel

a/n: i'm so glad you like my fics!! i've written them a few times, but you definitely sent this in when i had none lol

pairing: fujin x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, pussy drunk

you sit behind Fujin, his head dipped low as he dozes off, and your fingers gently comb through his hair and separate the strands to style the soft strands

the both of you were in a meadow, a slight breeze blowing through the landscape, and beautiful mountains surrounding you on every side

the trees whispered with the soft wind, and in the distance you could hear birds chirping every so often as you hummed along with their song

the two of you lay in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by flowers and sunshine, and the two of you had basked in the warmth of the sun while eating lunch

now, your fingers move through his hair slowly, making sure each strand was the extract width and length and that no strays ever slipped out of your fingertips

you try and remain gentle, stopping your humming every so often to focus on styling his hair and adding in various flowers before continuing again

tapping on his back, you tell him you’re done, and you hold up a mirror for him to see

he smiles at the sight and looks to you, thanking you for fixing his hair, and he leans toward you to give you a soft kiss

a small laugh escapes you as he kisses you, but you grab onto his shoulders nonetheless as his hands encircle your waist, bringing you even closer to him

he hums into your mouth, slightly pulling back and resting his forehead against yours, and you breathe in his scent, like the mountains and the ocean spray

Fujin mumbles that he should properly thank you for braiding his hair, giving you a small coy smile as his hands squeeze at your waist

you let out a breathy laugh and says that he doesn’t have to, that you wanted to do his hair, but he places a gentle hand onto your chest and tells you that he wants to thank you as well

his hands play with the hem of your shirt, fingers skimming the skin of your stomach, and he slowly draws your shirt up, kissing every inch of your skin that it reveals

you sigh, a slight smile playing on your lips, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him, and he looks at you with a half-lidded expression as he mouths at your skin as if it tasted of the freshest fruits

he closes his eyes to take in every sense of you, your softness, your gentle breaths, your sweet taste, and he only opens his eyes to watch your face as he pushes your shirt above your chest and wraps a lip around your nipple

you look at him with a droopy expression, lips slightly parted as you stare down at him, and he closes his eyes once more to ravage  your chest

Fujin swears that you make the prettiest noises, especially as his tongue flicks over the sensitive nipple while his other hand rolls and lightly pinches the other between his fingers

you gasp and whimper at his touch, always so sensitive and reactive for him, and he thinks that he could worship you forever like this

tasting your skin with his tongue, hearing your voice echo in the air, feeling your pleasure roll through your body, it’s an addicting combination, a drug he doesn’t think he could ever get rid of

nor does he want to either

he hums and opens his eyes just enough to remove your nipples from his mouth and see the consequences of his actions, your nipple puffy and swollen

licking his lips, he switches over to the other nipple to give it the same attention, and his hands simply adjust to make sure the other never went without attention

you whine and breathe out his name, bucking your hips upwards to try and get him to move, but Fujin doesn’t budge, simply lapping at your skin

he would move on soon enough, but he wants to enjoy every part of you first

his mouth is relentless, lapping and licking at your nipple before moving onto to kissing every inch of your skin, sucking light hickies into the expanse of it

never once does he stop moaning, his hips grinding involuntarily into the blankets as he tastes you, and he groans and finally moves downward, kissing down the length of your stomach

kissing the slight pudge, he tugs at your bottoms, standing up on his knees to properly take them off of you and watch the reveal of your thighs

as soon as he’s pulled them off of your feet, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, kissing at the inside of your thighs and slightly sinking his teeth into the soft flush

he’s nearly dizzy with how your plush thighs surround his head, and he kisses and licks at every inch, desperate to have all of you

his fingers tighten their hold on you, just enough that the fat of your thighs spill between them as he places the flat of his tongue against your pussy, licking up the length of it

the tip of his tongue presses into your needy clit, and it makes your breath hitch as you finally lay yourself back down onto blanket, arms too shaky to hold yourself up anymore

you resist letting your fingers hold onto his styled hair, and you grip onto the blanket to try keep your grip on reality as he practically makes out with your pussy

he’s loud, uncaring of the noises he makes, and it barely matters with how his hearing is muffled, your thighs squeezing his head to try and bring him in closer

his tongue ravages you, flicking your clit back and forth before lapping at it firmly, and his arms only manage to drag you even closer as he dips his head low so that he can fuck you on his tongue

he grinds his nose into your clit, his tongue fucking into your, and Fujin can’t help but moan at your taste, sending vibrations rumbling through you

you whine and say that you’re close, that you’re going to cum soon, and it only spurs the god further onto dig his tongue deeper into your and grind against your clit much harsher

digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs, he leaves finger-tipped bruises and moans into your pussy, desperate to have a taste of your nectar

your back arches off the floor, and your hands fly up to his hair, tugging at the strands and messing up the flowers and carefully braided locks as you cum

however, Fujin doesn’t care, not when this was the best possible outcome, you writhing underneath him and whining his name like a prayer

he could never get enough of you, and he laps at your pussy, needy to get every single drop he could out of you

finally, he lifts his head up and blinks at you, asking if you were okay, and you frown, saying that you had messed up his hair

Fujin laughs and says that you can fix it later, but for now he wants to taste you again

with that, he dives back in, and you moan to the high heavens your prayers of his name

[bellarkeselection]

We’re All Family Here

Reader is Carter’s younger sister and she has a prosthetic leg and the reader is worried that Rip and Beth will kick her off the ranch if they found out. Wattpad request from - @Quackity_bwead

Pulling down the Jean of my right leg I sighed staring at myself in the mirror that was in my room in Rip and Beth’s house. My brother Carter was already up for work in the barn but I got to sleep in this morning which was rare. Walking out of the house I headed to the barn with large Y above the doorway. The sun had just started to rise above the mountains and everybody was busy already working. Taking my horse out of the stall I climbed on feeling my fake leg hanging over. “Alright boy, let’s go.”

Kicking my horse we rode off towards the sunset with the wind running through my hair. I was wearing a tan dark cowgirl hat and my hair was tied in a braid. Riding through the fields I saw my older brother Carter who was trying to rope a cafe but it started running at me. “Y/n, watch out!” He cried when the cafe got underneath my horses leg and it spooked causing the horse to throw me off its back.

“Sis I’m sorry. I just couldn’t get a good hold on it.” My brother apologized coming over on his horse while Ryan rode past me to go grab my horse that had ran off somewhere else.

Rubbing the back of my neck I winced feeling some pain but it wasn’t as bas I have normally been through. Shifting my gaze away from my brother I saw that Rip was riding over to us. He dismounted his horse quickly dropping himself on a knee in front of me. “What the hell happened, kid. You can’t be injuring any of our guys!..are you hurt Y/n?”

“No just sore a little.” I shook my head not understanding why his deep brown eyes seemed to be filled with concern.

Rip moved closer to me touching my right leg and he pulled up the fabric of my pant. Once he saw something odd sticking out of your pant leg he knew something must be wrong. “Then what exactly is wrong with your leg here?” He questioned me where I finally noticed that he had seen my fake leg.

“I….uh….” I yanked my leg back feeling my face turn red being embarrassed over this. Carter wasn’t with me the night of the accident. I was just driving back to our place with our dead beat dad until someone rear ended me harshly.

Rip saw that I wasn’t going to answer him so he called to Ryan who had brought back my horse. “Ryan, take her back to the ranch.” Getting to my feet I climbed back on my horse and followed the ranch hand back to the ranch then he went back to work like Rip had asked him.

Laying on my bed inside my room I stared at the ceiling in silence and a pit of nervousness. Sitting upright I knew I had messed up or more so my brother had. I had done my best to keep the fact that I had a prosthetic leg a secret. In fear that if they knew I would be removed from the ranch. Someone came down the hallway and I lifted my head up seeing it was Beth. “Hi mom….uh what’s up?” I nervously asked since she had just started letting me call her that.

“I heard about your fall today from Rip. I’m happy you shook it off but we need to talk about something.” She entered the bedroom before I saw that Rip was also walking in behind her heels.

Playing with my thumbs in my lap I avoided their gazes when they came to sit down on the bed. Well Beth did leaving Rip standing directly in front of me. “So are you going to tell me about your leg or no?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it…” I gulped trailing off in my response already knowing the answer they would give me.

It was hard enough for Carter to prove that he would be a good worker. I already was a good hand but the fake leg wasn’t a good look. John Dutton had the greatest ranch in Montana and that means he should have close to the best people working for him. “You better tell us otherwise things will get ugly.” Beth warned me with her annoyed look and I froze knowingly.

"It's...it's about my prosthetic leg..." Rolling my pants leg, I made it visible to their gaze, and I didn't dare make eye contact with either of them. "I didn't want to tell you about it because I've been sp terrified of what you would say. Even though I get my work done, nobody else on this ranch has one. So I....just assumed that you would kick me off the ranch over it."

Rip put his hands on his hips, tilting my head to the side slightly. "That's totally ridiculous, Y/n. We would never do that."

"This family may be complicated, but we don't abandon our family members." Beth shifted on her spot on the bed, grasping my hand in hers.

Hanging my mouth open I couldn't believe it. "Really but I thought that-"

"That what us having some cowboys from the prison and others in debt wouldn't have given you the message that we take in the trouble so they can have a home." Rip declared, coming to sit down beside me, tucking hair behind my ear.

I parted my lips without thinking I fling my arms around his neck hugging him tightly. Rip stiffened up at the embrace but calmed down after a second and wrapped his arms around me with the same comfort. “Thank you….I didn’t think you would let me stay.” I sniffed against his chest.

“Anyone who has a problem with that will have to deal with me.” Beth responded after I hugged her and she actually hugged me back too to my surprise. I smiled at the pair knowing that Carter and I were gonna do really good here. This wasn’t just a rnhc, it was a family for everybody.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[skele-bunny]

Just.......

I'm thinking about emotional support assigned ghouls again but specifically Dewdrop and Mountain and their relationship in the beginning.

Mountain came out kicking. Literally. Pissed off, teeth showing, not able to stand straight from how dizzy he was from the summoning portal. Immediately perceiving everyone in the room as a threat, all until that little fish stepped forwards. One that smelled of his home and similarly of his adoptive packs, their hands clasped together at their chest before slowly reaching forwards to take his hand.

Watching as he goes to his knees, big hands grabbing their hips, anger turning to confusion and curiosity as he tries to think if he's ever seen this freshwater before. Doesn't ring a bell but... They remind him of home. Bringing them closer, leaning over their head to lowly growl at the others who are watching.

"Shh... You're safe here." The water moving a little back and cupping a furry face. "Nothing will hurt you here. Or me. You understand, don't you?" In their shared tongue.

Dewdrop. His fish's name was Dewdrop.

Sitting in a much too small tub, fur and suds covering Mountain's line of sight but he's compliant and quiet as he feels Dewdrop scrubbing at him, softly singing to keep him calm and reassure. Eventually Mountain pulls him in and returns the favor, smiling as Dew starts purring and leans against wet fur to look up at him.

Mountain braiding Dew's hair, tail wagging as he gets to share something so intimate with him.

"—And this one is called a burger!" Dew's smiling so wide as he shows off what he got from the cafeteria for Mountain. "I didn't really know what your appetite is, or what you like, so I got one of everything. Is it okay?"

Mountain tilting his head, sniffing at each one before he looks at Dew and points at him. "Food."

"H-Huh?"

"Your food."

See, Dewdrop heard it as "you're food", face getting red and stiffening. Mountain just even more confused bc ??? "Fish? No?"

"Wait- Oh- OH!" Dew busting into laughter at his own mistake. "You're pescatarian? A water ghoul diet?"

"Yes."

"See, that makes SO much more sense." Dew taking the tray and leaving. "I'll be right back- with the right stuff this time!"

Mountain huffing as he's alone again, antsy once more as he wants to follow but he's still in a quarantine. Eventually Dew comes back and they end up sharing an overflowing tray of fish and sushi together.

"It's wasabi... It's hot..."

Bro starts coughing almost INSTANTLY and Dew's patting his back as much as he can wjkekd.

They're showering together, Mountain looking down and rumbling a bit as he gently scratches Dew's scalp. Looks up at him and smiles, tail ruffling and leaning back, hand touching his upper thigh. It was just a normal bodily response as Mountain got hard, fingers lightly trailing to Dew's jaw and admiring. Letting out a confused whine as Dew turned and got to his knees, a bit of nervousness over his body language and expression.

"I, uhm... I haven't had sex with an earth ghoul in a really long time. You have to go gentle with me, okay?"

Dew gets closer only to squeak as Mountain crouches down, frowning and poking Dew's forehead. "No. We're not having sex and you don't have to do that. I apologize. I'm not aroused. You just brushed on a sensitive spot."

He can see the little glint of a realized pain in Dew's eyes before nodding slowly. He's picked up and held tight in a hug. Mountain truly doesn't know the extent of how much that meant to Dewdrop, even after so many years.

Dewdrop holding his hand as he gives the tour of the ministry, being patient and answering any and all questions Mountain has; feeling a bit of pity as Mountain has to keep ducking to enter a majority of the common spaces.

"Sorry, I don't think they were prepared to have such a tall ghoul..."

"These humans are short, as are some of our fellows. I don't expect them to have to accommodate a single person over majority."

"Well, everyone deserves to be comfortable here. Just because a lot of people are smaller than you, doesn't mean you should have to be uncomfortable and bend over constantly just to get through a door."

Dew thinking a bit more. "Oh! I know the perfect place for you!! C'mon!" Dragging him back outside.

They end up at an old greenhouse, some of the panels broken and hidden in the woods. "This was here waaay before me. I think I'm the only one that's found it. There's so many abandoned places on the property so it's a bit of a fixer upper but... I thought maybe you should have a place too, you know? And!- and you can have so many plants in there! It's in the woods so, you know, your element!"

Mountain just smiles, watching Dew ramble and show the nearby shed, blabbering more and more about all the abandoned places he knows. They keep sneaking out to the greenhouse, Mountain slowly fixing it but constantly staring through the last panel that looks up at the stars, Dew curled up in his arm and head on his chest.

"It's so pretty out here..."

"It is."

And he's looking directly as Dewdrop who's unaware. "It's absolutely beautiful."

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

To Walk the Old Path

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Lia Costayne (OFC) Warnings: Slightly smutty. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Otto is displeased with Lia's choice of attire for Helaena and Aegon's wedding, but she always gets her own way. Part of the Fire on the Mountain universe, but could be read as a standalone (this is a significant jump into the future from chapter one and likely won't feature in the series itself)

Author's note: Day ten of Smuffmas - dressing up and dry humping. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Lia sat at her vanity table, the rings on her fingers catching the light as she moved them across the soft fabric of the bell sleeve of her gown. She had had it specially made in the colours of House Costayne; the golden satin had been meticulously embroidered with black roses, and its neckline plunged just enough to emphasise the subtle curve of her breast without the risk of being considered unseemly. It made her feel beautiful, the way it clung tight to her waist and then widened again at her hips, giving volume to her skirts. It was an unashamed display of her femininity, an affirmation that she was now a woman – a powerful woman.

“The First to Rise,” she uttered her house words quietly to herself, as she adjusted the silver chalice brooch that fastened her bodice at the front.

“Are you certain you wish to wear it down, my lady?” Marybel asked. The handmaiden fussed behind Lia, teasing her long, raven curls with a boar bristle brush. “It is not customary for ladies to wear their hair loose on such occasions.”

“Fuck what is customary,” Lia replied with a playful smirk, lightly swatting Marybel’s hands away as she turned to look at her over shoulder. “It is bad enough I should have to attend something so farcical, I will not have one of your awful braids tugging mercilessly at my scalp the entire day too.”

Lia’s sharp words were often enough to send most servants scurrying from her chambers, red faced with humiliation. Marybel was not most servants though, and that was precisely why Lia chose to keep her so close.

The handmaiden huffed through her nose in quiet amusement. She leaned over Lia’s shoulder as she turned around again, and placed the brush back on top of the vanity table. “As you wish, my lady.”

Lia’s eyes watched in the looking glass as the door to her chambers swung open behind them both, and she felt Marybel stiffen in silent discomfort as the tall, imposing figure of Otto Hightower stepped through.

“Leave us,” Lia uttered quietly, giving Marybel’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The handmaiden nodded, turning and leaving the room with hurried steps that took her in a wide semi circle in order to avoid the Hand of the King. Otto did not say a word, even as the door thudded closed.

She did not move, did not acknowledge his presence, simply observed as he slowly stalked about the room in his forest green, crushed velvet finery with his freshly polished hand pin gleaming brightly upon his chest. She knew precisely why he was here – he had come to hurry her along, though he would never dare say the words aloud, knowing they would have the opposite effect of what he desired.

She could see it in the way his fingers brushed against the backs of the chairs beside the fireplace. Hurry up.

His brow was slightly furrowed, and his shoulders tense, a sign that he was annoyed. You are making us late.

Finally, once he had walked a full circuit of the room, he settled into a high backed chair by the hearth, leaning forward to grasp the pewter wine jug and pour himself a goblet of Arbor gold. Still, she ignored him, making a show of pretending she was readying herself, as she toyed with her hair, stealing a glance at her husband every so often in the reflective surface.

“Is that what you intend to wear?” Otto eventually asked, to Lia’s delight – he had given in first. He always did.

“Of course it is,” she insisted, rising from the vanity and stepping slowly towards the seating area around the fireplace, where Otto reclined. Despite his attempt to appear relaxed, she could see how tense he was in how tightly he gripped his wine cup. “Do you not think I look nice?”

She made a show of spreading out the skirts, swaying slightly to allow the drape of the fabric to move with her, all the while looking at him with a pleased grin, as she saw him shift in his seat, his gaze raking over her appreciatively.

“You look beautiful,” Otto admitted grudgingly, taking a sip of his wine and swallowing thickly, “you know you do. But that is not the gown that we agreed you would wear today.”

“I agreed nothing,” she corrected him with a roll of her eyes, “I do not like what you picked out for me. It is unflattering.”

“Then choose something else,” he said matter of factly, setting his wine down upon the table in front of him and fixing her with a piercing stare.

“Something green you mean?” Her flesh prickled with irritation as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms defensively across her middle.

“Hightower house colours,” Otto said darkly. His fingers grasped the wooden arms of the chair tightly, a subtle indication that he was losing his patience. Lia did not care.

“I am not a Hightower,” she answered with a soft shake of her head and a shrug.

“Today is about unity,” Otto rose from his chair suddenly, his nostrils flared in annoyance as he pointed an accusatory finger at her, “not about you clinging to your principles like a stubborn child!”

“Unity?!” Lia spat back, her own voice rising as her anger flared. She uncrossed her arms, her hands balling into fists as she strode towards him defiantly. “If today were about unity then you would have allowed Rhaenyra to wed Jacaerys to Helaena. Instead, you are making this disgusting display of marrying brother to sister, and there has never been more divide between us all.”

A flash of anger appeared in Otto’s hazel eyes as quickly as it disappeared again. He drew in a steadying breath, schooling his features before replying, his voice calmer than it had been previously. “It is at the request of the King that his children shall be married, to strengthen the bloodline of House Targaryen.”

“House Targaryen?” Lia scoffed, tilting her head as her blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Did Viserys tell you that between doses of milk of the poppy? Spare me, Otto, for if that were the case, surely you would insist I dress in red and black?”

“You test my patience, Lia,” Otto glowered, inhaling deeply.

“And you test mine,” Lia stepped forward, placing the flat of her hand against his velvet covered chest and pushed him – not hard enough to unsteady him, but enough for him to know she wanted him to sit.

Otto did just that, resuming his sitting position in the high backed chair beside the hearth. Swiftly, Lia climbed into his lap, positioning herself to straddle his lap, lifting her skirts just enough so that the bare flesh of her womanhood pressed flush against his thigh. A sense of satisfaction settled over Lia as she felt his breath hitch, his large hands coming to rest upon the swell of her hips.

She leaned in close, the scent of pine oil and leather filling her nostrils as the tip of her nose brushed against the coarse hair of his beard, making her throb with desire. Reaching up, she stroked her fingers through it, caressing his jaw as she spoke softly to him.

“Now listen to me, I am your wife, not a pawn to be used for your political gain. Is that understood?”

She punctuated her point with a subtle roll of her hips, exhaling a shaky breath at the friction against her sensitive pearl. She laid her free hand upon his shoulder, keeping the other cupped within his beard, tilting his face to look at her.

Otto’s expression had softened considerably, his eyes hooded and filled with affection as he looked upon her. His hands aided her movements against him, gently squeezing the plushness of her flesh through her gown. “You are incorrigible.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed in agreement, her breaths growing heavy as she continued her lazy rocking against him, “and I shall wear what I please.”

Her hand dropped from his shoulder to snake between them, her fingers immediately seeking out and finding the hardness that strained against the laces of his breeches. She palmed the rigid length gently, continuing to fuck herself against his thigh as she watched with delight as his lips parted, a soft groan escaping them.

“I do not answer to you,” she whispered breathlessly, her movements becoming more erratic as she felt the coil of tension in her belly grow taut. The insistent rubbing of his trousers upon her delicate bundle of nerves built a steadily growing ache within her, that she was eager to chase to its end. “I do not answer to anyone.”

“As you wish,” Otto breathed, his head falling back against the chair with a soft thud as his eyes fluttered closed.

Lia grinned, squeezing his hardness more firmly, eliciting a hiss from him. He moved her more roughly against him, and the ache became more prevalent until the coil within her snapped. She stilled her movements, her body shuddering against Otto’s. White hot waves of ecstasy rippled through her, making her heat convulse uncontrollably as she cried out in pleasure.

She rested her forehead against Otto’s, panting softly, moving her hand away from his erection and placing it back upon his shoulder to steady herself. Despite her boneless state, she felt triumphant. Marriage was all too often a battlefield, but Lia prided herself upon being an excellent strategist. She had won this, and not for the first time.

Otto’s eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he regarded her with fondness. “You shall be the death of me.”

“But not today,” Lia quipped, shifting off of his lap and adjusting her skirts as she stood. It was then that she spotted the damp patch of arousal that she had left upon his trouser leg. “And it appears to be you who needs to get changed.”

[sun-snatcher]

( credits to @winterswake for this phenomenal gifset ! )

3/? | SEAWARDS, TO YOU. ; REPENTANT!AU

summ.  A continuation. Sauron learns what it means to be human— and what it takes to be one. or: Sauron experiences the best & worst of mortality. pairing.  (Repentant!Mairon/Sauron) Halbrand / f!reader , ( established in #SEAWARDSTOYOU ) w.count.  4k a/n.  Important tags in first chapter ! Warnings for implications to PTSD & slight horror , including Non-graphically implied Animal Death.

THE BARNACLES STARE.

They’re overgrown; marrow-white and clinging onto the cracks of the salt-licked rockface, breathing and blinking at him like the thousand, ever-watchful eyes of the Ainur. 

In his dreams, every single one turns to blazing stars that wink out in an instant as he passes them. The shadow of Morgoth is a powerful darkness: it can dim them into lightlessness and nothingness. He tells them he is neither Morgoth nor Melkor nor Sauron nor Mairon, that he is something new; something different— but they can’t hear him under the sheet of waves crashing like a tempest on the shores, pulling him down, down, down, and under.

(He drowns. Rarely does he choose to fight the currents.)

In other vivid dreams, the barnacles don’t listen. They don’t because they can’t listen; because they’re dead and lifeless and the colour of their shells look eerily vertebral and bone-faced. They’re skulls, he later realises. A thousand of them. Endless. Both young and old. Their missing teeth and gaping maws, frozen in terror, roll in masses that wash in from the bloody tides and take up the shore beneath his feet. They fracture and splinter and cry out in pain when he walks on where soft sands ought to be, begging for mercy with every black step he takes.

He wakes up restless. He wakes up mortified. 

A forest fire rips through Eldalondë.

It dies out as quick as it had come, however; by the grace of the Valar and their blessed storms! The Faithful cry.

“Blessed,” Galadriel hears Halbrand scoff underneath his breath. They’d both sailed down the river Nunduinë with the other locals to help with clearing out whatever the blaze had left in its wake, and the very air now is clogged with residual smoke and the stench of death. She doesn’t comment on his muttering. (He had yet to heal completely from the rope burns in his palms from when they’d been stranded at sea, after all.) 

“You think it’s a sign?” asks one of the arborists. 

A grave weight seemed to have sunken into Galadriel when the scent of the Mellyrn had greeted her, and she’d been brought to the heart of the massive grove, where she lay a hand on the now-sundered tree.

“These very trees were brought as seeds from Aman by the Eldar of Tol Erresëa. Elros Tar-Minyatur himself had hand in planting these.” She remembers Elrond, too, had come to sail and plant a tree of his own here. The forest had been so young then, in the early years of the Second Age. Now the woods seem unsettled— even the very winds that blow between its spaces.

“Not idly do the trees of Valinor burn,” she finally warns. “Even when ensnared by lightning.”

Halbrand had seen it from afar, coming downwind from the riverbank: the tree’s colossal trunk— thick as a Dwarven-hewn mountain pillar— torn in its center from the high canopies of branches, snaking all the way down to the spindly stretch of roots. The bolt of light had rent an ugly, gaping wound into its silver bole, hollowing out the wood and carving it out to look like a glaring crack into the Unseen World.

He can still see the gleam of red embers between the bark of the tunnelled tree.

He can still hear it crackling in its seams, even.

Or… no. That isn’t the fire— 

“Galadriel!”

Mallorn branches grow great and wide, so it takes out an entire stable when it crashes down. 

One of the horses get caught underneath. 

They cannot move the branch. (It wouldn’t do any good, even if they did.)

Abârzî, the sea-cadet weeps, stroking the mare before he went to braid the hairs of her tail and cut it off. He chants it like a prayer.

Abârzî. Abârzî. Abârzî.

(No one has the heart to finish the job.

Halbrand does not exactly offer— but they don’t stop him either when he begrudgingly enters the stables for them.)

“What was he saying?” Sauron asks, after, in some poorly attempt to clear his mind.

“Her name,” Galadriel translates, solemn. “Abâr holds several meanings. It stands for strength, might, endurance. ‘One of Valiance’, even. Perhaps: ‘Admirable one’—”

It’s the first time Mairon ever experiences throwing up.

Galadriel sits beside him, and doesn’t say a word more.

He’s glad. 

Or, maybe he isn’t.

He doesn’t understand what he feels these days.

The wine Sauron pours to the raven-haired elf in his dreams is thick.

Too thick to be wine— but just as deceptively sweet.

On other nights, he pours and it keeps going, and going, and going. It gushes down his palms and down the nameless peak he’s standing in, and cascades down the cliff- like a thundering waterfall— no, an open wound. Sometimes the elf pushes him forward from the back, and it stings like a stabbing betrayal. (Other times, Mairon simply chooses to fall.)

When he plummets, it’s into red seas. It feels like wading through molasses; exhausting a pain into his limbs more than the dull ache at his nape and the throb of his suffocating lungs. Then there’s the twinkle of starlight throwing him off every time he swims. He always mistakes them for the night sky, and he blindly reaches towards the surface— until they turn out to be the white-faces of barnacles instead, attached to the maws of a sea-wyrm deep in the ocean.

Tonight, however, he swims in the right direction. 

The raven-haired elf pulls him out with a trusting, helping hand wrapped in a gauntlet; and when Sauron breaches ashore, he’s not kneeling at his feet on sands or bones, but instead on the all-too familiar cracked, black stones of his old fortress up in the bleak frigidness of Forodwaith.

Mairon is garbed in soaking red robes.

This time, Adar coronates Sauron not with Morgoth’s crown, but with a rotting horse skull named Abârz—

“You have a strange shadow, ‘Maril,” Eärien tells you, not long after you’d come down to Nísimaldar to assist in the clean-up effort. “It’s shaped like… a funny-looking man who always seems to look as if he’s rolled around in the dirt for ten hours.”

You blink, puzzled, then turn to where she’s peering over your shoulder.

Halbrand’s eyes dart away just as you meet his gaze. 

“Friend,” you correct, levelling an unimpressed glare back at your table of teasing looks. “Halbrand is a friend.”

Isildur raises his brows once you begin gathering another fresh bowl of seafood. “Don’t forget the oysters. I hear they’re great for men’s libid—”

“Shut your mouth when you eat,” comes your sharp flick at his ear, going to leave as the rest of the cadets break into laughter. “Even Berek has better manners than you, airhead.”

Halbrand, shaded under a temporary forge set up by the treeline near the half-constructed stables, senses you long before he hears your voice. You’re appraising him again. He can feel it. It reminds him of the barnacles staring, and he has to actively remember not to be instinctively beset.

You’ve been kind, after all.

Frustratingly so. 

And Sauron, as uncertain as he has been of everything (and by everything, he means his entire simulacrum of an existence— or, reincarnation? Re-embodiment?) of late, is smart enough to know not to bite the hand that feeds him. You’d made it clear that night in the forge, after all, that you’re a friend. And if not that, then at the very least— an ally.

So it’s no surprise he sets the horseshoes he’s working on aside, and relents to your plate of food. It is a surprise, however, when a few minutes later you go:

“Thank you, by the way.”

He shuts your train of thought down before it can take off.

“Don’t start,” Sauron says, voice a low rasp. He knows where you’re going with this: You’ll thank Halbrand for going out of his way to help, for lending a hand with the rebuilding, for putting down a boy’s dying horse. He wants nothing to do with it. 

“Then I want to—”

“Don’t apologise either,” he interjects, failing to hold back the mild bite. (So much for biting the hand, huh?) 

Sauron had chosen, anyway, to take it upon himself to toil away in the forge, from sunrise to sundown; Dedicating himself to aiding the reconstruction by crafting everything from bridles, stirrups and bits, to metal brackets, hinges, and nails. He’d toiled because it focused him; because he’s utilitarian at heart and so despises uselessness; because it helps blur the waking haunts of horses and the seas under the hissing and clanging of working metal. 

(Besides, there’s plenty to improve in this part of the island, and Sauron is the type to not count flaws and cracks but to instead step up and fix them.)

So there’s no place for you to apologise. 

“You work quickly,” you redirect instead, avoiding the urge to bicker with him. “Some might say almost tirelessly. Seems you’re getting into our good graces, from what I hear.”

“Well, you ought to listen closer.” Local gossip is difficult to not earwig, especially if the topic is about a low-man from the South; even more so that they don’t expect said low-man to have a passable fluency in Adûnaic. 

You don’t bother to hide the amused look on your face. “Right. Well. They do say eavesdroppers never hear but ill of themselves. What have you gathered, jailbird?”

“That I would be their downfall,” he says, then after a mouthful, goes: “That I would squander their resources and drain their waters and steal their women,” which makes you laugh.

“Númenórean women are not so easily taken.”

He hums at that. “And are you?” 

“…Am I what?”

“Númenorean.”

You blink. Halbrand levels a gaze you suddenly can’t meet. It’s a game he plays, you guess right then, between the crawl of heat up your cheeks. Of sharpening ulterior meanings into both sides of his words like one would a sword’s edge. 

(“The low-man said that?” Isildur titters, much later. “What a smooth advance! I ought to give him a—”

“Beheading,” Eärien overrides, “You do know he also effectively implied your sister may be easy?”

Isildur cheers. “And he’s honest? Outstanding!”)

“I believe I am one, and that’s enough for me,” you lie. The thought has crossed your mind before— that you may very well be an orphan descendant of those who had sided with the Enemy, once upon a time. That it’s likely you’ll die long before your own foster family does. 

“And if you’re wrong?” asks Halbrand. He enjoys making you squirm. “Shall that be enough?”

“Then so be it,” you wrinkle your nose, displeased yet matter-of-fact. “It doesn’t matter what type of life we’ve been chanced to be given, jailbird, so long as we live it doing the right thing.”

Until it becomes part of your nature, Sauron abruptly remembers Diarmid; of his words; the necklace he’d cruelly taken from the old man that stormy night. The advice had been unwelcome then, and now it seems to haunt him still.

“Is that your heraldry?”

Halbrand loosens his grip. His hand has been flying to the pouch out of habit, lately. “No.” Then, after you scrutinise him, cocks his head and says, “Is it so hard to believe we might quite be the same— Lost and found at sea?”

“You have a past,” you point out, the same way Elendil had chivvied you then. (If you had noticed him blink away in a flinch, he’s grateful you don’t mention it.) “But no, not so hard to believe, considering that’s precisely how my father found you too. It’s just hard for me to believe someone would be so willing to sever ties with their history.”

“I found this on a dead man.”

“Then why keep it?”

“Thought it looked fancy,” he dodges.

“A pearl is fancy,” you reflect, unconsciously flexing your fingers. The ring he’d caught the first day you two met lustres now at certain angles of the setting sun, beyond the horses grazing lazily in half-barren pastures.

Your answer is hardly a surprise to him. A bereft orphan would likely covet something as insignificant as a worn-out emblem if it meant a potential link to their true heritage, no matter how thin or nonsensical. Yours just happens to be a pearl.

“Beauty is subjective, seabird,” he comments sagely, before letting curiosity get the better of him to ask, “Is that from the tidepool, too?”

No, you want to say. I like to think my mother gave it to me. “Yes. It was in my grasp when my father found me; so came my name.”

Halbrand finishes his bowl, and doesn’t say a word more.

You’re glad.

“You know, I meant to say earlier, before you interrupted me,” you begin out of the blue, voice possessing that Nienna-esque lilt that makes him unconsciously want to shrink into himself. “…You shouldn’t have had to be the one.” 

He follows your gaze to one of the Bay horses being herded away. Its body gleams; a vibrant, rich red-brown in the dusk that needles a strange grief into him. The colour reminds Mairon of his old form. 

“You’re right, I didn’t,” he agrees distastefully. Needless suffering also falls under the realm of uselessness, however. Perhaps, in a twisted, roundabout way, Sauron had chosen to put down Abârzî. “…But I’ve done far worse things.” 

You watch him tuck the necklace away beneath his collar, and he wonders, briefly, if you’d caught his shudder; his waver. 

“To survive,” you emphasise. Surely.

He laughs under his breath. It’s neither sad nor sordid, just empty. 

“Not all of it.”

Sauron opens his eyes to a crowned shadow and a blade.

Do not fear, it says. And when its hand had come away with a fistful of his long, braided hair, cut from his blazing red head— it repeats itself to him again, though this time in the commanding tongue of Black Speech.

Do not fret.

(He frets, and begs. He disobeys because he’s terrified— but it’s all happening under his skin. Black Speech cannot completely overpower the mind, you see, but it can command and seed an intent in it; a sliver of power over the flesh, if willed so. He can fret and beg all he likes; it will never translate to his body. 

Now he’s just a vessel, still as a Bay horse caught neath a great tree, watching and waiting; helpless and paralysed.)

He catches the glint of the dagger but he cannot scream.

Do not fret, Morgoth commands, in that divinely, beautiful way only a Valar can make all guttural words sound. Do not fret, Abârzî.

Mairon startles awake.

When the candlelight flickers with the moon, he mistakes them for blood on his hands and a stable floo—

“Y’alright, brother?” Someone claps him on the back.

It’s noon, now. It feels like he’s woken up for the third time today. 

The stables are coming up nicely (Quickly, because Halbrand works when everyone else is asleep). The clouds are thick, so the day isn’t beating down on the horses as they feed on bran and alfalfa, and there aren’t any damning signs of coming rain to hinder what little is left of the reconstruction today.

“Never better,” Halbrand says, after steadying his heavy breathing. The perfectly delivered lie is somehow miraculously seen through, however, and promptly called out, via: an insistent pint of ale into his calloused hands that’s supposedly the ‘cure to all ailments’. 

He learns the old drunkard’s name is Seamus.

He learns a bit of everything to nothing, really; until the sun had sunken too far beneath the canopies of the Mellyrn, and the dappled light faded into drifting spots, and all that was left of their drinks was a final sip. Sauron had found himself both inexplicably refreshed and exhausted between the overload that managed to distract him from the cavernous feeling in his chest.

“It’s a swallow bird. We sailors tattoo it as belief it’ll lead us back home when we get out at sea,” says the old man, between a tangent on island customs and traditions beyond the primly ‘Nobody kneels in Númenor’ ones. “Why? Lookin’ to get inked yourself?”

Halbrand blinks.

He had composed as Mairon among the other Ainur in the Timeless Halls for the Ainulindalë, once upon a time; and then served, much, much later, as Sauron alongside Morgoth in the Iron mountains of Thangorodrim. Neither exactly had been something anybody would call a home— One was simply a state of Being far beyond Eä, and the other had been both a fortress and a prison. 

“Don’t have a home to return to,” is all he decides.

It sounds a lot like a realisation.

“Aye, well…” The drunkard flails his hand to the chilly winds. “Swallows mate for life.”

Halbrand frowns in confusion. Seamus just laughs, mad.

He doesn’t understand what the crazy old shrimp had meant, until two days later (of which Sauron still had only understood half of what was told to him, if he’s being honest) when the stables had at last been completed and the locals put together a small feast for everyone who had come together to help.

Crab legs had been the catalyst, oddly enough. 

Or, rather, how you seemed to move amongst the people-who-may-not-be-your-people, and spoke to your family-who-isn’t-actually-your-family.

“Here,” you say, and idly lay skillfully de-shelled crab legs and a lobster tail on your bright-eyed sister’s plate. Then onto your even-more-bright-eyed brother’s plate, before doing the same to those within your reach at the table, including Halbrand— sitting adjacent and at a length, because nobody quite fancied sitting next to a brooding stranger.

“I can de-shell my crabs on my own,” he had wanted to huff, put out by the way he suddenly felt impeccably small by your limitless grace and social-butterfly-ness, but one of the cadets had beaten him to it.

Your answer is a smile that’d made Mairon think of Nienna again, followed by a winsome, “I know you can.”

He lingers on what you’d told him ere a week ago, at the forge when you’d come to him saying he looked most at home with a hammer and tongs in hand, and drafts in his head something he tells you much later, which is:

“You looked different around your not-people.”

You’re wrapped in a pelerine cloak that seems to do little with the cold Mallorn-fragrant winds, here at the Bay of Eldanna, where you’ve somehow convinced him to follow you down to at the crack of dawn. (It’s not like he could sleep through the night, anyway, now that the stables are complete and there’s nothing left to busy himself with for the time being.)

It’s early enough that the carpet of stars in the sky shines the rocky shoreline a blinding silver, and only the lantern-lit trawlers far out at sea are awake to fish for teeming shoals of shrimps in season beyond the reef. 

“My not-people?” you yawn, gathering up your cloak and shift dress to toe between the rocks. “Ah. I get it. Because I’m an outsider.”

He raises a tolerant eyebrow. “I’m the outsider, seabird.” To which you answer, breezily, as if it’s a simple equation: 

“Not to me. If it helps though, we can both be outsiders together.”

He barely has time to wrap his head around together when you begin skipping across the tidepools.

“I meant,” he trails after you, ungainly and tender-footed to the shallows compared to your well-versed steps. He had not been raised by the sea like you. “That you looked at home; with your people. And tha— Eärmaril, why did you bring me out here with a bucket?”

You peer at the crevices of the outcrops, turning over black slabs with a trained eye. “Have you ever had soft-shell crabs? They’re active around this time of night, so watch your step. If you’re not getting pinched by their claws, you’ll get stabbed by an urchin.”

“You loon!” he exclaims. “You brought me here for a hunting trip?”

“Hush, now! Or you’ll scare the fur seals further down the coast,” you hiss over your shoulder. “And no. I brought you here because I know you won’t be sleeping, anyway.”

The blatant accusation has him slipping from a jutting rock face.

You catch his hand to steady him.

(He’s warm. Some part of you wants to pull him close.)

“I overheard the farriers. They say the only reason the stables got put up that quickly is because you worked through the night.” You inform him as delicately as you can, because there’s a recognisable, vestigial haunt in his eyes you’ve seen in your father’s, under the shimmer of Eärendil’s starlight. “Is it nightmares, Halbrand?”

“See, Amm— Mother saved Isildur when he was a child.” Nobody in the family prefers to say drowned except your father, because the word is bitter to the taste. “I was there when it happened. Couldn’t sleep for weeks after. Do you dream of the waters too?”

The defensive frown he’d put up melts away, but you can see Halbrand steel himself, still, in order to answer.

“I dream of barnacles,” Sauron allows, brusque so as to cut the conversation short as he regains his footing.

You let go and narrow your eyes at him. 

After a long moment, you conclude, resolutely: “Valar, you’re a terrible liar, jailbird.”

And Mairon couldn’t help it— 

He laughed.

(It sends your heart stumbling.)

“Believe me when I say, seabird, that if I were to deceive you, you would never know.”

“…Right,” you scoff, quick to turn away to hide the budding smile on your face as you carve his laugh and awfully handsome grin into memory. “Now, come and be useful, will you? Before the tide runs in with daybreak.”

He can do that. He likes to be useful.

So he does.

Sauron, however, gathers alarmingly quickly that he’s as helpful as an infant grappling the ways of the water for the first time. Some distant part of him enjoys it, though— learning. It reminds him of his long gone time with Aulë.

Learning to follow your effortless sea-nymph dance across the jagged shallows, memorising how to identify which rocks to flip and the right ways to harvest mollusks or crabs without risking a fingertip, all while unconsciously committing to mind the shanties you hum under your breath.

You tell Halbrand stories and Mairon listens despite the general inanity of it; because he’s a quiet sort, and because he likes the diluting distraction of it all. 

Little things, like how your mother had bequeathed the craft of pottery to you, or that your father had preferred to teach you to fight instead of fish (“I can hardly imagine that,” Sauron muses, which earns him a sharp look and a: “Well, you don’t seem the imaginative type, anyway.”); that Eärien’s artistic strength is adapted from her uncanny skill of observation, and that Isildur is often wayward because he’s as free-spirited as the sun.

The conversation whiles and goes until the sky slowly pales awake, and the fur seals begin to bark and bay at the shorebirds and skimmers diving close to the rolling surfs. When the stretch of Eldanna’s shoreline finally raises, peaks and tidepools drowning back below the cresting of blue seas, the both of you make headway back inland.

“I was telling the truth,” he says, abruptly, which made you stop in your tracks at the beach. Your cloak is billowing from the salt gusts, edges sticking to the wet of your ankles.

“You don’t have to tell me,” comes your honest answer. 

But he wants to. It feels right to. Here Mairon stands bearing witness to the intimacies of your life, while he had nothing to offer you in return beneath the veneer of Halbrand. It’s only fair to do the same. An exchange, if you will. It’s all he’s ever known.

He sets the bucket of skittering crabs on to the wet sand, and dips his feet at the lap of the tide. “I dream of the Dark,” Sauron admits. “Of a light I cannot reach. The ocean is always red— red as my hands— and the rock-faces are always white and blinking.”

Barnacles. You understand now.

“When I wake up, I feel like I’m bracing for something, but I don’t know what,” he says, which he’s quick to realise had been an instinctive lie, and so he amends it with an explanation. “Like I’m charging headfirst into the abyss, and I’m bracing myself for the impact. For a fight or a— punishment.”

Halbrand kicks at a bubbling bump in the water and out pops a shell. (It’s a whelk. Lightning whelk, if Sauron is being precise. He’d listened to you listing the different kinds an hour ago.) 

“Anybody home?” you peer.

“Mh.” Sauron assents and tosses the hermit back to the waves.

He looks at where the open sky meets the sea, thinks of the knee-high swathes of sea oats growing at the coastlines of Valinor if he’d set sail Westwards from Eldanna and choose not to look back. He entertains idly on the idea of home for a beast such as himself— if it’s even possible to tame savagery into such domestications. 

Then he resists on asking you if there’s a difference between making a home and inventing one (those are questions for another sleepless night, he supposes), and instead glances down to where you’ve stepped into one of the remaining tidepools and back out.

A smooth pebble with a perfectly circular hole in its centre, still damp from its discovery, sits in your palm.

“What in Eru’s name is that?” he furrows, watching you wink at him through the gap.

“A hagstone,” you say, unoffended. “My other brother Anárion has one, though he prefers calling it an adder stone. Ammê told us they were naturally-occurring talismans. They ward off anything evil and protects its keeper. Catch.”

He does so with attractive ease.

(…You commit that to memory, too.)

“You don’t actually believe this little thing, do you, seabird?” he asks, tossing the piece up in his hands.

His snort makes you roll your eyes. “See! You are the unimaginative type. Halbrand, it’s the nature of a thing that matters, not its form.”

Right. He’d forgotten you are You; who built a home in the people; whose wound is your geography and history— or lack thereof— and who’s chosen to anchor to Númenor, because your foster family is where you found your true port of call. 

“You Númenóreans are an odd lot,” he settles candidly, and curls his fingers around the hagstone.

“Odd?”

“Superstitious,” he clarifies.

“I prefer traditional,” you volley.

“Try paranoid.”

Your warm laugh breaks with the surf of the shore, makes him tarry on the sight and sound of you.

“Red sky in the morning; sailor’s warning…”

“Red sky at night; sailor’s delight,” Halbrand recites Seamus, scoffing humorously. “I mean… Boarding a ship right foot first? Nailing a horseshoe under the mast, laying a silver coin for Uinen or tattooing swallows to lead the way home? And no whistling on board, lest it’ll challenge the winds; Or so Isildur claims of Manwë.”

“Ah, but don’t forget—”

“—Never rename a ship,” he says in unison.

Halbrand shakes his head, but the fond look on his face is undeniable as you break out into another merry smile. Your plan to chase away his night-terrors seem to have worked perfectly. If you’d thought him handsome before, then he looks utterly divine now. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. There’s another one, though,” you hum, eyes fixated at the gulls taking wing to and fro their nests, the trawlers sailing home with their morning catch. “Never ever bring harm to a seabird.”

He cocks his head. “If I didn't know any better, seabird, I’d say you were making a threat.”

“And?” you smile. “Do you, jailbird?”

“Do I what?”

“Know better.”

Halbrand laughs again. A charming peal of a sound, canine-wide and punched out. It makes your heart sing— makes you wonder when was the last time he laughed this freely.

“You!” he exclaims once more, but there’s a thunderdrum in his ribs to reckon with all of a sudden, from the way the first break of light begins to dawn on your face and the charming, affectionate grin flowering across it, and so he couldn’t finish his insult after all.

You offer him wine in his dreams. 

Soot blackens your fingers as he takes it, but the stains don’t seem to bother you.

Weighty is a hagstone in his palm.

The sea is blue and quiet—

And barnacles are just barnacles, now.

Footnotes in AO3!

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Ch. 2

Warnings: Angst, Su*cidal Thoughts ?, More Angst

Ch.1 | Ch.3

***

You sunk farther into the bath, allowing the hot water to cover your head. It was quiet under the water, peaceful. Your mind was blank, numb. You wished you felt anger, sadness, heartbreak, anything. Yet there was nothing there. Just a lonely, silent, emptiness.

You pushed back above the water, drinking in deep gulps of air. You liked to stay down until your lungs were burning, the pain breaking up the numbness. You stared across the water of your bath, watching the ripples extending from you. You may stay in here all day, reheating the water as needed. It was better than being out there.

Rhysand wouldn’t talk to you. He wouldn’t even look at you. Mor had taken him away to his room after his world shattering confession. You remained on your knees in the spot he was, your hands still out like they were holding his. Even Amren was shocked into silence, for once not having anything to say. The quiet in that room had felt like it was crushing you, convincing you that you were dying.

Azriel ended up breaking the frozen fear surrounding everyone, kneeling down next to you and grabbing your hands in his. You had looked at him, eyes wide in shock, no words coming to mind. He had simply nodded, pulling you up with him. He took you away from the townhouse that night, flying you up to his room at the House of Wind. He wasn’t sure you wanted to be in the one you shared with Rhys.

He placed you into his bed, carefully wrapping the covers around you. You knew he sat in a chair by the bed the whole night, watching over you. You didn’t sleep a single second, staring off into the darkness instead. When morning came Azriel tried to talk to you, finding you unwilling to move or speak. You were a shell, an empty being of who you once were. Az was patient, helping you out of bed, feeding you, forcing you to bathe. You moved at his will, never arguing. Truthfully, that only made it worse.

It had been weeks since Rhys came back from Under the Mountain, and you hadn’t spoken a word. You knew the cursebreaker he called his mate, Feyre, was engaged to the High Lord of the Spring Court. You also knew how much pain and sorrow that brought him. He was hurting, heart broken for a female he barely knew while his wife wasted away into nothingness beside him.

You pushed your head back under the water, considering the idea of not coming back up this time. How nice it is, floating under the water. Much nicer than watching your husband of 150 years pretend you never existed. You closed your eyes, tilting your head farther back in the water. Your lungs screamed for air, the only reminder that you were still alive. You felt calm, at peace.

You heard a sudden muffled shout from above the water and two strong arms were coming down, ripping your body out of the bubble you had created. You gasped and coughed as your lungs took in the air they so desperately needed, a voice much too loud in your ear.

“What are you thinking?! What are you doing?! Can I not even trust you to bathe alone anymore?!” The voice was frantic, angry. A warm towel was wrapped around your body, hands cupping your face. You were forced to look up at Azriel, panic all over his face. “Talk to me!” He shouted, hands tightening on your face.

You just stared at him.

He sighed in desperation, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. “Please. You can’t live like this. I need you to come back.” He whispered, the plea you had heard from him so many times recently. You wished you could, you wished you could break out of the nothingness in your heart. You wanted to come back stronger, fight for your husband, show him what he was losing.

But you couldn’t.

Azriel pulled away, picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He grabbed some of your clothes, dressing you as gingerly as he could. He braided your hair back, having taken the time to learn to make sure you would be as comfortable as possible. Always your greatest friend, Az was. He gave you a tea to drink, you dutifully finishing the cup in front of him. You did everything he asked, trying to hold on to some sort of routine. You didn’t notice the signs of exhaustion on Azriel’s face as he tucked you in, setting you up to sleep. You didn’t notice the tears that slid down his face once you closed your eyes, your breathing steadying off as rest overtook you. You especially didn’t hear the whispered “I love you,” as he pressed a kiss to your head.

***

Azriel POV

He couldn’t take it anymore. He understood that the mating bond could destroy someone, and he understood Rhysand was struggling. What he didn’t understand was how he allowed his wife to become this horrible empty shadow of herself. How could he not bring himself to care? Why was Azriel the only one taking care of her, everyone else tending to the poor, sad, High Lord?

He burst into the study, Rhys hunched over the maps on his desk. He looked up to see his friend walking in, giving him a smile. A smile. The bastard could smile, fake or not, and his wife was dying of heartbreak down the hall. Rhys caught on to the rage expelling from Azriel quickly, standing to face him. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Brother?” He quipped, testing if this anger was at him or not.

It was.

Azriel couldn’t help the slight shake to his voice when he spoke. “She is fading, Rhys. I am doing what I can to keep her body alive, but her mind is going.” His shadows were swirling over him and the High Lord, agitated. “Do you know where I just found her?” He shot at the unmoving male in front of him.

Rhys scoffed. “Surely I don’t know.” His no-care attitude about the whole situation pissed Azriel off even further. How can he act like it’s her fault the Cauldron mated him to someone else? Why is he punishing her for something outside of anyone’s control?

“She was under the water in her bath. Rhys, if I had gotten there seconds later I would be here to tell you to plan a funeral.” Azriel saw the flash of pain in Rhysands eyes, a small hope that he hadn’t completely abandoned her. Az latched on to this, stepping closer to the other male. “She hasn’t spoken. She doesn’t fight, she doesn’t argue anything. She takes everything that happens, no reaction.” He sighed, shadows calming down around him. “You need to talk to her.”

“No.” Rhys said, turning back to his desk. The anger rose back up in Azriel, How did he not care?!

“Why not?” He demanded, refusing to leave this study until he found anything that may help her.

“I don’t want to see her.”

“What did she do to you? What did she do wrong? Why are making her suffer?!” Azriel yelled, temper rising higher.

Rhys whipped around, dark power swirling around him. “She did nothing,” he snarled, “she is perfect. That is the problem. How do I look at my wife of 150 years and tell her I can’t be with her anymore?”

Azriel stepped back, stunned. “Feyre is set to marry someone else. You would throw away all those decades of marriage for a female who isn’t even yours?” His words were deathly quiet, bringing the thoughts out that Rhys was trying to hide.

A terrible silence swallowed the room, Rhys sinking back into his office chair. He buried his face in his hands, all the power from a second ago gone. He looked worn down, half of who he used to be. Azriel couldn’t help the pang of regret in his heart from yelling at him.

“I don’t know how to approach her. So much happened Under the Mountain, and I don’t want her to no longer want me due to it.” He looked up to Azriel with shining eyes. “How am I supposed to explain all the terrible things I did?”

Azriel stepped closer to his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She never stopped loving you, Rhys. She’s hopelessly devoted to you, willing to be by your side through anything. She can handle it.” He said comfortingly. Rhys nodded and looked back at the ground.

“I will talk to her tomorrow.”

***

Reader POV

You woke up, waiting patiently for whatever breakfast Azriel had for you today. You were a little surprised that he wasn’t already by your side when you woke, but you knew he had a life outside of caring for you. A knock at the door had you looking over, sliding under the covers to walk over and open it.

Your heart stopped as you looked into the eyes of your husband. “Hi,” he said softly. You stood there unmoving, staring at him. For the first time in 50 years he was back in front of you, talking to you. “I, uh, have a lot to apologize for.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Walk with me?” He held his hand out, waiting for you.

You paused for a second before complying and placing your hand in his. He held on tight, like you were his lifeline and he was dying. You walked next to him as he took you through the halls of the house, heading towards your favorite balcony. The two of you had spent many nights out here, gazing at the stars and being in love.

Things were so different now.

He pulled you outside, closing the double glass doors behind you. You looked down at the blanket he had spread on the ground, your favorite meal on top of it. Your eyes found Rhys’ again, a sheepish smile on his face. “I wanted to cheer you up.” The smile fell, regret taking its place. “I never should have allowed you to hurt for so long.” You felt a stir of emotion in your chest at the distraught look on his face. Your hands found his, giving them a gentle squeeze. You pulled him to sit next to you on the blanket, reaching down to taste the meal he prepared.

You gave a soft hum at the delicious taste on your tongue, feeling a little more whole with Rhys at your side. He was watching you, taking in your appearance. It had been so long since he had been able to study you in more than old memories. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered, waiting for a response. You looked at him for a long moment, taking in the male who was your everything.

“I missed you too,” you said back, voice extremely hoarse. Rhys looked caught between a smile and breaking down into tears. You moved closer to him, holding his hands in yours. He looked down at your joined hands before pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you.

And he cried.

He cried and cried, holding you like he would never let you go again. “I am not who I used to be,” he sobbed into your neck, “I did terrible things down there.” He pulled back and looked at you, your hands coming to cup his face. “I did so much bad down there, just to come home and continue doing it to you.” His voice was small, broken.

“It is okay, my love.” You whispered, wiping his tears away. “I am still here.”

“Barely!” Rhys shot out, arms tightening around you. “Az told me how he found you, in the tub. I was letting you suffer, all for someone the cauldron said I was fated to.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what the cauldron says. You are the only one for me.”

Your heart grew, feeling beginning to flood through you. The love you you had so desperately missed brining you back to life. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you always Rhys.” You felt him smile against you, holding you closer and kissing you again.

The two of you stayed out there for hours, kissing and sharing sweet words. You felt the broken pieces of you coming back together, healed by the love pouring from your husband. You knew you could help each other recover from what had happened, that everything would be okay as long as you were together.

***

Here’s chapter 2!! please let me know what you think so far <3

[the-quaint-quail]

JAMIL-

suggestive, quick make out sesh >:} , Jamil has people in Kalim watching shifts bc he can’t leave him along out of obligation LOL, Jamil is a meanie! and reader is brat coded 🍎

was worried about your ideas, they were ingenious in the same way Frankenstein’s monster was. Complex and messy and usually resulted in an angry mob.

This however, had to be your most outside the box idea yet.

Every time they go on a date (third wheeled by kalim🙄) to the monstro lounge, or reader visits it on their own or even when jamil and kalim go on their own they keep track of their point cards to the point the couple has 10 total combined.

what do they use them for? a kalim baby sitter of course!

during the lively parties at scarabia, reader and jamil would be able to get themselves alone time while kalim was supervised by a trusting, helping hand! azul naturally (jamil made sure the contract had a firm ‘no suspicious dealings and information gathering clause’ to make sure the shady business man didnt pull anything.

but kalim was never far from jamil’s eye when he’d have to check on the young heir.

yes yes jamil knew this wasn’t the best idea and just seeing the naive house warden next to the shadiest wasnt giving him the best feeling in his stomach. something akin to dread gnawed at his intestines and gurgled loudly-

“and you said you didn’t want any grapes”

of course you would hear and tease him about his empty stomach. Jamil sighed, leaning deeper into your lap, your legs on either side of his body as you were supported by a mountain of pillows and fabrics alike. You both watched as Lilia and Cater bumbled into the conversation between house wardens, Azul’s ‘Kalim shift’ officially over as he tips a hat in your direction.

“If we weren’t in public right now, I’d flip him off”

You snorted, smacking his shoulder, he smiled at your whispered ‘Jamil!’

“He deserves it, shady octopus”

He sighed, closing his eyes as you brushed the long lock of hair that usually stuck out from his braid to behind his ear. He took a moment to just appreciate the moment.

Just the two of you in a semi private nook (as private as its going to get, thanks to a glamour spell Jamil set up only Azul and Kalim could see through) in your own world as the infamous Scarabia party roars onward.

The party goes laughing and feasting, dancing and singing to their hearts content as you elegantly pluck a red grape from the bunch, carful not to disturb your boyfriendThe metal bowl they were in nestled next to you as you popped it in your mouth.

He opened his mouth to speak but got a grape shoved in it instead. His teeth bit down on it and almost your fingers as his brow quirked up at you in an unimpressed look. But the lift of his end of his lips gave him and his fondness for you away.

You shrugged, popping another juicy red grape in your mouth. “What kind of girlfriend would be if I let my boyfriend starve?” You leaned back into the stack of pillows, making yourself comfortable as Jamil brought your thighs to his shoulders, his hands were on the outside of your thighs when he started squeezing.

You snorted, looking from the ceiling down to your boyfriend who was trying to suffocate himself between your thighs.

“I want to die here”

A elephant sound came out from your nose, belly aching from the sudden death wish Jamil had. You squeezed your thighs tighter unknowingly squeezing a groan from Jamil who wouldn’t let. up.

“I know baby, you said that last night”

“And I fuck’n meant it” His stormy grey eyes bore into yours like the eye of a hurricane, disrupting your mood and throwing your heart into a chaotic rage.

Your body tingled as a arousing hot flash spread through your lower regions.

“You might just get your wish if you’re not carful Viper” you purred, leaning over to stare at him from above. Your hair curtained you two from the outside world as the air charged with tension.

He slowly rolled over, sliding up your body until he was face to face with you, arms on either side of your head and clothed sexes touching.

You gasped as another bothersome yet welcomed wave rolled over you as Jamil leaned closer, his soft lips brushing yours with each syllable spoken. There was nothing and no one who could ruin this moment right now. Not even Kalim.

“Got no time to talk, I’m deadman walking” you giggled as his lips fell into yours in long passionate kiss.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as your hands traveled across his back where they split up for different destinations. One hand travled up and past his ponytail and to his neck you pressed lightly pushing him into you and deepening the kiss. A soft groaned rumbled theough his chest as your other hand slid down his back until it couldnt stretch any longer, bunching up the black shirt of his Scarabia uniform and slowly, pulled up his shirt exposing his beautiful tan skin to the world.

He hummed into the kiss as his lips slotted into yours, his warm calloused hands engilfing both of yours as he deatched himself from you.

“Heyy” you whined chasing after him and his criminally soft lips, the same lips that were curled up in a smug grin as it was his turn to look down on you.

“Time and place habibi, and this-” he swoops in stealing a kiss like a thief stealing a prized ruby. Swift and out before you could register what he stole from you.

“Isn’t either of them” he laid his whole weight on you in a collapsing laugh. A winded ‘oof’ squeezed from your lungs as Jamil wraps his muscular arms tightly around your waist, his head resting on your breast.

“Then let’s make it one” you huff, hand habitually reaching for Jamil’s braided and loose hair ponytail. Feeling each bump of his braids against your fingers, you sighed grumpily, not content with the pg skinship.

“I wanna fucccccc-“

His hand slapped over your mouth with a clap at you whining, a pointed look directed at you as his head nods towards the guests.

“And have you attract attention? Hard pass”

You scoffed, hitting him with his own hair that comes down in waves, the golden clip hitting his back with a dull thump.

“Oh please, I’m not the one murmuring everytime he’s close”

“”No but you are the one begging-“ He sits up with a smirk, hands on your thighs as he pulls your face closer to his with a gasp. “Please Jamil- right there Jamil- Ahh ahh yes Jamil so good”

Your hand pushes his cackling face away as you hide behind your other hand as a new wave of heat washes down your back like a desert hear flash.

“I’m not the one with a master kink- and I don’t sound like that either”

he stops laughing, “Damn. Kink shamed by my own girlfriend” he ignored your lie and pulled you up by your arms.

You were growing dizzy with how active he was, pulling you tugging you, squeezing you-

“HA!” you laughed as your both on your knees on the makeshift sitting area made for 10 people, not 2. “Looks like someone is hornier than me-“

His eyes widen about to retort when you speak faster than his mind could think of a retort. And that’s pretty damn fast.

“Mr.chatty-mc-chatterson over here only gets riled up and chatty when he wants ta’ fucccccc-“ he smashes his lips into your like a tidal wave.

“Damn right I do”

Scooping you up in his arms was a struggle as you resisted, turning it into a slight wrestling match as you tried fighting yourself out of his strong grip. Melodic laughs and chuckles would be only sounds you two hear as your little bubble kept you away from the scary outside world.

Alas after a good tussle you had lost and Jamil had you in his arms bridal styled, your hands over you face in embarrassment as he smirked down at you deviously.

“See, was that so hard”

You smacked his chest, pressing his laugh button as he was clearly amused at your loss. Jamil readjusts you for a second before taking a purposeful deep breath in and out.

Stepping outside the bubble, he made a sharp turn left into the deserted lone hallway that belonged to the vice house warden and house warden. He was lucky the nook was close to his dorm in times like these.

The two erect pillars stared back at him as the oasis returned back to its mirage the further his strides took him. He had made sure absolutely no one who could see through the glamour could see the inside of the nook, high half walls shielding the sunken in pillow fortress and makeshift couch and if that didn’t work than the two purposefully placed pear shaped limestone pillars would do the trick.

You undid your scrunchie from your wrist when you saw the Jamil’s door come into view through the crevice of your fingers. Opening the door with your foot, Jamil lingered in the doorway as you placed the red scrunchie on the door.

“Sorry Mohammad” you both said to no one in particular as Jamil set you down, your hands immediately reaching for the other as he pulls you in for a kiss, his heel slamming the door shit with a rattle, a thud is heard against the door, then a click.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (24)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After Alys' words and her warning, she ran out of the fortress feeling her heart pounding fast, a cold sweat on the back of her neck − it occurred to her that every servant she passed could be someone who would end her and her husband's lives.

Do not return here.

Look after yourself.

Trust no one.

As she left the walls of Harrenhal she noticed Larys Strong standing at a safe distance from her dragoness, propping himself up on his staff, a smile on his face that was sure meant to seem heartfelt and comforting.

"Your Grace. I wanted to say a proper farewell to you and your husband." He said in a calm, gentle voice, which, however, only made her more uncomfortable. She looked over her shoulder as she heard someone's footsteps and was relieved to see the figure of her husband walking towards her through the gates of the stronghold.

For a moment she felt wonderfully relieved to see him, but then she noticed the expression on his face, how pale he was, his gaze blank, his lips tightened, his gaze directed towards the Lord of Harrenhal.

"− Aemond − I must −" She muttered, grabbing his arm, wanting to speak to him before they flew away, wanting to pass on to him what she had heard from Alys.

"− not now − we are leaving immediately − my Lord −" He said in a cold, matter-of-fact tone that sent shivers through her.

She knew something had happened, something that frightened and angered him, but she didn't know for what reason − his silhouette did not even stop at her words, his eyes did not even bestow a single glance on her.

He was afraid.

Had Alys warned him too?

Was that why he wanted to leave Harrenhal as soon as possible?

Somehow comforted by this thought, she nodded in front of Larys Strong, heading immediately towards Larax, who was watching them vigilantly from afar, anxious and tense. She climbed up onto her saddle and, not wanting to stay there a moment longer, had her head high into the sky.

It wasn't until the wind blew her hair tied up in a braid and she sunk between the clouds that she felt relieved, the grim silhouette of the walls and fortress of Harrenhal fading away until it finally disappeared completely into the distance over her shoulder.

She swallowed hard as she caught sight of the mighty figure of Vhagar soaring upwards in the distance, higher and higher, approaching them like a giant, dark, flying mountain.

As she flew over them Larax was much calmer than the first time, having been used to her scent and presence after travelling for hours the day before.

Even though she was about to see her mother for the first time in months, even though she was flying towards hope she felt terrified, her throat squeezed in anxiety, for some reason a cold sweat ran down the back of her neck.

I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown.

I saw red flooding everything around me.

She pressed her lips together, thinking of Helaena saying something similar to her then, after she wanted to take her own life.

From the mingled blood will emerge a dragon’s crown.

She wasn't sure what this words might have meant.

Who was this prophecy referring to? Was it about someone's birth, or perhaps someone's death? Her marriage to her uncle? Was something about to happen that would change everything?

It terrified her that so much depended on whether she could convince her mother that war might be avoided.

Their journey to the Eyrie was far shorter and more pleasant than the one from King's Landing to Harrenhal, the sun shining high above their heads. She, unlike her husband, who had to fly high over the peaks, could dash on Larax between the crevices of the mountains.

When she finally caught sight of her grandmother's ancestral stronghold in the distance she felt heat filling her chest, a premonition that what they were about to do would change everything.

She landed at the bottom of the valley among the fields, knowing that they both had a way to walk to the top anyway. Vhagar took a moment to take her place right next to Larax, her large paws hitting the ground, causing dust and ashes to rise all around them.

She moved towards her husband as soon as she saw him slip down the ropes from her back to the ground, ordering loudly for Vhagar to stay calmly in place.

"− uncle −"

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said suddenly, looking at her at last, his gaze dark, grim, sharp, weary. She blinked quickly, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, and shook her head in disbelief at what he was suggesting.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, moving behind him as soon as he began to walk ahead, towards the trail that led them up the hill to the fortress itself.

He avoided her gaze, for some reason he couldn't look her in the face.

Why?

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He said in a tone from which she felt rage and discomfort − she stepped in front of him and smacked his chest with her palms to stop him. He actually stood in a half-step, looking at her with furrowed brows, furious, his jaw clenched.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with anger and disbelief that he dared to suggest that they would lie to her family and destroy everything they had managed to build up to that point.

What was happening to him?

She saw that he swallowed hard at her words, as if something in what she had said had made him snap, his face even paler than when they had flown away from Harrenhal.

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He muttered wearily, as if he could barely get anything out of himself. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what she should answer him.

What if her prediction frightened him even more?

What if it makes him change his mind at the last moment, make him say they were returning to King's Landing immediately?

She thought, horrified, that she could reveal to him only part of the truth.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She mumbled, looking at him uncertainly; she saw that something had changed in his expression, his lips had pressed together in a thin line, his eyes had glazed over.

Wanting to soften her words and the tension that reigned between them she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, stroking them reassuringly with her palms, looking straight into his empty, dark eye.

That look frightened her, but she knew, she felt, that he needed her now − something in him was screaming that he was dying inside, but she didn't understand what was the cause of it.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She mumbled pleadingly, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids, some strange conviction that he was distancing himself from her, when just at night his lips, his hands caressed her so wonderfully, so tenderly.

He looked at her as if hesitating, his lower lip trembling slightly, his nostrils twitching in uneven, accelerated breathing. His gaze softened as she took his face in her hands, his eyelids closed as her thumbs began to stroke his wind-cold cheeks.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −"

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked lowly and his eye opened; she saw something unsettling in his gaze, some glint that told her he was distrustful again, that he was hesitant again.

Why?

How could he doubt her after all this time?

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She asked in a trembling, breaking voice, angry and disappointed that although she had proved to him so many times the sincerity of her feelings, he still demanded more from her.

But what had he given her in return?

How had he proved that she could trust him?

Their nuptials had been an expression of his love and desire, but she had never heard from his lips what he himself had planned and whether he stood by the words of the letter he had written to her before he flew away to Storm's End.

She saw that his eyebrows arched in pain, his eyes turned red and glassy, his body tensed all over as if he was trying to fight what he felt because of her.

He looked at her as if some part of him was wishing he could see the shadow of a lie in her eyes, his face expressing the enormity of some kind of weariness and helplessness from which she felt her heart squeeze.

She drew in a loud breath as his large hand rose to the height of her face, as his fingers took the unruly strands of her hair from her face, his thumb running over her cheek down the side of her jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" She asked in a whisper, exactly as she had then, that day − she knew he felt something intense at her words, she could see it in the way he took in a breath, in his gaze that grew soft and hot, in his lips that parted in some subconscious reflex, betraying his desire.

Their lips clung to each other as soon as he leaned in, his hum of satisfaction echoing in her throat as she threw her hands around his neck, his arms embracing her waist. She pulled away from him with a quiet, soft click, combing her fingers through his soft, long hair, feeling her lower abdomen squeeze as the words he'd also said that day burst involuntarily from his lips.

"One more time."

This time her kiss was more greedy and wet, her lips pressed into his, parted invitingly, the tips of their tongues licking each other lazily making them both breathless. She felt something warm against her cheek and only after a moment, again and again sinking into the softness of his lips did she realise it was his tears.

He was crying.

"I love you." He whispered between one kiss and the next, stroking her hair and back with his wide, rough hands. "I've always loved you."

Something in the way he said it, in his trembling, broken voice, in the depth with which those words left her throat, and the fact that he had referred to her confession just after their first nuptials made her let herself weep quietly as well.

She didn't believe she would ever hear it from his lips and she had come to terms with it.

That was just the way he was.

So how scared must he have been, what was happening in the depths of his heart that such a confession had left his mouth?

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled pleadingly, holding his face in her hands. She heard something between a moan and a sigh leave his throat, his forehead pressed against hers.

He gave in.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He whispered in a helpless, low, trembling voice, and she felt his question and the way he said it deep in her heart, which clenched all over. Even so, she smiled, her fingertips running over his skin.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She said softly, warmly, her words like a sigh. She felt his fingers tighten on the material of her leather coat, his hot, uneven breath framing her face.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out before his lips clung to hers in a deep, hot, sticky kiss filled with so many feelings that she felt her voice get stuck in her throat.

He had made a decision, whatever it might be, and her heart hoped that he had decided to trust her and follow her.

Wherever she would lead him.

They moved ahead, heading towards the fortress they could see in the distance − she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he threw her a surprised look when he felt her small hand slip into his, tightening on his fingers.

He pressed his lips together as he looked at her, squeezing her fingers in his before he let her go, not wanting any guard to see it.

They walked the path to the top of the mountain side by side in silence, escorted by the eyes of the guards standing over their heads. Only when they reached the fortress gate itself did one of them, presumably their commander, address them.

"Who comes here and with what matter?"

"Prince Aemond and his wife are coming to meet Prince Daemon and Princess Rheanyra." Her husband replied coldly; it did not escape her or the man standing on the walls above them that he had not called her Queen.

Only when she looked into the distance did she see the silhouettes of two dragons, blood red and gold, shimmering in the sunlight.

They had arrived.

Her mother and her stepfather were indeed ready to listen to them.

After a while, the gates of the stronghold opened before them, and they were led inside; she had only been in the Eyrie once before, in the company of her mother, and even then the place had made a great impression on her.

Unlike the Red Keep, the Eyrie was a stronghold built of mountain stones, making the fortress inside seem much cooler and more spacious, the windows in the walls much smaller, created for defensive purposes so that archers could not take them as their target.

The Eyrie was a defensive stronghold almost impossible to conquer even with dragons − its lords could defend themselves in it for months, hiding from the flames deep in the underground of the mountain with larders filled with supplies.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the figure of a man she recognised with difficulty, and at the sight of whom her husband stopped, furious, refusing to take any further step towards him.

The grandson of Lord Rodrik Arryn, the father of her grandmother, Aemma, Ronnel Arryn, heir of the Eyrie appeared before them in an ornate blue tunic reaching his knees, despite the smile on his lips, a coldness shone from his eyes.

She thought with pain that she barely remembered him as a child. He was weepy and angry whenever he lost when they played, so she and her brothers had to let him win once in a while to calm him down.

As then, he had light, curly hair, although as a child he had been slightly plump now he had grown, clearly choosing an attire that best emphasised his muscles.

Her would-be betrothed.

She saw the way her cousin looked at her uncle, the corner of his mouth lifting in a mocking smirk when he finally glanced at his black eye patch.

"My Prince. My dear cousin. My aunt and her husband are already waiting for you." He said in a soft, low tone, pointing with his hand in the direction they were supposed to go. She nodded, smiling warmly, feeling the enormity of the awkwardness of this meeting – she heard her husband move behind her, tense, not taking his eyes off him.

Ronnel led them to one of the chambers, which was apparently used for council. When he opened the door the first thing that caught her eye was a huge circular table, behind which stretched an entrance to the balcony, the entire room shaped like an ellipse.

An involuntary sigh left her lips when she saw her mother, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, looking at her and only her, her father's crown of pure gold on her head.

"My child." Mumbled her mother, her Queen, walking towards her, and she immediately ran to meet her, falling into her arms. She tightened her fingers on her back, feeling her familiar, wonderful scent, the smell of home and safety, of everything that was so close to her, and that she had lost and thought she would never regain again.

Her mother let go of her and took her hands in hers, uncovering her wrists, her thumbs began to stroke and trail over her scars, evidence of what she was trying to do.

"My only daughter." She muttered with regret and pain as she looked at the pale lines on her skin, clearly imagining what she must have felt when she undertook this desperate act.

"I'm well, mother. My Queen." She muttered and bowed to her, reminding herself of who she was, stiffly not bowing to Aegon or using the titles he believed were due to him as King.

However, he never punished her for this.

She remembered then with a rapidly pounding heart about her husband and turned over her shoulder – her uncle and father looked at each other from afar, standing on either side of the room, Daemon grinning in a way that was disturbing to say the least.

He was mocking him, wanting to provoke him, she knew that.

"I would like to express my gratitude to you for being willing to listen to us. I know the suffering and humiliation all this has caused you. I pray every night that the gods will welcome my prematurely deceased sister into the heavens." She said in a voice trembling with emotion, her mother swallowed hard, lifting her chin high, wanting to maintain her dignity and not lose her temper. She nodded, showing her that she accepted her condolences and the apology in her heart.

"Let's sit down." She said calmly and took her seat at the table first, she sat on the other side, however neither Daemon nor her uncle moved from their places.

They both had their daggers and swords at their belts, ready for whatever the conversation might bring.

Her mother grunted loudly, trying to remain solemn and calm, glancing at her half-brother then at her. She placed her hands in front of her on the table top, in an involuntary reflex playing with the ring on her middle finger that she had inherited from her mother.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." She confessed in a trembling voice filled with grief, fatigue and the humiliation she had carried on her shoulders since that ill-fated supper.

She glanced over her shoulder at her uncle-husband, who was looking at her expectantly. She swallowed loudly at the thought of him not even uttering a word.

He was letting her speak.

He had decided to trust her.

She turned back to her mother and drew in a loud breath, gathering her courage.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my husband about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She fell silent as she saw her Queen turn to Daemon, clearly shocked by something she had heard, her father looking at her with his lips clenched.

They knew something.

"Mother?" She muttered uncertainly. Rheanyra gave her a quick, uncertain look, her chest rising and falling in accelerated, heavy breathing.

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said with certainty and thrill, as if something had suddenly become obvious to her.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" She heard her husband's angry, frustrated voice behind her. She turned to him, looking at him pleadingly, but his black gaze was fixed on his sister.

Rhaenyra drew in a breath and twisted restlessly in her seat, Daemon standing at her side shifted from foot to foot, frowning an eyebrow at the sound of his tone.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen."

"She is not my Queen." Her uncle hissed, looking at Daemon with a look as if completely overwhelmed by madness, her heart starting to pound like mad as her father's hand went to the hilt of his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." She said quickly, her mother throwing her an anxious, chastising look, as if she were looking at a small child.

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" She asked in an embittered, trembling voice. She swallowed hard, feeling she had to do it.

She had to force them to agree.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?" She asked drily, looking at her mother and then the father – their faces expressed shock and horror that she dared to say it out loud, her husband stirred behind her back, anxious.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth is, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon acknowledged you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, recognised you as his child in the eyes of the Kingdom." Her mother muttered with a voice full of disappointment, anger and regret from which her heart squeezed.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?"

She asked, tired and terrified at the turn this conversation had taken, the things that were leaving her lungs, but she realised at last that everything she had said was true.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

Rhaenyra looked at her with her lips clenched, pale, tears of pain, grief and despair in her eyes, for here was her own daughter trying to say to her that she should give up her inheritance, something she was entitled to by all rights, something she had been preparing for all her life.

She glanced over her shoulder at Daemon, who was looking at her impassively, frustrated – she knew that gaze and she knew he was furious, but he did not speak, making it clear to her that the final decision was hers alone.

This was her crown.

Her throne.

And he, as always, stood faithfully by her side.

Her mother swallowed hard, turning towards her, fiddling with the fingers of her hands, clearly nervous.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

She looked at her mother in disbelief feeling her heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down her back.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

She wanted her to be not her husband's queen, but another independent ruler at his side.

In some subconscious, involuntary reflex, she turned over her shoulder to look at her husband's face – his healthy eye was open wide in shock, his figure all tense. She saw him swallow hard, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and then he nodded uncertainly and slowly.

He agreed.

She looked again at her mother, who was looking at her brother with her lips tightened – a quiet sigh of relief left her lips when she saw her Queen also nod.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same."

She said in a breaking voice, from which she felt a squeeze in her heart, a grief at the thought that her mother, her Queen, for her and her family's sake, had to give up what was rightfully hers, what she had dreamed of all her life.

In her eyes, it testified to her greatness, to her maturity, to her loyalty to the affairs of the Realm.

She would make a fine Queen, she thought with regret.

Her mother grunted loudly, trying to calm herself, and straightened up in her seat.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my only daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly, glancing at her brother.

She wanted to respond already, knowing full well that her uncle had no intention of remaining in this place for a moment longer, however, he was the first to speak, startling her.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Oct 16th

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1. Hello! I would like to reread a story but forgot the title. It’s a fix-it I think lan zhan was thrown back in time in CR study arc and wei ying saw it because there’s a light and he hear a shout then Lan Zhan was unconscious. Thank you so much

FOUND? in a dream, i was home by thelastdboy (M, 25k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Different First Meeting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Sentient Burial Mounds, CSSR and WCZ Live, Families of Choice, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Golden Core Reveal, Fluff, Developing Relationship, Wen Remnants Live, WQ Lives, WN Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX)

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2. Hi I saw someone ask this here but never saw the fic. I'm looking for a fic, It's where lwj leave the sect gives money and valuables to the wen remnants and lxc ask for rabbit as some kind of compensation. Op said some girls were braiding lwj hair by the end being vain and lan sect saw this. Thank you so much I hope you help me

FOUND?🔒Unpack Your Heart by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 22k, wangxian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wangxian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies)

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3. hi there!!! this is for the next fic finder. i am looking for a twt threadfic which had wwx and lwj as academic rivals. i really don't remember much of it except there was a moment where lwj says smth really mean to wwx after he got lesser marks than him, and wwx starts crying a bit (???) and lwj is like Oh No What Have I Done. that was the last update that i read and idek if there's more or not. can anyone help?

thank you everyone!!

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4. I am trying to find a Fic where Lan Zhan goes to Lotus Pier to ruin them for being rejected. He learns that Wei Ying never rejected him but Madum Yu did. She is punished and Lan zhan asks Jiang Yanli permission to marry Wei ying.

FOUND? Warrior Prince by QteCuttlfish (M, 3k, WangXian, Threats of Rape/Non-Con Angst with a Happy Ending, Omega Verse, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Implied Mpreg, Not Canon Compliant)

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5. Hi! I’m looking for this modern college E fic where WWX is like a tatted punk and he overhears that LWJ is basically a sex god who didn’t do seconds. He hears that LWJ is into a guy in his department with last name Wei and confronts him. They bone and he sees that LWJ has a nip piercing and a tattoo that WWX designed a while ago tysmia

FOUND? So I love you because I know no other way than this by Trueredhearts (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, CSSR and WCZ Live, College/University, Tattoos, Nipple Piercings, Genital Piercing, Law Student!LWJ, Engineering Student!WWX, Childhood Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Graduate School)

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6. Hi 👋 a ff where lan Zhan give wei Ying name wei Wuxian. Wei Ying lock BS in her mountain. Wei Ying Sect leader. BM all clear. JC lock his parents. Save XY . Wei Ying make JGY Sect leader of jin . Yiling best city. Control world . Slap Tham in there language. @richie-234

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7. Hello I'm looking for a fic where wwx is a god, a prince to be exact. He meets lwj while visiting. I think they get betrothed but lwj does not know his real identity. I think by the end wwx and his entire family came down an while they were in line he was waving at lwj.

FOUND? cloudy autumn heaps the sky by anatheme (T, 23k, WangXian, Fantasy, Universe Alteration, Secret Identity, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Timeline What Timeline, wwx is a little older here, wwx piling gifts on lwj and encouraging hoarding tendencies, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Arranged Marriage)

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8. Fic finder plz!

LQR owns a cat cafe and LWJ and LXC are like very pretty ragdoll cats and WWX is this gremlin sphinx cat that eventually wins over LWJ.

LQR isn’t happy about this though and has JC keep WWX locked up so he can’t come and bother LWJ but it all ends happy. I’ve tried searching cat LWJ and cat WWX and nothing comes up. Help! 😭😭

FOUND! allopatry by Anonymous (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Cats, not in a catboy sense they're actual cats, wwx's propensity for annoying lqr transcends species, codependent cats as a catalyst for, lqr + jiang sibs friendship) I searched cat Cafe 🐈 😻

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9. Hi! I'm looking for a fic similar to one I read called play fighting where Lan Qiren had adopted Wei Wuxian and they grew up together. Or like where Wei Ying ends up growing up in the Lan sect and he and Lan Zhan are like childhood friends or super close growing up.

FOUND? 藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WIP, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, wwx raised in the lan clan, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC)

FOUND? 🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

FOUND? 🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

FOUND? safe here with me by xcourtney_chaoticx (G, 3k, WangXian, Family Feels, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Goes to Gusu, Fluff, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Food Issues, Endgame WangXian)

FOUND? soft-hearted by sarahyyy (G, 6k, wangxian, alternate universe, childhood friends, hurt/comfort, getting together, first kiss, wedding fluff)

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10. Hello! I'm looking for this wangxian fic I don't remember the name, but it's based on a song by Olivia Rodrigo, there is no happy ending between wangxian 💔

FOUND?🔒 drivers license by AG1234VL (T, 11k, WangXian, WangMian, WWX/Other, Breakup, Hurt No Comfort, slight comfort, Non-Chronological, Song fic, Crying WWX, Driving, breakup weight gain, Lots of Crying, Angst, Modern AU, Homophobia, from lqr, wangxian breakup)

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11. Hi, I'm looking for a fic i read some time ago but i can't seem to find. Basically the great sects had isolated themselves for sometime and WRH still tried to burn CR but the Lan won that war , alone i think, and like they demanded a war prize/hostage/concubine? and YMJ with the other twos support , i think, sent WWX for the Lan's leader LWJ who was surprised by WWX's very feminine and very much marriage robes. So the Jiang and the Jin and the Nie got it wrong but LWJ lets him stay, I think it's been a while and they fall in love for real and LWJ reveals that his brother has been in a coma for some time. Anyway WX went to the Crowd hunt the Jin are trowing and YZY got very angry at like WWX being at her level socially, the spouse of a sect leader and then WX went home and LXC woke up and that's all i know because the fic had like 26/28/20 something chapters in total and it was a WIP and only one or two chpaters left till it was done. I don't know if it is still a WIP. @secretartquotes

FOUND? golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

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12. Hello, thank you for your page.English is not my first language, so I'm using a translator .Wei Ying is a web novel writer, from a fairly prestigious academy. The web novel he writes is quite popular. He was hired for a reality TV show/music competition as a translator. In the end, he also ends up as a contestant because there are not enough competitors. Every week he tells the public to eliminate him because he's just there as filler. Lan Zhan, I think he's a music coach in the reality TV show @lilassoleil

FOUND! 🧡 I Don't Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality show, Idols, Actor LWJ, Forced Contestant WWX, Tencent's 2021 Idol Producer)

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13. Hello! First, I really love the work you do. I'm looking for a fic I read and can't find it anymore. So it's Modern AU, set in high school. Wei Ying is a cheerleader who likes wearing skirts and Lan Zhan is athletic. They didn't like eachother if I'm not wrong but had a contractual relationship like fake dating(I think). The fic had beautiful fan art and in one of them Wei Ying wore a crop top and a cheerleader skirt. Thank you in advance. @mamaladeskies

FOUND! drop the game by martyrsdaughter (E, 28k, wangxian, modern, romantic comedy, fake/pretend relationship, sports, cheerleaders, flirting, sexual tension, dom/sub undertones, compulsory heterosexuality, crossdressing, dub con, under-negotiated kink, consensual non-con)

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14. The fic has Jiang Cheng preserving Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli's body, a magical plant and coffin used. this was a oneshot on ao3. but Wei Wuxian definitely had and older sibling vibe when he got suspicious on what Jiang Cheng was doing. @eclipse-summer

I remember some more details, it was a two-shot, and the magical plant was a mushroom.

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15. Hey, kinda a weird req, but I’m trying to find this wangxian fic where WW pretty much manages to get a dildo stick in his butt, and then he an LW have to go to the hospital to get it removed. Think it was modern au. Tysm for the help!

FOUND? can you feel it by lanzhancore (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Idiot Lovers, Crack Treated Seriously)

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16. Hiii, for the next fic finder, there was a wei ying/lan zhan fic where they had a relationship around shibari + bondage and nhs tricked wy into walking right up to lz at a party and asking him to tie him up - it turned out that lz had always been super exclusive he had just been pining for wy from afar and agreed to do it and the rest is beautifully written, emotionally literate history. I read it about 17 thousand times but didn't bookmark or download it like a fool!! If its been deleted, does anyone know if the author is fine with people privately sharing? @lockandkeay

FOUND! Ember burning low by wanderingflame (E, 62k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, BDSM, Dominant LWJ, Submissive WWX, Bottom LWJ, Kink Negotiation, Kink Exploration, Sensation Play, Kneeling, Rope Bondage, Aftercare, Non-Sexual D/s scenes, Non-Sexual Submission, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Public Scene (Non-Sexual), Minor Retrograde Amnesia, safe words, Use of Safe Words, JC is not the most understanding when it comes to BDSM, Orgasm Delay, Porn with Feelings)

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17. Hi!! Hoping that you can help me coz I’m really desperate rn 🥹🤧. I’m looking for a Xichen x Jiang Cheng fanfic where they had a daughter but lxc didn’t know cos he was in seclusion after the death of meng yao and when he got out of seclusion he help this little girl on the streets and the girl brought him to lotus pier to thank him and that’s when he found out the girl was Jiang Chengs daughter. 🥹 I’ve been looking for this everywhere but I can’t find it, please help me 😭🙏. Thank youuu @zosansss-blog

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18. Hiiiii! I hope you all are well! Boy it’s been a long time since I was here. I finally learned how to bookmark so I was not losing track *that* much, but today I was bored and tried to channel my inner MY/JGY and read at work. (Without logging to my account because i don’t want to give my co-workers another reason to think I am crazy).

But back to reason, i need your help lovelies. I am looking for a fic. LQR can read music and he bumped into NMJ and he heard the Turmoil song. He thinks LXC is poisoning him so he goes and ask WWX for help and basically it was a major Canon Divergence. That is where i had to close the tab. I would really appreciate all the help. THANK YOU!!

FOUND? Polyphonic by nirejseki (Not Rated, 14k, NMJ/LXC, WangXian, LXC & LQR & LWJ, WIP, odd abilities, Family Drama, Investigations)

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19. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where the best way I can describe it is WWX has a magic sex toy that is keyed into his own body which LWJ then confiscates and later uses not knowing it's keyed to WWX. I believe it's during the CR arc but not sure how the fic was tagged so haven't been able to pull it up and I don't remember much beyond that. Thanks for all you do!

FOUND? 🔒 The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones (E, 77k, WangXian, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Aged-Up Character(s), WWX POV, WWX is a gremlin, Internally Screaming LWJ, No Sunshot Campaign, First Times, Accidental Sex, Masturbation, PWP, Porn with Feelings, WWX experimenting with things he shouldn’t like always, Happy Ending, Porn With Plot)

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20. Hi! Thank you for your hard work! I'm looking for 2 fics today, but I really want to find the first one. A) It's arranged marriage fic, LWJ is some sort of royalty. After the wedding (I think?) WWX is sent to live in a separate palace (?) He and the Wens (I can't remember why they're there) start a farm to make money (and have food?) to fix up the palace which I think was in some state of disrepair. Eventually he LWJ notices and starts to send gifts and such. I feel like there's something about a dragonfruit? But maybe that's a different fic?

B) The second one I'm looking for is a modern mob au, wwx asks lwj to watch a plant and then disappears for a year, or something like that. I'm sure I probably found it on here, but I must be overlooking it @iluvshikamaru

Hi! 20a is definitely sowing seeds in the cold palace! Thank you so much, it was driving me crazy!

20b is not lightning in a bottle, but it was a delight to read so ty for the suggestion! I seem to remember that jc shows up to kidnap lz at some point, and that lz was also part of the mob/mafia but has retired from it?

20A)

NOT FOUND! The Legend of Moonflower by JJSIN2020 (E, 135k, wangxian, 3zun, A/B/O, Emperor LWJ, LWJ FUCKS, he has a whole harem of male omegas so of course he does, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Beta LXC, Omega JC, Omega XY, Omega XXC, omega SS, Omega OYZZ, Beta NHS, Mpreg, Wolves, Angst with a Happy Ending, Imperial China, Character Death, Fighting, Blood)

FOUND! 我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

20B)

NOT FOUND! lightning in a bottle by bigbabyjeno (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Photographer LWJ, Wedding Crasher WWX, Erotic Palm Reading, Fluff and Smut) fun fact I remembered the fic and that it was a ficus plant and the fic came up when I searched ficus 🤣

FOUND! See What I've Become by Vamillepudding (T, 24k, WangXian, Mob, YLLZ WWX, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Needs a Hug, Sickfic, Protective WWX)

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[mountkennedie]

Straggler

Kili Durin x human!reader

Summary: An au where everyone lives happily in erebor and kili is in love with you (lucky)

Warnings: ONLY TWO uses of y/n, and fluff ofc

A.N. i love kili and he loves me tbh.

Bagginshield mention lol.

Also: -ê khi love: my one love and Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures

Kili is 4'8, Reader is around 5'4

"You look beautiful in the sunlight," the dwarf beside you said. You jumped, you swore when you left this morning, and you didn't have any stragglers. However, here you are, with Kili Durin on your tracks. You weren't going to lie, you enjoyed the princes company, if only he gave you a warning beforehand.

You all had been thriving in Erebor upon a year now. Now that things had settled and riches distributed, everyone was able to return to a simpler life. Ori began exploring crochet after mastering knit. You enjoyed going on walks around the mountain, and Kili enjoyed you.

You looked down to him and furrowed your eyebrows, unsure if you heard what you thought you did. "I said um," he began to look sheepish, "you look beautiful in the sunlight, Y/n."

"Thank you," you bowed your head in appreciation, then began to continue your stroll when he said, "Wait!" He grasped your forearm, "may I join you this morning?" He gave you a warm smile in addition to the sweet eyes you could hardly resist.

"You already are KIli," I told him, returning the smile. "But sure, why not." He wasted no time in meeting you at your side. "I really love the view," your gaze followed over the trees and valleys and into the overwhelming beauty of Middle Earth. After being on the year-long quest and exhausting final battle, you can finally appreciate the scenery you're surrounded with. It sends waves of peace over you that you only wish to bask in until the end of time.

"So do I," he whispered. But instead of looking at the young rising sun over the horizon, his gaze on you didn't falter. To an onlooker, it would look as if his sight upon you had grown more intense.

You, of course, noticed this. "Kili, I'm serious!" You playfully shoved him to the side. You let laughter spill from your lips, and he joined you. You paced forward slowly, "you know... would you ever like to see it all?" Your voice matched your vision, very distant.

"All..?" He asked you whilst meeting your speed.

"Of middle earth. Would you ever want to see the entirety of our world?" You spoke quietly, thinking of how you would answer that question. In all honesty, you would. But not for a long time. You needed a couple of years before venturing on your next quest, and with the knowledge you now know, you would not want to go alone.

"I see the entirety of my world every day," he spoke softly. He stopped walking and looked at you. You halted and looked at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Crossing the short distance, you stood before him.

"Must you always be a flirt?"

Looking up into your eyes, "I must," he mused.

"And why is that, Kili?"

"Y/n, -ê khi love, I think you know," he took your hand in his. He held you like you were the rarest treasure, and for how he was looking in your eyes, to him you were.

"Kili..." You were speechless. His eyes were studying every movement your face made, trying to learn as much as possible about what you were thinking. But you saved him the trouble, "amrâlimê." You had so desperately wanted to give that name to him. You smiled so brightly, and he returned it. It was debatable who out shined the other.

"Really?" He couldn't contain the excitement he felt inside. All the talks with his uncles about how properly court had finally paid off. He knew he needed to meet with Thorin and Bilbo as soon as possible, but it could still wait until he completed the courting tradition.

"So does that mean we'd give each other the braids?" You felt like a child for asking that question, but being human, this was new to you. Thorin had conveniently told about the practice yesterday.

"It does! It does, indeed." He reached back and released his shiny brunette hair for the silver clip he had installed and turned his back to you. You don't think you've ever seen him so eager. Upon picking up some strands, you heard your lover sigh deeply. If only you were a dwarf, to fully understand this significance. You've noticed Fili's braids. Maybe he's waiting on his turn since.

When you finish the braid, you let your fingers run through the rest of his locs, as if hypnotized. He turned to look at you, tears in his eyes. His hand took yours and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it. He did not break eye contact during the small gesture, and it sent waves of emotion through you. "Your turn, ghivashel."

His gentle tone woke you from your thoughts. You gasped a little and smiled. You turned your back to him and sucked in a breath, beyond excited to receive a braid of your own.

After finishing his portion, you hear Kili release an uneven breath. You turn around to see him with tears in his eyes. You don't ever think you have been gazed upon in such a way as he is gazing now. Eyes wet with tears, but full of passion and love that could never be shown to anyone other than his One.

You held his face in your hands and looked deep into those eyes. He leaned his forehead up to rest against yours, and you closed the gap. The feeling surging between the two of you could never be measured. Without a word, you both aimed for each others lips, a final collision to seal tradition.

It was languid and slow but full of life. Pulling away, you both looked each other in the eyes. "If only I could tell you how many nights I've laid awake... waiting for this moment, -ê khi love." His eyes looked over your face as if taking it all in for the first time. Not getting enough of every inch it crossed over.

"You will never have to wait again."