#i cannot wait for her to either quit or get fired

[the-sunshine-dragon]

I don't think I've heard anything as entitled as a grown woman in her sixties say that if she gets fruit that doesn't taste good, she returns it to the store because "They need to understand that their suppliers are not giving them quality produce".

[lovelywritinglady]

For our little writers' Art Trade...! Gyomei has no idea how much his small Fem!Reader lover enjoys seeing her beloved show his strength like he does during the Training Arc... Honestly, it's a HUGE turn-on to see him move a boulder with ease or stand in the middle of flames while balancing heavy weights over his back... Or see him hugging kitties. Sadly, Reader is weak and can only help train Demon Slayers by feeding them, much like Tengen's wives do. She is kinda motherly and that in return turns Gyomei on SO HARD. Where she is weak, he is strong, and vice versa. Maybe some smut? Maybe they sneak out to take out the NEED they lit in each other? I would be eternally thankful!

I shall do my best!!

Strength and Weakness 

Gyomei Himejima x Fem!reader

In which you and your strong lover cannot contain the burning love for each other even in important times.

Fluff, SMUT, size kink, praise, outside sex, desperation sex, maybe out of character Gyomei.

It’s been nearly four weeks since the training with the Hashiras began. You had been working with your husband, Gyomei, to wip these young demon slayers into shape. However, most of them have yet to show true promise and the few who you think could are still training with the other Hashira. Knowing that the only reason that they are even going through such rigorous training is because of Muzan. The mere thought of Muzan would make anyone here shiver with either anticipation for a fight or pure fear.

Today marked the third day that this batch of young demon slayers were attempting to push the massive boulder that your husband had told them to move. It’s size was impressive to say the least but to your husband it was child’s play. He was strong and was considered the strongest Hashira around.

You could definitely attest to that as through out your relationship with the strong man, you had seen him push boulders nearly five times the one that he’s making these young demon slayers push, and for much longer. He was truly an impressive man and you knew that you had been blessed to have him as yours and only yours. However, it’s had been nearly four weeks since your husband last touched you.

Four weeks since you had felt his strong arms around your body in glorious passion. You were beginning to get antsy and it didn’t help when you saw his strong arms and ripped muscles flex as he pushed boulders or showed how to say his mantra at the waterfall training area. Your body flowed with desire for him and you could tell he felt the same. Seeing him being so soft and kind to the students ignited a fire within you. Not to mention the time he was absentmindedly holding a small black and white kitten while he was giving instructions. It didn’t feel fair but you knew that waiting was the right thing to do as you didn’t want any of the students to see the two of you in such a way.

Just as you were trying to think of anything else the very man in question passed by you pushing a boulder. His face calm as he chanted his mantra. While his muscles were in full display as the veins in his arms were bulging out. God you loved him. God how much you needed him. You were glad In that moment that he couldn’t see as the look you were giving him was simply sinful. Your body felt hot as your pussy ached with the absence of his cock. You needed him, your craved him and you knew it was only a matter of time before you were going to snap. You heard footsteps behind you and turned around to see one of the young demon and quite tired demon slayer students.

“Mrs. Himejima, I’m sorry to ask you this, but when do you think dinner will be ready?” One of the young demon slayers asked you with a strained voice as politely as he could manage.

“In about five minutes, tell the others for me will you?” You responded giving the poor tired boy a sweet smile as you did your best to push down the burning desire you had for your husband.

Meanwhile…

Gyomei had just wrapped up the waterfall demonstration as he noticed some of the young demon slayer students practically sprinting to the area that he knew his sweet wife was in. He decided to go there himself needing to hear your sweet voice after a long days of hearing the complaints of others. He sighed wiping the tears that had recently streamed down his face doing his best to look presentable to you. Soon, he had made it to you as a smile was present on his face.

To him, you were the very definition of perfection. Despite your physical weakness, you were kind. And to him, that was the greatest strength that anyone could have. He admired you for that and your kindness was one of the many reasons that he fell in love with you in the first place. He may not be able to see you but his soul knew that you were his and he was yours. And like you, he was getting very impatient for you. Hearing you day and day out being so sweet to these poor kids and how much you wanted to help him made him incredibly grateful and not to mention horny. He neeed you and he knew you needed him too. Now, he was probably the most patient man out there but when it came to you, it was though all reason and logic left him completely.

The thought of the way your smaller body sucked him in like it was meant to make him take a deep breath. His cock was beginning to grow and he tried his best to rid himself of such impure thoughts but hearing you now speaking so gently, so motherly, make him want to take you into the woods and make you the mother that he knew that you wanted to be. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Honey, would you like some too?” You asked suddenly as Gyomei had realized he was just standing here lost in the sinful thoughts of you.

“Yes my dear, thank you.” He responded after a few moments taking the massive plate of rice balls that you had made shivering slightly at the warm touch of your fingers brushing against his.

“You’re welcome! I made those just for you. I know you’ve been working really hard!” You beamed at him doing your best not to lose control at the mere sight of your husbands tall godlike stature in front of you. His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows as you had full view of his muscular arms still wet from the waterfall as his veins were in full view. You were doing your best but were practically drooling from just his arms. “Fuck.” You breathed out

“What was that, darling?” He asked putting one of his very large hands on your cheek, stroking it softly.

“N-nothing!” You chirped feeling slinky embarrassed for not keeping it together. “I hope you like them!” You quickly added

“I’m sure I will! If they are made by my sweet wife, then I know I’ll love them.” Gyomei spoke as pure adoration was lacing every word.

“Love?” You whispered

“Yes?” He asked bending down as he knew you needed to tell him something that only he needed to hear.

“I need you.” You whimpered finally admitting the thing you’ve needed to for four weeks now. “I know that we need to be professional but I can’t stand it anymore, I need you my husband. I need you. Please.” You added sounding so desperate so needy and who was Gyomei to deny you.

Without so much as a word, he set his plate gently down on a long and grabbed your hand as softly as he could and began walking into the woods a little too quickly. You began stumbling on your feet, barely tripping. Because of this, your husband quick as he could picked you up bridal style and now quicker than before, carried you far into the woods where he was positive that no one would wander. The very last thing he wanted was for someone’s innocent eyes to see what sinful acts he was about do upon his sweet wife.

Soon, he had found a suitable spot and had gently put you down on the soft grass. You hadn’t stopped looking at him the entire time as your mid was swimming with hundreds of scenarios that could happen in this very forest. Pussy was now soaking due to your excitement and impatience. Gyomei knew this as he could feel your wetness as he carried you earlier as his own make a sizable spot on his pants.

Gyomei then kneeled down and hovered over your smaller frame. He then without warning latched himself onto your neck. Kissing it roughly then softly allowing for you to fully grasp the sensation. And grasp you did as your whole body jerked with every kiss and every nip he was giving you. Your moans were loud and it was evident that he was doing well but could tell you needed more.

“Oh god, Gyomei please I need you.” You moaned out solidifying what he already knew.

“I know my love, I know.” He breathed out as he decided to start kissing down your chest more leaving a massive trail of love marks and kisses making your head spin as you grabbed a massive fistful of his spiky hair causing him to loudly grunt. He began sucking the skin on your hip making you buck up in response.

“Please!” You whined out needing more than this.

“Patience darling.” He whispered pressing kisses down your pussy causing your back to arch.

Without warning, he pushed your panties to the side and latched himself on your clit sucking it softly. His tongue began circling it making you moan your husbands name louder. Gyomei then proceeded to insert one of his large fingers into your needy hole and began pumping it in the way he knew you loved.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum soon.” You moaned out pushing his head down against you as you began impinge is face softly.

He hummed in response as he inserted another finger slightly picking up the pace as he began scissoring your hole so that you were ready for him. Gyomei was content in his work as being intimate with you like this made him feel so accomplished. Knowing the he was the one to make you feel this good make his cock ache in his pants even more than it already had. Feeling bold, he decided that it was best to insert one more of his thick fingers.

“Gyomei!” You screeched as your climax had finally reached it peak. Your juices flowing into your husbands mouth as he greedily drank then with pleasure. Your then squeezed his head from the overstimulation you were feeling. You moaned his name over and over again as your vision went blurry and body numb from your orgasm. When he finally finished his meal, he lifted his head and gave you a sweet smile, his face covered in your pleasure.

“You did well, love. Would you like to continue?” He asked making sure you were going to be okay taking him.

“Y-yes. I need you.” You whimpered coming down from your incredible high that only Gyomei could give you.

“Good.” He spoke as his voice suddenly got deeper.

“Would you like me to take care of you?” You asked sitting up slightly as you watched him take off his clothes.

“I just need to feel you as you are. I’m getting rather impatient now my love.” Gyomei said as he suddenly picked you up as he latched his lips hungrily onto your own. You wrapped your arms around his strong neck as your boobs pressed against his hard chest.

Your eyes widen at the ferocity of his kiss. His tongue mixing with yours without warning. A moan escaped from his throat and that very sound sent shivers or pleasure down your spine. His arms gripped your smaller body as one of his hand heals you against him as the other gripped your ass firmly. You were shaking from this needing more.

“Honey..” you whined out.

But as soon as your spoke, your husband took his hand off your ass and desperately undid his pants, freeing his hard and sensitive cock. He the, rather boldly, grabbed your panties and ripped them off of your body like he was picking a flower.

“G-gyomei.” You stuttered shocked at his eagerness.

“Just need you and they were in the way of you.” He grunted and you whimpered my his show of strength. “Are you ready, dear?” He added making sure to take time to make sure you were comfortable.

“Mhmmm.” You moaned out

“Use your words sweet one.” Gyomei calmly asked.

“Yes! Please fuck me!” You cried out desperately feeling more and more desperate the longer this gets drawn out.

“Good girl.” He whispered in your ear as he lined himself with your pussy.

You felt the thick tip of his cock beginning to push in. You were more than ready to take him, wet from your previous orgasm. However, your husband, was not a small man. Meaning his cock was huge and no matter how long you prepared yourself, it would always be a slight challenge to take him. You were a smaller woman after all.

The burning sensation as his cock entered you made you suck on your breath at the pain. You gripped onto his shoulders digging into his skin. He grunted softly feeling how tight your pussy was against him a small smile graced his scarred face as the sensation he was longing for, praying for, was finally here after so long. Soon, after taking his time, his cock filled you up completely making you moan out his name. He stayed still allowing for you to adjust even more.

“Y/n, my darling, I’m going to move now. Is that okay?” He asked you softly as you felt his hands drift down to your ass once again.

“Yes!” I cried out with clear frustration in your voice.

“Good.” Gyomei responded

He then moved his hips slowly making sure that he wasn’t going to hurt you. Hearing your whimpers make him feel slightly crazy but he knew going too fast now would make you not be able to walk the next day. And he certainly didn’t want to embarrass you. However, your next words surprised him.

“Gyomei,dammit, stop being so nice to me and fuck me. I need it.” You cried out almost angry.

And that was the very encouragement he needed. Gyomei then pulled his cock out, only leaving the tip in making you whine in response before snapping his hips hard.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as tears began pricking your eyes.

Your husband gripped your hips and ass as he began fucking you relentlessly. His pace was quick as his cock was hitting your cervix hard making your eyes roll back. He then began kissing and sucking on the most sensitive part of your neck making you moan loud. Your body was completely and utterly his in this moment as he was fucking you like never before. His grip on your ass would leave bruises and you knew that, not that you minded. Gyomei was grunting loud as he was pounding you in the air. Holding you like you weighed nothing. Using your body to his liking and god you loved it. You let him know how much you loved it scratching his back and moaning his name like a mantra. As you scratched you made sure not to hurt him.

“Harder my love, dig into my flesh!” He yelled out before crashing his lips hungrily onto yours.

And so, you did. You dig as deep and hard as you could as your husband went even faster than before making your mind and body feel like it was floating in ecstasy. The pain you felt before was long gone but you need for your husband grew and grew with each of his powerful thrusts. You began to cry due to overstimulation and the fact that you loved your husband so dearly.

“I-I love you so much.” You blabbered out as your tears poured out from your e/c eyes.

“I love you too, my darling.” Gyomei spoke out as his own tears started to flow as well. It wasn’t uncommon to see him crying but on this occasion it solidified his feelings for you. He was crying because of how much he loved you, how good you felt, and how thankful he was to have a woman like you in his life. And as he was pouring you he makes a silent prayer to God thanking him for you.

His grip on you increased as he felt himself close to cumming. His pace was erratic as the anticipation to his release was overwhelming. Your pussy was so tight, warm, and made perfectly for him. As for you, your own climax was soon as well. He was overwhelming all of your senses as you had already cum. Your body was far more sensitive than it had been in a long time due to waiting so long. You began to shake as you were getting weaker and weaker. However, you knew that even if you let go completely, your husband would hold you up due to his strength.

“Honey, m’gonna cum soon.” You blabbered out looking at his pleasure filled face.

“Me too, my darling, me too. I’m going to cum inside of you. Is that alright?” He asked quickly as his breathing became ragged.

“Y-yes. I want it.” You wined taking your turn to capture his lips with yours as you stuck your tongue in his mouth as your hands found new strength and gripped his hair roughly. His pace quickened as did his breathing. And soon you husband came as he held you closer to him as his dick was inside you fully.

“Oh my y/n, my one, my love.” He moaned out like he was praying a mantra.

You felt his thick cum filling you up like a warm embrace. You felt so full, so warm, so content. And as your husband held you, he brought one of his large hands yo your clit and began rubbing it in small circles, in the way you loved. He used the mixture of his cum and your slick to bring you pleasure. And just like that, you came hard. Your orgasm wracking your body with indescribable pleasure. His cock still stuffed deeply inside you as Gyomei could feel you tightening around him causing him to grunt as he decided to hump you slowly, enjoying the overstimulation that you were giving him.

“My love. Oh god!” You cried out still shaking from your high.

“I love you.” Gyomei whispered in your ear as he brought his left hand up to wipe the sweaty hair off your face as he placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too. I’m so glad we did this.” You told him still in his embrace with his cock still inside you.

“Me as well. And as much as I’d love to do this again, we have students to attend too my darling love.” He said hesitantly as he gave you one more forehead kiss.

“Yeah, even if we did have time, I’m not sure my body could handle that again.” You admitted feeling tired. You laid your head on his chest taking deep breaths basking in the after glow of sex.

“Are you tired now?” He asked as he slowly pulled out making you gasp at the empty feeling.

“Yes, very.” You responded doing your best to sad on your own as he put you down. The feeling of his cum running down your legs made you shiver with the memory of recent events.

“Good I know you’ve been more restless recently. So I suggest you nap for awhile. I’ll tell the students.” He suggested as he put his clothes back on, doing his best to look at leafy semi presentable.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” You yawned taking his arm to balance yourself. “But first I think I need to clean myself first.” You acknowledged feeling a bit gross due to the amount of sweat that was just on your body.

“It’s as though you read my mind, my love.” He spoke with a smile as he hoisted you up again. You were more than accepting of his gesture as your legs were too wobbly to walk properly. “There is a spring near by so we’ll go there and cleanse you, my darling.” He spoke softly sensing you were falling asleep.

“Thank you, my love.” You sleepily replied as you closed your eyes and snuggled into his warm embrace.

Gyomei then took you to that spring and clean you up all while you were too tired to do really anything. Your husband didn’t mind whatsoever as he loved doting and taking care of you. He was a lucky man and he knew that. Once you were all clean, he put your clothes back on your tired body and walked back to camp. As he did some of the students were questioning why you were in his arms and if you were okay. But he simply replied that you needed rest. Soon, he found a nice shady tree and place you under it. The grass was soft enough and this he kissed your lips and said a silent prayer to the gods for you. He then went back to the students and resumed his training to make sure these young demon slayers were ready for the fight with Muzan.

Thank you so much for reading!! I did a trade with @petitelepus so be sure to check out their content too!! 💜

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment, reblog, and request!

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

[ivypos-writes]

i have often dreamed of those fires

— aemond targaryen

summary: He’s a firestorm. Her skin burns in his hands.

Or, marriage is her first duty. The second comes in the insurmountable task of seducing her own husband.

warnings: 18+, aemond x wife, arranged marriage, soft and insecure aemond, and a horny wife, he’s touch-starved, sexual tension, first times, fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms, smut with a sprinkle of plot, and the plot is just seduction before the smut

word count: 7.5k

notes: giving in to the brainrot while waiting for s2. english is not my first language. all reviews are very appreciated! thank you for reading<3

(also available on ao3.)

MASTERLIST

She spends the first night of her marriage in solitude.

The bedchamber bears no resemblance to the one she owned all her life. The lights are subdued, and a darkness her eyes have yet to get used to rules over every corner. It’s spacious; kept immaculately polished, as befitting a member of the royal family. That’s who she is now, regardless if she feels the part or not.

Prince Aemond—her husband, her husband—left the walls of the room in a hurry, as though scorched by fire. It is a silly thought. He is a dragon prince, and surely doesn’t fear flames.

He seems to fear her, though.

They entered the bedchamber as instructed by tradition, not quite hand in hand, but not too far apart, either. Her ladies rushed after to assist her in undressing; to unpin her hair, letting the waves cascade down her back; to cover her skin with a slip of a dress, more translucent than anything she’d ever worn. She was then left in just the nightgown, with her cheeks tinted pink. Once the ladies deemed her prepared, she was abandoned by all but her husband.

Later came silence.

It must have been the tears that dissuaded him. Once they began to flow, all of Prince Aemond’s attempts to breach the distance between them ceased. She was too shaken to speak; before she could gather her thoughts, he had already left.

Marriage is her duty to the realm. To her family who strived to ensure the best possible match. Marriage is to become her battlefield, and her life, and if the gods are kind—oh, please, let them be kind—it would eventually become a source of joy.

Only she sits alone amidst alien walls and furniture, and there is no trace of contentment she might have once envisioned.

How is she to find happiness, she thinks bitterly, when her husband refused to touch her once?

“Husband,” she greets him, and her voice miraculously doesn’t waver.

He is standing in the entrance to the bedchamber, stiff and pale, with dark shadows marring the underside of his eyes. Pink scar peaks from beneath the leather eyepatch he seems to never part with. His robes are as black as they were every time they have seen one another. He wears darkness like an armour.

Prince Aemond isn’t carved in shapes of impudent rowdiness that she now knows his brother wields to compel attention. There is a quietude in him; a softness coming through the sharp lines of his features. He keeps his face artfully blank; most of the time, it doesn’t betray a single emotion. She does not attempt to look into his eye. She fears that all she’ll find there is repulsion.

“My lady,” he says. Not wife. “I shall escort you to the feasting hall. The Queen wishes for us to break our fast in her company.”

His words lack warmth, though perhaps she should not have expected that from him. Prince Aemond doesn’t seem to possess much fire at all, what with the stone-cold composure he seems to cling to. She wonders if it is only a masterfully crafted mask; if there are any flames deep beneath its layers, flickering and crackling.

She smothers her silent musings. Hurt still lingers inside her.

The Queen may be the only kind face within these walls. Princess Helaena seems to always be lost in her own mind; Prince Aegon is never sober, and on the rare occasions that he is, it seems best to avoid him altogether. She cannot search for a companion in her ladies, or servants, and certainly not in any man.

She is alone.

And her husband doesn’t even want to touch her.

Scarlet shame rises to her chest, and she hopes that it’s not painted all over her cheeks. The Queen will know. She will look at her once, and immediately she’ll realise that she remains untouched.

Perhaps she knows already, and it is the reason for her summons. Perhaps she means to scold her, and berate her, and shame her for all nobles in the Red Keep to see.

Have the servants scanned the linen sheets? She doesn’t recall anyone looking for proof of the newfound union, but surely, they must have.

She swallows her trepidation down and forces her face to remain blank. She cannot decline. It is her duty to obey the Queen’s orders, and this one, she is capable of fulfilling.

When the newlyweds walk down the corridor, it feels like they are miles apart.

Solitude is all she knows.

Her days are filled with nothing of true meaning. She is mostly left to her own devices, be it embroidery or soaking up the sun. She traverses the foreign walls; explores the royal gardens; consumes book after book, hungry for entertainment. Sometimes, she joins Princess Helaena and her children, and they sit beside each other in complete silence.

It is not a bad life. She is luckier than most, she knows, though this fact does little to dissipate her desire for more. She wishes to be alive. She wishes for her smiles to be genuine. To be more than the pretty wife of a prince made of marble.

In truth, she isn’t even that.

Her marriage is not a marriage at all—not in the eyes of the gods��and all the freedom she now has is fleeting. She may lounge about in the courtyard, and eat the best cakes in the entire realm, and read every book to exist, but it’ll take less than a moment for the privileges to be lost.

“My prince.”

She hasn’t called him husband again. They shared all of a dozen words since their wedding night. Prince Aemond is clearly intent on avoiding her company, choosing to spend his time in the training yard or the libraries, and it doesn’t appear that he has even an ounce of desire to change this routine.

He is halfway to the door. Her eyebrow arches.

“Are you leaving?” she asks.

She falls asleep alone and awakes in the same manner, but she never thought that the Prince abandoned the bedchamber completely. Before, she imagined that he slept little.

He didn’t. He simply slept elsewhere.

“I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable with my presence.” He strides over to the door without once meeting her gaze, and his hands clutch a collection of books. “The bed is yours.”

Her voice is harsher than she intends when she spits out, “The bed is meant to be shared.”

The Prince stops in his tracks; she traces the line of his spine when he straightens.

It must be the first time that he looks at her. Not even the vows they exchanged prompted him to meet her gaze. The last rays of sun that crawl through the window turn the purple of his eye a warmer shade.

“Do you—” she begins, and the tip of her tongue wets her lips when they suddenly go dry. Her throat closes up. She pushes herself to continue, “Do you find me repulsive, my prince?”

He must. She has heard many stories of marriage—both good and bad—and none spoke of husbands that refused to touch their wives.

Surely, there must be something wrong with her. Perhaps it is her hair that he dislikes, or her nose, or her lips. Perhaps he imagined her to look completely different, and there is no feature she possesses that pleases him.

Prince Aemond says nothing.

She picks her next words carefully.

“I know that I’m not a wife of your own choosing.” Her hands fidget, and she grabs onto her skirt to keep them occupied. “Neither are you the husband I wanted.”

Warmth. Gentleness. When she was a girl, she pictured a man who would hold her in his arms without shame. She imagined true affection and devotion. It’s been long since ascertained that Prince Aemond is not that husband. That her dreams have always been just dreams.

He doesn’t meet her eyes, and she finds herself vexed by his continued insistence to remain detached. She searches his face for scraps of emotion and finds none. He wields indifference like a sword.

She cannot so easily yield.

Her voice drops; nails sink into the skin of her palms. “You must understand, my prince, that it is me they’ll treat with contempt, should they ever find out.”

And they will. Of course, they will. Her womb will remain empty, and soon they’ll point their fingers at it and pronounce it barren. Humiliation will be hers to swallow; disgrace will fall upon her head like a thorned veil. They will feel pity for the Prince, to be certain, but not for her. Never for her.

The Prince’s hands tighten around the books, but it is the only reaction she receives.

He must not care for her at all. Why should he? She is but a stranger.

But they are now bound to each other. Strangers or not, their lives are intertwined.

She pushes closer to him, and finally, finally he raises his head.

“An untouched wife is no wife at all. It’s a breach of my oaths.”

There is a trace of contemplation on his face. It comes with a crease between his eyebrows, and the slightest twitching of his lips. Prince Aemond lets out a quiet hum, and she must strain her ears to catch its sound before it’s gone.

When their eyes meet, her heart lights up in flames.

“I will not touch you when there’s nothing but fear in your eyes.”

He is gone before she can retaliate.

There is a shift in his demeanour, though it comes hesitantly; with reluctance.

Prince Aemond enters the bedchamber while she’s seated by the vanity. She now recognises the sound of his footsteps—light and unrushed, often reminding her of a predator on a hunt. Her fingers become motionless, weaved into the intricate plaits atop her head. She warily waits for whatever comes next.

They have fallen into a habit of keeping one another at arm’s length. There is a barbed line that divides them, and neither is willing to cross it first.

Fear. This is what he thinks rules inside her heart. He never let her refute—now, she thinks it would have been pointless to even try. There might have been fear that shrouded her expression, but it was never induced by him. She feared the pain, and feared the unknown, but never, never feared the Prince.

He must think himself appalling. Capable of evoking dread. The realisation hits her like a tidal wave. She recalls whispers murmured in shadowed corners, all vicious and biting; wonders how many of them he has heard before. The scar on his face has been there for years. The Prince must have endured constant torment.

Whatever it is that they see—monstrosity, abomination, hideousness—her own eyes perceive nothing of the sort.

Prince Aemond is quite handsome. In truth, he is so striking that her heart jumps out of her chest each time she catches a glimpse of him.

It threatens to jump out now, when she sees him meeting her gaze without the usual aloofness.

He takes a hesitant step forward.

She freezes.

They are never alone. She sees him when they dine, and when he trains, and when he’s lost in another book. She sees him in daylight. In crowds.

Never like this.

There is a silent resolution that she notes in the tight line of his lips. Aemond comes closer, and closer, and doesn’t stop until his heat trickles down her spine.

She holds her breath when his fingers weave in between the strands of her hair.

Prince Aemond’s face betrays nothing. She watches his reflection so intensely that she forgets to blink, and all the while he keeps his expression blank. His fingers are warm. Gentle.

Just hours before, they were holding a sword and aiming it at his opponent.

It certainly feels as if he put a sword to her own throat. She can barely breathe.

His movements are slow and careful. One after another, he unravels the braids, mindful not to tug at her hair. His skilled fingers smooth out the tangles, and every once in a while, they come to her scalp to caress it in a soothing manner.

She traces the curve of his jawline, and the mangled flesh, and the dark eyepatch. He looks rough and feels soft. He is made of contradictions.

When he takes out the last little pin, she breathes out.

It is the first time that he has touched her.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes meet. She wishes to wipe at the mirror, if only to make its image clearer. Has he always been this delicate? Is the glint in his gaze a novelty?

When he clears his throat and averts his eye, his intention to leave becomes explicit. Tension dissipates. This time, she makes no objections.

“Sweet dreams, my prince,” she mutters, and the answer comes in the soft closing of the door.

Her head emerges from beneath the water surface, and she greedily takes air in.

She has wasted her day on blissful procrastination. For the entirety of it, she remained inside the bedchamber, shielded from all eyes and gossip, obstinately rejecting the company of anyone who dared offer it. These people know nothing about her, anyway. Their wish to spend time with her is masterfully feigned.

Sometimes, she misses her home. She misses it so terribly that her lip trembles. She misses being known. Despite the passing time, she has yet to acclimate herself to the new reality. The Red Keep feels as cold as it ever has.

Would she be dismissed, she wonders, if they knew that her marriage was a farce? Would she be ruined, or given a chance to start over?

Perhaps she ought to confess the truth.

Or maybe—just maybe—she should seek out her husband and push him into a wall, and claim his lips until all restraint dies.

Her depraved thoughts seem to summon him.

Aemond enters the bedchamber in his usual manner, and immediately turns back towards the door once he catches sight of her state.

Her breasts peak from the foamy water.

Her skin tints red.

“You don’t have to leave,” she calls out.

The words are quick. Too quick to come across as nonchalant. She bites her tongue, but doesn’t take them back. Perhaps she has reached another level of desperation, and this is the only opportunity she gets to let it run free.

He is more dragon than a man. He cannot keep running from her in fear. She sees the moment that Prince Aemond seems to come to the same conclusion; his hand flexes at his side, once and then again. His shoulders become tense.

She is quick to bite back her smile when he turns around. He wouldn’t have seen it, either way, what with the way he keeps his eye stubbornly downcast.

As if she wasn’t his wife. As if seeing her bare skin was a sin.

Reluctantly, with his head courteously bowed, he moves to take a seat by the table, reaching out for a random book.

Water ripples when she sinks deeper into the bath. If he has no desire to see her, she will not strive to bear herself before him.

The silence is heavy.

“Did you go out for a flight?” she asks, itching to dissipate the suspense.

The Prince hums, as is his habit, and offers a slight nod. “I did. It’d been days since I last rode Vhagar.”

This is a part of him shielded at all times. He keeps it deep in the crevices of his heart—in its darkest, deepest corners. She doesn’t blame him for it. Even without understanding the nature of the fire in his blood, she recognises it as something private. Intimate.

But it is the first time that he spoke the name in her presence, and she cannot hold the reins of her unabashed curiosity.

“When you’re apart,” she begins, “does her absence feel like a missing limb?”

The Prince’s eye turns to her, and though they are far from one another, she is able to catch a glimpse of intrigue.

Briefly, she ponders whether anyone has ever dared ask him unpracticed questions like this. If there was someone who wanted to know him—his innermost beliefs and convictions, and his soul. If anyone attempted to push through the walls he has built around himself.

She supposes that the slightest widening of his eye is an answer in its own right.

Prince Aemond doesn’t immediately reply, and she bites her tongue. “Forgive me, my prince. It is not my right to ask.”

“You’re my wife,” he says simply. It is the first time he acknowledges it. “You have the right to ask anything of me.”

Keeping her bewilderment subdued, she arches an eyebrow when he nods to himself.

“It doesn’t.” Prince Aemond clears his throat, fingers fidgeting against the pages of his book. “It doesn’t feel like a missing limb. Even in her absence, I always sense her.”

It must be the most that he’s ever said to her.

The water has gone lukewarm. Goosebumps rise atop her skin. She could politely request that he take his leave in order to get out of the bath. She could.

She won’t.

“So a part of her lives inside you?”

He turns, and now they are facing one another.

Has the foam dissipated? She doesn’t dare take her eyes off of him, and so she cannot check. If the foam is gone, he can see the outline of her body. Does he see it?

No, she thinks. Surely, he would have already looked away.

“As does a part of me inside her,” he admits. “In more ways than not, we are one being.”

One being. Is this why he refuses to let her come close? Is it because there is no more space in his heart left for her to rest in?

It seems a plausible enough theory. In truth, all theories seem to be true when she’s wallowing in solitude and sorrow and rejection.

“It must be nice,” she murmurs, and this time she is the first to break eye contact, “to be known from the inside. Intimately. In the deepest crevices of your heart.”

Something in him changes. She catches it when she glances at him. The Prince’s hand abandons the book, and when he stands from his seat, she is sure that he’ll leave.

But he doesn’t. She gapes at him when he comes closer to the bath.

“Scoot over,” he instructs.

Her mouth parts, ready to sputter questions, but they all dissolve into nothing when she catches the intensity in his gaze.

She holds her tongue. No words could reflect the depth of her confusion.

Prince Aemond now watches her without past shame.

The scent of fire and smoke permeates the air, and she inhales it sharply. His heat engulfs her back in gentle flames, and she draws her knees to her chest, oddly bashful.

When she does as instructed, he is quick to put his hands on her scalp. A gasp falls from her lips at the touch.

He is washing her hair.

Does he hear her heart pounding? It’s so loud. So very loud.

“It does feel good.” His fingers weave through her hair. “Before her, there was no one who wished to know my heart at all.”

They dine with the Queen, and she engages in conversation with a desperate sort of enthusiasm. The past days have mostly gone in perturbing silence, and she yearns for the opportunity to erase it, even with idle talk. They speak of the gardens, and the ladies-in-waiting, and Princess Helaena’s children that seem to be growing more and more each day.

Aemond holds his tongue beside her, and the quietude in which he wallows no longer takes her aback. More often than not, his silence speaks for itself. All she must do is look into his eye to comprehend the words.

“Children are a woman’s greatest joy,” the Queen rambles on, and there is a softness in her face that takes away all remnants of the usual misery that she wields. “It is only a matter of time before you’ll find it yourself.”

She straightens her spine.

Words die inside her throat. Does she smile and change the subject? Does she confess that she will not find it—she’ll never find it—because her husband has no desire to be a husband at all? All protests and confirmations and pretty promises are insufficient. She thinks it is better not to speak at all.

She nearly jumps out of her seat when something warm engulfs the skin of her palm. It’s Aemond. He has taken her hand into his, and the way he holds her is both gentle and firm.

Do they not fit perfectly? Aemond’s hand is larger than hers; its lines are harsher. She lets their fingers lace together, and when she hesitantly turns her eyes towards him, she finds him already watching her.

He holds her gaze with unmasked expression, as if to say: this is me trying.

She is possessed by a surge of boldness.

The lights of the chamber are dimmed, and she is long prepared for the night. There is a tremble in her hands. She cannot discern if it’s one of trepidation or excitement.

Aemond offers nothing more than his usual greeting when he stalks into the room. It’s neither warm nor cold; as always, it’s not enough. She watches him stride towards the table, and he sinks onto the chair, hands reaching for one of the books.

He doesn’t truly read them. It took her a while, but she now sees right through his habits. Aemond repeats the same exact process every night. He sits with a book, and keeps his eye downcast, and sometimes—just sometimes—his gaze moves towards her when he thinks she isn’t looking.

Each day, he comes back not to read, but to see her.

Each day, she waits for him to act.

There are moments when they touch, and when their touches linger longer than they should. There are moments when he takes her hand into his, or brushes hair away from her face, or grabs her waist as he walks by. There are moments that she allows herself to push closer to the heat that he radiates.

She is tired of surviving on moments alone.

With her breath unsteady, she waits.

Aemond taps his fingers against the surface of the table, and she cannot help but observe the motion. His rings shine in the flickering lights.

“What are you reading?” she asks, keeping the buzzing anticipation on a leash.

His shoulders tense. She never interrupts his lectures.

The floors are cold beneath her bare feet. She keeps her pace slow. The distance between them shrinks, and soon she is standing right behind him.

Aemond’s heavy exhale hits her ears. She wishes she could preserve the sound.

With her shaky hands, she reaches for his shoulders. He is firm and solid; strong and warm. Scorching. When he says nothing—when he doesn’t move away—she lets her hold on him tighten. Just this once, she wants to touch him as though he was hers. Like a wife ought to. The way she never learned how to.

Emboldened by his stillness, she bends closer; their faces are at level. She brushes away the silver strands of hair that shield him from her, and soon she is free to take the sight of him in.

The line of his lips is thin and tight. There is a small, white scar on his temple. His skin catches the slightest hint of pink, and it crawls onto his cheeks in gradual motion. He is right there—right there—and her mouth is dry. She puts her lips to the soft skin of his cheek before she can hesitate again.

Aemond’s breathing turns rugged. She sees the rise and fall of his chest, quicker with every inhale. Her fingertips burn with the want to feel his heartbeat.

When she grabs the book he holds in a vice grip, he turns to her.

Their noses brush.

The air is gone. There’s nothing left of it. Her gaze trails from his eye to his mouth, and they’ve never been this close.

It takes the smallest tilting of her head for their lips to meet.

She is blinded. Flames flood her vision. Her heart bruises her ribs, and Aemond’s fire burns her tongue, and never before did she imagine that a kiss could leave her so ruined.

He is quick to match her pace. His mouth moves against hers with a brutal force; he breathes her in, and she catches the silent groan before it dissolves. She nibbles at his bottom lip, hungry for more, and when their tongues mingle, she no longer remembers her name. He’s sweeter than any cake she’s ever tasted, and she wishes to forever devour him—to never, never stop.

But then his lips are gone. Strong arms seize her hips, and he effortlessly moves her away from him.

She doesn’t understand. Aemond shoots out of the chair, and rushes towards the door, and she watches his shrinking figure—always, always watches him leave.

She senses his gaze on her skin.

An entire day has gone by, and she’s long since stopped expecting Aemond to return. Her heart has turned into stone. She forced it to do so.

And now he’s standing there. Watching.

“Am I not worthy of your affection?”

She regrets the obvious cracking of her voice, though there is little to do about it now. He isn’t deserving of the mask of collectedness that she could attempt to put on. She will not veil her hurt. Because he chose to cause it, he may well see its aftermath.

Aemond doesn’t answer. She knew that he wouldn’t.

“Is it because there’s no fire in my blood that you deem me below you?”

She turns, eager to see his features, and then almost wishes that she hadn’t. There is something broken about him. His face is ashen, marked by shadows of exhaustion. His lip quivers.

“I’m chained to you,” she half-whispers. “The least you could do is not tighten the shackles around my neck.”

“I never wished for it.”

“I never wished for it, either!”

There is a dull ache in her chest. The stranger before her won’t meet her eyes, and she loses her footing again, alone and tired and desperate for a change.

She won’t beg. She’ll never beg.

But she is not yet ready to stop pushing.

“You won’t even let me close.”

Aemond’s face crumbles, and she finds nothing in him but raw, agonising vulnerability.

“It is not easy to learn something so foreign.”

Her fingers find the lacings of his riding leathers.

They have succumbed to a heavy sort of silence. It stretches and grows; haunts their days and nights with equal intensity. She allows this quietude to exist with a trace of vindictiveness inside her bones. If one of them ought to break it, it is him.

As always, he prepares to leave with the first mark of sunset. She bites back all protests rising to her lips. She will not speak. Her words do little more than fall upon deaf ears.

She allows herself this much: crumbs of him, all stolen, when she stands close and brushes her fingers against his clothes. She ignores his scent, and his warmth, and the way her skin itches with the want to press closer.

Aemond’s eye scorches the skin of her cheeks.

He hasn’t moved away. She is glad not to have been forced to choke on scarlet shame—to have him flee her touch again would be the end to all the lingering remnants of hope. Aemond stands still and stiff, and she is half-convinced that he’s holding his breath.

She freezes in her tracks when one of his hands grabs both of hers into a gentle embrace.

The tips of his fingers are calloused. He strokes her skin with his thumb, and she clings onto the last of her composure, unwilling to melt before him.

A single touch. That’s how much it takes to shatter her resolve.

“You’re too good,” he says, and the words are little more than a whisper. “Pure. My hands could only ever ruin you.”

Her eyes find his, and she wishes she could decipher what remains unspoken by looking at him alone. She wants to know his heart and his mind. She wants to know all his thoughts.

Her greedy fingertips trace the lines of his palm. His hand trembles.

“How could something so gentle ruin?”

He has only ever held her with meticulous cautiousness. She knows his touch as tender and attentive. Warm. Doesn’t he see the shivers he evokes? Doesn’t he know that they come from fondness and devotion and the deep affection that she drowns in? He cannot ruin her. His hands are not capable of it.

Aemond doesn’t believe her. His vulnerability shows through the cracks of his usual composure. He tries to enshroud himself in indifference, but she has long since learned his mannerisms. The mask of blankness will not deceive her.

He attempts to tear his hand away, but she tightens her hold.

“Look at me, husband.”

It is a demand. Aemond must recognise it as such, because the lowered eye flickers and gives in.

Because she is a woman of weakness, she lets herself put a hand on his cheek. Her fingers hook under the strap of the eyepatch. She hears him gasp for air, and the sound reverberates in her ears like a prayer.

Her heartbeat is wild and strong, and she whispers, “Don’t you see? There is no fear in my eyes.”

The memory of his gaze induces odd tremors long after he departs.

The mattress dips behind her.

There is an onslaught of heat that spreads over her bare skin, though she has yet to discern what it stems from. The air goes still. Heavy.

It begins with a fingertip tracing the length of her forearm. The touch is featherlike—no more than a gentle stroke that lacks any pressure. So light. So light, barely even there, and yet at once she is consumed by flames.

“Husband,” she breathes into the night.

A rush of hot air hits her ear when he whispers an answering, “Wife.”

Aemond’s fingers traverse the expanse of the skin that isn’t covered by blankets. He moves from the side of her palm, through the nook of her elbow, higher, higher. His hand reaches her shoulders; fingers spread towards the outline of her collarbone, dipping into the crevices and searing a string of goosebumps into her skin. She holds her breath. Her heart pounds against her chest in violent patterns.

He smells of smoke. She wishes to inhale his fragrance until she chokes on it; until it fills her lungs and replaces all oxygen. Aemond presses closer to her, and she holds back a whimper when he moves his hand to her neck.

“I have neglected you,” Aemond murmurs.

“You have.”

“And now I must beg your forgiveness.”

Aemond’s hand closes around her throat, and she holds back a gasp.

Their bodies are pressed together. She exhales in surprise when she finds his forearms as bare as hers. He must have abandoned his shirt before crawling into bed.

Their bed. The bed that is supposed to be shared.

“I rather thought your constant neglect was deliberate practice,” she says, forcing her voice not to crack. “Why would you beg forgiveness for something you feel no remorse about?”

A gasp tears out of her throat when Aemond seizes her arm and flips her onto her back.

Their faces are close; closer than she thought they’d ever come again. In the pale moonlight, his features become soft and veiled. She wishes she could see him in sharp lights; wishes to trace every blemish and mark on his skin. This subdued version of him is not sufficient. She must imprint every part of him in her mind.

When he hums, her own skin vibrates with the sound.

She clamps her legs together.

“Yes,” he muses. “You have voiced your displeasure with astonishing fervour.”

Her lips part when one of his legs sneaks in between hers. He is quick to push her knees apart.

“As was my right,” she replies, and the words come out as breathless.

Aemond’s thigh is solid. She feels the flexing of his muscles against her own skin. Her nightgown rides up from the friction, and soon her calves are left exposed.

“You said you were chained to me.”

“And it was the truth.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when you pretend that you’re not chained to me as well.”

Slightly, slowly, she pushes her head up. His breath hits her cheek; her lips come so close to his chin that she could press them against it without straining.

Aemond’s fingers tighten their hold on her neck.

Their eyes meet, and it is fire clashing with fire. The purple gives way to a deranged darkness; Aemond’s face is unmasked. She looks at him and holds her breath. Looks at him until everything in the background blurs. Her trembling fingers reach to cup his jaw, and when they connect with the soft skin, he lets out a quiet gasp.

“I do it for your own sake,” he breathes out. “You know nothing about the depravities living in my mind.”

She trembles when his thumb comes up to caress her lips.

“So good. So pure.” Aemond trails the outline of her mouth, voice dropping with each word. “And yet you’ve instilled a madness in me that I can no longer quench.”

She wants to grab him by the neck and pull him closer. She wants their lips to press together; to meld into one, and turn to ashes from the force of flames. Does he know that she dreams of the shape of his lips? Does he know that her eyes trace it when he’s reading—that she now knows it by heart? His taste haunts her. Sometimes, she puts her warm fingers onto her mouth and imagines that the heat is him. Sometimes, she touches herself and imagines his lips nibbling on a different spot.

Keeping her scorching desire leashed, she remains still.

It is he who must cross the remaining distance. It is he who must light up the flames.

His hand comes up to her face. Her cheek tickles from his fingertips; lashes flutter when he brushes his thumb against them. She opens her mouth—to taunt him, or curse him, or beg. She only knows that she must say something. Anything. She cannot let this fire die. Her head spins and her skin tingles—

And then his mouth is on hers.

It is a hungry kiss. He aims to devour her. She moans into his lips when he bites down; he shifts his weight, and her skin burns underneath his body. Aemond holds her chin; tilts it to his liking, claiming her mouth with greed and lust and depravity. She forgets to breathe. There is no need for air when he’s this close.

Out of fear that he’ll try to move away, she wraps her arms around his broad shoulders. His skin is scalding-hot, and she cherishes the way it burns.

She licks his bottom lip, demanding entrance, and he is quick to oblige. Their teeth clink, and she pulls him closer, and soon their tongues swirl around one another, none willing to yield. He tastes like fire. She wants to swallow him whole.

They break apart when his fingers grab the fabric of her nightgown.

“I want this off,” he says, already hiking it up, impatient to leave her naked.

“Do you?” she teases.

Aemond is not in a mood for her games.

She gasps in surprise when something rips apart, and then she sees two pieces of white cloth hanging from his hands. He has ruined her gown, and seems to be awfully pleased with himself. She should make her displeasure clear—

He traces the outline of her lips with his tongue, and she forgets all about the robe.

“You’re so sweet,” he pants. “My sweet wife.”

His words push her to the brink of madness. Wife. Wife.

His eye trails from her lips to her throat, and lower towards her breasts. He looks at her peaked nipples, red and aching like her mouth.

One of his fingers brush against the pebble, and she stifles a moan.

“Look at you,” Aemond breathes, and his chest rises and falls with increasing intensity. “I barely touched you, and you’re already trembling.”

He must not realise the extent of his influence on her traitorous body.

She opens her mouth to tell him as much, but then his mouth travels down her throat and her breastbone, and soon replaces his fingers. He peppers her sensitive skin with kisses; nibbles at the flesh in the hollow of her bust. She quivers under his attention, hands finding the strands of his hair. When Aemond’s lips wrap around her hard nipple, she cries out.

His hand traverses up her thigh. Wantonly, she spreads her legs so that his hips can fit in the middle. He is quick to push against her—push until there’s barely any space left between them—and when she feels his rock-hard length, she forgets all about swallowing the desperate sounds. Her back arches, and Aemond keeps sucking at her breast, alternating between soft brushes of his lips and harsh bites of his teeth, and she is burning. Flames consume her whole.

She pulsates against him. Her walls clench around nothing—they’re empty, they’re empty, and she must be filled or else she’ll go mad.

“I want you inside,” she demands, nails sinking into his skin, too lost in her desire to veil herself with feigned innocence.

Aemond breathes out a laugh in response, and the warmth mingles with the cold saliva that he’s left on her nipple. She makes a strangled noise.

He raises his head, and there is a sudden sobriety in his expression. She knows its roots. Aemond insists on holding onto self-deprecation, and it is clear that he still doesn’t think himself worthy of touching her.

She will rip this doubt out, even if its thorns draw blood.

Her hands come up to cup his face.

With intensified ardour, she repeats, “I want you inside.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he rids himself of his resolve.

Her breathing turns rugged when Aemond grabs both her thighs, pulling them further apart. It’s dark, but he must see the way she glistens under the moonlight. Her cunt is dripping wet. She restrains herself from rocking her hips forward in search for friction.

“You do want me.”

She does. She does. She needs him, and she must be touched, and if he doesn’t bury himself inside her—

Her body jerks when Aemond’s fingers descend to her clit.

His touch is a firestorm. She shudders when he circles around the nub; all her rational thoughts die in flames. Aemond flicks his thumb back and forth across her clit with a firmness that has her panting. His digit is already slicked with the wetness pooling out of her entrance; his fingers gather the moisture and spread it over her pulsating lips. Her face and chest must be red with want. She wants him so much that it hurts.

A shaky moan tears out of her mouth when the pressure of his touch increases. Aemond speeds up his movements; it burns, it burns. She buckles her hips, and the muscles of his thigh tense, and he is watching her with raw wonder.

Aemond kisses her sloppily. The way their tongues brush against each other is filthy. She takes his bottom lip in between her teeth, and he grunts into her mouth, and his fingers don’t stop moving against her. The friction is euphoric. Before she knows it, it brings her over the edge.

She spasms beneath him, and he doesn’t let their lips part.

It is like reaching the stars. Like drowning. Like water given to someone dying of thirst. She’s suspended in a place without time; without faces that aren’t his. There’s just Aemond. His lips. His fingers.

He doesn’t slow until she cries out from overstimulation, and even then, he strokes her bundle of nerves in a featherlike caress.

“Touch me,” Aemond breathes against her shoulder.

Still reeling from her high, she is quick to oblige.

“Here?” she asks, hands trailing down his spine, and his answer comes in teeth biting her neck.

He’s softer than she ever imagined.

The way Aemond shudders underneath her palms makes it clear that he’s unaccustomed to tender touch. It breaks her heart into pieces to think of the boy he once was—the one so starved for love but unable to accept it, always, always thinking himself undeserving of it. It hurts even more to know that even now—even when they’re chest to chest, bodies bared and mouths connected—he believes himself unworthy.

He’s so soft. Hard. He is made of harsh lines and smooth dips, and her hands greedily traverse the expanse of his exposed flesh, hoping to prove that her desire for him has no bounds. She wants him as he is. She wants every part of him.

Aemond looks into her eyes, and the purples become blurry. “Your touch heals the rot inside me.”

She claims his mouth because she can. Because he is hers.

When he enters her, she is finally whole.

It hurts because it must. He pushes until the barrier inside her relents; he is slow enough to let her adjust to his length. Pain doesn’t take away the overwhelming sensation of being full. Her breath hitches, and Aemond is quick to steal another kiss before the sound dies on her lips. He kisses her once, twice—kisses her for so long that she forgets who she is.

His next thrust renders her dazed.

Aemond’s neck is slick with sweat. Emboldened—crazed—she gathers the dampness on her tongue. There’s a sound of skin hitting skin; he ruts into her with increasing force. She is not herself anymore; no longer recalls who she was before this. Before him. No one, she thinks. Empty, empty no one.

Her vision swims when his fingers find the spot where she aches most. Aemond sears the smallest of circles into her clit; one of his hands remains on her breast, and her eyes roll back from the onslaught of sensations. His cock thrusts inside her at an agonising pace. The stretch burns.

She begins to toe the line between lucidity and delirium, and he is there to carry her through the threshold.

Her fingers tug at his silver hair. Legs wrap around his waist with a crushing force. She holds him close, and he presses against her, and the sinful sounds that fall from their lips are surely loud enough to awaken the entirety of the Red Keep.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care. Now that Aemond is inside her, she never wants him to leave.

Aemond’s grunts become desperate. His movements are stripped of control, and she feels him sink his fingers deep into her hips. He holds her like he wants to leave bruises; pulls her closer with each thrust.

“Is this duty?” he whispers into her skin.

“No,” she is quick to answer. “It’s not. It’s not.”

This is something else. Something more. This is wildfire engulfing her heart; flames bursting through her bones. This is her body moulding into his in a perfect shape; lines blurring.

When his teeth sink into her shoulder, she knows that he is close. She rocks her hips against him, meeting each of his thrusts. She’s somewhere high above ground. She is flying.

“Inside me,” she rasps with the last of her breath. “I want your seed inside me.”

“Fuck.”

It sends him over the edge.

Her toes curl. Aemond’s movements turn wild, bordering on violent, and when he shudders and cries out and collapses, he takes her right with him.

There are stars inside her, and all erupt at once. She can do nothing but thrash beneath Aemond’s solid body; hold onto him so she doesn’t fall. She thrums with pleasure and pain and something else—something she cannot name—that has her gasping his name into the darkness. Aemond. Aemond.

He smothers the words with his lips on hers.

She cannot breathe. Air isn’t sufficient for her lungs. Aemond’s hands trail up her body, slow and exhausted, and soon he is cupping her face.

Their foreheads are pressed together.

All she knows is the colour of his eye.

Husband and wife. He holds her close, and their heartbeats match, and they are one.

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

"Can we have a twin of Aegon be the rider of Balerion? I know Balerion dies and cannot fly even with Viserys, but I want him to be a supported for the Blacks because...yeah! Also give him a sword of fire like Dondarrion has too! I know incest is weird to write, but Helaena needs someone to appreciate her!! Not a lot of detail, but pop off with this one! "

Not very knowledgeable on HOTD, but I tried!

The doors to the council room pushed open with an eerie creak paired with the sounds of heavy footfalls of a grieving father and husband. Dressed in his black armor with red accents and his sword, Hellfire, strapped to his waist unnerved the council. The presence of [Name] Targaryen hushed his grieving twin brother instantly.  

Aegon quieted down his anger upon witnessing the emotion flowing off of [Name], his lilac glare pointed at the floor in deep thought as he walked up the steps. This emotion [Name] conveyed hadn’t been new to Aegon, it reminded him of the time [Name] demanded their father to give Helaena’s hand to himself. 

Their father, Viserys, laughed in his face…the old man hadn’t laughed in awhile like that and it unnerved the twin boys. But Viserys’ laugh turned into a cough and he cleared his throat out saying, “Your brother is getting married to Lady Jeyne, [Name]. Helaena is all yours and will be soon.” 

[Name] has always wanted Helaena, their odd sister and claimed that, ‘Nobody is willing to understand her, but I am. She should be with me.’ That madness subsided with Viserys’ joyful laugh and reassuring words. This time was different. Their father wasn’t here as king or here to calm him down with hopeful words. No, it was just him. Aegon, the drunken twin…the weak king. 

He watched his twin walk up to the table and stopped at the foot of it. [Name] leaned over it and set his palms on the smooth surface. Clearing his throat and looking straight ahead, at no one in particular this time, he asked every council member, 

“Why were our wives and children unguarded at the dead of night?” 

His calm words  didn’t quite match the fire in his eyes, but the sudden echoed roar of Balerion outside of King’s Landing stirred the council fully awake. Alicent looked around the table and waited for someone to answer her son’s question. She couldn’t put the dangerous eyes of her son on herself...or Cole.

But fear seeped into the very essence of her wretched soul. Helaena walked in on a terrible deed between the queen dowager and the lord commander. Alicent knew that [Name], his gentle words would convince Helaena to tell him every detail of this night. Helaena never held secrets away from her older brother, she always confided with him in everything. 

The rest of the men didn’t speak either and Tyland kept his mouth shut. The outburst he received from Aegon was unmatched to [Name]’s, the rider of The Black Dread. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak against the dragon rider that had a god of light guarding him. 

“A little bit ago, I was with your brother, Aemond,” Otto spoke freely, casting a smooth glance over at Criston Cole, “but before that, Cole and your brother were conversing together. I sent Cole away to his watch to have a word with Aemond.”

[Name] dragged his eyes over from his grandfather to Cole and asked, “Did you go back to your post, Lord Commander? Answer this question correctly, I fear that Balerion didn’t have his full for today.” 

Tension was high in the room and Balerion never seized his loud roaring that sounded closer with each minute. Cole shuffled in his spot next to Aegon who looked up at him with suspicion. The rest of the council looked at the Lord Commander wondering why [Name] fixated his lilac eyes so hard on Cole.

“I was abed, my prince.” Cole said without looking [Name] in the eyes. 

“And where were your men? Why weren’t there any guards patrolling the floor my family slept on?” The rising tone, the boiling anger in his throat made his voice raspy. His open palms closed into tight fists as he continued to ask, “Why is it that the moment you send the Watch to sleep, our sons were left at the cruel hands of murderers!” 

His left hand slammed against the table making glasses clink in their place. 

“Your white cloak,” [Name]’s voice knocked down in volume, not seizing up for anyone to speak between his breaths, “is stained with the blood of Jaehaerys and Rhaegar. I will figure out a punishment befitting you once I clear my head.”

Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reason with her usual kind son, “[Name], this doesn’t-” 

“You will speak once spoken to, mother,” His eyes slowly moved over to her fear stricken ones and she knew why she was getting his hostility. His biting words covering her in flames eating away at her guilt, “Helaena told me what happened tonight. Everything I need to know. For being such a godly woman and criticizing every move the Blacks make, I’m disappointed in the actions you took tonight.”

He straightened out his back and addressed everyone at the table, “Tonight will teach everyone here a lesson.

“The Night’s Watch will stay at their post, guarding the royal family to their very last breath. They will have patrol times and stick to it. If their Lord Commander comes up to them with a release, the Night’s Watch will turn into stone and keep their post. Their job is to guard the royal family, protect the castle. I will not have another incident like this one. I will not have my wife witness such a heinous act of child murder. 

“As for the rest of us, before we return to bed, we make sure there is a knight in or around our presence. I want you to fall asleep to the sounds of clinking armor knowing that there is a knight outside your door or on your floor patrolling. I want us to sleep peacefully and…”

“Rhaegar…he was faster than I was,” Helaena’s tears slid down her cheeks, “he was braver than I was. I didn’t see this, I-I couldn’t stop him. Our little boy ran in to save Jaehaerys and he wasn’t scared. He held the dagger you gave him on his nameday and scarred one of them. Then while he was choking at that man’s hands, he said his last words, “My father will burn you in the blackest hells, ratcatcher. He will.””

[Name] paused hearing Helaena’s voice in his head, he couldn't cry right now. Rhaegar was only seven years old and the boy fought back to save his family. His little boy had run in to save his family's lives because no one else was there, not even himself. 

“-and not worry about ratcatchers.” 

His stance faltered and he fell back into the chair at his side. His gloved hand wiped at his face to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Helaena kept speaking to him, her words haunting him, 

“Jeyne grabbed her remaining daughter out of her bed and Daenerys held tightly onto my dress while I snuck Viserys out of his crib. The two of us ran away from that horrible sound with our children, leaving poor Jaehaerys and Rhaegar behind. Jeyne kept crying as we ran for our lives, kept asking where the knights were. Where were they?” 

“I don’t know,” [Name] felt like she was asking him, ‘where were you?’ and he wanted to say out flying Balerion in the night. But she knew he flew Balerion out in the night because he had the need to patrol around that time. And no one would see him or Balerion when the beast itself blends in the darkest sky. 

“Helaena, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He asked before he would storm into the council room and demand for answers. 

His wife looked over at Daenerys cuddled up in her father’s arms with tear tracks stained on her young face. Helaena didn’t know if she could tell him about their mother’s…activity with the Lord Commander. But she didn’t need to because Daenerys mumbled something in his chest. 

[Name] stirred and moved his daughter to look her in the eyes, “Say that again, Dany. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Daenerys looked into his eyes and said, “Grandmother…she was with the Lord Commander.” 

Helaena watched the confusion morph her husband’s face and he nodded his head, “Well yes, Ser Criston Cole is in charge of watching over your grandmother.”

Daenerys shook her head and clarified as best as a child could do, “He wasn’t guarding her, father. He was in her bed.” [Name]’s blood ran cold. The reason why Jaehaerys and Rhaegar died was because Cole didn’t want the Night’s Watch to-

“Helaena is this true?” He looked over at his sister-wife and she nodded her head with her eyes on the floor. His heart dropped to his stomach at this revelation. His skin crawled with the act of deceit. His mother called the Lord Commander to her chambers, thus allowing the release of the Night’s Watch on the royal family. 

“Rhaegar looked like you, father, fighting back that man” Daenerys sniffled and wiped her eyes with her small hands, “he wounded the ratcatcher. His eye is scarred, sort of like uncle Aemond. I think…I think Rhaegar knew his end, but he wounded his attacker so you could find him.”

“Of course he did,” [Name] whispered and hugged his daughter to his chest, pressing her face into the crook of his neck where she cried some more. Of course Rhaegar did that, he never went down without a fight. He was taught to protect his family, to harm those that pose a threat to them. But [Name] never taught his first born to think for himself. Think about a life Rhaegar could live for. Instead his son sacrificed himself to buy time for Helaena and Jeyne. 

“I’m sorry, my girls,” [Name] choked out, his tears finally cascading down his face, “I wasn’t there for you. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you from those bastards. Dany, your brother could have still been alive if I had-”

Daenerys moved her head and tilted her chin up, her gaze piercing his soul, “I know it’s not your fault, father. You were flying out with Balerion like you always do every night. Rhaegar knew what he had to do, I don’t blame you for his bravery.” 

Bravery. Not death. Daenerys saw her older brother as a brave child that passed away with honor. Not as a little boy with a dagger, weak to a full grown man. He looked over at his wife and she nodded her head in approval. Helaena could never blame [Name], she knew if he were present, he would have slaughtered the ratcatchers. 

“Helaena, Daenerys,” [Name] looked at his daughter then back to his wife. With gritted teeth, he said, “Cole will face consequences for releasing the Night’s Watch and I will find the ratcatcher that killed Rhaegar. This I promise to you.” 

“What about…mother?” Helaena cautiously asked her husband. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and he handed Daenerys over to her arms. Then he stood up and brought his sad gaze over to Viserys sleeping in his crib.  

“Mother will feel guilty all her life for this moment,” [Name] began walking away and said, “I hope it drives her mad.” 

“Brother, tell them that this idea is madness! We cannot allow our sons to be dragged across this city for show!” Aegon’s voice filled with hurt brought [Name] out of his misery and he looked at the table.

“What idea?” He sat up in his chair and Otto looked over at [Name] carefully wording his sentence out. 

“We will honor Prince Jaehaerys and Rhaegar by showing the cruelty of Rhaenyra’s actions to the people. This will-” 

[Name] shook his head and looked at Otto, asking, “Wait, Rhaenyra did this? She was the one that ordered our sons to die?” 

Alicent looked down at the table and folded her hands together, “We don’t know for sure, but-” 

“That’s a serious accusation that will not be taken lightly. Did she or did she not order that Prince Jaehaerys should die?” [Name] demanded, his hand itching to spill some blood. His anger was getting the best of him, eating away at his best traits. 

Everyone remained quiet at the table until Aegon shot up from his seat, raging with fury. [Name] didn’t notice that Cole had left the room. “Of course she fucking did! She’s a cunning little bitch! I want her to answer for the crimes she committed against us!” 

[Name] couldn't believe it. Rhaenyra would never cause the same pain she felt when she lost Lucerys to Aemond on Helaena. But he wanted answers, “I will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow morning and demand for answers.” He stood up from his seat and stopped short in his path. “I’m not going to start a war, not yet. I will confront my sister and ask her about this crime.” 

“She’ll lie to your face!” Aegon shouted, spit flying viciously out of his mouth. 

[Name] looked over his shoulder and scrutinized him, “People cannot lie easily with Balerion in sight. You pissed your pants when he didn’t choose you, so imagine what others will do.”

He walked a bit more and one of the guards opened the door for him. Then he set his hand on the door, he kept his eyes forward and addressed his grandfather, “A Hightower shouldn’t speak on Targaryen traditions. My son is going to be honored only by his family and burned by Balerion. His bravery isn’t a spectacle for King’s Landing and I won’t have strangers mourning him. His body has been defiled enough along with Jaehaerys. I don’t see why we have to show them our pain, sympathizing with us isn’t enough reason for them to peek into our lives. Anyone who touches Rhaegar’s body���will die.”

……

After his talk with the council, [Name] found himself in his bed with his two girls and baby boy. Viserys had been busy climbing on Helaena with cute babbles while Dany cuddled up against [Name]’s bare chest. “I am going to Dragonstone to ask our sister if she had anything to do with this. I’m leaving early in the morning, I would like everyone to join me.” 

“You’re going to visit Aunt Rhaenyra, father?” Daenerys sat up with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “That means we can fly on Balerion together.” [Name] nodded his head and brushed her long hair behind her ears. 

“But what if she thinks it's a sign of war?” Helaena asked.

[Name] cleared his throat and said, “They’re scared of Vhagar as it is, I don’t think they want to fight Balerion as well. I can win that fight easily against her motherly dragon. Rhaenys would be my worry for Balerion. But that’s beside the point, I’m there looking for answers, not a fight.”

Helaena looked down at Viserys and the two year old smiled at her. “I’m afraid to fly with him.”

[Name] sat up and cleared his throat, “I can have Viserys’ strapped to my back while-”

“I meant Rhaegar,” Helaena murmured and looked away from her family. Meanwhile [Name] sighed and knew his plan for having Rhaegar honored by the Blacks instead of the Greens was going to have a bad effect on his wife. But he couldn’t do it. Jaehaerys would be shown around to the people, but not Rhaegar. Not his boy.

“I can fly with all three of them, Helaena. Balerion is big enough to carry all of us and it’ll be no big deal for him.” [Name] reasoned, hoping his wife would look at him. 

“I can ride with Mother,” Dany offered with a sweet smile, “if she wants me too.” 

Helaena looked back at her daughter and returned the smile, “Yes, of course little one. Are we also taking their dragons with us?” She looked at [Name] for clarification. She knew what his big plan was and this would cement the fact. 

“Yes, that is the idea of it,” He whispered back, afraid she would reject it. Moving out of King’s Landing to Dragonstone is a risk he was willing to take to keep his family alive. He wished he only did it sooner. 

“Okay, I trust you.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss on his cheek. This action had Daenerys giggle with a blush on her face. [Name] bristled at the action himself and awed at the expression on his daughter’s face. Though they experienced a terrible night, his girls were able to show a bit of comfort and happiness. 

He held back his tears and longed for Rhaegar to return. Longed for his family to be complete again. Helaena saw the tears in his eyes nonetheless and she placed her hand onto his face, “We should rest, we have an early journey ahead of us.” She released his face and picked up Viserys, putting the babe into his own bed with his young dragon laying at the top left corner.

While she settled the boy, [Name] slid out of bed and pulled out the logs from the fireplace leaving it only a kindle now. The room darkened exponentially and he made his way back to the bed at the same time Helaena did. Dany pushed her father over to the middle so she could share him with her mother. With Helaena on his right, she cuddled up against his chest, her head laying on his shoulder. Daenerys on his left hugged his arm tightly and the little girl went fast asleep with light snores. 

The fire crackled a few times before dying out completely, letting the full moon being the only source of light in the room. [Name] stayed awake thinking about tonight. He thought about looking for the ratcatcher when his girls fell asleep. He already had Rhaegar wrapped and prepared for the flight to Dragonstone. Perhaps he wanted to torture his mother a little bit longer before he left too. 

His eyes felt heavy with sleep, shouldn’t be long until his eyes shut for the night. Then he heard a few clicking noises of baby dragons. He lied still and saw two silhouettes climbing up his legs. Then the two baby dragons made their way to Dany, they made small noises until they settled right next to her body. One curled up next to her stomach and the other laid on his arm where Dany held on tightly. 

“My love,” [Name] whispered and turned his head slowly at Helaena. His wife stirred then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “You have to look at Dany, Helaena.” He whispered again, hoping not to scare the two hatchlings near his daughter. 

Helaena noticed his stiff body and she cautiously moved herself upward, peering down at the scene her husband was fawning over. “Moonlight and Nightmare…Rhaegar’s dragon is sleeping with her too?” 

[Name] shook his head with a teary grin, “Even in death, our boy is watching over his twin. I don’t know what to say right now besides that. I…There’s so many words I want to say, Helaena. I know you said it’s not my fault, but if I just stayed-”

Helaena put her hand on his chest then moved it upward to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. Please stop blaming yourself. You are a great father, you raised a strong boy who protected his family. You raised a strong girl who speaks with praise, not blame. And I know how Viserys is going to grow up too.”

“You…you had a dream again?” [Name] asked and relished her warm touch. 

“I’m a dreamer of you, my love,” She smiled with glee, “and yes, it was beautiful. Our family finds peace in the North, not sure how, but we do. And our family never stops growing. Dreamfyre and Balerion grow accustomed to the cold and have clutches to support our growing family. All is well with the Targaryens that move up North, my light in the darkness. Now please, let us rest, we need not worry about our future anymore.” 

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and his head fell back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and followed her order. Yes, she had a vision and she loved every second of it. She couldn’t wait to move up North. To have her husband create a grand alliance with Cregan Stark, the Wolf and the Dragon. This alliance will bring an end to this war between the Greens and the Blacks. 

After the war ends, she would be surrounded by five children and even more grandchildren. And the amount of dragons flying in the North would scare any Southerner that threatens the North. 

Yes, this vision was beautiful. After all, any vision involving [Name] always has been.

[hai7ani]

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut/not suggestive), reader copes with alcohol, panic attack but nothing descriptive, arguments please proceed with caution

masterlist | playlist

part ii / everything

The year of 2015 and you are an alcoholic. It is a Tuesday night and you've just gotten out of an AA meeting that you'd deemed useless the first time you attended out of courtesy -- there is no amount of talking and sharing and clapping that can help relieve the ache of your heart. It is constant and heavy and you can never make it go away. It never goes away. And yet you still attend every week, every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for the sake of attending because you are sick and tired of being alone. You feel lonely most days -- you are lonely most days.

You hear thunderstorms and figure that it is going to rain soon. You think to yourself while walking and you decide you are not in the mood to go home; you do not feel like dealing with the shitty elevator and your lousy neighbours tonight. So you huff and walk into the first bar you see and drink yourself stupid despite the concerns coming from your therapist.

Ex-therapist.

"Y/n-san, please try to cut down and control yourself with the alcohol. It is making your thoughts go worse and there's no health benefits either. We make progress and you seem to get better at maintaining your sobriety, but you'll relapse every time the topic of him comes up. This is not healthy, dear."

You fired her and stormed out of her office the moment she brings him up again while calling her a bitch. You told her to quit her job since she is so bad at it anyway. And you know it is not nice -- she was simply doing her job. You just didn't like how called out you feel. You said it before that you don't like it when she asks about him. You hate it when she urges you to open up about that summer.

Your vision is cloudy; you feel the world spinning around and everything looks distorted. Warm yellow lights shine brightly from above, a jazz band performing at the stage (their music is ass) that you're sure no one is listening to and you feel like puking so you gag but nothing comes out.

You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth and laugh to yourself when you hear his words echo in your ears again.

"I never wanna lose you."

"Yeah, right." You snort and take another sip of the vodka in your hand.

This is what you're used to -- clinging on to a shadow of a boy you never see again and refusing to let go after all these years. The longing and waiting for him to come back to you turns into desperation and you drink yourself into an alcoholic who secretly has anger issues because it takes your pain away.

Or that's what you tell yourself and the others when they ask why you're alone at a bar.

You cry hard every time you drink; you think of him whenever you feel dizzy and your entire world is finally foggy and he is the only thought that comes up in your mind.

Drinking never helps you to take your pain away. It only helps you to think and relish in him and his love that you try so hard to push away during the day when there are countless of annoying kids tugging on your apron and telling you look at the new clay art they made. You cannot afford to collapse in front of people who are not him. You don't trust yourself to do it when he is not around.

You just miss him so much.

And you sob into the sleeves of your sweater when everything gets too overwhelming and you just want him to come back. You really want to see him again. You really want to tell him that the voicemails you left to him that day was all a lie -- that you still love him so.

"I never wanna lose you."

He never did.

It was you who'd lost him instead.

A hand wrapping around your wrist breaks you from your train of thought and you yelp in shock. It pulls you from the table and another snatches the glass away from yours. You go slack against the chair and huff with a frown. You feel that it is a man because of the flashy Daniel Wellington wrapped around his big wrist and you watch through blurry vision as he hands your glass of vodka to a passing bartender. "No more of this. Get me her bill." The bartender nods and walks away.

You poke his arm and frown deeper. "Hey, you. I was still drinking that." You don't find any energy in you to argue with him for snatching away your drink, so you squint through cloudy eyes and pouty lips as you try to recognise the man. But you shrug and figure he is just a stranger and probably a molester, or even worse, a sex trafficker, so you grab your bag with tired hands and stand to leave. You stumble back a little when the chair obstructs your foot and he places a firm hand behind your back to stabilise your swaying body.

"Tsk. Sit down. You're drunk." He tuts and snatches your bag away from you to place it back on the table. To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. "Yeah, ya damn right I'm drunk. Leave me alone or I'm calling security. My drink isn't enough 'n now my bag ya wanna touch too. Asshole." You slur and muster up all the strength you can to kick his shin. He hisses at the striking pain and bends over to rub a hand over the area. "Jesus- still as painful as ever-"

But you sit back down nonetheless and take a deep breath, trying to regain your senses. You prop both elbows on the table. "Security," you mumble while leaning your head on your hands, "security!" You say it louder this time and it seems to have caught some attention with a few people nearby turning their necks and observing you with the man who is painfully calm about this whole situation.

You hear him sigh as he shuffles closer to you. He smells like expensive cologne with a hint of lavender -- it's a smell that is very familiar and you stun at it.

And it comes to you after a while when he smooths a hand down the back of your head and you feel like a little girl again. Tears spring to your waterline as you let him touch you. You watch as he rolls the sleeves of your sweater up to your forearm and feel as he gathers your hair to the back. He is gentle when doing all that and you don't feel any malicious intent coming from him anymore.

Because he is someone you know.

Security stands beside you after a moment but you ignore them as you try to focus on the way he is braiding your hair into a fishtail.

Like how he always used to.

A light yet masculine voice speaks as he secures the end of your hair with an elastic he pulled from your wrist.

"I know her. I'm a friend."

Security walks away after further confirmation that you cannot hear properly and you blink your droopy eyelids, trying hard to stay conscious but failing miserably when the alcohol finally takes over and you collapse on the table.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You wake up in someone's bed the next day. You don't recognise the room and you make sure your clothes are still on -- they are -- while hurriedly pushing the blankets off your body and standing up with a groggy head. The hangover is hitting hard and you hiss and yelp when you stub your toe hard at the foot of the bed.

"Morning." A voice greets from behind and your world stops spinning. Suddenly the hangover isn't there anymore and the voice is all you can focus on.

You turn around with wide eyes and see Haitani Ran standing by the door holding a cup of water and a pill in his hands. He walks over to you quietly and shoves them in your hands.

He looks so much different than before. No more long and braided hair in blonde and black -- it is now short and hangs loosely over his forehead in the colours of purple and black. Lanky body more pumped and muscular now -- he looks like someone legit and can be taken more seriously by people. Purple orbs that has never changed in intensity as they stare deep into yours who dulls when the memories starts flooding your brain.

"Ran."

He doesn't react other than nodding towards the stuff in your hands. "Take it. And I left some clothes in the bathroom. Take your time. I'll be outside with breakfast." He simply states with a soft yet firm voice and closes the door behind him when he leaves.

You drop to the bed and try to control your breathing with shaky breaths and a pounding migraine.

You feel your entire world collapsing around you. The strong border you've tried so hard to build with the outside world comes crashing down in an instant. The room feels like it is closing in on you and you rub at your eyes tiredly.

Suddenly you feel like the 19 year-old girl living in Kanagawa again.

And you cry.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Ran is sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when you exit his room. You've showered and got yourself dressed in some clean clothes he left for you -- a woman's clothes -- and you're shy when you pad to him, fingers fiddling with the hem of the cotton t-shirt.

You stop when Ran looks at you.

"Hey." He greets but you don't reply. Instead, you glance around and find that the house is well-decorated -- colourful quilted fabrics protecting the pillows on the couch and a vase full of baby's breath sits on the coffee table. There are many different photo frames hanging on the walls and on top of cupboards and you find yourself wanting to look at them. The kitchen cabinets are transparent and you see a lot of different snacks and instant noodles inside. The house is so lived-in and you can't help but smile softly.

You turn your head back to him who is already staring at your figure as he munches on a piece of bread.

You hadn't seen Ran in a very long time.

"Hi." You finally say it back and take a seat in front of him. He nods towards the cup of coffee in front of you and you move with shaky hands to take a sip. The handle is facing you and you feel a bit more refreshed when the smell hits your nose and you're reminded that Ran has always been attentive like that; like the times where he would cover the edge of the table when you bend down to pick a fallen pen up, or the times where Ran would shield you from a flying ball at the park and it hits him hard on the shoulder instead. The corners of your lips lift up while you savour the taste in your mouth and swallow with a satisfied sigh -- Ran has always made good coffee.

"So good." You murmur and place the mug back down on the table. Ran chuckles airily through his nose and pats the crumbs off his fingers. "Of course. It's Ran's Coffee." You laugh a little at that -- it's what you've always used to call his drink when he passes it to you in the kitchen of his old home.

Ran doesn't bring up yesterday and neither do you feel like doing so, so you choose to ignore it and eat while stealing a few glances here and there at him and smiling sheepishly when he catches you through eye contact. And you observe him openly now while chewing on some sausages -- he's wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it is paired with black slacks. Hair is gelled and combed up instead of hanging over his eyes like before. You think he looks so much more mature now and you wonder if-

Your eyes travel down to his hands and find a very shiny ring on his fourth finger. ". . . You're married?" You stop chewing at the realisation and blurt it out with wide and glossy eyes.

Ran grins at your suddenness and nods.

"Been married for two years now." He pauses while wiping his lips with a napkin. And he takes a glimpse at your reaction, trying to search for something in them -- he doesn't, so he continues. "Got a girl on the way too. Her name's Yui. Just ゆい."

You beam brightly at his happy. "God. Congrats, Ran!" And you truly are so happy for him -- since young, Ran had always been a family man. He's always talked about marrying a pretty woman and starting a nice little family with her -- a boy and a girl to balance it out, he once said. And you'd swatted his arm when he'd wiggled his brows at you while his brother scowled and tugged at a braid harshly.

You'd never gotten the memo back then.

And you decide not to ask him about his wife and how they met nor do you focus the topic to his daughter who is on the way -- you figure it'll bring up some awkwardness to the table (it wouldn't, but you just want to avoid your feelings) and you wince a little when you're reminded of the things Ran had left you in that box 7 years ago.

For the rest of breakfast you both make small talk, and you'd made it a mental note to dodge anything that is personal. Although Ran is a very old friend and you'd immediately felt comfortable around his presence, he is still his brother, and you and Ran still have some unresolved issues that needs to be talked about -- you don't think you are ready for it yet -- but Ran doesn't asks you anything too deep. He doesn't bring up his brother too -- and you relax when he starts talking about himself instead.

Apparently he runs a tech company now. It was nothing like the field he'd used to daydream of being in (the fashion industry) and it shocks you to the core when you find out that it's one of the companies that is currently rising in popularity and net worth in Japan. So you open up a little to tell him you work as a teacher now -- you teach children handicrafts and help younger ones with reading and writing at a daycare centre, though your smile falters a little when he asks if it is what you enjoy doing. You were the girl who's never found out your passion for the entirety of your teenage and schooling years -- you still haven't now that you're an adult, but you don't tell Ran that -- and you nod anyway when Ran continues to share about a few of his wife's friends who are looking for a handicrafts teacher for their children too; he asks if it's okay that he recommends you to them and you give him your consent.

Ran stands to get your plate when you're finished and you stand too, the creak of the chair against the floor loud and you grimace a little at it. You don't know what for -- you know Ran well enough to know that he will for sure reject if you offer to wash the dishes at his house, yet you stand anyway, and you watch from behind as he places them in the sink while switching on the tap. The water runs loudly and your lonely eyes flicker around until it lands on the stuff covering the fridge -- magnets from different countries, a picture of an ultrasound of his unborn daughter at 7 months, some documents and pending bills . . . You think it is all a bit too heartwarming to look at and you reluctantly look away.

". . . Do you have work later?" Ran asks with a wavering tone. He sounds a bit uncertain despite it being a normal question and you blink. "No, actually. I don't have any classes on Wednesdays. It's my off day today." You pat down your shirt and move on your feet to help him tidy up the dining table -- pushing the chairs in, wiping the table, rearranging the coasters and clearing the leftovers stuck to the table cloth. You figure it is the least you can do for his kindness of letting you stay at his house for the night and making you breakfast in the morning.

Ran switches off the tap and dries his hands on a cloth hanging by the wall. He stares at your back and opens his mouth. "Can we talk-"

The front door unlocks.

You turn to the entrance with wide eyes and watch as it pushes open. You hadn't been made aware that Ran was expecting someone until Nobunaga Himeko walks in holding a bunch of stuff in her hands. It ranges from paper bags to recycled bags to a bouquet of colourful carnations.

And she is pregnant.

"Hi."

Himeko is all smiley when she sees you standing in her kitchen, wearing her clothes, and beside her husband who seems nonchalant about her entering the house. He pads over to her with a grin and kisses her forehead.

Your eyes look away from hers that are in thin crescents and shift your weight from one foot to another while picking on the skin around your thumb.

So it is like that.

"Love," Ran grabs the stuff from her hands in a hurry and shuts the door with his foot. "You're back." She nods and kicks off her flats, leaving it by the entrance.

Himeko calls your name in a soft voice and you look at her.

"It's nice to see you again."

She grins warmly and you return it without further words, albeit a little fake because you'd never expected her to be together with Ran, and she is pregnant with his child -- it is all simply too much to process and you take a deep breath when they both turn their backs to you. They whisper to themselves and you hear a bit of this and that -- just chatting about how her morning has been and he shares his plans for the both of them later tonight. They talk like you weren't even there in the first place and you bite the skin off your bottom lip when they continue to ignore you.

You connect the dots all by yourself after a while that Himeko was probably already home when Ran had brought you back here last night, that she'd seen you in a vulnerable state and all fucked up while smelling like disgusting vodka, and she's also probably the one who'd picked out your clothes and gave it to Ran to pass to you when you're awake.

"I, um . . . I should go." You blurt after a moment, finding no place for yourself in this house (damn right you don't -- this isn't your house, and you are merely just an acquaintance at this point) and you tighten your fist, the other hand reaching up to swipe away a loose strand of hair and tuck it behind your ear. Ran and Himeko looks back at your disappearing figure when you head back into the guest bedroom to grab at your dirty clothes. You shove them into your bag and carry it on your shoulder. While looking in the mirror you see the empty shell of a weak and despicable soul and you feel a panic attack bubbling up -- and you scowl to yourself when you remember your therapist's words, that avoiding your problems and past would only make things worse in the future.

When you exit the room in a hurry, Ran's voice boom in your eardrums and you try to control your breathing. "Can we talk?" Your flickering eyes glances back and forth between the couple, who are both donning a worried expression on their faces when you don't reply and instead breathe loudly through your mouth, trying hard to catch your breath and calm your feverish heart.

It'd just came so suddenly -- your panic attack -- and you don't know what for. Maybe because of the surprise from both Ran and Himeko being together -- you'd found out later that she'd harboured feelings first for the other brother back then. You'd also found out later that Ran used to harbour feelings for you way before his brother even did. And now the both are living together at an expensive apartment in central Tokyo with a baby on the way.

Or perhaps it is because the scene from 7 years ago at the Family Mart you'd worked in where Himeko had slapped you in front of your manager played in your head when you'd seen her just now, and your mind says that it does not want to relive the moment ever again; your heart screams that it does not want to feel the pain she'd induced on you ever again. And Himeko is scary when she moves closer and reaches a hand out to you.

"Please don't touch me." A lone tear escapes your eye and it rolls down to your chin. "Please. Stay away." The tear drips to the floor and you start sobbing while inching away and Ran is left dumbfounded at the scene playing right in front of his eyes. He does not know why you are so afraid of his wife who is also your childhood friend, and he is perplexed when he sees her reluctantly stepping back and rubbing a hand over her baby bump.

"What happened?" Ran is a bit furious when he asks it. Himeko stays silent at his question that sounded a lot more like a demand and stares down at her feet. "Hime, what is going on?"

She scratches at her head and you sniffle. "Nothing happened, Ran." You wipe your tears away and inhale the lavender in the air. It soothes you down just a bit. "I'm okay. Nothing happened between us. Just wanted to cry, it's all."

A big lie. Ran scoffs when you say it to his face -- it felt like an insult of you calling him stupid and Himeko is biting hard on her lip when you gather your belongings and walk to the entrance, but Ran is quick to stop you from leaving. He tugs back on your hand and you stop in your tracks when you feel the familiar warmth around your wrist.

"I have something to tell you."

"Not today, Ran. I have to go."

"Please. Listen to me. It's serious."

You try pulling your hand away and Ran only lets go when you click your tongue and hiss.

"Fuck off."

Fury engulfs your head and anger chains around your brain for just one second. And one second is all it takes for you to let it slip. Your eyes are wide, cheeks wet with tears when you realise what you'd just said.

"I am so sorry." You gasp, feeling so bad for letting the anger and hatred and rage you've been trying so hard to suppress all these years get to you and Ran is shocked at your sudden change in attitude. Himeko retreats back to their bedroom with a hand covering her mouth. You think she is disgusted with you, and you don't blame her for walking away.

Even you are disgusted with yourself.

Ran says your name again in an exasperated tone. His eyes are pleading for you when they look into yours.

"I have something important to tell you." He says it calmer this time and you finally give him your ears.

". . . It's about Rindou. Please listen."

Your heart dies at it.

It cracks loudly when Ran finally tells you.

And it crumbles to the ground when you'd fully processed his words.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A group of grown men sits in a circle. Another woman stands in the middle as she reads from a piece of paper. They laugh and answer her questions while she fakes interest and indulges them for a bit.

That's all there is to it, really. A weekly thing where Bianca Taira -- a white woman from the States married to a local Japanese man who currently works in Japan as a certified therapist -- comes by every Wednesday and gathers a few people around to sit in a circle and share things about themselves while having fun. Not a lot of people take her seriously despite her fluency in the language and how she dresses up really professional to show up -- because in the end, that is still a woman in front of them. Most of these men have not seen a woman from the outside world for a very long time other than a few guards and visitors, so they take every opportunity to tease and have fun with Taira-san, who doesn't reject their attitude harshly but is private when it comes to being asked about her husband.

"So, anyway, enough of my husband, please. He is nice and a good man." She huffs with a small frown but is quick to disappear it as she adjusts her top. It is tight and obviously very uncomfortable -- Bianca had picked the wrong shirt to wear today -- but she'll have to cope for now.

"Let's move on to our next question, shall we?" She smiles brightly and the men nod in agreement. She looks at the piece of nearly crumpled paper in her hand and searches for the sentence.

"Oh. This is a fun one." Bianca chuckles lightly and Minamoto, a man who is sitting in front of her, beams at her hint. "C'mon, say it already." He motions for her to hurry up.

She clears her throat and reads it out loud.

"What would you do for love?"

Everyone is laughing and shouting answers when the question comes up. They seem to have a lot of ideas for this one and Taira-san grins. Her objective for holding this session has been accomplished and she feels nothing but satisfaction when the men around her are genuinely having fun while laughing at each other's responses.

And to her, it is nothing but a simple and fun question. Prompts a straightforward answer too. Everyone does different things for love. Everyone is willing to do different things for love, and it would be really interesting to hear different people's answers.

Bianca attempts to calm them down with a laugh.

"Okay, everyone. Please calm down. Let's start sharing our answers one by one, okay?"

She looks around the circle. She spins and spins and spins until her eyes land on a certain individual who has been very quiet this whole day. Which is not a surprise, he is usually very quiet, too -- doesn't share a whole lot about himself and minds his own business when around people but Bianca feels that there is a little something hidden behind those dark, purple eyes. She feels that it is part of why he is so quiet, and she is determined to make him open up his shell.

She'll start from today.

"Haitani-san."

The man looks up at her at the sound of his surname and he blinks. "Would you like to go first?" She is hopeful when she asks it. He'll usually shake his head as a pass and tell her to move on with the question when being called upon, but Bianca finds it amusing when he doesn't do it this time. Instead, he looks back down on the skin around his fingernails that have been picked raw and he sighs.

"What was the question again?"

Bianca grins.

"What would you do for love?"

His mind runs at it. He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing concrete comes up.

He shrugs.

And Bianca is relatively shocked at his answer.

"Everything."

The men in the circle around him grow quiet immediately when he says his answer. No one speaks and he fidgets a little in his seat -- he doesn't like that the attention is all on him now, and he regrets it a little for replying to her question.

Only one guy snickers and he nudges his arm.

Minamoto's face is red as he laughs at the man, "seriously? What? Like you'd even kill for your girl or something? That's so corny, dude."

He shrugs.

Minamoto is a man who'd just arrived here not too long ago -- he'd claimed that it was for something minor and he'll be out soon in no time, but he'd quickly gotten close to most of the people here because of his open mind and bright laughter. But the other men beside him are men who have been around for a very long time -- long enough to know that whatever he says should be taken seriously, and what he'd said is true -- and they'd be a fool to doubt that he is lying.

That he'd do everything for love.

He doesn't say a thing at Minamoto's tease and looks out the window to his right. It is gloomy and seems to be a bit windy outside today -- a bit too similar to what he's currently feeling on the inside and it makes his stomach churn a little. So he turns back and stares at Minamoto who immediately quiets down when he sees nothing but pure darkness in his eyes. It reminds him so much of hurt and pain -- and for once, Minamoto quickly gets the idea and his smile falters.

"Oh, so-"

Minamoto is disrupted by a guard pushing the door open and entering the room, a handcuff in hand and she clears her throat.

"Inmate 103, a visitor for you."

Mizobe stands up abruptly at the guard's notice. He is an elder man who is sitting beside the said inmate and has been friends with him for a very long time -- at least long enough for him to know that this is a once in a lifetime thing -- and he gapes.

"No fuckin' way." He pokes a finger into the younger man's shoulder while pointing another at the guard who is waiting patiently by the door. "You hear that, Haitani?! A visitor for you!"

He says nothing but stands up straight at the call of his inmate number. He shuffles over to the guard with a blank expression but no one knows that on the inside, he feels as though his heart is about to fall out of his chest -- it rattles, jumps and skips beat after beat. And he lets the guard cuff his hands together while walking him out the door.

"Who is it?" He decides to bite when he slowly approaches the visiting room. He has never been here for 7 years already -- just once at the very start of his sentencing when his brother had visited to tell him that he is never coming back here again. "Tell me."

". . . You'll see." She says softly and uncuffs his wrists with a key when they stop at the entrance. The door is locked tight and he is confused when she tells him to turn around. "As far as I know I am not allowed to see people without cuffs." He states in an uncertain tone and the guard chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. She looks around to make sure no one else hears other than the few guards who are in shift. They all smile at him.

"It is your first visitor after so long, so we'll let it pass today. Just take your time, with her. No time limit." She motions to another guard to unlock the door and all of a sudden he doesn't feel like going out anymore.

He hasn't had a visitor in 7 years. Not once in his how long his sentencing has been going on and to hear that it is a her makes his entire being falter. From being a quiet yet strong guy in his unit, he is reduced to nothing but a coward when the guard pushes him out the door by the shoulders and he stumbles a little on the way.

And his heart stops beating entirely at the sight of a woman sitting by a table.

A woman that looks a lot like you.

"Rindou."

The doors close behind him. There is no one else in the room except for the two of you. Rindou hears nothing except for the sounds of your soft cries while you waddle over to him -- they came rolling down your cheeks like waterfall at the sight of him. 7 years later and you finally get to see him again, and your body reacts differently than what you'd expected it to. Your feet moves automatically, closer to his body and his breath fluctuates, in and out of his mouth when your cream coloured coat makes you look so small and you reach both arms out to him.

The bright orange jumper he wears makes him look a bit like the mandarins you'd used to pick together back home in Kanagawa. You cry louder at it and look down to grab at his hands. You whimper because they are so warm when you place them both on your face. A sigh escapes your lips and you turn your head to kiss at his left palm, then the right and his lips wobble at your gentleness after all that he's done. Your tears wet his skin and they move swiftly without hesitation to cup your soft and rosy cheeks -- his thumbs swiping the salty away and you sob in his hands. You hiccup and he pulls you close to his lips to kiss at your forehead. He doesn't retreat and doesn't dare look into your eyes either when you pull away.

"Rindou." You manage to call for his name again after a while and he finally meets your eyes this time -- and he sees nothing but darkness mixed oddly with so much love in them. "My Rindou." The purple orbs you've always loved admiring at fleets and his heart stutters in his chest.

He feels so undeserving of yours as you hand it over to him.

Rindou is in agony when he sees your crying face.

There are no more bruises on you, but you are still in so much pain, and it is all because of me.

It feels like murder to have put your heart through this, and he watches with aguishness as you cry and cry and cry. Because he'd done it. And putting you in so much pain and despair are his consequences to suffer.

He drops to his knees instantly at the sound of your misery. He kneels before you and you cry even harder when he wraps his arms around your legs and bows his head against your thighs.

"I am sorry."

Angry tears fall and drips to the floor as he continues to apologise.

"I am so sorry."

Snot runs down his nose and you hit at his shoulder.

"Stand up, Rindou. I'm not mad."

And you really weren't. You just thought he was stupid for it; that he was crazy -- fucking insane -- for actually doing it and not telling you -- hiding it and leaving you alone to think he'd left and doesn't want you anymore.

He only weeps harder and kiss at your thigh through your pants.

You're sure the Gods are criticising you for feeling everything but anger and hatred when you pull at his jumper to try and get him to stand up -- he doesn't budge and you give up. You're sure they are cursing you to eternal agony when you kneel with him instead and hug him close to your body -- you rub at his back like how you always did when he would come to you after a bad day. And you're sure they are sending the Grim Reaper your way when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss on the skin -- you rub your face on his uniform like a cat and inhale his scent. It never went away. He still smells like the boy you've always loved. He is the boy that you've always loved.

And no sane person would ever understand you for being this close, this intimate, and this forgiving, to a person who had killed your father.

Only you would know why.

Haitani Rindou apologises to you first thing when he sees you.

And it is because he'd killed your father.

For you.

tag: @nana-osakii @idktbhloley ily

( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

(i do not condone anything that has happened in this. this is purely fiction)

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART TWO : CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: they're mates....they've always had been

word count: 4.9k

author's note: kind of nervous and kind of excited for this chapter ahaha. finally a proper jake and tinkers reunion. hope y'all enjoy <3

AO3 | prev | next

Mo’at had led you to her tent to examine you hours after your transference. The night was still quite young but it was close to dawn. But Mo’at was insistent you’d come to her tent right after. She said as the spiritual leader and basically the head of all the healers, it was her job to make sure that everything in your body and mind was sound.

But you really didn’t care much for the needles.

“Ow.” You winced.

“Ssh and hold still.” Mo’at tapped your other arm, telling you to raise it up for her. You tried not to cringe or flinch when she added more needles to your arm. What made it worse was that it was hot too so you really had to refrain from fighting off her grip. “If you cannot deal with small pins, then how are you to be a warrior?”

You frowned, ”I think I would manage fine without the needles actually—ouch!”

“I told you not to move and you moved!” Mo’at scolded as she finished with the needles.

“Barely!” You hissed, glaring at the pins in your arm. “When are we going to be done?”

Mo’at stood and walked toward the small bonfire in the center of the tent. She grabbed a small wooden bowl and stirred whatever contents inside around as she spoke, “You do not rush this. Let me work and you hold still, tsmuke.”

Before either of you could say anything else, Neytiri entered with who you assumed to be Kiri following close behind her.

Yet your eyes couldn’t stay on her for long when you saw Jake standing right outside of the tent already looking at you. He didn’t move to come inside, instead there was this look on his face. Anxiety, shock, disbelief? You really didn’t know. Whatever it was, it made him turn and walk away.

Neytiri saw this and sighed as she approached you, “He is very hard on himself.” She said as she squatted down next to you. “When it comes to you and when he thought you had died, he hadn’t forgiven himself since.”

You frowned, dropping your gaze to your hands. The last thing you had wanted was for him to blame himself.  “He does not deserve the pain I’ve caused him…” If anything you completely understood if he never wanted to be near you ever again.

“Do not do that.” Neytiri frowned at you, pulling you out of your self-deprecation. “Jake loves you. And you love him. Do not make this more complicated than it needs to be.” She placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly, “Just give him some time. And he will come to you.”

For a moment you considered her words. Perhaps she was right. Hell, if you were in Jake’s shoes and the person you thought was dead for years had suddenly come back, you’d definitely need a moment to process it all. That was fair.

So instead of dwelling on it for longer than you should’ve, you instead turned to Neytiri, “Why are you pushing for us to be together?”

Neytiri looked at you in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I? You and Jake are mates.”

“I thought you and Jake now were…?”

“Yes, we are mates as well.”

You blinked at her, your brain crashing, “I’m confused.”

Mo’at made a sound similar to a snort from her spot at the fire, “For someone who claims to know The People, you get confused a lot, tsmuke.” You frowned in annoyance as Mo’at came back to your side with the wooden bowl still in her hands. “We are not bound to only one mate. It has always been that way. Years before, Eytukan had a second mate, Sylwanin’s mother. But unfortunately she died in childbirth.”

Wait, you knew this. Not in specific detail but Tsu’tey told you about how they had multiple mates among the Na’vi, how they weren’t monogamous like humans usually were. You had forgotten this but that definitely made a lot more sense as to why Neytiri was trying to encourage you and Jake’s relationship to meld back together. Why she had been so adamant to save you.

As if reading your mind, Neytiri nodded, “Jake accepted that you were gone despite us never finding you…I suppose he never thought you’d ever come back.”

“But you did.” You said in a matter of fact tone. “For some reason you never gave up on me…even when I had given up on myself.”

“Mmm.” Mo’at hummed in agreement as she placed the cool liquid from the bowl on your skin.

Neytiri shrugged, “The both of you are hard headed, somebody has to have some sense out of the three of us.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite Mo’at still picking at the needles in your arms, “Thank you, Neytiri.”

She gave you a small smile in return and nodded. The slight movement behind Neytiri finally caught your eye. And when you looked you had realized—and nearly forgotten—that Kiri was in the tent with the three of you. Neytiri moved to the side so that you could see Kiri better who had been staring at you both curious and hesitant.

“Kiri. This is ma tsmuke. Ma’Grace knew her as well.”

Kiri looked up at Neytiri, stunned, “Ma sa’nok?” Neytiri nodded with a patient smile. Kiri then looked at you, now more curious. “You knew my mother?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face. “Yes, I did. She was, in a way, like a mother to me too. She was always looking out for me even when I was being a stubborn idiot about it. Sometimes I was looking out for her too and believe me I can’t tell you how many times I’ve saved her as—I mean her tail.” Both Neytiri and Mo’at sent you looks before Kiri scooted closer to you.

“Tell me!” She grinned up at you. “Tell me more!”

You glanced toward Neytiri who motioned for you to continue. “Well, um, there was this one time where she got lost in the forest…”

And from there you had spent that time telling Kiri stories of your time with Grace. You had never thought you’d be able to relive these memories without feeling grief over it but Kiri’s large smile and youthful laugh at some of the most ridiculous parts in your tales was what made it easier. And you were glad for it.

Kiri didn’t know her mother before she died. But you were happy to share every single detail about her as best as you could, just so that she could feel as close to Grace as you did. Just so she could think of her as if they had already met. It was the one thing you were happy to do for Grace, the least you could do really.

Sometimes you often thought that you had failed her. But after seeing her face to face for the first time in what felt like forever, those doubts slowly dwindled away from you. Because in the end, Grace was right.

You had time. You still had time.

And this time you would not let it slip through your fingers so easily.

Neytiri woke you up when the night had been replaced with gray clouds and rain. She led you out into the forest while Kiri stayed behind in Mo’at’s tent, sleeping. You had never seen rain much in Pandora and it was mostly rare considering the hot climate of the forest. But when it did, like now, it was still somehow so beautiful. Back on Earth whenever it rained it was always so dreadful and depressing, it made you wish that sometimes the Earth was as beautiful as Pandora.

It once was. Many, many years ago. The humans just never appreciated it. Which is why it was dying. The last thing you ever wanted was for them to come here and do the same to Pandora. Which was why it was strange just walking in the forest, no longer an avatar or dreamwalker, but one with your new body, and be at peace with it. Not having to worry about the RDA roaming about or having to hide away from Quaritch.

This was nice. This is what you had always wanted.

For a second, a curious thought appeared in your mind.

“Where will my former body go?” You asked Neytiri as you both ducked under a few leaf branches.

“We will give it a traditional burial, the Omatikaya way.” Neytiri then suddenly pointed up at a tree she stopped next to. “We climb.”

You had never climbed a tree before. Especially not in this body. But you did your best, trying to keep up with Neytiri. And yes, you looked quite pathetic climbing next to Neytiri who did it with very little effort. She was practically on the branch she wanted to stop at by the time you made it.

She tsked, “You are like Jake, you are practically a baby.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t exactly have much time to learn how to climb a tree.” You frowned, mirroring her position on the large branch the two of you now squatted on. Neytiri rolled her eyes as you spoke again, “So why are we out here?”

Neytiri closed her eyes and breathed out a long sigh through her nose, “I can not teach you to be one of the People like I did with Ma’Jake. But I can show you how to listen.” You furrowed your brows but copied her and closed your eyes as well. “Listen to the forest. See the forest. Then you will understand what it means to be of The People.”

You listened, you really did. To the rain drops. To the sounds of different creatures in the distance and nearby. To the leaves as they swayed in the gentle wind. Breathed in the air—and it felt terribly different compared to wearing a mask. It all felt so nice. So peaceful.

There wasn’t a moment where you never not admired the nature of Pandora. You appreciated all of it, and wanted to study all of it years back. But you just never had the time to truly just take it in, let it breathe you in, and draw you into its arms. Perhaps it was easier for you because in a way you already understood and respected what was around you. And so you were a lot more open-minded, willing to accept it.

Suddenly, a bunch of water dropped down onto your head, startling you out of your trance. Your eyes snapped open, looking around to find where exactly that water had come from. Only to find that Neytiri had moved the leaf that had been covering your head from the rain. She was grinning at your reaction.

“Neytiri!” You scowled despite the laugh that wanted to leave your lips.

Neytiri smiled, “Should’ve been paying attention, tsmuke!”

“You told me to feel the forest! I was feelin’ it!” You say in English, realizing slightly that you had been speaking in Na’vi the entire time until now. You’d done it so much it just became natural to you like how English was before.

“Then go. Continue feelin’ it.” Neytiri gestured toward the forest as she stood and reverted back to Na’vi. “I must head back before my children wake. You know the way back?” You nod, despite being unsure. Neytiri saw right through it and sighed before pointing west, “Follow the torukspxam until you find a stream. Go across the stream and you will find home.”

Home. Home. You were going to have to get used to that.

Eventually, you got to your feet as well but leaned against the tree. Neytiri watched you for a moment before she nodded to you, “I see you, tsmuke.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “I see you, tsmuke.”

After watching Neytiri jump down, effortlessly, from the tree and toward the ground, disappearing in seconds.

You continued venturing the forest but didn’t wander too far. Instead, you eventually came down from the trees and landed on the soft grass. The rain now poured down on your head and hair, completely uncovered. And you just stood there, letting the rain fall onto your face with a content smile on your face.

For a moment you allowed yourself this peace. This moment alone. You were grateful to Neytiri, Mo’at, and even Spider and Kiri for keeping you company for all these days, especially in your weakest moments. But now. This is when you wanted to be alone. To absorb everything that’s happened. To absorb that you had been gone for five years, that you were alive and the transference had worked, that Jake was also now living quite happily among the Na’vi, that you had won the war and missed the celebration.

All of this should have been overwhelming. All of it should’ve at least bothered you. And some of it did, truthfully.

But really, you were just glad it was all over. Constantly fighting, surviving, and seeking some form of revenge that would satisfy you. You were glad that all of it was done.

And now you could start a new life. Hell, maybe even start over if you could.

The Na’vi did say that every person is born twice. This, you realized, was your second chance at life.

It was now your time to live.

You were lost.

It was sometime in the afternoon that you realized you had gotten lost during your attempt at getting back. You did exactly as Neytiri had told you and followed the torukspxam, those large mushroom looking plants that were taller and bigger than you in every way. But now you were starting to think you had followed the wrong one’s home. But at least they made for good covering whenever you got too wet from the rain.

God, this was embarrassing. The last thing you wanted was to be an inconvenience just because you couldn’t navigate a damn forest.

There was a rustle coming further from your right. You stopped listening for any more movement. It was a bit difficult to hear anything else but the rain pelting your ears but you listened the best you could.

After a few seconds, there was another rustle, this time it had gotten closer. That was when you darted away from it. You really didn’t want to stay and figure out what it was, that wasn’t the survival instincts you had instilled in you and you’d be damned if you got attacked by some creature just because you wanted to wait and see what it was. Could be dangerous, could be peaceful, you didn’t care to take the risk.

When you ducked behind a thick tree, in the corner of your eye you saw a black skinned creature darting around the corner you had just come from. You pressed your back against the tree and waited for any more sounds. There was more rustling and a growl. Fortunately, it didn’t sound like it was too close to you, so you risked a glance from behind the tree.

It took everything in you not to let out a string of curses.

The creature, as it turned out, was a Thanator. It was one of those creatures you knew enough about not to ever cross. And yet here you were. Really, you had never seen one in person nor did you wish to but it was a lot scarier looking than how Grace described it when she saw one.

It was roaming and sniffing about. It wasn’t going anywhere which meant that it knew you were near.

Thinking quickly, your eyes searched the ground around you until it landed on a large rock. You grabbed it and clutched it to your chest. The Thanator hadn’t noticed fortunately for you but it was roaming a little too close to your hiding spot. So when you peeked around the tree again to find the Thanator facing away from you, that was when you threw the rock in the opposite direction of where you were.

You ducked behind the tree, hearing the rock’s impact against a nearby tree. It was loud enough to echo just a bit and capture the Thanator’s attention toward it. You watched it and a few seconds later it darted off in the direction of the rock.

With that, the Thanator had disappeared but you didn’t come out right away. You waited a few seconds more until you were sure you couldn’t hear it coming back.

Something suddenly clutched your upper arm.

At first you had thought another Thanator or a more dangerous creature had snuck up on you as you whirled around.

Only there was no creature.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jake’s voice registered in your ears before you realized he had been the one to grab your arm. “It’s just me, okay? It’s just me.” He held his other hand up cautiously and you stared at him in confusion until you realized your other hand had been raised up to strike whoever it was that had grabbed you. But now seeing that it was just Jake, you lowered your arm and slid down to the ground. Jake knelt down beside you, “Hey, are you hurt? Are you okay? Doc?”

You waved him off, your other hand absentmindedly latching onto the wrist that still held onto your arm. “Oh my god, Jake, don't scare me like that!” You smacked his chest, startling him. “What are you even doing sneaking up on me like that?! I thought another Thanator caught me!”

“Another?” Jake’s brows furrowed. His eyes traveled your body, “It didn’t get you—”

“No, it didn’t.” You sighed, slumping your shoulders against the tree bark.

Jake seemed to have been calming down as well as he let you go and stood back up. You frowned at the loss of touch but followed, pushing yourself up on your feet, “What are you even doing out here alone? I thought you were getting checked out by Mo’at.”

“Yes, hours ago.” You nodded moving away from him and toward a nearby torukspxam and stood under it as it was still raining. “Neytiri and I were out here earlier together.”

“Why didn’t you come back with her?” Jake questioned, frowning, his face unreadable.

You dropped your gaze away from his and pressed your back against the thick stem. You felt embarrassed, you felt like hiding away from him and his masked gaze. “I came here to think. I needed some time too.”

There was shuffling before in the corner of your eye, you saw Jake stood under the torukspxam with you. The two of you were quiet for a few seconds. Your gaze fell onto a pink leaf, dripping with water. Gently, you allowed your fingers to graze it.

Then Jake finally spoke.

“It’s too dangerous for you to be out here alone, especially when you’re not properly trained.” You could feel his eyes on you. Burning your skin. “You could’ve been killed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve endangered myself.” You smirked a bit.

“Y/N.” Jake scowled at you. “You can’t keep putting yourself in danger like this. And if you keep being reckless, then someone will get hurt because of it.”

This wasn’t Jake speaking to right now. This was the leader of the Omatikaya. The Olo’eyktan. Speaking to you as if you were one of his followers. And pretty much pissed you off.

You glared at him now, “Then why did you come? Since I’m so dangerous, why are you here?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Is that why you came all the way out here?” You questioned, pushing away from the stem and stepping back into the rain. “Just to lecture me, make sure I don’t get anyone else killed? Is that all?”

Jake didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, or past you, you really couldn’t tell. His eyes were too glazed over, his face was too guarded. 

Fine, you had never been good at reading Jake. Or rather, he wasn’t that great at expressing himself emotionally. But right now it was particularly frustrating.

Your shoulders lumped and your hardened face loosened. It was then you realized something you were afraid of. That all of this. Was caused only by your actions.

“Look, maybe you’re right.” Was what came out of your mouth first. At the sound of your words, Jake now stared at you in both confusion and hesitance. “What I did….what happened those five years ago…that wasn’t fair. Grace told me not to do it and maybe…maybe I should’ve listened to her.”

“Y/N—”

“And even though I’m not sorry for what I did to Hell’s Gate, I am sorry for leaving.” You frowned, dropping your gaze. “I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to leave you. I tried, I tried so hard to come back from it. To come back to you and the others….but I didn’t…”  

The rain filled the silence between you, wrapping you in its cold embrace as you speak, voice now shaky. Jake had yet to say anything nor did you hear him move. But you kept going, you forced yourself to keep going even though these words hurt your heart. Hurt every part of your soul.

You closed your eyes to keep the tears at bay. “Just…Just say you hate me. Say it and maybe this loss will be easier. Maybe it won’t be like stones on my heart anymore.”

It wasn’t until you felt both his hands on your face did you realize how close he had gotten to you without you realizing it. The physical contact had taken you off guard, so much so that you just stared at him as he brought your head closer to his until both your foreheads had connected. And the both of you stayed like this, one of his hands lowering to the side of your neck, squeezing it gently. Out of habit, your hand came to meet his wrist.

And for a moment, you had forgotten the rain.

“Loss will never be easy.” Jake whispered to you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “No matter what I did, numbing myself, burying it all down, forgetting…I could never forget the woman I loved. That I love so much it fucking burns me.” He pressed a long kiss against your cheek and you melted into his warm touch. He muttered his next words against your skin, his voice trembling, droplets of warm water dripping down your neck. “I thought I lost you…”

Your foreheads met once more. This time you moved your own hands to his face to wipe away the tears. And you were so relieved when he leaned into your touch as much as you did with him. You were so relieved to be able to feel him instead of imagining it, instead of yearning for it. He was here. Holding onto you so tight as if you were to disappear.

“And I’ll be damned if I do again.” His hands moved down to your arms, pulling you closer until both your chests were pressed against each other. “Don’t ask me to hate you. Don’t ask me to let you go. It’ll only make me hold on, it’ll only make me love you more. And I’m sorry, Doc, but I won’t let you go this time.”

He pulled you closer until his mouth was on yours. His lips against yours were as soft as you remembered. As gentle but possessive just as his hold on you was. You remembered the last time you had been held by him like this, how all you felt then was dread and worry of what the inevitable held. But now, all you could do was just sink deeper into this, embrace it, embrace him.

Finally.

When you broke apart, it was your words that came out first, “I see you.” Jake’s eyes lit up at your words and you smiled, “I never got a chance to say it before.”

With a teary smile, he stole another kiss from you.

“I see you, Y/N.”

Jake’s hands slid into yours as he tugged you forward, “We should head back now. They’re probably wondering where we are.”

You nodded as you allowed him to pull you along, “Right, the great Toruk Makto and now the Olo’eyktan. What can’t you do, Jake Sully?”

“Get you to be my mate any faster.” Jake sent you a small smile, his hand moving to the small of your back as he moved a leaf out of your way.

Warmth filled your cheeks despite the cold weather. “Patience. That seems to be it.”

Jake’s hand squeezed yours as he continued pulling you along, “I have waited five years for you. Patience is long overdue.”

A foreign sound left your lips and it strangely sounded similar to a laugh. “Well, not all of us can be perfect.”

“Tsmuke!” Mo’at scowled once she spotted you and Jake walking out of the forest. Did I say you were done here? Where have you wandered off to?!”

“I’m sorry—” You tried but Mo’at ignored you and tugged you back into her tent with Jake trailing behind.

Inside, Neytiri was already there with Kiri and two other kids who were playing with each other. You sent her a look as Mo’at made you sit on the floor, “You could have given better directions, you know.”

She raised a brow, “My instructions were quite simple actually…” As Mo’at began washing on the liquid that had dried on your arm, you watched as Neytiri’s eyes settled on something behind you. You briefly glanced over your shoulder to find Jake slipping into the tent. He looked at you with a certain softness that made your heart flutter. His eyes twinkled when he saw Neytiri and the children.

You felt it without him even saying anything. Everything felt complete, felt familiar…

And felt like home.

A shy smile tugged at your lips and Neytiri smirked before saying, “Like I said. My instructions weren’t too difficult.”

You stared at her suspiciously, briefly wondering if she had meant to leave you out in the forest on purpose and that Jake finding you wasn’t as much of a coincidence as you had thought.

“Dad!”

One of the boys grinned and rushed over toward him. Jake knelt down toward the boy who you realize right then was one of his sons. The other one was sitting next to Neytiri and staring at you curiously just as Kiri had in the beginning.

Neytiri noticed and gently caressed the boy’s cheek, “Neteyam, this is Y/N. She is meant to be a part of our family now.” She glanced toward you, “If she chooses to accept us.”

The boy, Neteyam, looked back at you and smiled. It was amazing how much he looked like Neytiri when he did. “Hello, Y/N.”

Mo’at pinched your arm, “No moving.”

You winced but obeyed and then turned back to the boy, “It’s nice to meet you, Neteyam.” In the corner of your eye, Jake was now playing with the other boy, lifting him up and down as the boy continued to giggle loudly. Inside the tent was very peaceful and quiet. Not quite to the point of discomfort. It was the type of quiet you wouldn’t mind staying in for a long period of time, especially with the people that you cared for. Who loved sitting in silence also.

Kiri came up to you to show her doll to you as Mo’at went back to retrieve more of the liquid from the fire. She went on and on, talking about her doll in her cute childlike babble. You began showing her how to play with the doll, similar to the way you had done so back when you were a child. And then eventually Neteyam found his way over to the two of you, sitting quietly while watching as you and Kiri played with the doll.

Eventually, Kiri and Neteyam got distracted and went over to Neytiri and Mo’at, watching the latter do her work as Tsahik. The other boy soon followed them.

On your left, Jake settled down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. You watched the three children with a smile. One of them looked like Jake, another looking like Neytiri, and then one who looked almost identical to Grace. It made your heart heavy that you had missed her birth or the first five years of her life. But you hoped now, after Grace’s request, you’d be given the chance to actually be there for her.

Just the same as Grace had done for you.

When you looked at Jake, there were tears in his eyes. But it wasn’t sad. It wasn’t grief. Instead he smiled and it reached his glassy eyes.

And the whole time he was just simply looking at you.

“Happy?” You whispered, smiling gently as you wiped away his tears.

He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to the hand that held the side of his face, “I’m just glad you’re here. And that it’s not a dream I’m dreading to wake up from.”

Your smile grew as you rested your head on his shoulder. For a while you stayed like that. You met Neytiri’s eyes from the other side of the tent where she stood with Mo’at and the children. She smiled at the two of you and you smiled back.

Quietly, you say, “I missed you too, Puppet.”

His shoulder shook as he chuckled, pressing a kiss in your hair.

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari @tojigirl @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @naityelen @dumb-fawkin-bitch @raggedyoldwitch @nhemmingsf @biooiuygjjgfsrb @thatsenoughformelol @thotd-f1 @beaniebeensbaby201 @theoriginalwife000 @3leni @23victoria @lovesickollie @atxara @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ladylovegood-69 @lovekeeho @lilithmoon14512 @n7cje @fyfy-world @cleverzonkwombatsludge @goddesslilithmoriarty @itszzmoon @eternallyvenus @bajadotcom @ducks118 @alexandra-001 @sweetllamaparadise @padfootsvixen

[muffinsin]

I keep forgetting to put my name on the angsts requests. I got another angst one

How would the dimi sisters react to their fem. lover dying by the hands of the villagers. The lover goes out to the village to do some errands and suddenly she’s kidnapped, the villager/s do horrifying things to her (was gonna suggest SA but you’re probably not comfortable with that), the lover doesn’t immediately die, she dies once she’s in the arms of the sisters. The lover’s appearance is all messed up, clothes ripped apart and all bloodied up. If you don’t feel comfortable doing it that’s okay, either way thanks and thanks for doing the requests, you’re an amazing writer

-rambunctious anon

Y’all have it OUT for the reader/their s/o!👀😳

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

Bela is powerful. And with this, she is feared. With fear, often comes anger. And with anger comes revenge

She is aware of the target on her back. How once in a while a foolish villager will attempt to get the jump on her. They never succeed to take down the Dimitrescu heiress

However- she is not yet aware of the target now automatically being put on your back too, the moment word gets out of her fondness of you

She immediately worries when you aren’t back from your trip to the village when you said you’d be. When you still aren’t at night, she is extremely alarmed and it wasn’t for her mother warning her about the cold, she would’ve immediately gone out for you

Alas, she is trapped at the castle for the night, anxious and staring out her window all night long to wait for you. But you don’t show

She wishes she had come with you, to look out for you. Ironically, your shared reasoning was for her to stay back to avoid panic

The second the sun rises and temperature raises enough, she is out, no matter the sting of her skin at the remaining cold air

She searches the village, and upon smelling your blood in the air, she sees red. She follows the scent fast, uncaring of the scared villagers around her. She doesn’t pay them mind as they hurry inside their houses- you’re all that is on her mind

When she at last tracks your scent to a shack near outside the village, she is ruthless in her movements. The wooden door is torn down, startling your kidnappers

She sees you on the floor, barely conscious, and her eyes widen. The scent of your blood is all over the shack, and she sees it pooling around you. There are four figures, men, staring at her. One is kneeling at your side, a sharp knife in his hand. Bela’s gaze makes him drop him in surprise, his hands shaking. Another holds a gun, and the others are armed with a whip and firepoker

The leader, with the gun, raises his arm. Bela feels the sickle summoned in her hand, and charges

She doesn’t grant the man a reaction when a bullet hits her. The air is not quite warm enough yet for her to avoid the bullet completely

With this, a fight ensues

Skin is slashed, blood is spilled. Bela’s senses are on fire

The gun-bearer is brought down first with a quick thrust of her sickle into his skull. It makes a sick cracking sound as she pulls it back out

A firepoker attempts to stab into her side, and she quickly counters this. It doesn’t reach her skin, instead she grabs the end and yanks it

The man is quick to die by her hands twisting his neck

The two remaining scramble to the corner of the shack

As the whip slashes through the air, her gloved fingers close around it. This time the man is smart enough to let go of it as Bela yanks it away

She summons her flies, hearing their screams loud as they dig through the men’s skin. Their goal: their filthy, tainted hearts

She cannot bother with them anymore, instead rushes towards you

Gloved fingers tug the chains holding your hands above your head. Your body falls forwards, onto her

Her lip quivers as she takes in your state; torn clothing that is soaked with your own blood, deep cuts and burns underneath. The word “betrayal” cut into your chest. Your lip is cut, your eye black

She cups your cheek gently as the men die, unable to escape. She would not have a single of them get out of this alive.

“Bela…”

Her word spoken so gently and weakly from your lips has her heart break. She presses her hands to your wounds, apologizing as you writhe in pain. But she can’t cover them all, and feels your blood seep through her fingers

“Stay awake, just-just stay awake!”, she begs, her arm slung around you. Yet as she attempts to stand with you in her arms, you wail in pain. She immediately drops back down, you nearly on her lap as she kneels

She notices how your eyes feel droopy, as you struggle to stay awake. “Please”, she begs

She feels your hand on her cheek, bloodying it. “Please”, she begs again. She notices the tears running down her cheeks

She won’t move. Deep down, she knows what is happening. What she cannot stop. So she stays, and holds you tight. She smells your hair and holds your torn and bruised flesh, caresses your hair and kisses your head

“I love you” she whispers. Sobs wretch her body; she is not getting a response back, as your body has gone limp

Cassandra

Cassandra is something of a scary bedtime story in the village. A myth that is all too real, a monster stalking at night and haunting the woods

Many think of plotting revenge, few decide to try to free themselves of her

None return alive. And as Cassandra mocks these attempts in sick and sadistic ways, delivering heads and limbs as proof of the hunters’s termination, hatred, fear, and the urge to take revenge grows

But the hunters learn and so realise: Cassandra cannot be taken on

The same does not go for you, however. She tries her best to keep her feelings for you a secret for this reason, yet as the truth slips and spreads, you now have a target on your back

She is worried when she doesn’t see you at night. You should be long back already…

She searches the entire castle for you, and freaks out when she can’t find you

Despite the cold, she pushes on through the village. Adrenaline keeps her going, especially when she tastes your fear and smells the scent of your blood in the air

She doesn’t care who is involved and your disappearance- any villager unlucky enough to be seen by her is exposed to her wrath, and soon she paints the village red, snow glistening with innocent blood

As she tracks your scent to a house, she doesn’t hesitate. Worry, fear, anger, bloodlust grips her tight as she easily swarms inside the house. She hears your pained, muffled screams and tenses

Upon finding you chained and bleeding, screaming weakly with a group of six hunters surrounding you, her eyes flash dangerously

The first is completely caught off guard, her claw-like nails slashing the man’s neck before anybody even takes notice of her

Cassandra would have laughed at them for pulling out wooden stakes and hammers, their actions painfully cliche. Alas, with your whimpers and weak heartbeat, she does not feel like laughing at all

She lunges for the next as flies move from her body and attack two more- women, this time. Her sickle and claws slash, her teeth rip into exposed skin and rip open her victim’s throat

The three bodies fall to the floor, leaving only two more

As she also makes easy work of yanking and breaking the next man’s skull, the last covers helplessly next to you, a knife raises to your throat.

She growls angrily at the audacity!

Still, with the woman having her knife at your throat, she isn’t fast enough. The knife falls from a broken hand as Cassandra attacks, flies piercing through her skin and eating her from the inside out

Cassandra immediately swarms to you, her fingers gripping the cloth from your mouth. You spit blood

“You’ll be alright, you’ll be fine!”, she speaks quickly. “We’ll make them pay”, she adds, a promise

As you are unbound, Cassandra easily catches you, eyes taking in your many wounds. She rips clothing from the hunters, pressing it against your wounds as you mewl in pain

“Stay awake. Don’t close your eyes!”, she commands, although her wavering voice seems more as though she is begging you. And she is

She notices your hands on her, pulling her close. She feels your lips press against her cheek softly and nearly pulls away

“Nononono!”, she curses. She knows what you are doing. She refuses to allow it to be last time

“Stay awake!”, she begs. The cloths are drenched with blood fast, and she cannot stop it

She sees your cuts through torn clothing

“No! NO!”, she screams as she hears your heartbeat weaken. She pushes against your chest, as if begging you to stay with her

“Stay awake! Please!”, she begs. Barely has Cassandra Dimitrescu begged for anything since her reborn life. Yet here she is, begging, shaking, gripping your near limp body tightly

Your heartbeat slows, and ends. She holds you tight, angry tears running down her cheeks

How DARE they?!

With you held close to her, Cassandra ensures nobody ever dares such an action again

Long before morning, the village is painted bloody red, houses torn, bodies scattered everywhere, left as a message to the few remaining she has left alive. She is ruthless, killing until her muscles ache

At last she returns to the castle with your body

Daniela

Daniela has made plenty of enemies in her life, for many things. Among these are the faults the villagers seek revenge for

Kidnapping maidens, slaughtering people and animals, scaring and harassing with her sisters for the fun of it

Often she has been underestimated by humans due to being the youngest sister. Little do they need to learn, this makes her the most wicked

All too soon it is proven that Daniela is unreachable, slaughtering all that is sent her way, or snickering as her sisters effortlessly dispose of and dismember those daring to attempt hurting the youngest huntress

She is very open with her love and admiration for you- something she immediately regrets when one day you venture into the village without her and don’t return even as it grows dark outside

She attempts to go outside to search for you, merely to be dragged inside by her mother, screaming and crying in pain at the cold wind

She begs Alcina to go look for you, yet she isn’t as accustomed to your smell, and as she returns hours later, she is on your own. Daniela is torn

She keeps trying to get outside, sustaining severe injuries each time

At last, the snow clears as night blends into day. The moment she is able to swarm outside, she exits the castle

She searches the village, your smell all over. But it doesn’t remain there, instead moves to a small trail leaving from the village

She gasps as she notices your blood smeared on the ground

As she at last finds a boathouse in the distance, she quickly proceeds

Daniela freezes when she hears your pained, weak screams and gasps

She hears people interrogating you, asking you of her weaknesses.

The word “cold” never slips past your weak lips

As she swarms inside, sickle in her hand, the three men surrounding you jump.

They pull knives and guns out, not hesitating, ready and eager for a fight. She tsks. She is still underestimated even as her eyes flash angrily

Still, the youngest is the quickest huntress, and as bullets fly right through her, the men’s eyes widen in fear

They now realise they do not stand a chance

The first kidnapper falls quick with slashes to his exposed neck and chest

Daniela is aware of your flinches at every shot fired

Your eyes struggle to stay open, yet you don’t dare close them. With each bullet fired you gasp weakly, fearing it will hit her soft skin or vital organs. None do

The second falls fast, and the last quickly succumbs to his fate as Daniela’s nails dig through his chest, rough and fast, pulling his heart out of his mangled chest

She unbuckles your chains, catching you in her arms. “I’ve got you”, she whispers hushed, caressing your bruised face with bloody fingers

As she lifts you, you whimper. She holds you close, arms tight around you as she tries not to focus on the many cuts and slashes on you

“We will get you home! I promise! Just stay with me!”, she begs

You barely feel the wind against your face as she carries you, rushing helplessly towards the castle

“….dani…”

She slows, sinking to her knees as realisation hits her. No, NO! You can’t!

She feels you against her as she keeps going, running fast as she runs to the castle

“We’re here! You’l be okay!”, she cheers, holding you tight. She merely feels the adrenaline, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears

She does not realise you are long lacking one

“Mother! Mother!”, she yells, grinning as she brushes your face. You’ll be okay!

Only when she is asked to put you down on the bed does she frown at your lack of a heartbeat

Golden eyes widen, and she desperately throws herself against you, crying and pressing her face to your chest, as if begging for a heartbeat

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 13

I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my body, even with the mask. The air pressure gun had recharged and I was able to aim it at the ship, swinging myself back against it and take a moment to calm down.

     It was so quiet, the Earth from this high up was almost peaceful and I was using it to focus, but if I had another set back like that, I would never make it to my destination.

     The sky was starting to get darker as night was falling in, the eight hours was nearly up. Lennox would have no choice but to assume I didn’t make it. It didn’t matter. I looked up to see the previous five thousand feet I had left to climb had just become eight.

     ‘You can do this, you’ve done this bit before, it’ll be a breeze now.’ The echo of Lennox’s words from the climbing wall on that first day, it was the only thing telling me that everything might have been okay.

     ‘I have to do this.’ I said.

     ‘Yes, you do.’

     I turned to see Lennox strapped into his climbing gear, the same way he was on the wall, he smiled at me.

     ‘You wanna quit? There’s no shame in not making it.’ He said.

     I felt a surge of anger rise in my chest. ‘No.’ I told him, pulling out another syringe and jabbing my leg.

     I climbed hard, I wasn’t going to quit now, I was closer than I was at the start, no one thought I could do this, but they would always be wrong and all I ever had to do was prove it. I pulled the gun out and shot straight upwards, pulling myself up the next sixty feet. I couldn’t stop.

---

The eight hours was up, and Lennox could barely lift his gun anymore. He looked over at Epps who was the same. No one else was coming to save them and it looked like Harding had failed.

     ‘Bee!’ He shouted, Bumblebee was being repaired by Ratchet who was struggling to keep up. ‘Can you see her? She should be at least twenty eight thousand feet up by now!’

     Bumblebee looked up at the ship, his eyes searching. He looked down at Lennox and shook his head.

     Lennox nodded, again looking over at Epps. ‘We did our best.’ He said, Epps deflating in disappointment. They failed. ‘Optimus!’ Lennox managed to get to his feet, the great Autobot turned to him, firing off rockets and slicing through the creatures where he could. ‘I’m calling it. It’s been over eight hours and no one can see her. Harding failed.’

     Optimus looked down at him surprised. ‘You are leaving?’

     ‘I have to call in everything we have to try and take that ship down.’ Lennox reasoned with him. ‘If she hasn’t made it by now, she probably won’t.’

     Optimus kneeled down and gave him a firm look. ‘Dr Harding believed the climb was possible, she has given everything to saving your planet. And you made a promise.’ He pointed at Lennox. ‘Her prediction of eight hours was always harboured by the lack of knowledge about what she would encounter.’

     ‘That’s my point!’ Lennox shot back. ‘If she has run into the enemy up there, there is every chance she has been killed on sight.’ He watched the usually stoic Autobot’s eyes widen. ‘I’m sorry, I know you put a lot of faith in her, but we need to look at the bigger picture here.’

     Optimus looked up at the ship. ‘I believe she is still making the climb.’ He said.

     ‘You can’t know that.’

     ‘You cannot know she has failed.’ Optimus countered. ‘I will continue on until I know for certain either way.’

     He didn’t wait for a response from Lennox, he just stood up and ran into battle once again.

     Lennox let a breath go and looked over at Epps.

     ‘He’s right, you know.’ Epps called over. ‘She might be inside that ship right now, we have to give her more time.’

     Lennox let his eyes close, he was so tired. It was nothing compared to what Harding had to endure, but it was still agony to continue on.

---

I could see the opening, it was only another twenty feet, but I couldn’t take the long strides I had been taking. My legs just couldn’t push me up like that anymore. I was shaking and even deeper breaths couldn’t steady my hands anymore.

     I pulled out my fourth syringe filled with adrenaline, I hadn’t wanted to use it, but I was so close, and every sacrifice was for the safety of the planet. It was worth it.

     It was enough to get me up to the opening and pull myself inside the ship.

     I could see what looked like a mechanical beehive, it was like a factory, pumps, pipes, caverns and steam surrounded me. More of those creatures were being made, probably quicker than they could be destroyed on the ground. It only made me realise that Optimus and Lennox were in a losing fight no matter what. They could have fallen already.

     I searched around the immediate area, resting against the cool metal of the cavern that led into the open area of the lower part of the ship, and deciding that any energy used needed to be sure. I just didn’t have anything left to waste.

     I managed to pull myself across the floor just enough to see a corridor. The creatures didn’t seem to notice me, or if they did, they didn’t think I posed much of a threat. They were probably right.

     Something occurred to me quite suddenly. These were hive creatures. They had one leader and one mind, it meant I needed to be careful. I couldn’t pose even the slightest bit of a threat, otherwise it would have been a wasted trip.

     It was closing in on ten hours, I wondered why Lennox hadn’t called in for a full frontal attack by now. Of course, there was every chance I was the last one standing, and standing was a kind way of putting it. Crawling across the floor of an alien ship just because my body wouldn’t allow for anything else, was the reality of the situation.

     Finally, I found what I was looking for. It was a station close to the massive door where hundreds of wasp creatures were being deployed, it also linked up to the ship’s harvesting capabilities. If I could blow that, the ship would be rendered incapable of destroying planet Earth, but able to fly away. It looked exactly the way Ironhide and Optimus had described it.

     The only problem was it was in an awkward place that meant I would have to leave via the same doors the wasps were flying out of. There was no way I would be able to climb back up the caverns again. The only way was down.

---

For the first time in his life, Optimus wasn’t sure whether he could continue the fight. He was exhausted, some of his Autobots had fallen and the humans were right, it had been over eleven hours that Jane had been climbing. No human could survive such a test. It was too much to ask one person.

     He fell to his knee, taking a moment to rest while Ironhide protected his position, giving him the breather he needed.

     The problem with his doubts about Jane’s survival was that everything he had seen of her, everything he desired and everything that told him she was the one worth devoting his life to, told him she would save the world no matter the cost. But by the same logic, it angered him to no end to think the last time he saw her, was the last time he would ever see her.

     Even just the temptation of thinking that he would never see her again, forced him to his feet and back into battle. He made a promise.

---

The dynamite was in place. I needed a minute to breathe, the oxygen mask was still attached to my face, but it didn’t feel like enough.

     I unravelled the coil, attaching it to my belt and prayed it didn’t come loose. I did everything I could to make sure I didn’t have to go back, but even through my exhaustion, I knew it wasn’t perfect.

     I managed to get down towards the doors beneath, the creatures were still flying out and probably taking over the earth. I knew it had been nearly twelve hours after I began the climb and I was certain I wouldn’t make it home, but at least every one else would be safe.

     There was only one syringe left and my chest was already aching, I wasn’t sure if I could take another shot, but I needed it to complete the mission and steady my hands just enough to light the match and blow the console.

     I found a small space where the wind wasn’t as harsh and pulled out the box of matches and some scissors. The coil was cut. I took a moment to breathe and jag my leg with the last adrenaline shot I had.

     It was so painful, my joints were like glass and my muscles felt like they’d faded away, but the familiar burn of the chemical surging through me was the only thing making me continue on regardless.

     I lit the match, the only real light in the dark of the ship, and the coil began burning. The creatures still hadn’t noticed me, and I counted myself lucky, but suddenly my chest was in agony, like my heart was about to burst. The flame had almost reached the dynamite and I needed to leave.

     The last of my energy was devoted to rolling off the ledge and plunging towards a darkened Earth. It was over. My mission was complete and there was nothing more to be done, except fall into blackness.

     ‘Rest now, Dr Harding.’ Optimus’s voice rang out in my mind, and I felt all will and determination leave me. My eyes closed and the only thing I saw was the bright blue eyes of the Autobot I fell in love with.

---

An explosion. The wasp creatures stopped on the battlefield, all of their attention turning to the ship. It was like a chain reaction being set off, one explosion led to another and to another.

     ‘Harding did it.’ Lennox whispered. ‘Harding did it!’ He yelled, the soldiers and Autobots around him cheering as the creature began a full retreat.

     Optimus was the only one not cheering. His attention was firmly in the sky, trying to locate Harding.

     ‘There.’ He said, directing everyone’s attention to the bulk of where the wasps were flying towards. ‘She must have had no choice by to exit on the other side.’

     Lennox and his men all raised their binoculars, finding Harding in their sights. ‘Something’s wrong.’ He said, watching her body rotate and flay about aimlessly. ‘Oh my God.’ He said, quietly to himself.

     ‘What?’ Optimus asked, worriedly.

     ‘I don’t think she’s conscious.’ He shook his head. ‘She can’t pull her chute.’

      Optimus turned back to see her body still falling. There was no choice. He ran back towards his gear, strapping his flight tech on his back.

     ‘Optimus, you cannot reach her in your state.’ Ratchet tried to stop him.

     ‘I made a promise.’ He growled again. ‘If it costs my life, then so be it.’

     Optimus didn’t wait for anyone else to try and argue. He took flight, feeling his own body’s weight much more clearly than before. The only thing on his mind was to get to Jane’s body before she hit the ground.

     He swung his sword around him, catching the occasional straggling creature, they were zooming past Jane, trying to get back to their ship which was now beginning to take flight once again.

     The ship exploded again close to the bottom and a pulse emitted from it, nothing harmful to him and the creatures were still racing back towards it, but it did knock him off course. He lost Jane for a moment, before looking down to see her heading straight towards the ground.

     Optimus turned around and flew as fast as he could towards her.

     He reached out as he got closer, curling his hand around her fragile frame and bringing her close to his chest, she wasn’t moving.

     Optimus landed hard on the ground, damaging his knee once again as he fell against a building that was almost entirely decimated. Ironhide carried Lennox, Epps and some human medical personnel towards his position. The damage stopped him from standing, but he could gently place Jane on the ground for the doctors to attend to her.

     Lennox stood over them as Ratchet made it over to Optimus, beginning work on his knee immediately.

     Optimus watched as her equipment was stripped off, her pale face just about visible, but she still wasn’t moving.

     The doctors pulled out a machine, unzipping her jacket to get at her chest, they cleared the area and Lennox just stepped back, his hands going to his head as he began to realise what might have happened.

     Optimus looked to Ratchet for an answer.

     ‘It’s a machine humans use to restart their hearts. A defibrillator.’ He said, quietly.

     ‘Her heart?’ Optimus was confused.

     ‘I’m sorry, old friend.’ Ironhide came around to comfort his friend.

     Optimus’s mind wouldn’t allow him to fully understand what was happening to Jane, but at some point, the doctors stopped. Jane still hadn’t moved.

     ‘What are you doing?’ He asked. ‘You must restart her heart.’

     ‘Optimus.’ Lennox stepped forward to calm the Autobot leader. ‘She’s gone. I’m sorry.’

     Optimus looked around him, searching for a different answer, but no one was providing it for him. He looked down at her body, her fragile, soft body and edged towards it. She made a promise to survive, to fight for tomorrow, she would want to keep it if she could.

     ‘No.’ Optimus whispered. ‘She isn’t.’

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin' Darlin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Seeing Evelyn with Gale stirs up some unfamiliar and VERY unwelcome feelings in Astarion. And for some reason, she graces him with a midnight visit. I'm terrible with summaries but here's what's in store for you:

* A bit of possessive!Astarion if you squint

* More pining

* More biting

* Deep DEEP emotional constipation (my personal favorite)

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 5k

A/N: School and life have been kicking my ass but I finally got around to finishing this chapter and I couldn't wait to post it! I'm having so much fun writing in Astarion's POV. Huge thank you to my bestie @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever and for your endless patience with me.

The morning that follows that fateful night in Evelyn’s tent goes rather well, all things considered.

She approaches Astarion first. A pleasant surprise, considering they could hardly look at each other after he ravaged her the night before. 

He looks over the novel he had been skimming, Shanties for the Bitch Queen . Admittedly, not one of his favorites, but reading material was scarce these days. He closes it with a soft thud and rises to meet her, all pleasant smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Good morning.” he says, a curious tilt to his head. 

She looks a bit more pale than usual with faded, grim circles forming underneath her eyes. Her bun is a bit unruly, some strands falling into her face and parted by the wine-dark bone of her horns. She either didn’t sleep well or is still reeling from the anemia. 

The bruise he administered had spread and darkened, plainly visible even under the black ink of her tattoos. It seems she found no use in hiding it, then. Very well. It’s not like they keep extra scarves laying about the camp, anyway.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t mean to provoke her, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and the slightest hint of shame is beginning to burrow its way into his conscience. Ugh . He thinks he prefers the tadpole.

“A bit woozy.” She responds, “I woke up this morning with the intention of asking you how one usually fares after being drained, but then I remembered,” she stops herself when she realizes what she’s about to say: I was your first. Unspoken, but lingering between them . It makes him want to laugh; A woman with a reputation such as hers acting so bashful .

“It’ll pass,” he reassures, “Just be glad I’m not a true vampire. A bite from one of them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

“Speaking of hunger,” Evelyn says, realizing she’s famished. She turns from him and begins making her way towards the campfire. Finding that only charred logs and old cinders remain, she runs the black tip of her boot through the ashes with the intention of stoking the fire back to life, dust clouding, then dispersing before her.

He follows closely behind, observing. She seems well, all things considered. A bit out of sorts, but nothing a bit of rest couldn’t cure.

“You know, I had considered bringing you an apple,” Astarion starts, hovering by the pit, “Leaving it by your bedside before you rose for the day - ever the gentleman, but,” he clears his throat. 

That newly recognizable twinge of something is curling its way back into his chest, causing him to squint in discomfort. 

In truth, he didn’t know how she would react to him encroaching on her space. Not after that dreadful attempt on her life. He is a monster, after all. That, and she had already been so insufferably forgiving. Such kindness is likely to reach its end sooner rather than later.

“I - erm, didn’t want to disturb your rest.” is what he finally settles on. Polit , he thinks, Best not overdo it.

“That would have been nice of you.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea how nice I can be.” The flirtation sneaks its way out of him on an impulse. He’s about to apologize, something he seems to be doing a bit too often for his taste, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of their companions making their way towards them. 

“It appears we have company.” Astarion sneers, “And here I thought I was going to have you all to myself this morning.”

To the elf’s surprise, most of them were quick to come around to the idea of a vampire spawn slinking about. Especially once they found themselves in the middle of an ambush, and Astarion very quickly made good on his promises to her. 

Newfound strength coursed through his body, her blood weaving threads of heat through his veins as if it were his own. His speed was unmatched, cutting down half a dozen goblins before they had a chance to wail.

 It was exhilarating . 

The day flew by in flashes of red. Despite the many unnecessary stops Evelyn insisted on making to help undesirables, Astarion’s emotional high managed to remain relatively intact. That was, until their group settled in for the night.

As most of the others retired to their tents, the elf prepared for his nightly ritual: sifting through his collection of tomes and selecting one to read under the stars - his favorite way to end the evening. 

It was supposed to be perfect. Uneventful. Quiet .

But, there was Gale: lost in thought and muttering to himself, or maybe to the conjured image of some woman’s head floating above his hand. Astarion may have been able to ignore that in itself, but the sound of light footsteps drew his attention. 

Evelyn was approaching the wizard. 

He scoffs. Of course Gale was showing off in hopes of procuring her attention. The man was practically putting on a damn light show in his desperation. It’s not enough that the wizard eats valuable items they could be using to pawn for coins, but does he really have to be such an unbearable distraction as well?

“Pretty,” he recognizes the word as it leaves her. The sound of their chatter was too faint for it to carry its way to his beautifully pointed ears, but he could just barely read Evelyn’s lips at this angle.

Gale startles, dropping his hand along with his focus. The woman’s visage vanishes. He looks embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably as he no doubt explains himself in some horribly mundane fashion.

Astarion returns to his book, scanning over the page, but the words refuse to settle in his mind. He stares at the ink, willing the sentences to fill his head with anything other than the nonsense unfolding in front of him, but his focus stubbornly remains on the chattering pair.

Gods, he’s talking her ears off. 

At any moment, Evelyn will dismiss the man, embarrassing the hells out of him, which will make for an excellent show. That in itself is enough reason to keep watching. But the longer this goes on, the less he’s sure. 

She seems to be enjoying their chat, nodding in agreement at Gale’s words, listening to him without so much as a hint of impatience. Gale then steps behind her, a bit too close for the likes of an average, friendly conversation. His chest almost touches the woman’s shoulder as he moves into her space, the cloth of his nightshirt just barely grazing her. 

Something within Astarion begins twisting in protest. His thumb runs over the long-forgotten page in circles. The rough texture reminds him that yes, he was supposed to be reading, or at least attempting to look disinterested, but he can't will himself to turn away.

Gale smiles softly down at her, then begins to move his arms in a way that could only be described as a poor imitation of a wounded bird. Purple light emanates in front of the two of them in response. More magic tricks. Of course. As if that would be enough to impress the woman who’s supposedly been at the receiving end of every imaginable courting attempt in Faerun. 

Astarion rolls his eyes, content to continue his chapter of The Realm According to Bumpo, before he notices Evelyn following suit, imitating the very same motions. She, however, has a grace about her, unlike the bearded beast at her side. Her movements are quick and decisive, abandoning all flattery for precision. The burst of light emanates from her palms, just as it had for the wizard.

She looks pleased. Elated, even. This is the first time he’s seen her smile since she made a fool out of him in her tent, caressing his body and reveling in its reaction, like he was some sort of toy. Though her expression looks different to him now. He can’t quite place his finger on why.

He swallows, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his throat. 

A purple aura starts radiating around them, dancing and swaying in waves, as if the two were surrounded by a flowing channel of lavender, smelling of rosewater; the sun setting over a dark ocean. Even from a distance, the sight pulls at something inside him. An unwelcome ache settles within his chest.

Evelyn turns to the man next to her, unaware that they’ve been drawn closer by the magic enveloping them. She tilts her head back to meet Gale’s gaze. The way he’s looking at her, the flecks of gold in her irises locked with his: deep, brown, and moving, makes Astarion’s skin itch.  

He finds himself wondering what color his own eyes were before his transformation. Were they so seemingly honest, so trustworthy in their melanism, before they became what they are now? Sharp, red, and tinted by bloodlust. Wouldn’t they be boring? 

“You’re staring.”

He’s pulled from his brooding by the sound of Shadowheart’s observation. He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, distracted by that sickening, sweet smell. “Or has the tadpole gifted you with the ability to telepathically commune with books?”

“I’m simply admiring our wizard’s talents.” Astarion says, dismissing her with a wave, “Making sure all those expensive boots and rings haven’t gone to waste. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Unnecessarily sacrificing clothes that may have suited you while you’re having to traipse about in a tin can?”

The cleric snickers, “I see. Is that why you look like a kicked pup? Or, are you upset that your master’s replaced you with a new lapdog?” 

He slams the book closed. The sound surprises Evelyn, and the magic surrounding her and Gale dissipates. 

He doesn’t dignify Shadowheart with a response, nor does he spare a second glance at the others before retreating to the quiet solace of his tent.

”That wretched little…” He grumbles to himself as soon as he closes the entrance, tossing Bumpo atop the other novels in his collection, all piled haphazardly on the small desk occupying a corner of his living space. 

This type of reaction was unusual for him. Astarion would normally be happy to engage in petty banter. The more scathing, the better, but Shadowheart had somehow weaseled her way into a tender area. It left him feeling exposed, and a bit nauseated at the idea of allowing someone so clearly beneath himself, at least in terms of wit, to get the better of him. 

Taking a deep breath, Astarion focuses on releasing the tension in his jaw. Best not to let this ruin his entire night, he reasons, before lighting  several half-melted candles littering his quarters. Their flames emanate a soft, golden glow, and the process is meditative enough to finish soothing him. 

He doesn’t have watch tonight, so he allows himself some extra comfort, removing his shirt before sinking down into the soft furs of his bedroll. Astarion closes his eyes to trance, thinking the extra rest will do him some good, but the image of Evelyn rushes back to his mind -  the way her soft lips parted in surprise, realizing her and Gale’s close proximity, and how his gaze flitted down to her mouth in return..

The wizard should be wearing a damn collar around his neck with how she commands his attention. It’s pathetic.

It couldn’t be a matter of coincidence, surely. She must know the effect she has on the man. If Gale harbors feelings for her ( yuck ), even if it were the result of close quarters, Evelyn could use it to her advantage. She had just revealed the effectiveness of similar tactics to him last night, and a powerful wizard would be a powerful ally. 

Whereas, Astarion is just… a vampire spawn. Not even a true vampire. A slave. A nobody.

He rubs his face in frustration. The Sharran did have a point. Astarion may have an insatiable appetite, happy to receive all matters of attention from whatever suitors decide to shower him with it, but what about her? What if Evelyn found him less interesting, less worthy of her time and, subsequently, her protection? 

No. His ego balks at the suggestion. 

Besides, he had felt her lust for him not 24 hours ago. It moved through him as though it was his own, and the taste of her still lingers on his tongue. He heard the hitch in her breath - felt it under his own lips, and reliving the memory still stirs a familiar hunger within him. 

Though, they still haven’t spoken about it. 

The usually quiet, insecure part of him wonders if she’d just rather forget it altogether. He could empathize with that, at least. It’s easy enough for him to imagine their last encounter may have left her feeling disgusted, used.

Guilt worms its way back into his mind, cozying up right next to his tadpole but oh, so much worse . 

He hasn’t felt like this since the beginning of his servitude. He assumed the emotion had been neglected long enough to be left entirely behind him, overshadowed by the threat of whatever new, interesting ways Cazador would think of to torture him at the mere suggestion of disobedience. But here, in the thin veil of safety he’s allowed himself to believe shrouds him, he aches. 

It’s unbecoming.

Instead of resting as he should, Astarion isn’t quite sure how much time he spends ruminating on ways to quietly rid the party of Gale, before he hears the faintest rapping at the canvas of his tent. 

At first, he believes he imagined it, and gives the noise little consideration before settling back into his trance. But then, he hears it again: quick, rapid tapping. A knock. 

It surprises him. He hurriedly moves to stand. In the faint glow of the candlelight, the shadow at his doorstep dances against the closed fabric, smaller than himself and horned. A visit from Evelyn at this hour? Strange.

He undoes the ties and opens his space to her. 

Her hair is undone, dark waves falling over her shoulders and obscuring the marks he gave her. She’s wearing the same clothes she wore to bed last night, the very same black breast band. It smells as if it's been washed, though, with no lingering scent of her blood. Her loose, matching trousers settle high on her waist, just above her navel. She looks exhausted. 

Being run ragged by the events of the day while also having to contend with a missing pint or two of blood may have had more of a negative effect than anticipated. 

Evelyn doesn’t say anything at first, but he catches her eyes glancing at his bare chest before retreating back to his own, cementing themselves there. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and thinks about teasing her. The temptation threatens to get the better of him, but he refrains, not wanting this unexpected visit cut too short. “Need something?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her stare is unwavering, a commitment worthy of admiration.

“Right this way.” Astarion bows slightly towards her, an arm raised behind him to gesture her inside. She steps past him, careful to not brush against his exposed skin. He closes the entrance behind them, shutting out the ambient noise and drowning them in silence. His space is large enough to accommodate himself and his essentials quite comfortably, but it's infinitely smaller with her here.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.” there is a hoarseness to her voice. She must have woken up just before making her way over.

“No, actually. I was just catching up on some reading.” Not entirely a lie. He had been reading at several points tonight. “What is it you want to discuss? I’m assuming there’s a reason this couldn’t wait until morning, not that I mind.”

“It's about you.”

Oh. No midnight gossip, then.

"I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to continue feeding you.”

“You’ve been up all night tossing and turning because you're concerned about my eating habits?” he responds, unamused, and crosses his arms.

“I have not been tossing and -” she’s about to argue with him, he thinks, but her exasperation causes her to lose her concentration. She breaks eye contact, distracted by the toned curves of his biceps, then snaps her gaze to the floor. “Would you please put on a shirt?”

“Ha!” His laugh is humorless. “I’d like to think we’re well past the point of propriety. Besides, you're in my tent.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come now, darling. Why are you really here?”

She sighs in frustration, as if he should already know.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Ugh, I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”

A moment passes in uncomfortable silence. He can practically hear the gears grinding in her head as she searches for the right words, and he'd give anything to reach out with his tadpole and take the unfiltered thoughts from her mind. Instead, he takes pity on her.

“Unless, you’re looking for another nibble?” 

It's a joke, a way to clear the tension from the air. Entirely unserious.

She doesn't laugh.

Instead, she looks around the room: first at his assortment of decorative pillows, then to the empty elixir bottles piled in a corner, anywhere but himself. "Well, I - I don’t know.”  She clears her throat. “I just figured after today’s performance, it may be for the best.”

Wait. What?

He stiffens, so taken aback by her suggestion that the elf almost believes he’s still mid-trance. 

“What?” 

“I may be willing to help you again, when necessary.”

She has to be joking.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious, if it would help.”

“It would.”

“Then, yes.”

They stand almost toe to toe, Astarion once again absorbing her warmth. He hadn’t noticed their height difference the first time they did this, too busy devouring the poor woman like some deranged beast, but it's notable here, on equal footing. Peering up at him, her nose aligns with his collarbones.

"Tonight, then?" she asks.

"Eager, are we?"

She shrugs with indifference, "Just in case we run into any trouble at the goblin camp tomorrow."

The very picture of practicality. What else did he expect?

"Alright, then."

"Alright."

That nagging sensation begins to tug at him again - the very same one he felt as he had stepped out of her tent last night. A weak but unshakeable tension, like a magnet, uncomfortable as it is alluring. The force of it draws his body closer to hers where she stands, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Underneath her calm exterior, Evelyn’s heart is pounding. Though her breaths are steady, controlled, he can hear it from where he stands. For a moment, those are the only sounds filling the space between them, until the tiefling speaks up.

“You’re tall, for an elf.”

An oddly-timed observation, but a true one. His brother, Petras, was always outwardly envious of him for it. Though, he's not sure why it sounds so flattering coming from her lips.

“How kind of you to notice.” 

She scans the room, searching for something, until she spots the table. Her fingers run along the dark ringlets in the wood, tracing the hardened puddles of forgotten wax, until they reach his heaping pile of books. She taps her fingertips on his leather bound copy of Bumpo . 

“May I?” 

He nods, unsure of what’s been asked of him. 

Evelyn gathers the novels in her arms before piling them carefully onto the floor in a few leveled stacks, clearing the space. ”That should be enough room for one of us to sit,” she says, evenly. 

Then, there is a heavy silence; anticipation. It hangs in the air thick as smoke, twice as suffocating. She's only taken a few steps from him, but it’s as though she’s crossed an ocean. The distance between them begins to develop its own gravitational pull, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Whatever’s most comfortable, dear."

The tiefling nods, then plants herself on the table’s surface, legs hanging over the edge. Evelyn is now eye-level with him, her irises glossy; catching and reflecting what little light dances off the few remaining candles beside her.

She tilts her head at him, expectantly. Her face remains neutral - practiced, as though she feels nothing at all; as if she isn’t trying to drive him mad.

She’s back to playing her little games.

Fine.

Astarion’s posture straightens as he strides towards her, confidently closing their distance. He places his hands at her sides, not quite touching her, but still close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, even through her clothes.  

“Now, where would you like it?” The question sounds innocent enough, but the double meaning is not lost on her. 

Her grip tightens at the table’s edge, knuckles whitening. 

His head tilts downwards, looming over her like a predator, and the scent of vanilla invades his nostrils. The sweetness settles on his palate before spreading across his tongue, coating it with a rum-like burn. He runs the flavor over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"I could do it here," he whispers, dipping his nose and running the tip of it along her nape. He quietly revels in how she prickles beneath him, her body betraying her feigned indifference.

"Or, here." One of his thumbs trace the flat of her wrist in slow, circular motions, causing the pulse beneath it to flutter.

"Or…" His other hand slides atop her knee, fingers gripping and parting her thighs just slightly…

She snaps them shut.

"Just do it, dickhead."

He hums a laugh. 

“As you wish.” 

The cool brush of Astarion’s lips on her neck has Evelyn’s heart racing, a frantic drum beating against his ears. It’s just as intoxicating as he remembers, threatening to muddle the edges of his mind. “Just try to keep still for me.” he whispers.

The warning is sincere, but the stubborn woman misinterprets him. Thinking he’s toying with her, she opens her mouth, intent on insulting him, but stops short, whining pitifully when his fangs break the surface of her skin. Her body flinches at the initial discomfort, but otherwise remains virtually motionless; compliant.

Drinking from her now feels like an entirely new experience. This time, he anticipates the raging current - knows how to find his footing. Rather than being ripped under, it feels as though Astarion is floating, enveloped in warmth unlike any he’s ever known. At best, he would imagine it similar to a hug, had he ever been on the receiving end of one.

He begins to lap at the wound to keep it from closing, the press and drag of his tongue drawing out a few small, involuntary twitches from the girl. She’s being so good for him, staying put like she’d been told; fighting her own restlessness, the urge to squirm in place.

If only she would allow him to reward her, to offer his body in exchange for this endless parade of favors, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. It would be so, so easy with her, unlike any miserable encounter he’d been forced into partaking in the last few centuries. He knows he would enjoy her body, along with all the lovely little sounds she would make for him; the temporary bliss.

And it would be a fair price to pay for keeping him safe, fed, and warm . 

The mental image has Astarion’s hand moving without his knowledge, too engrossed to notice his own palm caressing the side of her face. His thumb traces the edge of her cheek as he holds her there, allowing the weight of her head to rest against his fingers. Dark strands of hair brush against his knuckles, bringing him back to the present.

He thinks Evelyn hasn’t noticed yet, believes himself safe to correct the mistake without any mutual discomfort.

Which leaves him infinitely more overwhelmed when her smaller hand grazes up the length of his arm, wrapping it around his wrist to keep it in place. Her body relaxes into his touch, seemingly more grounded. 

The intimacy is like a punch to the chest.

She’s suddenly too close for comfort. It’s claustrophobic - suffocating, strangling him along with whatever sense he had left, apparently. That damned vanilla, the dizzying scent of her blood -

Air, he thinks, I just need some fresh air.

Astarion pulls away from her, readying an apology and an excuse to swiftly dismiss the woman. 

But when Evelyn meets his gaze, the words die prematurely.  

She is a vision , freckles dappling her skin like star-covered porcelain, now flushed red from nose to cheeks. The whites of her eyes have gone glossy, dazed and dream-like, tempting him further into her space.

Her tongue darts out to wet her parted lips, the small gesture commanding his attention. He finds himself entirely fixated on them, as if it would take another life-altering, unnatural disaster to pull his focus away. 

Evelyn’s lashes flutter in recognition, then she quickly releases his wrist. The residual heat fades before he can appreciate it, leaving him cold once again. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“My apologies."

Their speech overlaps, then silence fills the room again, and they are left to stare at each other. His hands suddenly feel much too idle at his sides, itching. He throws on a polite smile, a familiar mask, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Astarion has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His hunger is sated, and he should feel satisfied. He should feel like a new man. 

So why, then, does he only feel this intolerable weight in his chest?

Why does his stomach turn at the idea of her so carelessly offering herself up to any vampire spawn, let alone himself , despite the obvious danger? 

Why is he so deeply frustrated by her lack of self preservation?

Isn’t this exactly what he wanted; to have her crawling back for more?

He can't help but wonder if this sudden apprehension is part of her little plan: to confuse him, drive him to distraction, then bring him to his knees like every other unfortunate man she’s had in her sights before robbing them and tossing them aside.

Out-seducing a vampire would admittedly be an admirable feat, but why? What could her angle be, when Astarion has nothing to offer her? 

“Are you alright? You look… lost.” 

He blinks back to the present. 

“I - ” He coughs, " Ahem . Yes, dear. Of course.” 

Hot, crimson streaks drip down the sharp bone of his chin. He springs into action, away from her unfavorable concern, and grabs his nightshirt from off the floor behind him. He has just the one, beautifully embroidered and sewn back together countless times by his own hands, now being used in place of a common napkin. 

Evelyn gasps. The sound is like ice, piercing his chest when he realizes his mistake. The devil’s never seen him without a shirt on before now. Meaning, she had never bore witness to the elaborate poem carved into his back - ugly, raised scars painting his flesh and soiling his otherwise perfectly sculpted muscle. 

He regrets not humoring her request to redress earlier. 

The elf plays off the noise as if he hadn’t heard it, turning to hand her the clothes and hoping she knows better than to mention anything of it. She silently takes the garment from him and places it where he had bitten her. A blooming red stain soaks into the pale fabric. He’ll have to work on getting it out for the next several days, if it decides to come out at all.

Evelyn finally moves to stand, teetering a bit from lightheadedness. Astarion reaches out to steady her, but she shakes her head, declining. 

“I’m okay.”

He retracts his hand. The damned thing’s gotten him into enough trouble tonight already. 

“Well then, you should get some rest.” 

She scoffs, “Wow, not even a thank you?”

He lowers his voice, practically growling at her, “My dear, if you’d allow me to properly thank you, you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Maybe not for the next week, if I’m feeling generous.”

A pretty little flush once again spreads across her face. He’s rather pleased with himself, thinking he’s finally stunned her. 

“And if you weren’t feeling generous?”

Rising to meet him, then. She is playing a very dangerous game.

Astarion closes what little distance there is left between them and grabs her face by the jaw, grip firm . The force has her stumbling, the back of her thighs meeting the hard edge of the table. Wood digs into her skin as the legs grate loudly against his decorative rugs, shifting from the sudden push.

Evelyn’s eyes shut, brows furrowed and panting as she clutches his forearms to steady herself.

To his wicked delight, she does not pull away.

His thumb drags over her bottom lip. The effort she’s expending not to whine at his gentle touch has him reeling. Her skin burns beneath his palms. 

“Then, I’d strip you, tie your limbs to this desk,” he murmurs against her lips, before tilting to whisper his confession hot in her ear. 

“And you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Ever . ”

He abruptly releases her, turning away and waving her off. 

“Now, go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Not sparing the woman a glance, he begins gathering his books and setting them back onto the table beside her.

She says nothing in response, but he hears her tear open the entrance to his tent and step out into the night.

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

PLS PLS OKS DEAR GOD GIVE US THE PUSS PUSS EATING RANKING OF TURN CHARACTERS I NEED IT LIKE SPONGEBOB NEEDS WATER (must include robert rogers)

ok im officially done with school (woo 🥳) so i can give everyone in my ask box what they've been waiting for. i am going to keep the list limited to the ppl in this promo photo bc there are so many goddamn characters in that show and if you want heavy-hitting analysis, i've gotta keep a short list (at least for now)

analysis under the cut:

as mentioned before caleb brewster does indeed SWEEP the pussy eating power rankings

as also mentioned before john andre is as mediocre in eating pussy as he is in acting and flute playing. he thinks he's amazing at it tho

now for the fun. i need to get this first paragraph out of the way bc it is about the man who made me begin to ponder this question 2 years ago in the first place. abraham. fucking. woodhull. this beanie-wearing menace to society has NEVER made anyone other than anna strong come. point blank period. even with anna tho, he's done it like maybe once or twice. whether or not he did it by giving her head is up for another debate tho

oh and speaking of anna strong. she gives me pillow princess vibes for a reason i cannot quite explain. it is just kind of a gut feeling i have. maybe it has to do with the fact that ppl are always just throwing themselves at her, so she doesn't have to bother with actually working on pleasuring them

but back to abe for a minute. he's actually (believe it or not) NOT the worst one on the list, and that is because richard woodhull has NEVER ONCE made a woman come. not even his wife. not once. richard has never even eaten pussy before. richard has only ever had sex in the missionary position. abe is a terrible partner for a reason, and that reason is bc he was raised by richard

one member of the woodhull family does possess some finesse however. mary woodhull eats pussy like a mf champion. i imagine her learning it was much like her learning how to fire a gun. at first she was like 'wtf is going on??? i cant do that??' but give it few tries and she easily upstages all the men around her

using mary shooting a gun as my transition here..... let's talk about simcoe. honestly, he does give me the vibes of someone who really wants to be good at eating pussy, and maybe he even enjoys doing it. however, i think he gives toothy head. and i also think he does it on purpose. that's right. he's a biter

speaking of ppl who enjoy eating pussy, i think hewlett slays in that department ngl. ik i said before that caleb is arguably the only man on the show who enjoys eating pussy, but i actually want to amend that bc i think hewlett does too. however, i think the one drawback for hewlett is that his desire and ability to give good head does come from a place of him being (and i mean this with peace and love hewlett enjoyers) a massive simp

i straight up dont have a transition for this one but it was literally an intrusive thought and i just need to expel it. ben tallmadge the type of guy to apologize after eating pussy. why? who knows. it could have even been decent head. he's still apologizing anyway. however my bet is that decent is the best he can do bc he's an overthinker, which can get in the way of having strong head game

finally, and yes i made you read all of this before giving you what you wanted anon, robert rogers. "(must include robert rogers)" is SO REAL. SO TRUE. you're right for saying so. however he is such an enigma to me and i really don't know where to place him both as an eater of pussy and frankly as an entity in general. i know he has to exist in some kind of extreme tho. god-tier head or the most abysmal head ever anyone's ever experienced. maybe he's even literally eating pussy, like in a cannibalism way. i'm not ruling that out either. honestly, maybe the quality of head varies between sessions too. after all, he's always gotta keep em on their toes

[infiniteetcetera]

MY TOP 10 SJM CHARACTER RANKINGS:

[Broken up as girls vs boys bc if it wasn’t it’d just be like all the girls and Dorian]

GUYS:

1) DORIAN HAVILLIARD👑: NO ONE IS SURPRISED BUTTTT truly love him so much, no notes at all✨Hot, sweet, kind, respectful?? Amazing character journey??? Served “I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me” AND “you cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love”??? Impossible not to love him

2) Rowan👑: Another angel who just wants to love, respect, and protect his wife✨ his sense of humor is so underrated and he’s just overall a generally good/fun guy

3) Fenrys: I’m actually SO sad we don’t get more of him because he steals every scene he’s in. He’s so charming and fun despite everything he’s been through and his friendship with Aelin has my heart. Also love a sassy man🔥😩

4) Chaol: Hot take perhaps but I love him and his character arc so much. One of the most realistic SJM characters overall and more than any other he just has such a kind heart and genuinely wants to do the right thing and protect those he cares about. Also underrated hottie, smooth AF when he wants to be THERE I said it🔥

5) Azriel: We have so little of him but I love him so much already😭 will probably be higher after his book, I just already love how he’s such a perfect balance of mysterious/hot and gentle/kind. he’s also SOOOO funny??? like one of the funniest ACOTAR characters by FAR

6) Rhysand: Maybe controversial because I feel like most people either love him like #1 style or hate him completely but I think Rhys is SOOO complex and one of SJM’s most interesting characters. He’s been through more than almost any other character and I think if he was perfect after that he wouldn’t be realistic, so even despite his flaws I love him and want the best for this silly sassy fairy boy✨

7) Lorcan: I have my moments with this guy but I do love him😩 he can be a little bit too broody at times but he has others to remind him to cut the nonsense so✨he definitely gets extra points for changing his name to Lord Lorcan Lochan (even though I know Fenrys and Aelin never let him live that down) and just generally loving his wife

8) Lucien: I LOVE my sassy fire boy😩🔥 Book 1 Lucien would be higher but he’s gone missing since then🤧 still love him though and hope we get to see more of his charisma in future books because he’s so fun and deserves a happy ending

9) Sartaq: SOOOO underrated and for why??? Him and Nesryn are SO adorable and he’s just so cool??? Super smart, funny, kind and just a great leader??? literally told the girl he likes “marry me and be my queen or i’ll quit and just be your man” like???? only so low because we get so little of him but TOD is actually one of SJMs best books too

10) Aidas: would have felt rude to put ZERO crescent city boys on this list and this spot wouldddd be Ruhn but he was an absolute dumpster fire in CC3 with Lidia so he’s lost his place🫡✨ but AIDAS I literally kept waiting for more of him the whole series because he’s so cools and suave (and a cat boy😩🔥) and brought this interesting morally grey twang to CC that it was missing. wish they expanded more on him but I love ALL his scenes

GALS:

1) AELIN ASHRYVER WHITETHORN GALATHYNIUS & MANON BLACKBEACK: no you can literally not make me chose they’re both PERFECT. perfect character arcs, perfect stories, perfect vibes, no notes at all✨🔥❤️ two of the most fun MC’s i’ve ever read and super interesting story arcs. Aelin went through so much and I genuinely FELT her journey and Manon was such a fun heartbreaking insane character to follow too I love them both endlessly

2) Elide: okay I LIVE for this girl and I don’t know why she’s so underrated??? like she’s so smart and cool??? survived this whole series with like -100 health and all odds against her and pulls all the baddies because she’s just that good??? is 50% of the reason they win the war??? so funny and generally STANDS ON BUSINESS, like she got the ick from Lorcan and actually made this man GROVELLLL and I love her for it

3) Yrene: ANOTHER underrated queen, i’m obsessed with her😩 there are so few fantasy characters out there like her and I LOVE that in this series of chaos and violence it’s a healer who saves the day and Yrene is so lovely and fun and smart but also stands on business and gets things done and I LOVE her

4) Nesta: I LOVE her and her character arc, she is another one of SJM’s most real/realistic characters and my heart genuinely aches for her, she deserves all the happiness in the world and the only reason she isn’t higher is bc of her choice in men (free her)🤧✨

5) Lidia: This woman literally SAVED the CC series. I would have DNF’d HOSAB if it weren’t for her and her parts were the only bearable ones (besides Nes and Az) in CC3. such an awesome character and her story is so heartbreaking and done so well for just being in one book really?? she’s incredible, I love her, of course she’s related to the queen and king themselves🔥✨

6) Lysandra: an absolute QUEEN and so underrated even though she saves the day countless times and is just so loyal and kind??? her friendships with Aelin and Evangeline are everything. she literally gave her all to fight for a world that had done nothing but hurt her and she’s so brave and beautiful for that, wish we had more of her🤧❤️

7) Asterin: when I tell you I WEPT at her death like a young lad I just JENDKEND for a side character she’s so phenomenal and has SUCH an impact on the entire storyline. her backstory is heartbreaking and yet she’s so full of light and happiness and love for her sisters. BRING MY BODY TO THE CABIN???? LIKE??? gets me everytime and I would SO read a story about her and her hunter boy or her and manon growing up or just her existing again 💔

8) Feyre: I know this feels low BUT i do love her so much, she genuinely starts this all and saved everyone’s ass, her character arc just feels a little incomplete to me and I wish SJM didn’t kick her to the curb because there’s a lot left to be done with her. truly though, I love Feyre and wish the best for her and hope we get to see more from her in the future✨

9) Elain: we’ve gotten so little of her but IDC I love a flower girl❤️🤧 truly though, she’s so intriguing to me and I can’t wait to read more about her (could DEFINITELY be higher after her book) she’s already so kind and fierce and also HILARIOUS, like I have laughed out loud at so many of her scenes😩 her gifts to Azriel being the best gags??? her LOLing when Nesta calls her a bitch??? I know she’s funny AF and we just need to see more of it

10) Emerie & Gwyn: I couldn’t decide again I love them both✨❤️ but really there two are not just what Nesta needed but what I NEEDED to get through ACOSF. their friendships with Nesta have my heart and they’re both so complex and fun even with so little page time??? I can’t wait to read more of them, I feel like both their stories have SOOOOO many possibilities and I am pumped AF for more

[morgana-ren]

Initially I had this idea hafter watching Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (loved it, I highly recomend it) but, since I see quite the parallels between Coriolanus Snow and Ascended Astarion, here goes nothing.

Imagine an Astarion who gas a bard Tav as punishment, not letting them make a single noise for days, maybe longer, as he says he'll "consider" returning their voice once he believes they'll behave.

-----

I haven't read it, admittedly, but I'll add it to the reading list! This isn't a sexy or a kink answer but I tried, but if it's not what you had in mind, please let me know and I'll redo it.

-

Cruelty. You could call it that.

He calls it an object lesson. A point that must be impressed because it isn't getting through.

That's the problem with a songstress. So many ridiculous ideals of love and the safety in it. The irritating idealization of it all in their songs that are woven from the thread of absurdity. A reminder of naivety; of innocence.

It's utterly insulting.

The caged bird sings endlessly of freedom. Always, always. Looking to the sky with longing. Flapping restless wings, perching high in their cage, surveying land through gilded bars and dreaming-- romanticizing.

The song might be beautiful. It might break a lesser man. It might touch the soul--

(--that no longer exists, yet even now, he can feel the motif sew into his skin and touch something that should be there; a ghost in his flesh that he can't scratch out. He hates that goddamned melody, he hates it-- it plucks, and it pulls like a bird gathers seed from the soil to sustain itself. She used to sing to him before he truly became him, and she uses it to drain his resolve even now--)

Love is beautiful, fragile, and fleeting-- like a hummingbird. Meant to roam and seek sustenance. Freedom. Choice. It is beauty and truth and irritation and futility and rejection--

He won't hear it.

(--Love is filth and blood and sacrifice. It is seven thousand souls in fire and his own in the palm of a devil's hand. It is anything to keep her safe. It is what must be done. She will hate him for the rest of her luxurious life with him--)

She begs him. Begs him listen. She looks at him with those watery, pathetic eyes, grasps him with delicate, calloused fingers and a voice raw and cracking.

He loves her.

She is foolish and naive with ideals. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what it is to be captive. To be abused. To be used. She sleeps on pillows of silk. He forces the finest meals down her throat. She will live and she will like it.

(--She will come around, surely. He did--)

She hums sometimes. He can hear it. She does it on purpose, he swears. He hears it in his meditation. He hears it as she is in the cold and dark of the cells miles away. That same melody she wrote for him after he first displayed weakness and confessed to her his reliance on her. She sang it to him by starlight and campfire, in the dirt, at his absolute lowest when he was weak, and foolish, and nothing. She sat with him beneath the sky and gave her own confession in song and looked at him as though he hung the moon--

It stitches a pattern into his skin. He hears it. He cannot pluck it free. Even as he is different now. He is stronger, and better, and faster. More powerful. He can protect her now, he can protect them both--

(--More deserving--)

He waits. He waits and he waits and he waits. He is eternal. Time is nothing to him. It is nothing to her either. His sweet songbird, she will see and she will understand the greater picture. She will thank him. What he has given her is a gift. It is a gift, it is a gift, it is a gift--

She bemoans this, but she will understand. One day, she will. She will, same as he did. She is foolish, and idealistic, and simple-- But she will.

(--I love you as you are. As you always have been. You are enough, and I will always love you--)

If he could feel, he is certain he would be irritated. Annoyed. What a foolish girl he has chosen. She sings her same tired song rather than embracing a new tune. A better one. One suited to who he is now. The better man.

He takes her instruments. He binds her hands. He isolates her so that her songs will never be heard until she sings what he wishes to hear. Until that fucking song dies, and he never hears it again. He never wants to hear it again.

He is the master. She will obey. And she will come back to him.

(--He hears it in his fucking mind. He cannot make it stop. It plays on repeat. Some vengeance from his old, weak mind playing tricks on him--)

She doesn't sing anymore. Eyes as pale and empty as the moon. She can sing. She can play. She can repeat on demand, like a parrot. He has heard these melodies before.

She asks him what he wants her to play.

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 8 Flight of the Noldor.

Yavanna cannot make the Trees again because That's How Things Work. At least we get a clear statement (again) that she did create their light, so sorry musicals, the Trees did not contain the Flame Imperishable. (I know in one abandoned later revision they kind of maybe did, but also it is like nails on chalkboard to me)

And Yavanna says that their harm would be undone and Melkor's evil would not reach its goal. Very Yavanna thing to say, very "where's the undo button". I'm not a fan. Like, I get her and it's not evil or smth… but… sorry, my pretty green lady, this doesn't work like this.

Tulkas. Can't you just sit still? (No, he can't.)

"Not the first one"! This line always makes me smile, it's just so "random oneliners to say". (I don't think Namo is rude, I think he's just quite alien and doesn't understand CoI and their psychology)

Despite being left to brood in silence, Feanor is paranoid anyway. :(

Capital D Darkness again — it's Ungoliant's stuff.

Finwë died on the threshold of Formenos — defending the house, but it is assumed, I think, because everyone else ran away. Either he had a weapon in hand, or they just assumed he was not trying to run away. Anyway nvm the narrative frame, the indent is that he was defending the house, so ok, why not. Very brave of him.

Feanáro curses a lot:

curses Melkor and renames him

curses Manwë's summons (so it was Manwë who ordered him to come? This would be some overstepping. I'll assume it was Manwë inviting him personally to come and Ingwë ordering him. Or just Manwë ordering him to come not as his ruler, but as ruler of this land, like "if you want any chance to be unbanned from Tirion, you must come")

curses the hour when he left home (very puzzling thing to do imo, but it is a genre thing I suppose)

Melkor wanted to kill Feanor mostly. So the book says. i am honestly surprised he didn't— oh wait. Maybe putting the Silmarils on his face and the pain was what made him shift from "kill Feanáro and his kin" to… well, all those stuff he did with Maedhros.

Morgoth can't ditch the spider. :D I suppose this confirms that now he is fixed in his body. She calls him Black Heart (derogatory, I suppose?) which nobody else does. It is kind of cute when your overgrown ex-pet murder spider has a pet name for you. :P

The "I rule the worls" stuff. I think this is the first time we see him say it (at least in the well-established canon timeline).

The Silmarils are in a box, and they still start burning him. So:

the burning increases or at least increases until it reaches its full level

they are small enough and Morgoth is big enough that he can hold the box with them all in his hand (right. does it have any meaning?)

It's confirmed that Morgoth had given Ungoliant some of his power and she'd grown and he'd lessenned. I assume it was during their initial negotiations.

She puts a web on him if not a full cocoon. The Balrogs have to free him with the flaming ...I forgot the word.

Also, the Balrogs were hiding in the deep dungeons after Angband, which suggests they did not work for/with Sauron. they seem very much like Morgoth's private guard. Also, they free him without question despite the fact that he seems pretty weak at this point.

The Balrogs have no problem chasing away Ungoliant, I attribute it to their connection with light (or at least fire. But fire is a kind of light, even their fire).

Yavanna was afraid that the Silmarils would be eaten by the darkness. this sounds very much like her.

Morgoth:

calls himself king of the world (the contrast of this and his situation...)

his hands are permanently black with burns and always in pain (which angers him even more)

also his crown seems to hurt him

seriously what is wrong with you?

you need therapy

seriously is insane at this point

also has a super powerful aura of fear

The Valar sit and (think, I guess), their courts (Maiar and Vanyar) cry about the Trees, the Noldor go back to Tirion. Suddenly Feanor. Who technically is still banished, which I think is more of a case of "the Valar had other priorities and he didn't ask" or "we aren't going to let him back to his brother in this state of emotions because there wil be more murders" than "revenge for not giving the Silmarils o Yavanna".

Also, now, of all times, is when many of the Noldor learn about the Men being a thing. Because before that Melkor told a few in secret and tehy apparently told Feanáro in secret… Peak unfortune timing. Peak planning on Melkor's side (not that he could now appraciate it).

Also, in Polish it's not "jealous gods", but "jealous Valar" which is interesting, but I think it makes sense. Still, it is out-Tolkiening the Tolkien I think.

Oh. Another part I need in English, because it's so important.

After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and have regained the Silmarils that he stole, then behold! We, we alone, shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda! No other race shall oust us!’ [src]

Oh my. It is so much.

First, it is obvious that "reclaim the Silmarils" is (in his mind) the relatively easy, or at least short, part.

Second: "We, we alone, shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda!" I don't think this needs any comments.

Aaaand then they swear the Oath.

It's just one huge downward spiral, and he talks himself into it. Yes, trauma, but why are you pouring gasoline on it??? They all need… a lot. And to stop pouring gasoline on everything.

Fefe. I am so dissapointed with you. I am sad. I don't have the words for this. Also, you hate Morgoth, but you two are so similar sometimes.

Oh, and in the Silm they do not call Eru, they call the Everlasting Darkness to claim them if they break their oath. At least according to the translation. also, yes, revenge and hatered is mentioned, but no requirement to succeed in killing the offenders.

Galadriel is enthusiastic about Feanáro's plans, even though she dislikes him. :P

Manwë is silent, because he doesn't want to stop Feanor. Because he careas about the Noldor feeling enslaved! At least the translation says it pretty clearly. They (the Valar, or at least M&V) sit and watch, hoping that the Noldor will calm down.

Politics, politics… Fingolfin goes because Fingon, and the people, and he promised. Mentioned in this order.

90% of all the Noldor go (to Alqualonde and north, it's unclear how many came back with Finarfin). I wonder if it is of all the Noldor or just of the male Noldor. Because most of the women seem to stay.

Eonwë (not named, but seems like him. Technically it may be another Maia) comes to give them advice. Just an advice. Explicitely says that the Valar will not stop them and they came freely, they can leave freely.

Finarfin and Finrod and all the "wisest of Noldor" are in the back and carry a lot of stuff. Good for them.

Túna was nearly at the equator! Oh. interesting. They are very, very far from the Helcaraxe, and I assume nobody invited navigation without seeing the shores (sorry I don't know the English one word term for this). So they have a logistics problem.

The Teleri seem to refuse any help because they don't want to go against the Valar. Even though the Valar did not forbid it, they just said it was a bad idea. The Teleri just trust them, because Ulmo is cool. Also, they don't have much experience with Morgoth and assume "the Valar will fix it all".

An arguement ensues.

Fefe leaves, broods, and returns to Alqualonde when he has enough army. Then he starts seizing the ships. The Teleri push the Noldor to water, a fight ensues. Fingon join them and assumed that the Teleri were ordered by the Valar to stop the Noldor and attacked them. So, Finarfin and his team was not there. Fingolfin might not be at the battle either?

Olwë calls Ossë for help (so, he did survive), and we have the hilarious "I can't because the Valar forbade us to stop the Noldor. However, my wife, who has a clear recorc, will drown them with her crying anyway."

Blatant ad for the Maglor. "…for more details, see the Noldolante…" This is hilarious.

so they all go far, and it takes a long time. Some (most trusted by Feanor) go on the ships, other on foot. they travel from the equator to, idk, but a pretty cold area.

And only then, after probably weeks of travel, they get Namo(or is it?) and the Doom of the Noldor. (I need to correct one of my fics. This fact makes it 3 times more hilarious. even with the Maiarin teleportation).

Finarfin comes back, and he walks all the distance back. Has a lot of time to think, I guess. Many elves join him, but no number estimates or percentages. :(

The rest go further north.

Helcaraxe was assumed impassable. So no, nobody could predict Fingolfin would led his people there.

This was a very, very long chapter.

[tviral]

EVERYTHING I HATE ABOUT RE3R NEMESIS

- the entire opening sequence. i think it could have been REALLY strong if they played their cards right. starting off in jill's apartment at the very beginning of the outbreak is an interesting idea, but the only thing the opening sequence succeeded at was making nemesis look EXTREMELY stupid. he grabs jill numerous times, slaps her around a little bit, AND JUST LETS HER GET BACK UP AND RUN AWAY??? (although, realistically, she should not have survived anything nemesis did to her at all. he quite literally kicked her full force in the chest and she should have died right then and there lmao but i digress) not to mention he tears off a chunk of the ceiling and causes the building to collapse on himself. good job idiot. - the rooftop scene. yet again, nemesis has jill in his grasp, LITERALLY HAS HIS HAND AROUND HER THROAT, and he fumbles. WHY. - they almost redeemed themselves with nemesis walking out of the fire all dramatically and catching a rocket out of mid air, but they immediately ruined it by having him just fucking stand there and do nothing while carlos shoots him with another rocket. - the rest of his encounters are completely scripted, and designed to where nemesis does not feel like any sort of actual threat. he cannot enter safe rooms, and he just stands outside and waits for you until you leave or he eventually fucking despawns - doesn't even get to kill brad. brad just dies via zombie bite, thus taking away nemesis' only fucking kill. - LITERALLY GRABS JILL BY THE HEAD AND THEN TOSSES HER AWAY. - misses a shot on jill at point blank with a rocket launcher. i am peeling off my skin at this point. - subway scene was decent. it's fine. whatever. reminiscent of the original. - the stupid fucking dog form boss fight in the clock tower section. the fact that they gave him a dog form at all instead of having him gradually appear more and more degraded throughout the game makes me angry beyond words. WE WERE ROBBED OF AN HD NEMESIS BOSS FIGHT WHERE HIS HEAD AND ARM BOTH GET MELTED OFF WITH ACID AND HE STILL GOES AFTER JILL. - he kills tyrell but like what the fuck ever who cares. his death literally has no meaning. - doesn't even get to kill nikolai either because they turned him into a loser lame ass "surprise" villain, so he gets plot armor by virtue of that i guess. - final fight with nemesis is laughably boring and easy on any difficulty that isn't inferno, where the boss fight is genuinely so difficult that it is near-impossible to complete unless you're an actual god at the game because ig they didn't do any actual play testing.

in conclusion: nemesis in re3r is no longer a looming threat or constant presence throughout the game. he is actually just a joke. capcom should be paying ME royalties because he is my oc now.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 3)

Approximately 4 tons. 

20 to 55 inches for the horn.

And the average height still eludes her. 

As her memory rots so do the details. There are several species of komodo rhino, each has their own statistics. 4 tons and 20 to 55 inches for the horn; this could be either the black or the white komodo rhino. She should know which. She used to. Whichever one it is not is the species that gets to be nearly 7 tons and has a horn length up to 59 inches. And then there are the greater one horns and the Caldera ash komodo rhinos. The greater one horned variety can weigh a formidable 7 tons at most with a horn length of 39 inches. 

The Caldera ash komodo rhinos have always been her favorite. They are the largest, the strongest. They are on average 10,000 pounds of fury and brute with horns that can exceed 60 inches. They like to linger around active volcanoes. She remembers the myth: that their hide is thick enough to withstand lava. 

But Azula cannot remember any of the heights.

20 to 55 inches. 4 tons. Black or white komodo rhino. 59 inches. 7 tons. White or black komodo rhino. 39 inches. 7 tons. Greater one horned komodo rhino. 60 inches. 10,000 pounds. Caldera ash komodo rhino.

She clings to these facts. Repeats them over and over again so not to lose them. Should she come by one of them on her misadventures she could feed the black komodo rhino twigs and shoots, the white komodo rhino favors a similar diet but it would require much more. And so she decides that it must be the white komodo rhino that is 7 tons with 59 inch horns. But she could have that wrong too. She could have the diets mixed up. 

She claws at what would be her hairline were she not wearing a crown of flame. The greater one horned komodo rhinos prefer a diet of aquatic plants while the Caldera ash favor meat—both small and large game. They can eat over a hundred pounds a day if they so choose.

It is how the grow to be the size that she cannot recall. 

20 to 55 inches, 4 tons black komodo rhino. 59 inches…

She cannot let herself forget because it is nearly all that she has left as far as the komodo rhinos are concerned. She can remember her stuffed toy and that it had a name. But what was it? She remembers that the toy had armor but she can’t remember who gave it to her. Father? Mother? Zuzu? No, Zuzu was too young. So Iroh or Lu Ten? Grandfather? 

She grits her teeth. She knows this. She does! 

And where had she gotten the toy? She knows that father had given it to her, but she can’t remember where or when. Or why. 

And so she recants the numbers 20 to 55 inches, 4 tons…

Numbers always have been easier for her to remember than emotions and aromas. 

Numbers have sense to them. Order. Emotions are chaos, they don’t quite follow any rules. Nothing really follows rules anymore. Nothing has consistency. Rhythms and patterns are becoming scarce. 

The pain doesn’t help. Sometimes it gets to be so overwhelming that she can’t even muster up her possibly botched numbers. Sometimes, she has to stop in the middle of her mantra to wait out the pain. Most of the time it passes. Sometimes it takes an exceptionally long time, long enough that Azula begins to fear that it will never subside. 

Today, she isn’t hurting. Not quite as badly. So she lets her mind wander a bit. She has a childhood memory, but the details are fuzzy. She is on some beach somewhere. It is sunny. Zuzu is smiling and laughing and she is too. They had just emerged from the water and they had sworn that they’d seen a lionturtle. Mother had humored them. Father had rolled his eyes but he didn’t protest their fantasies. 

Azula misses father. She sort of misses Zuzu too. She even misses mother and maybe Iroh. She misses a life that she never had. A life that she could have had. She misses all of the choices that she had never gotten. Or maybe she had gotten them, just the same as Zuzu had, and she had just scoffed at them and tossed them aside. And for it, she wears fire on her body.

At last it makes sense.

Something makes sense. 

She has only ever had her firebending. 

It was all that really mattered to her; firebending and the glory, admiration, and affection that it brought her. 

And now fire is all that she will ever be. 

She has a crackling laugh. She hates the sound of it. But she can’t stop. Because it is so funny. So dreadfully hilarious. The poetry, the symmetry. It is satisfying in some sick and dark sense. And so she laughs her crackling laugh and the fire erupts from her throat. Sprays sparks into the night sky. 

Weather she realized it or not, Azula’s firebending had always been her undoing. 

And it undoes her still.

[celestiall0tus]

Into the Fire - Chapter 8 (Epilogue) - Home

Beginning || Previous

            Cicada stepped out the portal with everyone behind her. She walked from the side as everyone checked on each other and breathed a collected sigh of relief that they were back home. She smiled until Viperion approached her. She pursed her lips as she looked around for an escape when Senketsu grabbed her.

            “No more running. Go,” Senketsu urged.

            Cicada opened her mouth, but Senketsu pushed her into Viperion. Cicada freaked and jumped back. She turned to shoot Senketsu a glare, but she was already gone. She sighed and turned to Viperion.

            “Hey, hi! Uh, quite the adventure we had, right?” Cicada said.

            “Cicada, could we talk?”

            Cicada’s eyes widened as she gulped. She looked past Viperion at Tigre Rose, who glared at them. She flinched under his glare.

            “Not here, Viperion, but yes. I think there’s a lot that we need to discuss now that, well, you know. Kinda. Sorta. You know.”

            “I just want to ask one thing first.”

            “What’s that?”

            “It’ll be different this time, right? No more secrets, no more lies, no more hurting each other?”

            “Yes. This won’t be like before. Before there were… so many things that got in the way. Things that I couldn’t handle on my own when I thought I could. But not again. That I promise.”

            Viperion smiled. “Then, let’s meet at Liberty when you’re ready. Deal?”

            Cicada nodded. “I won’t keep you waiting long, Viperion.”

            “Thank you.”

            Cicada smiled as she watched Viperion leave with White Mouse. She shot Tigre Rose a look before she flew home. She slipped into her room and de-transformed. Gimmi flew in front of her and shifted into her human form.

            “Finally, we’re home. I don’t want to go through that again,” Gimmi whined.

            Marinette giggled. “I don’t either. That was… an experience. But we did make friends, right?”

            “I suppose.”

            “Hey, Gimmi?”

            “Yes?”

            “Would it be alright if I meet with other mes again? You know, under better circumstances.”

            “Yes. So long as you’re not away from your universes for long. There cannot be more than one per universe for long.”

            “How long is too long?”

            “I’m not sure. I just know not for long.”

            “Has this happened before?”

            A long silence passed. Gimmi’s eyes darted around in thought as though she were remembering something. “A long time ago, yes. Curiosity to be sated and was.”

            “By Velze?”

            Gimmi didn’t answer.

            “Well, whatever the case, we shouldn’t have to worry about meeting others like that again. And if we meet with other versions of ourselves, we won’t stay away from our universes for long.”

            “Well, if you wished, there is a place for universes, worlds, dimensions, everything can meet. Accessible only by reality. By me. With me, if you or anyone should desire it, you may meet again.”

            “Really? Will you show me?”

            “Yes, once I’m rested.”

            “Sounds like a good idea. Let’s get dinner and take a nice long nap.”

            Gimmi smiled. “That sounds perfect. Let’s go.”

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi