#not letting the war torn them apart from each other

[varpusvaras]

You know, I'm just as big of a fan of all the angst when it comes to Fox and the Coruscant Guard and their brother's in the GAR, of all the scenarios where their brother's just go "oh, they have changed, they think they are better than us, in their easy posting, war changes everyone, they are not just who they used to be", as everybody else is, but I'm also a bigger fan of all their brother's noticing the change and not being okay with it, but in a way that it makes them realise that something is wrong and they do something about it. They notice the lessening messages and calls, and just call and message more often. They notice how the Guard doesn't seem to have time to come and see them anymore, so they go to them instead.

Cody notices how Fox keeps getting busier and busier, way busier than Cody himself, even though they're supposed to have to same workload, and Cody asks. He asks what Fox is doing, and is confused and angered by what he hears.

Wolffe notices that Fox jokes less and less, that his smiles are becoming more and more rare, and he makes sure that he gives Fox reasons to smile on the double, making sure that absolutely no one mentions anything about work while they are out.

Bly notices that Fox looks even more tired than the last time every time they meet, and if Fox starts to dose off, he pretends he doesn't notice, and let's him take a nap, while making sure that no one can disturb them.

Ponds notices how Fox looks thinner, first from the face and then overall under his armor, and he keeps giving him snacks, taking him out to eat or bringing food to the office or the barracks, and stuffs Fox's desk full of vitamins and sweets.

Rex notices how every time they come across the Chancellor while he is seeing Fox, which happens more often than not, because Rex is waiting for General Skywalker to come back from a meeting with the man, Fox tenses up. It's subtle, like he is trying his hardest not to, but like it has been ingrained in him, like a reflex. And Rex looks harder, and he notices the fading marks on his brother's skin.

And they all sit down together and talk about it, and they realise that something is wrong, and they need to help.

[silver-dragonborn]

Here is another HOTD prompts y'all might find interesting.

The incident at Driftmark exposes the deep rifts between certain members of the Greens. This rift deepens even further when Aegon throws his little brother's plan back in his face by directing blame onto the only person Aemond looks up to the most. In depriving Aemond of his father figure, the flames of hatred between the brothers grow, consuming everything and everyone around them until they burn the Greens from the inside, plunging them all into madness.

"It was him." "Me?" Upon realizing that Aemond set him up to take the fall for the rumors their mother spread about Rhaenyra's children, Aegon panics and in a fit of vengeful rage towards his brother for daring to put him on the spot like this, Aegon points at Ser Criston Cole and shrieks, "I heard it from Ser Criston! It was him! It was him!" Nothing gave him more pleasure than watching the color drain from his twat brother's face as the King whirled on an equally pale Criston Cole, commanding the guards to strip him of his white cloak and cut off his sword hand for spewing such treason. 'Nice try, little brother,' he thought viciously as the guards dragged a screaming Cole out to be thrown into the dungeons, by morning he'll be sent to the Wall and never seen or heard from ever again. 'Nice try, but I've been playing this game far longer than you.' Aegon smirked, but it was immediately wiped off his face when Aemond turned back to stare at him with his sole remaining eye, a look that promised swift retribution. And now that he was the rider of Vhagar, nothing would stop him.

[anistarrose]

thinking about:

Fisher's home planet, and entire species, was destroyed when they were a baby, and Magnus took them aboard the Starblaster.

Once Junior, Fisher's own baby, was born, they were the only other Voidfish — the only other creature in the multiverse like Fisher — that Fisher had seen in over sixty years.

But Lucretia took Junior away.

Lucretia took Junior away, because it was the only way to save the world.

Lucretia took Junior away, because it was the only way to get Magnus, Merle, and Taako back.

Lucretia couldn't see any way to reunite her own family without separating a different one.

Junior grew up in secret, hidden away, with Lucretia caring for them.

Junior grew up without getting to see any other Voidfish — any other creature in the multiverse like them — ever since they'd been a baby.

Junior becomes the Announcer at the start of episodes, because Junior is the voice of the Story.

The Announcer never acts mad at Lucretia.

Junior was raised by Lucretia. Junior barely got to meet the rest of the IPRE.

But Junior was fed by, and raised on, stories of the whole IPRE, before they were separated.

The Announcer all but flat-out urges the audience to be sympathetic, to both Lucretia and the rest of the IPRE, for each of their most morally gray and consequential choices.

At the start of the episode where the IPRE create the Grand Relics, and Lucretia erases her family's memories to stop the ensuing war, the Announcer calls upon the viewers to imagine the apocalypse. To imagine the burden, and to imagine how it would change you. To imagine how desperate you would be to "protect the ones you loved."

The Announcer wants the IPRE to be understood.

The Announcer unfailingly refers to Tres Horny Boys, and later, all seven birds, as "our heroes."

The Announcer is barely able to contain their excitement about Barry coming back.

The Announcer pokes fun at the protagonists, and the circumstances they find themselves in, but does it like another part of the family would.

The Announcer loves the IPRE so, so much, and wants you to love them too, and understand their mistakes.

The Announcer is Junior.

Junior never even got to meet most of the IPRE.

But they grew up hearing the story of the IPRE, and how they cared for Fisher.

Junior know they're a survivor of a destroyed home planet, one they've never even seen themselves. They know they were separated from their parent, the only other survivor.

They know the IPRE's home planet was destroyed too. They know the IPRE were separated from each other, too.

Junior was raised on these stories. Junior's destiny is to tell these stories. The interwoven stories of two families, which were torn apart, but were also always really one family, one story.

But Junior can't tell the Story alone.

Until they finally meet someone they'd only heard about in those stories before. They finally meet Magnus, who saved Fisher all those years ago, who raised Fisher like he was their father — who's like a grandfather to Junior, a grandfather they never got to meet before.

Magnus fulfills a promise, and brings Junior back to Fisher.

And... Junior's nervous. Because it's been so long since they saw their parent? Because Fisher's injured, and Junior's terrified to lose the only other Voidfish like them, let alone when they just got each other back?

But for the first time in so long, Fisher is able to reach out and touch their child. To reassure Junior — it'll be okay.

And the two of them, finally, get to do what Voidfish are destined to do, but cannot do alone. Fisher sends out the Song...

And Junior tells the world, the whole world, the Story of how much they love the IPRE.

[hisfavegirl]

Veil Of Betrayal - King!Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Summary : You are safe and sound in the Red Keep, but that's probably what you think. Because after you escaped from the clutches of your father and mother, they did everything they could to bring you back.

Aegon Masterlist.

As Daemon’s figure disappeared from view, the weight of the moment bore down on you like a collapsing tower. Your knees gave out, and you fell to the cold floor, barely aware of Aegon’s arms catching you.

“Aegon…” you whispered, your voice choked with sobs as tears streamed down your face. The sound of your grief filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as you buried your face into his chest.

He knelt with you, holding you tightly, his arms a protective cocoon around your trembling form. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own heart ached at the sight of your despair. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his tunic as if letting go would shatter you further. “I didn’t want this,” you managed to say between sobs. “I never wanted to hurt him… or anyone.”

Aegon pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it as he whispered soothing words. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “None of this is your fault. He’s the one who forced this on you, not the other way around.”

The memory of Daemon’s cold stare haunted you, and the weight of his words felt like daggers in your heart. You could see the pain in his eyes, even beneath his anger, and it tore at your soul to know you were the cause of it.

“I just wanted peace,” you said, your voice trembling. “I just wanted my family to be whole.”

“And you will have that,” Aegon said, his tone resolute. “We’ll protect what we have—our children, our future. No one will take that from us.”

His determination steadied you, and for a moment, you found solace in his presence. But the ache in your heart lingered, the guilt of choosing one part of your family over the other an unbearable weight.

As your sobs subsided, you leaned into him, drawing strength from his warmth. “What if he comes back?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we’ll face him together,” Aegon promised, his hand tightening around yours. “You’re not alone in this.”

The words were a balm to your shattered heart, and though the pain remained, you knew Aegon’s love would be your anchor in the storm.

You lay silently, feeling the warmth of Aegon’s hand as it gently caressed your hair, each stroke soothing the tension that had coiled within you. For a moment, with him beside you, the world outside seemed distant, the chaos muted by the safety of his presence.

Opening your eyes, you turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His violet eyes softened as they met yours, filled with concern and unwavering devotion.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with emotion. “I don’t want our children to grow up in a world torn apart by war.”

His hand stilled for a moment, resting gently against the side of your face. Aegon’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before it was replaced by determination.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “Neither do I. I never wanted this, for us or for them. But I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to protect them—and you.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his, grounding yourself in his touch. “I just want them to be safe, to be happy. To have the childhood they deserve.”

“They will,” Aegon vowed, his tone firm now. “I’ll make sure of it, no matter what it takes.”

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours as he closed his eyes. “You’re my family. You, the children, and the one growing inside you. Nothing else matters more to me than keeping you all safe.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you allowed yourself to find comfort in his promise. For now, it was enough to hold onto hope, even as the shadows of war loomed on the horizon.

The grand doors of the council chamber opened, and Aegon walked beside you, his hand resting protectively on your lower back. The weight of the moment pressed on your shoulders, but you steeled yourself, knowing this was where you needed to be—beside your husband, at the heart of the storm.

As the two of you entered, the lords and council members rose briefly in acknowledgment of the King. Their eyes flickered toward you, whispers already buzzing about your presence. Some seemed approving, others curious, while a few held unreadable expressions.

Aegon pulled out the chair for you, his hand lingering for a moment on yours as you settled beside him. Alicent sat to his other side, her expression calm and composed, but her gaze betrayed a flicker of relief to see you here.

“My lords,” Aegon began, his voice firm as he addressed the room. “Let us proceed. The matters at hand will not wait.”

As discussions began—strategies, alliances, and whispers of war—you found yourself absorbing every word. Though the conversation revolved around battle plans and the growing tensions with Dragonstone, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of each decision. Every choice they made could shape not just the realm, but your family’s future.

From time to time, Aegon glanced your way, his eyes seeking your reassurance. When his hand found yours beneath the table, you squeezed it gently, a silent promise that you were here with him, through every trial.

Alicent leaned toward you during a lull in the meeting, her voice soft but steady. “Your presence here strengthens him,” she said. “You’ve always been his anchor.”

You nodded slightly, though the weight of it all was not lost on you. Your place here was not just as his wife, but as someone who might help guide him in a time where every decision could mean peace—or destruction.

The council chamber was heavy with tension, the air crackling as Aegon’s voice boomed across the room.

“How in the name of the Seven did this happen?” Aegon roared, his fists clenched on the armrests of his throne. He turned his furious gaze to Ser Criston and Aemond. “Daemon now holds the largest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms, and we allowed it to slip through our fingers? Explain yourselves!”

Ser Criston bowed his head, his tone firm but laced with regret. “Your Grace, the garrison at Harrenhal was undermanned. Daemon arrived swiftly, using Caraxes to instill fear and force a surrender. The men there were overwhelmed before they could mount a defense.”

Aemond, standing stiffly at the side of the room, interjected coldly, “I warned you, brother. We should have acted sooner. I could have dealt with Daemon before this ever came to pass.”

Aegon turned his anger toward Aemond, his expression darkening. “You think I would risk losing you to him? Do you forget who he is? He’s not just our enemy—he’s a monster with no regard for life or loyalty!"

The tension in the room became suffocating, and Alicent, seated beside you, looked between her sons with worry etched on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Aegon cut her off, his voice raw and desperate.

“This cannot continue. Harrenhal is a dagger pointed at the heart of our campaign. If Daemon holds it, he can strike us where we are weakest.” He turned his gaze to you, his anger momentarily replaced by a desperate plea. “Tell me, what should I do? How do I fight a man who seems unstoppable?”

You felt all eyes on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a physical burden. Taking a deep breath, you met Aegon’s gaze, your voice calm but steady.

“Harrenhal is a strategic loss, but it does not mean defeat,” you began. “Daemon is bold, but his arrogance is his weakness. Let him think he’s gained an unassailable advantage. Meanwhile, we fortify our positions and rally more houses to our cause. Strength in numbers will be the key to outmaneuvering him.”

Aegon listened intently, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “And what of Harrenhal? Do we simply let him keep it?”

You hesitated, then spoke firmly, “For now, yes. Fighting him there would cost too many lives. But he cannot hold it indefinitely—not if we cut off his supply lines and force him into a position of weakness. Let him sit in that castle, isolated and vulnerable. When the time is right, we’ll strike.”

Aegon leaned back, his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of frustration and admiration in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. We’ll do as you suggest—for now.”

The council murmured in agreement, though the tension remained palpable. Aegon reached for your hand beneath the table, gripping it tightly as if drawing strength from your presence. You squeezed his hand in return, silently vowing to stand by him, even as the storm of war loomed ever closer.

Ser Criston’s low murmur cut through the tense silence like a blade. “She thinks like Daemon,” he said, his tone carrying a grudging respect. “And that is to our advantage.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, and your breath hitched. You realized the truth in them—you were helping to craft a strategy that could very well be used to harm your parents, your family. The very people who raised you, who fought to bring you back to their side.

Your hand trembled slightly in Aegon’s grasp, and your gaze faltered. The room felt stifling now, the walls closing in as guilt twisted in your chest.

Aegon noticed your change in demeanor and leaned closer, his voice soft yet concerned. “What is it? Are you unwell?”

You forced a weak smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just… overwhelmed.”

Aegon frowned, his free hand brushing over your cheek. “You’re with child. If this is too much, you don’t need to—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, a little too quickly, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The murmurs of the council faded into the background as your mind swirled with conflict. You were supposed to be loyal to your family. You had told yourself that staying with Aegon, with your children, was the right choice. But now, as you sat here among your husband’s council, offering insight that could spell disaster for those you loved, you felt the weight of betrayal pressing down on you.

Could you truly stand by and watch as the two sides of your heart clashed in bloody battle? Or had you already chosen, your actions betraying where your loyalties now lay?

As the council continued to debate strategy, you stared at the table, your thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, love, and fear.

You rose from your seat, your movements slow and deliberate as you addressed Aegon and the council. “I need to excuse myself,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m not feeling well and would like to rest for a while.”

Aegon’s gaze immediately softened, concern etched into his features. “I’ll take you to your chambers,” he offered, already rising from his chair.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him. “No, Aegon,” you said softly, shaking your head. “This meeting is more important. You need to be here with the council.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, managing a faint smile. “Ser Criston or one of the guards can accompany me.”

Aegon hesitated, his violet eyes searching yours for any sign of deeper distress. But when you held firm, he reluctantly nodded. “If you need anything, send for me immediately,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I will,” you promised, squeezing his arm lightly before stepping away.

Ser Criston moved to escort you, but you shook your head, indicating you wanted to be alone. With a slight bow, he stepped back, allowing you to leave unaccompanied.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the weight of your emotions pressed down on you. The betrayal you felt—not just toward your family, but toward yourself—gnawed at your soul.

By the time you reached your chambers, tears pricked your eyes. You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as a heavy sigh escaped your lips. The weight of your divided loyalties was becoming unbearable. How long could you walk this fine line before everything crumbled?

Sitting before the mirror, your brush moved gently through your hair as you tried to steady your thoughts. The soft hum of the wind outside was the only sound in the room until faint laughter reached your ears. Your hand froze, and your gaze shifted toward the door.

The laughter grew louder, filling the hallway with its sweet, carefree melody. A small, hesitant smile crept onto your face as the door creaked open.

There they were—Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, their smiles bright enough to momentarily chase away the weight on your heart. Jaehaerys stood proudly at the front, holding his wooden sword, while Jaehaera clutched her favorite doll, and little Maelor peeked out from behind them with a toy dragon in his hands.

“Mother!” Jaehaera called out, her voice brimming with excitement.

Your heart swelled as you set the brush down and turned fully to face them. “What brings all of you here?” you asked, your voice warm as you opened your arms.

They didn’t hesitate, running toward you with gleeful laughter. Jaehaera was the first to throw her arms around your waist, followed by Maelor, who nestled into your lap. Jaehaerys remained standing tall, declaring, “We’ve come to cheer you up!”

Your laughter, soft and genuine, bubbled forth as you hugged them close. “You’re all doing a wonderful job,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of Maelor’s silver head.

“Father said you weren’t feeling well,” Jaehaera added, looking up at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m better now that you’re here,” you replied, cupping her cheek gently.

As you held them close, the room seemed lighter, the burden on your heart easing just a little. In their presence, the world’s troubles felt like a distant storm—one that could wait, if only for this moment.

You sat alone in your chambers, the evening light filtering through the windows as the sun began its descent. The faint murmurs of the castle’s activities reached your ears, but none of it could quiet the unease twisting in your chest.

The long hours stretched endlessly, and your gaze flickered toward the door every so often, hoping Aegon would return soon. Yet you knew the council’s discussions were far from over, especially with the looming threat of war.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the armrest of your chair as you let out a weary sigh. Thoughts of the impending war plagued your mind, not for the first time. You hated the idea of it—the bloodshed, the division, the destruction it would bring. Most of all, you despised how it forced you into a corner, caught between loyalty to your husband and your birth family.

And then there were your children. Their laughter and innocence were a fragile balm to your fears, but the knowledge that this war could shatter their futures made your heart ache. What kind of world would they inherit if this escalated?

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Your hand instinctively went to your belly as if to shield your unborn child. “Come in,” you called softly.

One of your ladies-in-waiting entered, bowing slightly. “The king is still in council, your grace, but he has sent word that he will come to you as soon as it concludes.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, offering her a small smile before she left. Alone once more, you leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on your belly.

“I won’t let this war take you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Any of you.”

The words hung in the air, a promise to yourself and your children. All you could do now was wait—and hope.

The night had fully enveloped the world, and only the soft whispers of the wind could be heard outside the windows. Feeling slightly weary, you took your warm robe and draped it over the nightgown you had already changed into. Your hand instinctively rested on your slightly rounded belly, a comforting warmth filling your heart despite the lingering worry about the impending war.

You made your way to your children’s chambers, walking through the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep. When you opened the door to their room, soft laughter and hushed whispers greeted you. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were quietly talking to each other, while Maelor sat in a corner playing with his toy dragon. The moment they saw you, bright smiles lit up their faces.

“Mother!” Maelor exclaimed, running toward you with enthusiasm.

You chuckled softly and knelt down to embrace him. “It’s time for bed, my love,” you said gently, brushing his hair with your hand. “I wanted to make sure you’re all ready for sweet dreams.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera quickly climbed into their beds, each clutching their favorite toys. You settled into the chair between them, opening a storybook they adored. In a soft and soothing voice, you began to read, weaving tales of dragons and knights, stories that had once been shared with you in your own childhood.

Maelor was the first to drift off to sleep, his tiny hands still clutching his dragon toy. Jaehaerys tried to stay awake, his eyes struggling to remain open as he listened intently. Jaehaera, meanwhile, cuddled her doll and watched you with a contented smile until her eyelids grew too heavy.

One by one, their breathing slowed, and peace settled over the room. You leaned down to kiss each of their foreheads, whispering, “Goodnight, my loves.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as the door to your children's room creaked open unexpectedly. You froze in place, heart racing.

Two figures stood in the doorway, their faces obscured by dark hoods. Before you could react, one of them stepped forward, drawing a blade with a smooth, practiced motion and pressing it against your throat.

"Stay quiet," the figure hissed in a low voice, the threat unmistakable. "We only want one thing from you."

Your breath caught in your chest, and a sharp panic gripped your heart. The intruder's words came next, each one more chilling than the last.

"You must choose one of your children," the voice commanded coldly. "One must be sacrificed. If you do not choose... we will decide for you."

Terror surged through you. Your mind raced, but no coherent thought could form as you stared at the blade, the gleaming edge reflecting the dim light of the room. You wanted to scream, to shout for help, but your throat was dry, your body frozen.

Your eyes darted to the children, peacefully sleeping in their beds, unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them. Maelor's small form curled in sleep, his toy dragon still clutched in his hand. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their faces serene, seemed so innocent, so far removed from the terror that now threatened to tear their world apart.

"Choose," the second figure said, their voice colder than the first, a menacing echo in the silence. "Or we will!"

Tears welled up in your eyes as the impossible decision loomed before you. No mother should ever have to make such a choice. They were your children-your heart, your everything. The thought of losing any of them, of condemning one to death, was unbearable.

But you had no choice. The threat to your family was all too real, and time was running out. You could feel the desperation clawing at your insides. You had to act. You had to find a way to save them, to protect them from whatever dark force had brought these monsters to your doorstep.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Don't hurt them. Please don't make me choose."

The figure with the blade pressed harder against your neck, causing a sharp sting.

"Choose, or we will."

Your mind raced. A plan began to form, fueled by a fierce determination to save your children.

You wouldn't allow them to suffer. You wouldn't let your family fall apart.

"Let them go," you whispered fiercely, not just to the figures in front of you, but to yourself as well. You needed to outsmart them, to protect your children. Somehow, you would find a way.

Tears streamed down your face as the cold steel of the blade pressed against your throat.

You could feel the weight of the decision crushing you, every heartbeat a reminder of the life-or-death choice that loomed over your children. The figures in front of you were unmoving, their demands clear and unforgiving.

"I'll offer myself," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, desperate. "Take me. Please.Spare them."

But the cold, emotionless reply that came back from one of the figures made your stomach drop.

"It must be a son," the voice declared, sharp and uncompromising. "A son must pay the price."

You trembled, feeling your entire body shake under the pressure of the impossible demand.

You could feel the world around you spinning, your mind unable to accept what was being asked of you. The thought of losing one of your children, your precious sons-Maelor or Jaehaerys-was more than you could bear.

"Please," you sobbed, your voice breaking.

"Please, I can't choose. I can't."

But they were relentless, their gaze unwavering, their stance threatening. The second figure, who hadn't spoken yet, stepped closer, looming over you with the blade still pressed at your neck.

"You must choose, or we will."

Your eyes darted desperately toward your sleeping children. Jaehaerys, so brave, even in his sleep, and Maelor, the innocent child with so much life left to live. Your heart shattered at the thought of them being torn from you, of one of them being sacrificed for some twisted reason you couldn't even understand.

The silence felt deafening as the seconds stretched on, the room heavy with the weight of your indecision. You could feel the heat of the tears on your cheeks, the pain of your helplessness building to an unbearable point.

"Please," you whispered once more, the words nearly lost in the depth of your agony. "Please don't take them from me."

You couldn't bring yourself to choose. Your love for them was too deep, too overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of losing either of them.

The room spun as you were shoved to the floor, the sharp crack of your head hitting the ground sending a wave of dizzying pain through your skull. For a moment, everything blurred, the edges of your vision darkening, but through it, you could still hear the men’s cold voices and the terrifying calm in their words.

As you lay on the cold floor, the pain from your head throbbing fiercely, you could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision. The room spun as the men’s words pierced your heart, each one more cruel than the last. Your body trembled with fear and desperation, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

They had pointed to Jaehaera’s bed, and in that moment, you knew. They weren’t asking for someone to be sacrificed—they were demanding the life of your child.

“He’s the eldest,” one of them had said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart stopped. No. They couldn’t be serious. They couldn’t.

Then the horrifying sound of Jaehaerys’ scream echoed through the room. A scream filled with pain and terror, and it shattered your soul. He was awake, and he was in pain. He was fighting for his life.

Before you could move, before you could protect him, you heard Maelor’s terrified sobs, his voice panicked, calling out for you. “Mother!” he cried, his voice breaking.

You forced yourself to stand, despite the dizziness, despite the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you. But just as you reached out, you heard the sickening sound of a blade slicing through flesh, followed by a gasp from Jaehaerys.

“NO!” you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate. “Stop! Please, don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt my children!”

The world spun even faster, the tears blurring your vision. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The agony of knowing that they were killing your son, that they were tearing your family apart, left you feeling as though you were dying inside.

The sounds of your children’s cries echoed louder in your ears, their voices filled with pain and fear. You reached for them, your arms weak, but your heart cried out for them to be safe. You couldn’t save them. You couldn’t protect them.

“Please, stop! Please!” You begged again, your voice trembling with despair, but all that came in return were the chilling sounds of your children’s pain and the cold laughter of the men who had done this to your family.

Your world was collapsing.

The room seemed to fade away as the cold reality of what had just happened settled in. Jaehaerys’ lifeless head, now sealed away in their bag, was a horrifying reminder of the cruelty they had inflicted upon your family. You were paralyzed by grief and disbelief, unable to process the enormity of what had just transpired. The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, as if the very walls were closing in on you.

Jaehaera and Maelor’s desperate voices pulled you from the abyss of shock. They shook you, their hands gripping your arms as they pleaded for you to hold on. Their voices were fractured, trembling with fear and uncertainty, but their determination was clear. They needed you. They couldn’t bear this alone.

“Please, Mother… stay with us,” Maelor cried, his voice cracking. “We need you.”

Through the haze of your tears, you could hear their panicked cries calling out for help, for anyone who could save them from the nightmare they were trapped in. Their tiny hands clung to you, their innocent faces twisted with confusion and terror. They had witnessed something no child should ever have to see. And yet, they still needed you—still wanted you to fight for them, to protect them.

The sound of their voices, so fragile and filled with pain, cut through the numbness you were enveloped in. You could barely breathe, but somehow you forced yourself to focus on them. You were their mother. You had to be strong for them, even if your heart was shattered, even if your very soul was torn in two.

You mustered every ounce of strength you had left, pushing through the suffocating darkness in your mind, and called out in a trembling voice. “Help! Somebody, please!” But the room remained silent, and the weight of helplessness pressed down on you even harder. You could only hope, pray that someone would hear your desperate cries.

But in this moment of anguish, one thing remained clear—you couldn’t give up. Not now. Not after everything. Your children needed you. And you would find a way to make sure they were safe, no matter the cost.

Your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest as you lay on the cold floor, the pain in your head now a distant echo compared to the agony consuming you. Jaehaerys’ life had been taken so violently, and the memory of it haunted you, sending waves of grief and guilt crashing over you. How could something so terrible happen to your family? How could you protect them when everything felt like it was falling apart?

Then, through the haze of your despair, you heard them.

Aegon stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide in disbelief as he took in the horrifying scene before him. His gaze flickered between your broken form on the floor, the lifeless body of Jaehaerys, and the missing head, all the while his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His heart stopped as the magnitude of the tragedy hit him.

“Love…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper as he took a step forward, his eyes never leaving the devastation that surrounded him. “What happened…? What did they do…?”

Tears began to well up in his eyes, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to comfort you, but the horror of the scene kept him rooted to the spot. Jaehaera and Maelor were kneeling by your side, their faces pale, their small hands shaking as they tried to help you, but they were just as lost and broken as he was.

The room seemed to spin around him, every second feeling like an eternity as he struggled to comprehend what had happened. His son, his precious Jaehaerys, was gone. Brutally taken from him. And you, his wife, his love, were injured—physically and emotionally, your body laying broken and helpless on the cold stone floor.

Aegon’s heart shattered in that moment, as his legs finally gave out beneath him, and he collapsed by your side. His hands trembled as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms, cradling your head in his lap with desperate tenderness. His tears fell freely now, his voice ragged as he whispered your name over and over.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry, Love…” he sobbed, his fingers brushing over your bruised and bleeding temple. “I should have been here. I should have protected you, protected him.”

Jaehaera and Maelor clung to him, their tiny bodies shaking with grief. Jaehaera’s voice, choked with tears, was barely audible as she whispered, “Mother… why? Why did they take him?”

Aegon couldn’t answer. The words were stuck in his throat, the sorrow and rage too great to form anything coherent. He could only hold onto you, his family, as the weight of this tragedy settled deep into his bones. The blood on the floor, the silence of the room, the absence of his son—it was all too much. And yet, somehow, he knew one thing.

He would make sure that Jaehaerys’s death was not in vain. Whoever was responsible for this—he would make them pay.

The sound of Alicent's horrified scream echoed through the chamber as her gaze fell upon the lifeless body of Jaehaerys, blood pooling beneath him. She staggered forward, her hand clutching her chest, her face pale with shock. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she knelt beside Aegon, her voice trembling.

"What... what happened? Aegon, who did this?!" Alicent's voice cracked as she turned to her son, desperate for answers, her eyes darting between you and the lifeless form of her grandson.

Aegon's jaw tightened as he held you closer, shielding you from the sight of the carnage.

His face was etched with grief and fury, his tears streaking his pale cheeks. "They came for her... for my wife... and they took him." His voice was raw, filled with agony and seething rage.

Alicent let out another broken sob, her trembling hands reaching to touch Jaehaerys's small, lifeless hand. "No, no, no... my grandson... my sweet boy..." she whispered, her voice hollow as she rocked back and forth in anguish.

Ser Criston stepped forward, his expression grim as he surveyed the horrific scene. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, and he bowed his head briefly in sorrow before speaking. "Your Grace, this was no mere attack. This was a message-a calculated act of terror."

Aegon's eyes burned with fury as he raised his head, glaring at Criston and the guards. "And where were you?! Where were the guards?!" he shouted, his voice thunderous. "This happened in our home, under our watch! My son is dead, and my wife could have been killed!"

Criston looked stricken but held his ground. "I failed you, Your Grace," he said solemnly, his head bowed. "But I will find who did this. I swear it on my life."

Alicent turned back to you, her hands hovering over you as if unsure where to touch, afraid of causing you more pain. "My sweet girl, are you hurt? What did they do to you?"

Your voice was weak, trembling with grief and exhaustion as you spoke, your hand resting protectively over your growing belly. "They came for Jaehaerys... they wanted... one of my sons..." A sob broke free, and you clung to Aegon, tears streaming down your face. "They said it was to pay a debt... I begged them to take me instead, but they wouldn't..."

Alicent gasped, her face crumpling with grief as she brought her hands to her mouth.

"Monsters... vile monsters..." she whispered.

Aegon's arms tightened around you, his voice trembling with raw emotion as he declared, "I'll kill them all. Whoever sent them, whoever dared touch my family-they will pay for this."

His words carried a promise of vengeance, one that echoed through the grief-stricken room, even as Alicent reached out to pull Jaehaera and Maelor into her arms, trying to shield them from the horror that surrounded them. The Red Keep had been stained with blood, and its halls would not rest until justice was served.

Aegon’s steps faltered when Alicent’s trembling voice called out, “Aegon! Wait—there’s blood…”

He froze in place, his breath hitching as he looked down and saw the faint trail of crimson staining the floor beneath you. Panic surged through him, his grip on you tightening as if holding you closer might somehow protect you.

“No… no, no, no,” Aegon muttered, his voice breaking. His eyes darted to Alicent, desperation etched across his face. “Mother, do something! She can’t… the baby…!”

Alicent’s composure, though shaken, returned as she gestured sharply to Ser Criston. “Fetch the maesters! Now!”

Criston nodded and hurried from the room while Alicent stepped closer, her voice firm despite her trembling hands. “Aegon, you need to lay her down. We mustn’t move her further.”

Aegon hesitated, his emotions a storm of fear and anguish, but he finally nodded, carrying you into the nearest room and gently laying you down on the bed. Your face was pale, your breathing shallow, and you clung weakly to his hand, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice fragile, “the baby…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he pleaded, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. “You’re going to be fine. The baby’s going to be fine. Just hold on for me, alright?” His voice cracked as he fought to keep his composure, his free hand gripping yours tightly.

Alicent knelt beside you, her own fear clear in her eyes, but she forced herself to be calm. “My sweet girl, listen to me. The maesters will be here soon. Just breathe, my dear. We’re going to take care of you.”

Moments later, the door burst open as the maesters arrived, their expressions grim but focused. They moved quickly, assessing your condition as Aegon reluctantly stepped back, though he refused to let go of your hand.

One of the maesters turned to Alicent and spoke in a low tone, though Aegon could still hear. “Her Grace is in distress, and there’s a risk of premature labor. We must act swiftly to stabilize her and the child.”

Aegon’s heart plummeted at the words, his knees nearly buckling as he gripped the bedpost for support. “No… you have to save them both. Do you hear me? You will save them both!” His voice was a desperate command, laced with fear and fury.

The maesters nodded, working diligently as Alicent placed a reassuring hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aegon,” she said softly, her own tears threatening to spill, “she’s strong. Your child is strong. Have faith in them.”

Aegon nodded shakily, his gaze fixed on you, willing you to hold on. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Not you, not our baby. Please…”

The room was heavy with tension, the air thick with unspoken prayers, as the maesters worked tirelessly to protect both you and the life growing within you.

You opened your eyes slowly, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar surroundings of your chamber brought little comfort. The walls, once a sanctuary, now felt cold and oppressive.

Your body felt weak, as if the weight of the previous night still pressed upon you. Then the memories struck, sharp and unforgiving—Jaeharys, your eldest son, his life taken in a moment of unimaginable brutality. You could still hear his cries, the muffled sobs of Maelor and Jaehaera, and the laughter of the men who had stolen him from you.

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, where your unborn child still rested. A maester’s words from the night before echoed in your mind: “The babe is safe, for now.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you curled into yourself, grief and guilt battling within. You had nearly lost another child. The thought alone tore at you, guilt whispering that you hadn’t done enough, even though you knew there was nothing more you could have done.

The door creaked open, and Aegon stepped inside, his face pale and worn from sleeplessness. His eyes softened when they met yours, but the pain and anger behind them were unmistakable. He hurried to your side, kneeling beside the bed and taking your hand gently in his.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a trembling kiss to your knuckles. “I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I thought I might lose you too.”

Your lips trembled as tears began to fall. “Jaeharys…”

Aegon’s face crumpled at the mention of your son’s name. He pulled you into his arms carefully, mindful of your weakened state. “I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know, my love. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him.”

You shook your head against his chest. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but theirs.”

“But it’s my duty,” he said fiercely, his grip tightening. “And I failed. I swear to you, I will find the men who did this. They will pay for what they’ve done to our family.”

You looked up at him, his words carrying the weight of a king and a father. But as much as you wanted justice, you also feared what this vow of vengeance would mean for the family you still had.

“Aegon,” you said softly, your hand resting on his cheek. “Please… don’t let anger consume you. I can’t lose you too.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “You won’t,” he promised. “I’ll make sure you and the children are safe. No matter the cost.”

The silence that followed was heavy with grief and determination, the two of you clinging to each other as you tried to find solace in the aftermath of your shared loss.

Aegon held your trembling hand tightly, his face a mixture of sorrow and rage as he guided you toward the room where your children had been sleeping. The faint metallic smell of blood still lingered in the air, and the sight before you made your heart clench painfully.

The servants moved swiftly, carrying out the blood-soaked mattress that had once cradled your eldest son. You stopped in the doorway, unable to take another step. Tears streamed down your face as your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This was his room. His bed.”

Aegon’s grip on your hand tightened, anchoring you as much as himself. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes blazed with fury, but when he looked at you, his expression softened, replaced by heartbreak.

“I should’ve protected him,” you choked out between sobs. “I should’ve protected him, Aegon. I—”

“You did everything you could,” Aegon interrupted, his voice hoarse yet firm. “This isn’t your fault.”

But your grief was insurmountable. Watching the servants remove the last traces of Jaeharys felt like losing him all over again. You turned into Aegon’s chest, clutching his tunic tightly as your sobs grew louder.

“I can’t bear this,” you cried. “I can’t—he was just a boy. Our boy.”

Aegon held you close, his arms strong yet gentle as he whispered words of comfort. His tears mingled with yours as he kissed the top of your head, his own pain mirroring yours.

“We will honor him,” he said softly. “We will make sure no one forgets who he was. And those who did this… they will pay.”

Though his words were meant to comfort, they only made your heart ache more. You thought of Jaehaera and Maelor, the terror they must have felt, and the lingering scars this night would leave on them.

You pulled away slightly, wiping your tears with a shaking hand. “We have to protect them, Aegon. Maelor, Jaehaera, the babe… We can’t let this happen again.”

Aegon nodded, his expression hardening as he placed a hand over your own, resting protectively over your growing belly. “I swear to you, they will be safe. No one will hurt our family again.”

But as you stood in the doorway, staring at the empty room that once held so much life, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Would your family ever truly be safe?

As one of the servants passed by carrying the embroidered blanket you had painstakingly crafted for Jaehaerys, you froze. The sight of it, a tangible piece of your love and care for your son, brought a fresh wave of pain crashing down on you.

“Wait,” you said, your voice hoarse yet firm.

The servant stopped immediately, looking at you with a mixture of pity and unease. You stepped forward, your trembling hands reaching out.

“Give it to me,” you said softly, almost pleading.

The servant hesitated for a moment before handing you the blanket. The moment it was in your hands, you clutched it tightly to your chest, pressing your face into the soft fabric. It still smelled faintly of him, a mixture of childhood innocence and comfort.

Your knees threatened to buckle as you stood there, hugging the blanket as though it could bring him back. The tears came again, silently streaming down your face as you whispered his name.

Aegon stood by your side, watching you with an expression of utter devastation. He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady.

“You made that for him,” he said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I poured my heart into it… Every stitch was for him. He loved it.”

Aegon’s fingers gently traced your arm as he tried to comfort you, though his own grief was evident in the glassiness of his eyes. “He would want you to hold onto it. To remember him.”

You sank into Aegon’s embrace, still clutching the blanket tightly. “I feel like if I let go of this, I’ll lose him forever.”

“You’ll never lose him,” Aegon murmured, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “He’ll always be in your heart, in every memory. No one can take that away from you.”

Despite his words, the ache in your chest remained unbearable. You stood there, holding onto the blanket and the remnants of your son, as the world around you seemed to crumble into sorrow.

Aegon placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his voice tender but firm. “You need to rest. Please, for the baby’s sake.”

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on the room where so much of Jaehaerys still lingered—his favorite toys, the bed he once slept in, now a haunting reminder of his absence. But the weight of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, pressed down on you.

“Alright,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You clutched Jaehaerys’ blanket tightly against your chest, as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

Aegon guided you carefully back to your chambers, his arm steadying you as you walked. The journey felt endless, your legs heavy with grief. Once inside, he helped you to the bed, adjusting the pillows behind your back as you sat down.

You curled up on your side, still holding the blanket close. The soft fabric against your cheek was both a comfort and a torment, reminding you of the warmth and joy that were now gone.

Aegon knelt by the bedside, his hand finding yours. “I’ll stay with you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him. His face was etched with sorrow, his own grief clear despite his attempts to be strong for you.

“I don’t know how to move forward,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Aegon promised, his thumb brushing gently over your hand. “For him. For the children. And for us.”

You nodded faintly, though the weight in your chest remained unbearable. As the night deepened, you closed your eyes, hoping that sleep might bring even a momentary reprieve from the pain. Through it all, Aegon stayed by your side, his presence a fragile but steady beacon in the overwhelming darkness.

The following morning, the Red Keep felt suffocating, its halls shrouded in an almost tangible darkness. The news spread quickly—Jaehaerys’ head had been discovered by the guards, hidden in a blood-soaked sack strapped to a horse. The culprits had been captured, their guilt undeniable.

You lay in your chambers, the weight of the news crushing you further. The world seemed to spin as you struggled to breathe through the despair. Jaehaerys was gone, and now his mutilated remains were a cruel reminder of the nightmare you had lived.

Aegon had left your side as soon as the guards delivered the report. Consumed by rage and grief, he stormed down to the dungeons. Word soon reached you of his actions—how he had taken the lead in interrogating and torturing the men responsible for your son’s death. His fury was unmatched, his desire for vengeance insatiable.

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel relief that justice, or what little semblance of it remained, was being sought. All you could do was lie there, staring blankly at the ceiling, clutching Jaehaerys’ blanket close to your chest.

The door creaked open, and Alicent entered quietly, her face pale and drawn. She approached you cautiously, her hands folded tightly before her. “My dear,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “The men who did this… They’ve been captured. Aegon… he’s ensuring they pay for their crimes.”

Her words barely registered. You turned your head slightly to look at her, tears welling in your eyes. “It won’t bring him back” you whispered, your voice hollow.

Alicent knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “No, it won’t,” she admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks. “But you still have your other children. You still have Aegon. They need you. We all need you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to summon strength from her words, but the pain was too overwhelming. The only sound in the room was the soft rustling of the blanket in your trembling hands and the muffled sobs of a grieving mother.

Alicent sat quietly beside your bed, the weight of grief heavy in the air. Her hand moved gently through your hair, a comforting rhythm meant to soothe, though she knew it could never truly heal the wound carved into your heart.

You clutched Jaehaerys’ blanket tightly, your tears soaking into its fabric. Each stitch, each thread seemed to carry his presence, his memory, and you couldn’t bear to let it go. Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the ache of losing him, and Alicent’s touch was the only tether keeping you grounded in that moment.

“I know,” Alicent whispered after a long silence, her voice soft and steady. “I know what it feels like to lose a child.” Her eyes glistened as she looked down at you, her own pain resurfacing. “It’s a wound that never truly heals, but you find a way to keep going. For those who still need you.”

Her words resonated in the quiet room, and for a moment, the two of you shared a bond that only mothers who had endured such unimaginable pain could understand. Alicent’s hand paused briefly as she continued, “I wish I could take this pain from you, my dear. But I promise, I will be here. For you, for Aegon, for your children.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears slowing but not stopping. “I don’t know how to go on without him,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He was my firstborn. My little boy. How am I supposed to face tomorrow?”

Alicent leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One moment at a time,” she said gently. “And when it feels like too much, lean on those who love you. On Aegon, on me, and on your other children. They need their mother, and I know you’ll find the strength for them.”

Her words offered a fragile comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of sorrow, you were not alone.

Left alone in the silence of your chambers, the weight of loss pressed heavily on your chest. The blanket you held seemed to carry the warmth of Jaehaerys’ laughter, his smile, his joy—all now just distant memories etched painfully into your heart.

Your fingers traced the patterns you had embroidered on the fabric, each stitch a reflection of your love for him. Images of his first steps, his infectious laughter as he played with his siblings, and the way he would cling to you when he sought comfort flooded your mind.

The tears came slowly at first, then in waves, as the ache in your heart became unbearable. You clutched the blanket closer, burying your face into it, as if doing so could somehow bring him back to you.

“Jaehaerys,” you whispered brokenly, the name a prayer, a plea, a cry for something you could never have again. “My sweet boy… I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

The emptiness of the room amplified your grief. The sound of your own quiet sobs filled the space, a sorrow too profound for words. You rocked slightly, as if comforting yourself in the way you used to comfort your children.

The memories came unbidden: his excited voice calling you “Mother,” his small hand gripping yours so tightly, and the way he would light up the room with his presence. Each recollection was a dagger to your soul, a reminder of what you had lost.

“Why him?” you choked out to no one, your voice trembling. “Why my boy?”

The room offered no answers, only silence. You cried until your body felt drained, your tears soaking into the blanket that now held all the love you could no longer give him in life.

The creak of the door pulled you from your thoughts, and your tear-streaked face turned toward it. Aegon stood in the doorway, his figure slouched and disheveled, his expression hollow with grief. His tunic was marred with blood—evidence of the fury and anguish he had unleashed on the man who had taken your son from you.

His violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of his sorrow mirrored your own, and it was clear that he had been struggling in his own way, consumed by rage and despair. Slowly, he stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Aegon…” you whispered, your voice raw from crying.

He didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze fell to the blanket in your arms, the one you clung to so desperately. His steps were hesitant as he approached you, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I couldn’t save him,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with guilt and pain. “I couldn’t protect our son.”

You shook your head, tears welling up once more. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t…”

He leaned forward, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch the blanket. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a moment, he held them there, grounding himself in the only comfort left to him—your presence.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what they did to him,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “The way they took him from us… I made him suffer for it. The one who did this. He begged for mercy, but I showed him none.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew the fury that burned within Aegon, but this was different. This was the wrath of a father, a broken man seeking vengeance for a loss that could never be mended.

You reached out, cupping his bloodstained face with trembling hands. “Aegon… nothing will bring him back,” you said softly, your voice laced with sorrow.

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he tried to find solace in you. “But I had to do something. I had to… for him.”

You both sat in the heavy silence, the weight of your grief wrapping around you like a shroud. Aegon shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively as though shielding you from the world. For a moment, it was just the two of you, clinging to each other amidst the ruins of your shared heartbreak.

The journey to Sept was long and quiet, the weight of grief still hanging heavily in the air around you. It had been a week since your son’s brutal death, and every moment since had felt like a struggle to breathe. Your thoughts were consumed by the images of what had happened, the harsh memory of that night forever etched in your mind.

Helaena, sensing your deep sorrow, had taken your hand gently, her touch warm and reassuring. Her silence was comforting, as if she understood that sometimes, words couldn’t ease the pain. Alicent sat across from you, her eyes occasionally glancing at you with concern, but she knew better than to push you. Instead, she tried to shift the focus, talking about other matters—anything to help distract you, if only for a moment.

“Have you heard the latest from the council?” Alicent asked, her voice gentle but trying to pull you back into the present. “There’s talk of fortifying the defenses along the borders. There’s no telling what might happen next.”

You barely registered her words, your thoughts drifting again to the loss of your child. How could the world keep moving when everything inside you felt so broken?

Helaena gave your hand a soft squeeze, her eyes full of empathy. She, too, knew the pain of losing someone, though the circumstances might have been different. Her presence was a quiet comfort, as if she were offering you the only solace she could, without words.

Alicent noticed your faraway expression, and though her voice remained calm, a hint of concern showed in her eyes. “I know it’s hard, but you need to be strong now,” she said gently, though it was clear she, too, felt the crushing weight of your grief. “The gods will guide us through this. We must continue, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.”

You nodded absently, your gaze distant, the tears you had tried to hold back threatening to spill once more. It was hard to stay strong when the world around you seemed so cold, so indifferent to the pain you were living through.

But still, you kept walking, with Helaena’s hand in yours and Alicent’s voice trying to keep you grounded.

The flickering candlelight cast a soft, warm glow in the sept, creating a quiet sanctuary from the weight of the world outside. As you knelt before the altar, your hands trembling, you whispered a prayer for your son. The words felt foreign on your lips, too distant from the pain in your heart, but you said them anyway, hoping that the gods would hear your sorrow and bring some measure of peace.

The silence of the sept was overwhelming, broken only by the sound of your soft sobs. It was as if the whole world had quieted to give space for your grief. Alicent and Helaena stood beside you, both trying to offer comfort in their own ways, but neither could take away the raw pain that gripped you.

Helaena, ever gentle, placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch light, as if she feared it might cause you more hurt. Alicent stood a little further back, her expression a mixture of sorrow and concern, her own eyes betraying the shared pain of a mother who had lost a child.

They both knew that nothing could ease your heart right now. There was no word of comfort that could replace the empty space left by your son’s death. And yet, they remained there with you, silent in their own grief, offering you the space to mourn in the only way you could.

The flicker of the candles and the soft chanting of the sept echoed in the stillness, but all you could hear was the memory of your son’s laughter, his warmth, and the ache of the loss that would never truly fade.

As you slowly rose to your feet with Alicent’s support, the weight of your growing belly added to the heaviness in your heart. Each step you took felt like a struggle, both physically and emotionally. The journey from the sept to the waiting carriage felt longer than it should have, the air around you thick with sorrow.

The people who had gathered outside, offering their condolences and words of sympathy, only deepened the ache within you. Their sorrowful expressions, some of them bowing their heads as they spoke of their shared grief, felt like daggers to your already broken heart. You wanted to hide from it all, to escape the pity and the reminders of what you had lost, but instead, you forced yourself to smile faintly in return, acknowledging their kindness even as it made your heart ache further.

Alicent noticed your struggle, her hand gently resting on your arm, guiding you toward the carriage. “It’s difficult, I know,” she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and concern. “But your son would want you to carry on. He would want you to be strong—for the ones still with you.”

Her words were meant to comfort, but they couldn’t erase the grief that consumed you. Every step felt like it was taking you further from the life you once had, the one where your son still lived, still laughed, still held the light in your world. But despite the pain, you knew she was right. The world continued on, and you, despite your heartache, had to continue too—for your unborn child and the family still by your side.

As you finally settled into the carriage, the door closing softly behind you, you closed your eyes and let the tears flow freely. You allowed yourself the moment to grieve, to feel the weight of your loss, even as you knew you had to carry on.

You walked slowly through the corridors of Red Keep, your steps heavy with exhaustion. The weight of the loss still hung over you like a dark cloud, and the thought of facing the world outside your room felt unbearable.

As you neared your chambers, you heard Aegon’s voice—his frantic, anguished shouts echoing down the hall from the council room. His tone was one of fury, yet it carried an undertone of desperation that you couldn’t ignore. But despite the urge to rush to him, you knew you needed time alone, to rest, to process.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door to your room. The familiar surroundings—your bed, the walls, the silence—felt both comforting and suffocating. You closed the door behind you and let yourself collapse onto the edge of the bed.

Tears that had been held back for what felt like forever finally fell freely, soaking into the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t know how long you lay there, lost in the sorrow of your thoughts, but the pain didn’t seem to lessen. Aegon’s anger, his pain—it all seemed to reach you in waves, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him just yet.

You needed this moment of solitude to regain some semblance of control, even if it was only temporary. The war raging within your heart, the grief, the guilt—it was all too much, and you couldn’t carry it all at once.

You stood by the window, your gaze lost in the vast expanse of the Red Keep grounds, but your mind was far from the view. The memory of that night replayed in your thoughts, the terror, the chilling demand to choose a son. “It must be a son,” their words haunted you, echoing in the silence of your room.

Your heart ached with the cruel logic behind it. Perhaps it was retaliation for the loss of Luke, your brother. The thought of your mother being involved in such a brutal act seemed impossible. She wouldn’t do this to me, you thought. Your mother, Rhaenyra, might be stern, but she wouldn’t take the life of an innocent child to settle old grievances, especially not her own grandchildren.

Yet, the fear gnawed at you. The uncertainty of their next move was unbearable. As much as you tried to reason with yourself, there was a deeper, darker part of you that feared you might be wrong. Could your family really have fallen to this depth of cruelty? Or was it simply your own pain making everything seem darker than it was?

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath. The weight of your unborn child in your womb, the loss of your son, the fear for the future—all of it pressing on you. You had to be strong. For them. For your children. Even when your heart screamed to fall apart, you had to find a way to keep going.

You turned your gaze toward the door, your heart heavy with uncertainty, listening for any sign that Aegon was returning from his meeting. The silence in the room only amplified the tension inside you. After a long moment of stillness, you quietly moved to the wardrobe, pulling out your cloak. The fabric felt heavy in your hands as you draped it over your shoulders, feeling the coolness of it against your skin.

The decision felt impulsive, yet necessary. You had to know the truth. The questions swirling in your mind—the guilt, the suspicion—demanded answers. Was it really her? Could your mother have orchestrated such an unimaginable act? The thought of confronting her terrified you, but you needed closure. You needed to know where your family’s loyalty truly lay, especially now, with so much at stake.

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, taking a deep breath. I must do this. You didn’t know what you��d find at Dragonstone, but you couldn’t stay in this uncertain limbo any longer. With one final glance at your room, you quietly opened the door and slipped out, hoping to make it out of the Red Keep undetected. Every step you took away from the comfort of your room felt like a step further into the unknown.

You reached the Dragonpit, the massive structure housing the dragons, and the familiar sight of your dragon stirred something deep within you. The cold stone underfoot was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt as you approached your dragon. Its fiery eyes met yours, an almost knowing gaze. Slowly, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you stroked its snout. The bond you shared with the creature was undeniable, a connection forged through years of trust and shared history.

“Take me to Dragonstone,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with a mix of determination and uncertainty.

Your dragon let out a low rumble, as though acknowledging your command. With practiced ease, you climbed onto its back, the leather of your boots securing your position. The wind in your hair felt cool, but your heart was anything but calm. Every part of you was pulling in different directions—fear, hope, guilt—but you had to know the truth.

“Let’s go,” you urged, and the dragon unfurled its massive wings, lifting into the air with a power that made your heart race. The Red Keep slowly disappeared beneath you as you soared high into the sky, the horizon stretching out before you, unknown and daunting.

As the cold wind whipped against your face, your thoughts were consumed by the unknown, by what you would find at Dragonstone—and whether you were ready to face the answers.

As you descended from your dragon, the weight in your chest grew heavier. The sight of Dragonstone, with its jagged cliffs and looming silhouette, mirrored the turbulence within you. The castle stood as a cold, silent witness to your turmoil. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your nerves. Every step toward the castle felt like an irreversible move, but you knew it was necessary.

The air was damp and sharp as you made your way up the stone steps, the sound of your boots echoing in the silence. The distant crash of waves against the rocks below was the only sound that accompanied your journey, a constant reminder of the harshness of this place.

The entrance to the castle loomed ahead, its dark stone walls filled with memories of times both cherished and painful. You couldn’t help but wonder what awaited you inside. Would your mother and father be there, or had they already gone? Was it truly them who had been behind your son’s death, or was something darker at play?

With one final glance at your dragon, still perched above the cliffs, you pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the shadowed halls of Dragonstone. The cool air hit you like a wave, and the distant sound of footsteps made your heart skip. Someone was here. You weren’t alone.

Every step you took felt like a question hanging in the air.

You looked at them both, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of your mother, Rhaenyra, and your father, Daemon, standing there, their expressions a mixture of surprise and something else—something unreadable—sent a chill down your spine. Their presence, once familiar, now felt distant, like strangers from another life. The air around you felt thick with tension.

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly, and after a moment of silence, she stepped forward, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Come, let’s talk privately,” she said, her hand gesturing toward a door behind her. “We need to understand each other, especially now.”

Daemon, standing just a little behind her, remained silent, his eyes dark and intense, as if waiting for your next move. The air felt heavy between the three of you, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Only the weight of what had happened and what was yet to unfold mattered.

Without saying anything, you nodded, though your heart raced in your chest. You followed Rhaenyra through the hallways, every step echoing in the quiet space, while your mind wrestled with the flood of emotions coursing through you.

As you entered your mother’s private chambers, the door closing behind you with a quiet thud, the atmosphere grew more intimate, yet no less tense. You knew this conversation would be difficult, but you needed answers—answers you weren’t sure you were ready to hear.

You sat in front of them, your heart heavy with uncertainty, the weight of your grief pressing down on you. The question you had been holding onto, the one that had haunted your every thought since that night, finally slipped from your lips.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my son?” you asked, your voice breaking, though you tried to keep it steady. Your eyes searched your mother’s face, hoping to find a truth that could offer you some kind of peace.

Rhaenyra’s expression faltered for a moment, her eyes welling with sadness as she met your gaze. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, the sincerity in her words undeniable. “I could never do that to you,” she said softly, her hands clasping in front of her. “I know the pain of losing a child—how could I bring that pain to you, my own daughter? I would never wish that kind of grief upon you.”

Daemon, standing quietly beside her, didn’t say a word, but his eyes were sharp, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. His gaze flickered between you and Rhaenyra, as if he too was trying to understand the depth of your pain, yet unsure how to ease it.

Rhaenyra continued, her voice growing more earnest. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it. If I had known, if I could have prevented it…” Her voice trailed off, the sorrow in her words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. “I would have done anything to stop it, just as I would have for any of my children.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. You could feel the tension, the uncertainty swirling between you, but there was a flicker of something—a glimmer of hope in her eyes that made you question whether it was possible that your own mother had been left as helpless as you in this tragedy.

But despite the sincerity in her voice, a part of you couldn’t let go of the doubt, the lingering fear that perhaps there were still pieces missing in the puzzle, pieces you needed to uncover to fully understand the truth.

As your gaze shifted to your father, Daemon, you saw his face remain cold and unreadable, offering no comfort or answer. His silence spoke volumes, and it gnawed at your heart. You couldn’t help but feel a growing unease. You turned your question to him, asking the same thing you had asked your mother.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my son?”

Daemon’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unchanging. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. He said nothing.

The tension in the room thickened, the silence becoming suffocating. Your eyes remained on him, waiting for some sign—any sign—that he would speak, that he would offer an explanation. But all you got was the cold indifference of a man who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

It was then that your mother, Rhaenyra, seemed to realize something. Her eyes flickered between you and Daemon, her brow furrowing as if a thought had just crossed her mind. She looked at Daemon, her voice tinged with worry.

“Daemon,” she began, her tone softer now, as if trying to break through the wall he had erected around himself. “Why are you silent? If you know something… if you were involved, now is the time to speak.”

Daemon’s gaze shifted to her, and for the first time, a flicker of something—something hard to read—passed over his face. It wasn’t guilt, nor was it fear. It was something else, something colder, something you couldn’t quite place.

Rhaenyra’s voice softened, a quiet desperation in her words as she urged, “If you had any part in this… now is the time to tell her. She deserves to know the truth.”

Daemon remained still, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if contemplating whether or not to speak. His silence was more than just an absence of words—it was a statement, a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

The weight of the room seemed to increase with every passing second. You wanted answers, but the more you questioned, the more you felt as if the truth was slipping further away from you.

As you stood, your hands trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief, you reached forward and tugged at your father’s tunic, pulling him just enough for him to look at you. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat as you stared into his eyes, willing him to speak, to say something—anything—that would disprove your suspicion.

But he didn’t. He remained silent, his eyes distant, his face void of emotion. The longer his gaze stayed fixed on you without a single word, the more the truth settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was deafening, louder than any words could ever be.

With a broken sob, you stepped back, releasing the grip on his tunic. It was clear now—your father was the one behind the brutal murder of your son. You could feel your legs weakening beneath you, your body trembling, as the weight of this revelation crashed down upon you.

“How could you?” you whispered, voice barely audible, but the pain in your words was unmistakable. “How could you do this to me, to your own blood?”

Daemon finally broke his silence, but not with words. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself for something. He didn’t apologize, nor did he offer any explanation. His face remained cold, implacable—unbothered by the devastation he had caused.

Rhaenyra, who had been silently watching the exchange, now stood from her seat, her face pale as she approached you. “Please,” she said, her voice pleading, “you must understand. There is so much more at play here, so much that you don’t know.”

But it was too late. The truth had already been revealed. Your trust in them was shattered, and the pain of losing your son, compounded by the betrayal of your own flesh and blood, was too much to bear. The walls of the room seemed to close in around you, and you felt as if you were suffocating in the crushing weight of it all.

“You did this,” you said, barely able to get the words out, your voice quivering with the intensity of your grief. “You took him from me.”

Rhaenyra reached out to you, but you stepped back, holding up your hand to stop her. There was no comfort to be found here, not from them. You couldn’t bear it anymore.

With a final, bitter glance at your father, you turned and walked toward the door. The pain and betrayal coursed through your every step, but you couldn’t stay any longer. You needed space. You needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere they had created.

The truth had shattered everything you thought you knew about your family.

As you made your way back to the dragon, your heart felt like it was shattering with every step. The world around you seemed to blur, and all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. The weight of the betrayal was unbearable. You had trusted them, your own flesh and blood, only to find that they were the ones responsible for the greatest loss of your life.

Reaching the dragon, you stumbled, falling to your knees on the cold, unforgiving sand. The tears streamed down your face without restraint, as the grief, the anger, and the hurt poured out of you all at once. The dragon, sensing your distress, approached slowly, its great eyes watching you with an understanding that no one else could offer. You could hear its steady breath, feel the warmth of its body, but none of it brought comfort. Not now.

Your body trembled, each sob wracking your chest, as the full weight of the loss came crashing down. Your son was gone. Your family was broken. And the ones you had once turned to for support had become the very reason for your suffering.

You curled in on yourself, clutching your stomach instinctively, feeling the life growing inside you, the only remaining piece of hope. But even that seemed fragile in the face of everything that had happened.

“Why?” you whispered to the empty night, to the stars above that seemed distant and indifferent. “Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to take him from me?”

Your grief consumed you, leaving you feeling hollow and lost. The journey ahead felt uncertain, and the future seemed impossible to face. All you could do was cry, lost in the pain, surrounded by the only thing that had ever offered you some semblance of comfort—your dragon.

As you approached the gates of King’s Landing, each step felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Your heart was heavy with sorrow, your mind clouded with grief. The castle loomed ahead, its dark silhouette a stark reminder of everything that had been lost. You could feel the weight of the eyes of the city upon you as you made your way through the streets, but nothing seemed to matter anymore.

When you arrived at the gates, the guards immediately took notice of your return. One of them rushed to inform Aegon of your presence, his concern clear in his hurried steps. You could almost sense his anxiousness, knowing that he had realized you had been gone for longer than you should have been.

You stood at the entrance, your body aching, your mind numb, as you waited for him. And then, just as you were about to turn back to your chambers, Aegon appeared before you, his face pale and strained. His eyes locked onto you with a mixture of relief and worry.

“My love,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Where have you been? We’ve all been searching for you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak at first. Your throat was tight, the words trapped behind the walls of your grief. But his presence, his familiar face, finally broke through, and the tears that had been stifled for so long began to flow once more.

Aegon held you tightly in his arms, the warmth of his embrace providing a small comfort against the turmoil in your heart. He gently stroked your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, as if trying to reassure you that he was there, that he wouldn’t let you go again.

But you knew that nothing could fully ease the pain in your soul. The truth weighed heavily on you, a burden you could no longer keep inside.

With a trembling voice, you pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, your words choked with emotion. “Aegon…” you began, the weight of the revelation heavy on your chest. “I went to Dragonstone. I had to know the truth. It was my father…Daemon. He’s the one behind Jaeherys’ death.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. You could see the shock in Aegon’s eyes, the disbelief, as if he couldn’t fully grasp what you were saying.

“I’m so sorry,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but… my father did this. He had him killed, and I had no idea until now.”

Tears welled up again as you gazed at him, feeling a mix of devastation and guilt. You didn’t know how to face him, how to explain what had happened. You only hoped he would understand, that somehow, through all this darkness, you could find a way forward together.

Aegon tightened his embrace, pulling you closer as he whispered soothing words into your ear, his voice low and steady. “I won’t let this go unpunished,” he murmured, his tone filled with quiet resolve. “Daemon will pay for what he’s done to our family. To you.”

His words, though comforting, only made the weight of the situation feel heavier. The pain of losing Jaeherys, the betrayal of your own blood—it was all too much to bear. But as Aegon held you, his presence was a lifeline, grounding you amidst the storm inside.

“I’m here for you,” he continued softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “We’ll get through this together. I won’t let you carry this burden alone.”

You nodded, your heart aching but finding some solace in his words. You didn’t know what the future would bring, but with Aegon by your side, you hoped you could find a way to heal.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for making the beautiful diveders and let me use them 🫶🏻.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Torn III

Kewis x Child!Reader

Summary: You're still sick

Mommy doesn't get you dressed properly the next day.

She lets you stay in your pyjamas because you're sick. She's sick too but not as sick as you.

Mom, of course, still has her hurt knee but she's the only one not sick in the entire house.

Your head pounds and your nose remains stuffy even as you play with your dinosaur toys, making them attack each other because they're in a war and that's what things do in a war. They fight.

"Open," Mommy says and you firmly clamp your teeth together," Chook, I'm not joking. Open."

She's got a syringe full of medicine in her hands and you refuse to open your mouth.

You've never had good tasting medicine before and you refuse to believe that Mommy's gone out and bought some.

You keep your mouth shut.

"Chook," She says sternly," This will make you feel better."

You sniff, wiping your nose on your shirt and shake your head. You know if you talk, Mommy's going to dose you up so you settle on just glaring, puffing out your cheeks to show her that you're wise to her tricks.

"Chook," She says again," We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you're taking your medicine."

"Chook," Mom says from the sofa," Come here."

Warily, you skirt around Mommy and run over to Mom, who lifts you up to sit next to her. Immediately, she attacks your sides with tickles and you can't keep your mouth closed anymore, opening it to let out peals of giggles.

Mommy squirts the medicine down your throat and Mom's ticklish hands disappear.

You glare, eyebrows drawing together in outrage. "That was mean!" You say," You cheated!"

Mommy laughs, ruffling your hair. "It was sneaky," She says," Not cheating. You'll feel better soon."

You huff but know she's right, shuffling off the sofa to return to your toys.

Helen joins you, curling up next to your side. Her ear flicks a few times as you continue your dino war. You have to blow your nose a few times because it gets clogged but Mommy is right because the churning of your stomach settles and your head no longer feels like it does when you bang it on a wall by accident.

"What do you want to watch?" Sam asks, channel surfing as she keeps one eye on you playing with Helen.

Kristie sighs. She doesn't look as bad as you did but it's still clear she's sick. She's got a bit of a fever and the end of her nose is all red. "Something that requires me to not think," She groans, massaging her temples to stem off the headache. She's only recently taken her own painkillers so she has a bit of wait until they kick in.

"So trash reality tv?" Sam teases and Kristie whacks her with a pillow.

You're playing nicely on the rug with Helen and your dinosaurs despite how ill you are.

Maybe eating all that dirt gave you a stronger immune system than Kristie thought.

"There's Love Island," Sam offers and you whip your head around.

"No!" You say," That's mine and Auntie Millie's show! You can't watch it! It'll spoil it!"

You sound adamant and Kristie manages to get out a laugh that could have been a cough.

"It's not a new episode, Chook," Sam assures you with her own laugh," It's last season. It's not going to spoil anything."

Your brow furrows for a moment before you're up on your feet. You've got two dinosaurs clutched in your hands as you wiggle yourself between your mothers.

They're sitting close enough that their legs are touching so you make sure to force them apart so you can be comfortable.

"Last season was okay," You tell Kristie very seriously," I will watch with you so you know what's going to happen. Mom, you need to put on Love Island."

Sam keeps laughing. "Oh? I need to, do I Chook?"

"Yes. That's what I just said. You need to, Mom."

With the other options being Deal or No Deal and Flog It, Sam's pretty sure that Love Island was truly her only option and changes the channel.

Clearly, the medicine has perked you up a bit because Kristie doesn't get a moment of respite the entire episode as you narrate what's going on during every single little moment.

Somehow, you manage to put yourself to sleep during it until you're lying draped over Sam and Kristie's laps.

"And we just let Millie watch this show with her?" Kristie asks, dumbstruck and Sam chuckles nervously.

"I didn't think she actually absorbed this much of it," Sam replies," It's like she studied it or something."

You shift a little in your sleep, death gripping your plastic dinosaurs so hard that Kristie can't pry them from your hands.

"Well," Kristie says," At least she's taking her nap without arguing."

"You mean, at least you can take your nap without her interrupting," Sam teases and Kristie rolls her eyes.

She lifts your limp body easily into her arms as she stands up. "Well, just for that. I don't think you can join us for naptime."

"Hey...Kristie! Kristie, wait! I'm sorry! Wait for me!"

Kristie doesn't wait for Sam though as she makes her way to their bedroom.

She settles you in the very middle of the bed but slipping in next to you.

You wiggle a little bit as Kristie tugs you closer, laying a protective hand over your belly just as Sam hobbles in, taking her own place in bed on your other side.

Helen joins in too, leaping up onto the bed and curling herself up around your feet.

"You have to get her to take medicine when we wake up," Kristie says, already half asleep.

"No fair! She's wise to my tricks now!"

"Not my problem, Sam."

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part I

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.2k

->Warning: sexual thoughts, use of Y/N, close proximity, and tension, eventual smut

->Summary: König is kinda mean, dark and a little possessive but it’s all in good fun! A new girl catches the colonel's eyes, and he won’t let her go. Inspired by my favorite song Tear you Apart by She Wants Revenge.

->A/N: please let me know what ya’ll think, this is my first time writing anything spicy so im open to feedback. Also my requests are always open :)

The base is cold as it should be at this time of year, you transferred from the states to the Austrian KorTac base against your own wishes, you are a specialized stealth agent that the higher ups thought could be a valued member to the KorTac team. Wishing to be back in the sun but alas your new skies are clouded and mean.

It is what it is, you thought to yourself, lacing your boots, and emerging from your room. It’s always a weird adjustment process when you transfer to a new base, learning the way around like learning a new maze each time. The people were friendly enough although you didn’t know if it was because you were a new soldier or just because you were a new pretty face around that hadn’t heard any rumors about the seedy guys and their proclivities.

Altogether you have heard one rumor,

One big, tall, menacing rumor.

König

“The king”

Curiosity killed the cat and God help you, all you wanted was to know if what they said was true. Before you left for transfer you heard whispers when they found out where you were going.

“She’ll be miserable under his watch.”

“He’ll have her running laps and doing reps the first day for sure.”

“He’ll eat her alive.”

 “He’ll eat her alive.”

 Did these whispers make her shiver? Yes

Did these whispers make her restless? Yes

Did these whispers make her ache in anticipation? Absolutely.

 It’s been a long while since the last body occupied her bed, a touch a century ago, a kiss eons ago. All these fairy tales about this big, tall strong man that could throw her two football fields didn’t help her desperation at all.

She knew these thoughts weren’t appropriate, sleeping with a superior was frowned upon. He was probably married and happy, men like that don’t stay on the market for long. And from the stories she heard she obviously has no shot with him.

She rounded a corner from the barracks and exited to the outside courtyard, the air nipping at her skin. Dark clouds looms and the trees are barren of leaves ready for life anew. Approaching the main building the smell of sweat and metal entered her nose making way to the meeting room.

——

The debriefing was the same as all the others, the captain explaining what to do and who goes where. She nearly fell asleep until the doorknob turned, that’s weird, usually people don’t barge into these things halfway through… unless they’re king of the castle.

He enters the room, his aura dominating those around him. His stature is something to behold, well over six feet of pure muscle. He could break me over his knee like a glowstick and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it…

He stalks into the room greeting the captain, his voice it deep and dark and you want to hear more of it.

His gear makes him all that bulkier, his mask concealing his face and yea, if I were the enemy and I saw him running towards me I would definitely shit my pants.

He stands at the front of the room observing everyone in it and maintaining concentration on the presentation the captain is giving for the next mission. You try your hardest to maintain the same concentration but he’s just so tall and all the rumors are true he’s an enigma. You find your eyes drinking him in, from his shoes to the metal plates on his shins, to his..oh god… his broad broad shoulders. You imagine taking your hands and tracing over them feeling the thick muscles underneath his war-torn skin as you bring your hands lower-

 He shifts in place.

 Your eyes quickly dart away then to his eyes, his eyes locked on yours like a predator watching his prey.

You immediately break into a sweat, his eyes like a spotlight and they don’t move from you.

You look again to see if he’s still looking, he tilts his head a bit to the side and raises an eyebrow teasingly. Shit. oh no he’s hot. Like really hot.

Shifting in your seat, nervous beads of sweat dripping down your neck, the meeting is coming to a close and people start tucking in their chairs. König is still standing by the door, his eyes still locked on yours, I wonder what he’s thinking. I mean, surely if he’s a married man he wouldn’t be looking at me so hard….right? Maybe no one told him you were transferring so he’s just confused on who the fuck is this new girl in here I didn’t approve this. By now most of everyone has left the room, the projector is turned off, the map put away, the captain gone. You move your gaze to the floor and get up and tuck in your chair, clearing your throat, now realizing how eerily quiet the room is and you haven’t heard König make a noise since he greeted the captain. You make your way to the door, preparing to walk by him and out of the room.

An arm shoots out to block the doorway and you are forced to stop dead in your tracks keeping your eyes dead set on the long dark hallway in front of you.

“Your name soldier.” He barks, his voice smooth and dark like black coffee. The sweat beads up again and you know for a fact your face is growing hot.

“Y/N, sir.” You straighten your back and maintain my straight state.

He leans down. You can tell he’s looking at you and you raise your eyes to meet his and your heart is racing a million miles an hour and nerves are on fire you breath is uneven and you know he knows, I mean who wouldn’t be uneasy this close to him.

“I-I’m the transfer from the states sir, from the stealth unit.”

“I know who you are hübsches Mädchen, read your file. Approved your transfer myself.”

He replied, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s even more intimidating this close but something deep within you wants to reach out to him and quell this thirst for his touch.

“I appreciate you thinking me worthy to serve on this team, I won’t let you down.” You affirm with the little strength you have left. His gaze is piercing but intoxicating all the same.

He removes his hand slowly from the doorframe and straightens his back standing at his full height again. His begins again,

“Training at 0700 tomorrow morning be there, I’d like to see you demonstrate some maneuvers see if you need any additional training. I will be watching closely, do not disappoint me.” His arms are crossed now and he’s even larger than before.

“Yes, of course sir, I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it.” His tone is light now, maybe even teasing.

You swear you saw him wink but maybe it was just the lighting and how it hit his mask.

“Well run along kleiner Hase; you need your beauty sleep after all.” He motions to the hallway and you take quick steps back to your room, cheeks still hot and breath still quick. It was going to be difficult to have him as your commanding officer.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy, tossing and turning and thinking about the way König devoured you with his eyes made you sweat and frankly being that close to him and replaying that moment over and over again didn’t help with your insomnia. You thought of him a lot that night, more than once, enough to make your hand cramp up. By the time it was daylight you were running off 4 hours of sleep and a large coffee you picked up from the mess hall. You trudged your way over to the main building again where the gym and training room was, once again passing through the courtyard.

The trees are still barren, and you almost slip on the sleet left on the pathway cursing to yourself and hoping to god no one saw.

The gym smells musty, the air vents clearly working overtime since the gym has some activity. A couple groups of pairs work on sparing on the far side and others work out alone. You walk over to the mats and stand to the side watching the two pairs fight for the upper hand, takedown training great, you knew how to do it most of the time on missions you were equipped with a silenced pistol and other quieter tools. Stealth takedowns are your forte but it can’t hurts to get more practice with face to face takedowns.

The fight with the two are done and you were too busy thinking to hear your voice being called.”

“Sergeant L/N!, to the mat.” König barked, his authority shaking the ground, not the best first impression on training day.

You apologize quickly and step onto the mat, your opponent being someone a bit taller than you but not by much, a weight to weight equal, should be easy enough.

König’s eyes watch you as you grapple with the opponent twisting his arm and throwing him over your shoulder onto the mat, you brace your knee on his neck and apply a small amount of pressure, the opponent taps out. He won’t lie, König felt his pants get tight from seeing you work so effectively. Your work is certainly good, he won’t lie, taking down someone so easily.

“Again, another.” He barks once more, his accent thick.

You take down another three opponents, you clearly are growing restless from the muscle exertion and signal to take a break. König watches with amusement.

“A break? What if this was real combat kleiner Hase, will you beg your advisories to adjourn their dissatisfaction for you? Beg them for a time out?” By now he’s stepped onto the mat with you, today he’s shed the outer layer of his gear just wearing his mask and usual military uniform, he still looks just as hot.

“There’s no time for breaks out there as you know, and when you come up with a larger enemy you must be able to take them down as well.”

Fuck.

He wants you to take HIM down, your muscles are already weak from the last three fights he surly knows you’ve exerted yourself right? Right?!

“Go on schatz, I’ll let you make the first move.” His voice has an edge of teasing to it and you want to rip off his mask and see the smirk you know he’s displaying.

You huff

“Very well sir.”

You move to grapple his middle trying to take out his legs, he’s sturdy like a tree and you think if you can take out his legs he’ll go down like one. He budges only slightly when you hit on a pressure point and just when he’s moving and you think you’ve gain the upper hand he sweeps your legs from underneath you and has you pinned. Your wrists are bound by one of his hands above you head and he’s got both of his very thick thighs straddling you.

Your face grows hot at your defeat, especially all your other coworkers seeing it too. But it burns even hotter when he comes down close to your ear and whispers to you,

“You look very pretty underneath me schatz, so pretty when you are short of breath.” He laughs, that bastard.

You can’t admit it but your panties grow damp at his words and your body is on fire, although to those around you it just looks like you’ve over exerted yourself with a tad too much training.

König stand, his height from down here is astonishing. He reaches a hand down and lifts you to your feet but he’s so strong you accidentally collide with his chest before taking a quick step back. You mumble an apology.

“You fight well L/N, no doubt you will be a fine addition to this team. Although you will need to know how to take down large adversaries so I can help you with additional training of course.”

He holds his hand for you to shake it and you meet him halfway, his large hand grips yours and you get a flashback to feeling it wrapped tightly around your wrists, you shiver.

König’s gaze casts down upon you, no woman has yet to capture his attention the way you have. Many have tried. Thrown themselves at him in an unsavory manner, but you, oh you’re different. He admires the way you speak to him, although not many words have been exchanged between the two of you he prays there are more.

Your hair, your eyes, your body, all of it has entranced him and the moment he laid eyes on you, the others know. The way his gaze is steady and dark on you the others know you’re off limits. He yearns to learn more of you, to hear of your history as he strips your clothes off one article at a time under the dim lights of his office. He must be patient though. You are like a deer, scared in the spotlight and he must not spook you, he stands still until you come to him. For now he stares.

[serpentandlily]

Butterfly Fly Away

Butterfly Fly Away - Platonic!Reader x BatBoys

Summary: You’ve been bestfriends with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel since childhood but with the new additions to your Inner Circle, it's starting to feel like you are being replaced. When confronted, your three friends brush off your concerns, leading you to believe it’s time to move on and start a life of your own. But once you’re gone, the three brothers begin to realize just how much they need you in their lives. 

Based on this request.

Warnings: A mix of angst and fluff. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Butterfly Fly Away

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You let out a long shaky breath, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking around your now empty room in the Townhouse. You had packed up everything. Your clothes, your trinkets, the parchments full of scribbles from Nyx, the painting Feyre had gifted you of the whole family together. All of it.

Your chest felt hollow. The silence and emptiness was deafening. So many memories were made in this room, down these halls, in this city. The thought of leaving that all behind made your heart ache but the thought of staying here hurt worse. 

You had met Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian during your youth and struck a friendship with them. A friendship that had grown and grown into what felt like an impenetrable bond between the three of you. 

And they had always stressed how much importance you had within the family. The peacemaker, the mediator, the one who could end fights between them before they even began. Your magic was able to read the emotions of others, making you adept at talking others through their own feelings—of helping them understand why they felt the way they did. 

It was really the only thing you were good for. You weren’t a skilled fighter, or strategist, or politician. All weakness you hated considering your family was made of the most powerful fae.

But when it came to matters of the heart? Well, you were an expert. For everyone else anyways, considering yours was currently being torn apart. 

You had been there for each of them during the best and worst of days. Through the war, through Rhysand losing his family, through the forty-nine years without him. The four of you with Mor and Amren included had built a small family together. 

A family that was no longer around because they had all found another. And you had been left with none. 

Slowly but surely they had completely erased your spot in the family with the Archeron sisters. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like the three sisters. Each of them had a special place in your heart. But they changed the dynamic of the group so drastically. 

And you no longer felt like you belonged. 

Mor had felt it too, which was why she was more than happy to be sent to the continent to work on alliances there. Amren had found herself a lover and seemed content with keeping him all to herself. 

But you…you had nothing without them. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. 

You had tried to bring it up with them, had tried to hint that you felt a bit left out and neglected. But they had brushed you off, telling you it was time you “found a life of your own like they had.” You thought you did have a life of your own already. Here. But apparently that was not the case. 

You let out another sigh as you stared at the last three things you had to pack. You picked up the first one, a smooth rock—a red creek jasper. You still remembered the day Azriel had given it to you when you both were only eleven. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“You can do it, Az!” you shouted. 

You were standing underneath a very large boulder, holding a hand over your eyes as the sun shone down on you and Rhys. Cassian and Azriel were both on top of the boulder, wings spread wide as Cassian tried to direct Azriel on how to fly. 

Azriel’s face was nearly white and you could tell even from where you were standing that his hands were shaking. You took a few steps closer to the rock, holding your little arms out. 

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” you yelled up to him. “I promise!”

It was at that moment that Cassian decided he was over waiting for Azriel to jump and pushed the boy off the rock instead. Azriel shrieked, a sound he had never made before, and frantically tried to pump his wings but it was no use. He crashed right into you, sending you both sprawling on the ground.

“Y/n,” he gasped, rolling off of you. “Are you okay?” 

His eyes were wide with both shock and concern. They only widen more when you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. It hurt, a lot. You were both eleven but Azriel was already bigger than you. 

“I told you I’d catch you!” The look on his normally unreadable face sent you into another fit of giggles. 

Later that day, Azriel had gone to the nearby creek and dug around for hours looking for the perfect rock to give you, knowing you liked collecting the cool ones you found. He had apologized numerous times, even though it had been Cassian’s fault, but he still felt guilty. He finally stumbled on a tiny, smooth rock that was a mixture of dark orange and red swirls.

When he came home that night and offered it to you as another apology, Cassian and Rhys had laughed themselves nearly sick but you had just smiled at the shy boy and squeezed the rock in your hand, holding against your chest. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

It was the first gift Azriel had given you and it had stayed with you all these years. 

You wrapped it back in the silk handkerchief you kept it in and placed it in your bag. 

Your eyes moved to the next item. A scarf made from various scraps of fabric. Definitely not fashionable, but it had been a special gift from Rhysand.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“Why do you carry that old blanket around with you still?” The thirteen year-old Rhys was peering at the dirty blanket in your hand with a sneer. “We’re not babies anymore, y/n. You should get rid of it.” 

You pulled the blanket closer to you—a blanket made up of random scraps of fabric, the only thing your mother could afford at the time. It was ratty, falling apart at the seams, but it was special to you. 

“It’s the only thing I have left of her,” you said, quietly, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. 

Your mother had passed away years ago and your father, who had never loved her in the first place, had tossed out all her belongings. You had only managed to get your hands on the blanket before it was taken away.   

Rhys had said nothing else about it until winter solstice came around that year. You hadn’t noticed that he had snuck into your room and taken the blanket—bringing it to his mother to make into something a little better for you to carry around with you. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

He had given you the scarf that night and every single snowfall, it was the first one you pulled out. You packed it away with a heavy heart. You were moving to the Day Court, something you had already discussed with the Inner Circle, and you would hardly have use for it there. 

The last item sat on your dresser, a white, stuffed pegasus toy—a gift from Cassian. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

A knock sounded on your door but you ignored it, rolling over in your bed and wiping your tears.

Another knock.

“Y/n! Open up! I know you’re in there,” Cassian shouted through the door.

“Go away, Cass,” you managed to croak out through your tears. “I’m not in the mood.”

There was a pause before he shouted through the door again.

“What’s wrong, y/n? I can tell you’re crying!”

“Nothing, just go away!”

The door burst open and you shot up in your bed, cursing at yourself for not making sure it was locked. Cassian walked into your room, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. 

“Y/n?” He asked, quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

A tiny sob broke through your lips and Cassian was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around you. You both were only sixteen, but Cassian was already starting to look more like a male than a boy with how big he was getting. 

“Cyrus b-broke up with me,” you choked out. 

“Oh thank the gods!”

You glared up at Cassian, shoving him away from you.

“Get out if you’re going to be like that.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, y/n, I just mean… Well, we all think you’re too good for him, you know. He’s an asshole.”

More tears poured from your eyes and Cassian pulled you to his chest again. “I am really sorry, y/n. I know how much you liked him.”

Cassian had stayed with you that night, holding you until you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up the next day, a tiny stuffed Pegasus was waiting on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

‘I hope this little guy helps you feel better. But if you need to let off some steam, come find me in the training ring—Cassian.’

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You hugged the pegasus to your chest for a moment before dropping it into your bag with the last of your stuff. 

You were supposed to leave in the morning after a goodbye breakfast with the whole family, but the trip down memory lane had you feeling too upset.

You didn’t know if you could handle seeing them all, especially when they seemed to have no qualms about you leaving. 

Cassian didn’t need a secondary sparring partner to Azriel anymore now that he had Nesta. Rhys didn’t need help reading through correspondence now that he had Feyre. And those serene walks through the woods with Azriel? Well, those went to Elain now. 

You pulled out the copy of keys you had for the Townhouse and River House and set them down on the dresser in the room. You took one last look around, your heart breaking in your chest, before finally winnowing away.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“This alliance with Vallahan could go two ways,” Rhys said, stroking his jaw. “They fight with us against Koschei and end this whole thing before it becomes a full blown war. Or they’re faking their support and have already sided with Koschei.”

“If they are, the results of that will be devastating,” Mor said with a frown. “Our armies are still so depleted and even with the help of the other courts minus Autumn, Koschei has triple our numbers if Vallahan has already sided with him.” 

Cassian let out a low whistle as he stared over the battle plans. “We’d be fucked. Utterly fucked.”

“We can’t win in that scenario,” Azriel piped up from next to Cassian.

“We can’t win without their help either,” Feyre said. “This decision is everything. Everything relies on this decision. You really couldn’t get a read on them, Mor?” 

Mor shook her head. “They were careful with their wording and vague. They were certainly speaking the truth, but it meant little.”

“Their mental defenses were too strong to get through without force. But if they are being honest and I break into their minds, we might as well kiss the alliance goodbye,” Rhys sighed. “If only there was another way to get a read on them. I hate going into this blind with only our own faith.” 

The room was silent as they all pondered what this meant for the battle against Koschei. 

“There is…someone who could help.”

Everyone’s head whipped towards Cassian. Rhysand waved a hand at him to continue. Cassian swallowed audibly.

“Y/n.”

That name had everyone sitting up straight. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding. Not until it clicked in his head.

“She can read people’s emotions,” he breathed out. “I… I never thought about her using it this way. I just thought it was good for—well, you know.”

“Just meddling?”

Rhys nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. The room went quiet again, everyone soaking in what Cassian was suggesting.

“Would she even help? You all basically ran her out of this court,” Mor huffed, causing tensions to rise. 

“Not this again,” Cassian groaned.

Mor stood from her seat, bristling at Cassian’s words. “I’m being serious. She has been your guys’ friend since you were kids. And you all left her in the dust even after she tried to tell you guys how she felt!”

When Mor had returned from the continent and learned of you leaving the court, she had been beyond angry at the three males for their treatment of you. She had written you several letters apologizing and you had welcomed her back into your life. 

But she was the only one you still talked to. 

The room was dead quiet. Each of the three males shared looks of guilt and embarrassment because Mor was right. They had completely taken you for granted and cast you aside once the sisters started having bigger roles in their life. And they had let you go without even trying to convince you to stay. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s voice was so quiet, like he hadn’t even meant to say those words out loud. 

Cassian let out a long sigh. “I miss her too.”

Mor glanced around at the other members of the Inner Circle before gesturing towards the door. “I think the boys need to discuss this amongst themselves.” 

Once the door shut behind Feyre, Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I hadn’t realized how much of an impact she had. Things haven’t felt right here without her.” 

“No, they haven’t,” Cassian agreed. “We really did kind of… forget about her. Not intentionally but still.” 

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel asked, looking at his High Lord.

“Have you?”

Azriel looked away in answer, feeling a bit of guilt. 

“Do you think she’s still in the Day Court?” Cassian asked. 

Rhys nodded. “Yes, Helion is quite fond of her it seems.” 

Cassian snickered while a ghost of a grin crossed Azriel’s face. It wasn’t hard to imagine you in Day. You had always been a beacon of light for the group and they knew how easily you made friends wherever you went. It came naturally to you as an empath. 

“Do you think…” Cassian trailed off, sounding a bit insecure. “Do you think she’d come home? If we asked?” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye before she left,” Azriel murmured. 

“We can try but I think we should be honest with her about our feelings,” Rhys said. “I’d hate for her to think we’re just asking her back so she can help us with this.” 

“She’s going to know how we’re feeling anyways,” Cassian laughed. “Remember?”

Rhys grinned, thinking of all the times you had caught them in blatant lies because of your abilities, all the times you meddled with their love lives and friendships too. 

There really was a you-shaped hole in the group now. The three shared a look of guilt. It was a shame it took this long for them to realize it. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Three knocks against the door of your small cottage woke you up. You groaned, sitting up and blinking the sleep from your eyes. You had gone to one of Helion’s illustrious parties last night and had not been expecting to be woken up this early.

You shrugged on a silk robe over your nightgown and made your way to your front door.

Your eyes widened in shock as soon as you opened it, staring at the three males you hadn’t seen in a little over a year. You stepped aside, wordlessly, letting them into your new home. The distance had not made the bond between the four of you shrink, even after all this time, it seemed.

They greeted you in their own ways. Azriel with a soft smile, Cassian with a booming hello and hug, and Rhys was a feline grin and pat on the shoulder. You strode to the kitchen as they took a seat in your living room.

“I need coffee,” you announced. “Anyone else?”

“Long night?” Cassian teased.

“Don’t even ask,” you joked back, pulling out four mugs as they all said yes to your offer.

It was silent while the coffee brewed, and their emotions were all over the place. Nervousness, guilt, hope and regret. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the mugs and set them on the coffee table, taking a seat on an armchair.

“No offense,” you started. “But why are you guys here? I haven’t spoken to any of you in over a year.”

“That’s kind of what we’re here about,” Rhys replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow at them, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he continued. “We…We want you to come home.”

You nearly spit your coffee out. That was not what you were expecting him to say. After all, they didn’t seem very upset when you told them you were leaving the Night Court in the first place.

“Why?” you managed to choke out.

“I’ll be honest. We’re dealing with a situation back home and it made us realize how much of an importance you played, not just in our court but in our lives. We miss you, y/n. We regret how we treated you the past few years.”

“We all just got so caught up in our own problems, we didn’t even realize how much we were neglecting you,” Cassian added with a sincere frown. “You were such a constant in our lives and I guess we sort of took that for granted, assuming you’d always be there.”

“I tried to tell you how I felt,” you murmured, hiding half your face behind your coffee mug.

“I’m sorry for brushing you off,” Azriel said, quietly. “Truly. A lot was happening and like Cassian said, I just figured once we got through it all, things could resume as normal.”

“So why have none of you written to me in the year I’ve been gone?”

“After you left, Mor kind of chewed us out,” Cassian said, sheepishly. “We all just assumed you were mad at us and left because you needed space. I know it’s not a good excuse but well, you know more than anyone that we’ve never been great at communicating.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. That was the reason you meddled so much. To get them to talk about their feelings, express themselves. It was hard staying quiet when you knew how a person truly felt.

“We miss you and we need you, y/n,” Rhys cut in. “Things haven’t been the same since you left. I’m sorry it took so long for us to realize and I’m sorry for how we treated you. You’re our best friend, our sister. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Me either.” Both Azriel and Cassian interjected.

You thought about it, thought of the year you spent without them. While you had started anew, made new friends, had lovers, you did miss them dearly. It made you realize something about the bond you all shared, about your friendship in general. Life changes and sometimes people get preoccupied with other things but that bond you felt hadn’t shrunk, hadn’t grown any weaker. It was still the same as it had been the day you left.

They would always be your best friends, your brothers by name.

And their feelings were genuine. You of all people would know.

“Please come home,” Cassian begged. “I need you--we all need you.”

This house was not a home without the people you cared about. As much as you loved the Day Court, it wasn’t the same. Not without all the memories tied to it. And perhaps this had just made your friendship with them stronger, made you all realize how much you needed each other despite now having more priorities in your lives. You couldn’t fault them for finding love, for building families.

The three of them were nearly holding their breath with anticipation, waiting for your answer. A smile broke out on your face and their shoulders dropped.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll come home. But I’m keeping this as my vacation house and you all owe me a years’ worth of mooncakes when we get home.”

Laughter filled the tiny cottage as they eagerly agreed to your terms. A new warmth spread in your chest. You were finally going home back to your true family. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

[peace-hunter]

In your babyprime!Orion AU, I wonder what the high guard would do at the end of the movie... On one hand, they do agree with the newly named Megatron. On the other hand, Megatron isn't the prime, he's the prime's best friend (possibly more, but no one in the guard is willing to open this can of worms at the moment), and that's not how the chain of command works. And the prime (the only prime, the only prime left, the grown-up child they thought they would never see again) is staying in Iacon, and if they leave he'll be all alone. He won't have anyone to tell him about his long-gone siblings and history, or to guide him through paperwork and protocols. What if someone tries to assassinate the kid and they're not here to stop it?? Idk, maybe they'd be a bit fewer Decepticons in this AU.

oh my god you hit my favorite part of this au!!! hell yeah!!! conflicted loyalties my beloved <333

in this au not only does megatron have less decepticons than in canon, he also has more than a couple mech actively hunting him down and screaming for his blood. like. the moment he shot orion it was a sealed matter for them. the conflict right after sentinel's death is less about the decepticons destroying the city and more about them turning on each other as some try to protect megatron from being fucking torn apart by the rest.

but on the other hand i can see a good amount of the high guard being... disappointed by orion. they've waited 50 cycles for him to take his place as the last prime and enact revenge for his fallen siblings, for him to lead them into a new golden era, for him him to restore them to their former glory... and he isn't what they expected. he doesn't even remember them. and it's a big blow for more than a couple of them.

they expected him to be more... affected by all of it. more thirsty for justice. more driven to revenge.

they kind of expected him to be more like d-16.

but like you said, he's still their prime. he's still their last prime. he's still the little one they had to leave behind with little more than hope and prayer that he would be safe. and for some that's enough to decide they don't really care about anything else beyond finally being able to stand at his side like they should have for all those cycles.

also the idea of the high guards that stay telling orion about his siblings and helping him through the power transition and teaching him how to be a prime because they're all that's left from that time???? yeah i'm gonna fucking sob actually OTL

that's their little prime. they already left him behind once. how could they ever do it again.

and the ones that do, the ones that turned bitter and lost their faith in a god that let his children be slaughtered, the ones who would rather follow a mech who understands that might makes right... even them pull their shots when it comes to the prime. even when at war, even when in battle, they cannot bring themselves to aim to kill the one they once would've died to keep safe from any harm.

that being said, the high guards that do become autobots become incredibly over-protective of optimus and low-key are kept from the battlefield as much as possible, because the mere sight of those they consider traitors makes them incredibly murderous. like. they're still the mechs who would've become decepticons in another universe. they simply decided they cared more for optimus than anything else in this one.

i would say most of the high guard still become decepticons, even if maybe a little more conflicted about overthrowing the primacy than in canon, but more than a few stay behind. like. 80/20 maybe.

and i'm not really sure who i would make an autobot in this au tbh? like. deep down i kind of really want soundwave to stay with optimus, because 1) he's my favorite decepticon, 2) he was already pretty down to follow optimus' lead in canon and 3) him being loyal af is an integral part of his character, so him staying loyal to the very last prime he'd sworn to protect makes sense to me. but he is the quintessential decepticon. i'm pretty sure the entire faction would fall apart without him and i do want them to have a fighting chance even without their full numbers.

i don't know enough about shockwave to properly have an opinion on him, but i do think it would be funny to have him decide it is only logical to follow his prime, because tbh he did beat most of the high guard's ass when push came to shove. like. if might makes right, then optimus has shown he has plenty of might already. also i think it'd be hilarious to have optimus be constantly stressed about keeping shockwave from casually committing war crimes every other day. like. he's an autobot but he's not in it for the morality of it all lmao

and starscream... that would also be kinda funny i'm not gonna lie but i'm not sure i see him following optimus. i think he would be part of the ones that lost their faith on primus and therefore the primacy pretty early on after sentinel's betrayal, and while he wouldn't ever try to harm orion he doesn't really think a kid should have the reins of an entire planet either. why, he would probably do a better job himself.

i have entirely too many thoughts about this au as you can see!!! thank you for stirring up the brain-worms and i'm sorry for the messy ask (/▽＼)!!!

[ai-manre]

The women in asoiaf and their desire to find safety, to make safety, in a world that doesn't empower them to keep themselves safe, in a world oh so cruel to women. In a world that tells them its the men's job to keep them safe.

When she was done, Drogo was frowning. "This is the way of war. These women are our slaves now, to do with as we please."

"It pleases me to hold them safe," Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. "If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons." - Dany VII, AGOT

"The time for that is past, my lady," Mirri said. "All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning."

Her words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all … "No," she pleaded. "Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …" - Dany VIII, AGOT

Again the shouting began. Catelyn sat despairing. She had come so close, she thought. They had almost listened, almost … but the moment was gone. There would be no peace, no chance to heal, no safety. - Catelyn XI, AGOT

Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn't really believe that, and anyhow it had all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn't be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl. - Arya IV, ACOK

She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens. Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Florian was homely too, though not so old. - Sansa II, ACOK

He was going to take me home, she thought as they dug the old man's hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted. He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him. - Arya V, ACOK

"I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." - Sansa VII, ACOK

"I never knew my mother," Brienne said. "My father had ladies . . . a different lady every year, but . . ."

"Those were no ladies," Catelyn said. "As hard as birth can be, Brienne, what comes after is even harder. At times I feel as though I am being torn apart. Would that there were five of me, one for each child, so I might keep them all safe."

"And who would keep you safe, my lady?"

Her smile was wan and tired. "Why, the men of my House. Or so my lady mother taught me. My lord father, my brother, my uncle, my husband, they will keep me safe . . . but while they are away from me, I suppose you must fill their place, Brienne."- Catelyn VI, ACOK

"I am sorry for all the trouble I put you to," she said, "but I have no need of boats and ships now."

"But it's all to see you safe."

"I will be safe in Highgarden. Willas will keep me safe." - Sansa II, ASOS

"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Robb replied. Edmure echoed him, along with the Greatjon, Ser Marq Piper, and the others. They drank his wine and ate his bread and butter. Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought. - Catelyn VI, ASOS

I was going to take you home! Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. I should say the word and burn the two of them. Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? "Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben's sewers? Go!" - Dany V, ASOS

"The only game. The game of thrones." He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home." - Sansa V, ASOS

And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder's daughter. She was of an age with Arya, but just a child; she cried if she skinned a knee, and carried a stupid cloth doll with her everywhere she went. The doll was made up to look like a man-at-arms, sort of, so the girl called him Ser Soldier and bragged how he kept her safe. "Go away," Arya told her half a hundred times. "Just leave me be." She wouldn't, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. "Now he really looks like a soldier!" she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. After that the girl stopped pestering her, and Arya spent her days grooming Craven and Stranger or walking in the woods. Sometimes she would find a stick and practice her needlework, but then she would remember what had happened at the Twins and smash it against a tree until it broke. - Arya XII, ASOS

She thought wistfully of Highgarden with its courtyards and musicians, and the pleasure barges on the Mander; a far cry from this bleak shore. At least I am safe here. Joffrey is dead, he cannot hurt me anymore, and I am only a bastard girl now. Alayne Stone has no husband and no claim. And her aunt would soon be here as well. The long nightmare of King's Landing was behind her, and her mockery of a marriage as well. She could make herself a new home here, just as Petyr said. - Sansa VI, ASOS

Arya did not like the way they kept surprising her. The hooded man was tall, enveloped in a larger version of the black-and-white robe the girl was wearing. Beneath his cowl all she could see was the faint red glitter of candlelight reflecting off his eyes. "What place is this?" she asked him.

"A place of peace." His voice was gentle. "You are safe here. This is the House of Black and White, my child. Though you are young to seek the favor of the Many-Faced God." - Arya I, AFFC

And Littlefinger was no friend of hers. When Joff had her beaten, the Imp defended her, not Littlefinger. When the mob sought to rape her, the Hound carried her to safety, not Littlefinger. When the Lannisters wed her to Tyrion against her will, Ser Garlan the Gallant gave her comfort, not Littlefinger. Littlefinger never lifted so much as his little finger for her. - Sansa I, AFFC

"As he loved you." Dany stroked the girl's hair. "Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath."

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …" - Dany II, ADWD

Arya's struggle to find a safe place and slowly losing hope over the course of her journey of ever being safe, being unable to trust safety, disbelieving of the very idea that she would be safe.

Sansa's many suitors dangling her safety as a bait to lure her in, her hedging hope after hope on each of them to give her some safety.

Dany who is so desperately yearning for a safe place and person ALL HER LIFE, who has never been kept safe and wants so badly to keep others safe the way she should have been.

Catelyn who'd played by all the rules her society had taught her, every single rule to try to create safety, yet to be betrayed so horribly.

The unsaid promise, the social contract that women should not take up arms and in return they would be protected and kept safe by those around them. They kept their end of the bargain so well, been such good girls and women, and what do they get? That social contract broken in so many ways for all these women.

There is no reward for being a girl, no matter how many promises they make you.

[amournoir]

Hi can u do a fic where the reader and Klaus are in a relationship and the mikaelson's hate her .

Thanks

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 ┄ 𝐢

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x f!reader

count: 1.4k

warning: angst

author’s note: thanks for the request hun! 💋 p.s, here's part 2

The streets of New Orleans pulsed with life, and Y/N, Klaus Mikaelson's spirited and vivacious girlfriend, seemed to embody the very essence of the city's energy. She reveled in the thrill of the night, seeking joy and adventure wherever she went. But little did she know that her vibrant spirit was causing a storm within the Mikaelson family. 

Rebekah and Elijah, Klaus's siblings, observed with disapproval as Y/N led Klaus into the wild festivities of the French Quarter. They detested her carefree nature, seeing her as a disruption to the carefully constructed order of their lives. In their eyes, Y/N was a distraction, a youthful folly that would only lead Klaus astray. The siblings had made their opinions known countless times, urging Klaus to end the relationship. They saw her as a threat to their family's stability and tried to set him up with a "more suitable" woman— a 30-year-old socialite whose poise and maturity contrasted sharply with Y/N's exuberance. 

One evening, as the Mikaelson family gathered for a somber dinner, tensions reached their breaking point. Rebekah and Elijah, fueled by their desire to protect their brother, confronted Y/N, leveling accusations of infidelity.

“You're nothing but trouble,” Rebekah hissed, her eyes flashing with disdain. “You're not right for Nik.”

Y/N's face paled, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you talking about? I love Klaus with all my heart,” she protested, her voice trembling.

Elijah shook his head, his tone cutting like a blade. “You're young, reckless, and unreliable,” he stated coldly. “You're only going to hurt him.”

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she struggled to find the right words to defend herself. She had always tried to be honest with Klaus, to give him everything he deserved, but now she felt like she was being torn apart by the very people she had hoped to call family.

“I love him,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “I would never hurt him, and I would never cheat on him.”

But her words fell on deaf ears, and the Mikaelson siblings remained adamant in their disapproval. Klaus, torn between his love for Y/N and his loyalty to his family, was caught in the crossfire of their bitter dispute. For days, the rift between Y/N and the Mikaelson siblings grew wider. Each encounter was fraught with tension, with accusations and misunderstandings that only deepened the wounds. Y/N felt isolated and alone, her heart heavy with the weight of their judgments.

One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, Klaus found Y/N sitting alone by the fireplace, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. He approached her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain.

“Love talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice soft with concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Your family hates me,” she whispered. “They think I'm not good enough for you.”

Klaus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I don't care what they think,” he said firmly. “I love you and I won't let them come between us.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the constant pressure from his family weighed heavily on Klaus's mind. Doubts began to seep into his heart, and he found himself torn between his love for Y/N and the desire to mend the fractures in his family. In the depths of his turmoil, Klaus faced an impossible choice— to stand by the woman he loved or to appease his family by letting her go. His heart and mind waged war within him, leaving him in a state of inner turmoil that threatened to consume him.

As the darkness of uncertainty loomed over their once blissful relationship, Y/N and Klaus were left to navigate the shadows of doubt and find a way back to each other. The storm of angst and heartache showed no signs of abating, leaving them with the ultimate question…could love conquer all or would the family's disapproval be too much to bear? 

A few months had passed without another confrontation from his siblings but that silence period was over today. The Mikaelson mansion stood in silence, its opulent halls shrouded in a heavy tension that seemed to seep into the very air. Y/N, the vibrant and spirited love of Klaus Mikaelson's life, felt the weight of disapproval from his siblings bearing down on her like a storm cloud. At 23, her heart beat fiercely with a passion for life, but to Elijah and Rebekah, she was nothing more than a youthful whirlwind that threatened the delicate balance they had carefully crafted. 

It was a chilly evening, and as Y/N wandered through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing emptily, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that seemed to linger around her. The disapproving glances, the hushed conversations that ceased when she entered a room— all of it gnawed at her soul. It had been months since she had embarked on a romantic journey with Klaus, a love that burned with an intensity she had never known before. But even that powerful connection couldn't shield her from the critical eyes of his siblings.

Rebekah's icy words had sliced through the air like a blade. “You're just a child, Y/N,” she had said with a condescending tilt of her head. “My brother deserves someone who understands the dangers of our world.”

And Elijah, the embodiment of elegance and poise, had looked at her with a mixture of pity and dismissal. “Klaus is not one to be taken lightly,” he had warned. “You need to be more mature, more level headed.”

Each word had etched itself into Y/N's heart, a constant reminder of her perceived inadequacy in the eyes of those she so desperately wanted to accept her. As she entered the living room, she found Klaus standing by the grand window, nursing a tumbler of bourbon in his hand. His gaze was distant, his features etched with a mixture of frustration and weariness. She approached him, her heart aching at the distance she felt growing between them.

“Klaus,” she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of conflict and affection. “Y/N,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

The silence that followed was heavy, a chasm that seemed to swallow their words before they could be spoken.

“I can't do this anymore love,” Klaus finally confessed, his voice breaking the stillness.

Y/N's heart shattered, the pain more intense than she could have ever imagined. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Klaus's gaze was tortured, his emotions warring within him. “Elijah and Rebekah,” he said with a sigh. “They won't accept us. They think you're too young, too impulsive.”

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes, and she felt a lump forming in her throat. “And what do you think?” she choked out, her voice quivering.

Klaus reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with tenderness. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I can't keep going against my family. It's tearing us apart.”

The pain in Y/N's chest was suffocating, a weight that threatened to crush her. “So, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I'm saying that we need to take a step back,” Klaus admitted, his voice barely audible. “Perhaps it's best for both of us.”

Y/N's heart shattered completely, and she took a step back, her eyes welling with tears. “You're choosing them over me?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Klaus's eyes filled with anguish, and he reached out to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Y/N…” he started desperately. “I love you, but I can't keep fighting this battle. I'm sorry sweetheart.”

The room seemed to close in around her, and Y/N turned and fled, her heartache echoing in the emptiness that surrounded her. Days turned into weeks, and the absence of Klaus felt like an ache that she couldn't escape. She could feel the weight of his absence in every corner of her life, a constant reminder of what once was.

As she stared out at the moonlit night, Y/N realized that love was not always enough to conquer the obstacles that life placed in its path. She had lost the man she loved, not because he didn't care, but because the world they lived in was too complicated, too tangled with expectations. lol She whispered his name into the night, her heart heavy with sorrow, Y/N learned that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures that threatened to tear their world apart. And in that painful realization, she felt the bittersweet ache of a love that had been both beautiful and heart wrenching—a love that would forever remain etched in her soul.

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @mrs-maximoff-kenner @thatfanficstuff @elijahmikaelsontrash @mxacegrey @thatfictionalwh0re @catmikaelson20 @loverswillowed @sweetwrathoflilith @panic-at-the-fiction @iiskittles16ii @original-siphon @hellotvshowtrash @onlyfreds @onlyfredslibrary @imgoingtofreakoutnow @slinthoex @i-love-nora @multiversediaries @decoffinated-vamps @hopester08 @aloneatpeace @hopes-wife @softcoremaybank @klaustopia @dreamingwithrafe @sweetestdesire @cottontears @cottonreads @buckyysdoll @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @impossibleheartflower @madetragic @spike-and-angels-gf

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[loverboykirstein]

biting the bullet // kinktober pt. 4/5

sam (sdv) x afab! reader

wc: 7,574

mdni -> warnings: mentions of addiction/neglect/throwing up/mental illness, unprotected sex, breeding, possession

***“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”. 

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own. 

you did break his heart, right? 

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity. 

on his feet, another deep breath for the road. 

“samson, go,”.***

the mismatched pattering of his heartbeat in his ears began to close his throat, chest cavity torn apart by the weight of a passing phrase. 

“can we do tomorrow? i’m taking them to the look-out on my bike tonight,”. 

what..? 

it was happening again. he let his guard down for just a moment, a fraction of a second, and his lungs and heart and every nerve ending were spilling out of his ripped apart being, invisible to all but him. 

you..seb..? of course you want seb. everyone does. we each have a role, right? just like mom? like dad? 

is there something that wrong with me? how do i atone for my sins in my past life to mediate the bullshit i’ve drug into this one? that’s the only explanation, right? 

it followed him everywhere, a sick joke that didn’t even have a punchline. in its wake, it simply stole his soul away, piece by piece, a sick treasure hunt of trying to rebuild and rebuild and rebuild. 

for what cause? to sit up and stare at his ceiling, snapping the rubber band on his wrist over and over and over again, a piss-poor attempt to calm himself down that never seemed to work. 

what was he supposed to do? he hadn’t even been handed the short end of the stick, simply tempted with it like a dumb dog and locked in a collar for the rest of time as punishment for his greed. 

the desperate, aching, bruising desire for a life. 

to be more than a secondary, to figure out who he was. 

to fall in love and not get hurt. 

to begin to trust without losing his joints in the process, left a brittle mess of grinding bones at the end of it all. 

to make the decision to live for himself, not for the need of the image of others. 

to make it out of a war-torn cage, to never follow in his fathers footsteps. 

to build a family that was wanted, unlike his. 

he wanted that with you. 

he never knew why he existed, or what the point was. 

then he heard your laugh for the first time, handing him an extra maple bar you had made and he nearly collapsed at the life that made his fingers numb and filled his lungs instantaneously. 

but now,  quiet trembles rustled through his bloodied fingers, too busy taking out anything he could on anything he could. 

near the edge of the valley, beyond leah’s quaint home lied a hidden little cave, behind bushes and trees and the occasional critter or two. 

his blood stained parts of the exposed rock, the only thing he could hit without feeling bad. far enough away, no one ever finding him out there. 

for no one to hear his violent sobs, his screams out to whoever was behind all of this, why, why, why. over and over and over, prayers for a reason as to why things had to be this way. 

but if he wasn’t home to set the table, his mother would lose her temper before the oven timer even rang. the sun finding its way back to the never-ending horizon was her queue, the so-called ‘acceptable’ time of day to numb the sorrow crawling near, pushing it onto the son she never wanted in the first place. 

which left vincent to his own devices, luckily not alone, but he knew he wasn’t doing well, penny not focused enough on teaching, more on playing, as she glued herself to the novel of the day, explicit enough to be banned from the library entirely. in front of the kids? really? 

so he would swallow his heartbeat, coughing up a stable voice through his constricted windpipe that built a facade good enough to fool just about everyone. 

he sat on his floor for hours. the hum of the washing machine was echoing through the paper thin walls. 

everything was else felt silent, felt quiet. 

except the unrelenting grave digging itself wide open in the middle of his messy bedroom. 

because things weren’t quiet. dad was fighting for god knows what, narrowly missing shrapnel with each breath. 

mom was mixing pills and booze, manic-depressive in nature and waiting until the very edge before it was too late. 

but the worst was knowing that you and seb weren’t being quiet. you weren’t asleep in your bed, cuddled up with your cat under a quilt and your childhood blanket held close. 

you were clinging onto him, body pressed against his. sharing a spot of the world that he had only seen once, seeing the city ahead of him that he could barely remember being a part of. 

the most he could remember was his childhood therapist, the only one who saw past his so-called laxidasical disposition and class-clown behavior. struggling with reading, a common case of adhd and anxiety all jumbled up inside of a first grader. 

a hint of dyslexia, and the guilt of his mothers cries he could hear against the locked doors, mourning a life without children. 

nothing a child should have to bear, tiptoeing as to not crack the paper thin ice that made up his floorboards. 

craving attention from the ones who created him, from the one who carried him in her womb. 

father rarely around, making up for the lack of stability in the form of a paycheck and health insurance. 

reprimand after reprimand, the only way to get his mother to look him in the eyes. 

acting out as a cry for help, at validation, at fucking anything. 

from the comedy covered pain,  he learned to always know how to make someone laugh. to make sure they could exhale a little bit of whatever was holding them back, even if it meant that he had to let it settle in his lungs so it wouldn’t fall back into theirs one day. 

he promised himself that he would never open up the small little lock on his exterior for anyone. ever. 

maybe he didn’t notice, or maybe you tripped the wires first, but the alarm bells never rang. no emergency protocol, no swot team to barricade his entire being shut. 

you left the door open, not even bothering to worry about the heat being on, letting all the cold air in. 

or maybe you didn’t even know, the key hidden in the corner of your room, under your bed mixed with dust and other lost memories. 

how was he supposed to face you again? he had planned on inviting you to the band’s first show, your excitement bouncing off the walls at the thought, when he mentioned the idea. 

even though they only had a few songs, rough drafts at best, poor attempts at writing lyrics in an attempt to give abi and seb the spotlight. 

also in fear, knowing someone would put the pieces together, that someone would connect the dots. that they would see the unrepairable shattered glass of his being behind it all. 

that you would figure it out, never looking at him the same way again. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖

weeks flew by in aching stretches, avoiding contact with anyone,  his only bandaid over the wound. declining invitations that could maybe bring you close, making your laugh ring in his ears or the smell of your perfume that would replace his train of thought. 

all his time spent sleeping, the sun becoming his worst enemy. 

braving the light only upon vincent’s summertime pleas, just to lie and say that dad was okay, that there was nothing to worry about. 

flickering his eyes between his brother and the beach entrance, hoping, praying, you wouldn’t appear behind him, or anyone for that matter. not strong enough to explain his absence, to explain the proverbial last straw that chewed up and spit out his barricaded soul. 

you would stop by, questioning his mother on his wordless disappearance. she didn’t have an honest answer, blaming it on music school? 

weeks turned to months, watching the seasons pass by. he couldn’t figure out why it hurt so goddamn bad. 

trying to process two decades worth of grief, wrapped up in his dna as he grew inside his mothers unwanting body. 

every effort, every last ditch grasp with a mildly politically incorrect joke, another brick laid on his wall of lies. 

why did this become his downfall? the dramatic, be all end all suffocating downfall. 

what did his subconscious craft while he wasn’t fixing up the cracks? too busy lost in your stories that filled him with a mix of worry and thrill all at the same time, the small scrunch of your nose, and the way you bit your lip when you lost your train of thought. 

two weeks after the attempt harvey made to check up on him, to ‘have a talk’, a government letter arrived through the mail slot on the door. 

kent was coming home. dad is coming home. dad is coming… home..? 

arriving in a week, realizing he had a week to build the wall back up. 

to rid his eyes of the rubbed-raw corners, saltwater leaving a red hue around his lashes. 

to cover up his sullen cheeks, too fucked to get up and take care of himself beyond the minimum. 

the hole in his chest mirrored the grave he had to step around when he got the courage to move, too deep and vacant to see the bottom. 

he couldn’t figure out why you were the one to kick all of this off, you weren’t even that close? sure, friends who saw each other all the time, near habitual meetings that would worry the other when routines changed. 

but you weren’t together, did he even have the right to blame you? 

you didn’t cause every ounce of pain he had endured through the fabric of his life, you didn’t stitch pain into the pattern of his fingerprints. 

but every goddamn thought came back to you. you, you, you. 

all he fucking wanted was you. 

it was pathetic, a childlike reaction to not getting something he made no effort to get. to try and make, to try and prove himself to you. 

you were probably waiting for the next rain by now, already modifying your cabin to accommodate your soon to be husband. 

FUCK. 

the 7 letters managed to make him ill, rushing past the all consuming ending cornering him against his wall. 

knees melting the cold tile, reaching to turn on the sink and the fan so that no one could hear him try and expel the hell of that idea. 

that he would get to sleep next to you every night, he would want love songs about you, he would get the chance to see the most intimate parts of you and so much more. 

everything sam wanted, gone. stripped away. 

but it was never his to begin with, was it? 

⊹ ࣪ ˖

a blur of days meshed together, world now sideways as a version of his mother he had never seen cleaned every corner of the house, paint chips repaired, hiding every dark secret she tucked away in his absence. 

the dread made him want to hurl, want to really disappear. how was he supposed to face a version of his father he didn’t know at all? 

two bags in hand at the doorstep, his mother and vincent sobbing in unison at their reunion. but he saw it. the visions in his eyes, the forced image of being alive was like looking in a mirror. 

he didn’t know what to do. he was stripped of anything he ever knew. any hopes of his life ahead. 

except his was lost in a real war, fighting for some sort of cause that came with a paycheck and praise and thank-you’s. 

sam’s was a selfish mess, ruining himself over the idea of something that wasn’t real over a goddamn sentence. 

a look of unblinking eyes, both bloodshot and sad, a nod of mutual understanding but also complete confusion. 

kent wondering what went wrong with his eldest as he was gone, mouth running dry when he recognized the look plastered on his son. 

a hot meal, the first real one kent had eaten without the threat of an air strike in god knows how long, mixed with his favorite beer he could finally share with his eldest. 

despite the distaste, sam took the opportunity to drink, no reprimands on something that would make him feel less. 

but it seemed to do the opposite as he stepped out into the pouring rain, clouds appearing out of nowhere as the sun took its leave. 

letting the cold, wet air settle the heat of panic in his stomach, he jumped half to death when his father tapped his arm with an open beer bottle. 

“take it,” kent tipped the bottle towards him, watching the rain patter on the glass. 

he nodded, nearly losing his grip as he swung back far too heavy of a drink, not wanting to taste it anymore. it tasted like guilt, disappointment. 

“kid, spill it. i didn’t stay alive to see the same look in your eyes,” kent’s demand knocked sam’s brain around in his skull, stunting his breathing and blacking out his vision. 

“what?” he coughed, knowing it wouldn’t work worth a damn on his unhappy father, who seemed to already know what happened, yet equally clueless as he had never asked about sam’s feelings before. 

“samson, c’mon kid. i-” he sighed, eyes tracking the rain on the porch make its way to the sidewalk. “i want to help you. i want to be a father, at least a friend. i realized that, alone out there. i can smell it on you, so talk,”. 

a lingering, sulfur filled silence crushed his passageways, nearly collapsing into his father like a small child after scraping his knee on the playground. 

‘i want to be a father’. 

“look kid, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine,” kent leaned up against the painted exterior of what felt like a new home. “just, whatever it is, you can’t run away forever. it doesn’t wor-”

“I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG WITH ME, DAD,”. 

the first time he had ever spoken up to his father, that he had raised his voice. 

a cracked voice still managed to let the sorrow spill, pooling over his lash line and mixing with the rain. 

“i can’t fucking take it anymore-i-FUCK,”. 

his syllables were broken, caught between desperate gasps for air in his first cry for help. 

paper mache hands disappearing under the diluted salt, crouching down as if to save them. 

“she’s-” his words barely coherent, choking up his pathetic admittance. “she’s probably already gotten that stupid fucking pendant god damn it all,”. 

broken laughter, a mix of every feeling known to man, choked up with gravel and acid. 

“i never fucking did anything about it, either,” running his arthritic bones through his sopping wet hair, he looked up at the man who had just been through the troubles of war. 

real war. 

not the emotional one, the near psychosis-like state of a few months passed. 

“so do something about it,”. kent was cut and dry, the only way he knew how to cover up his heartache. 

his eldest, the one he held the most guilt for, the most agony for. the one he prayed for every night, the one who was his first thought every time a bullet flew past a little too close. 

he didn’t want to break, knowing that if his son watched him collapse at the sight, he would never forgive himself. 

“what?” nothing more than a scoff, but a halt of accidental waterboarding at the gasps for air. 

“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”. 

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own. 

you did break his heart, right? 

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity. 

on his feet, another deep breath for the road. 

“samson, go,”. 

his fathers gruff tone, eyes sharp and stern sent his feet moving, running. 

barely able to see in the dark, pouring rain, letting nothing but his burning blood carry his body to the place you called home. 

i have to fix this i have to fix this i have to- 

over and over and over again, repeating like a broken record, the only words left engrained. 

even though you didn’t know that anything needed to be fixed, he needed to fix things for him. he couldn’t look at his father the same if he at least didn’t try. 

soaking wet, hair in his eyes and catching on his tear stained blinks, out of breath and on your front porch. 

the only shield left was your front door, metal handle illuminated from your porch light. 

do it, you already got here, do it. 

scattered shallow breaths from running turned to shaky heavy ones, raising his still-bruised hand to your wooden door. 

two knocks, two seconds, two more. the way he always did before his self-inflicted imprisonment. 

“sam..?” you rubbed your eyes, shocked awake by his unnerving knocks in the dark. “what are you-come in, you’re soaked,”. 

you looked panicked, not bothering to worry about anything other than him being soaking wet and out of breath. 

he took his sopping wet shoes off at your door, leaving them to sit on your porch next to your rain boots.  with less than a passing second, you had disappeared and returned with a towel and a change of clothes. 

“sam what the fuck-are you-” running around in your pajamas, a short pair of flannel shorts and a tshirt that nearly covered them entirely, turning the heat on and running a kettle on the stove, his drying eyes were too focused on you. 

questioning why you weren’t out as late as you used to, knowing marlon had found you passed out cold on one too many occasions. 

“y/n it’s-it’s fine, i uh-” he stood still, shaking his head as if to force himself to blink. 

“go, go change before you freeze half to death in my house,” busy standing on your tip-toes to reach the top cabinet, barely able to grab the box of tea you kept specifically for him. 

peeling his eyes from your strained calves and your ass peeking out of the bottom of your sleepwear, he hurried off the other way towards your bathroom. 

the sight of your overly exposed legs was enough for him to twitch, his mind such a goddamn mess that he couldn’t really even remember what he was going to say. 

suffocating in your perfume that had soaked into your walls, he forced his rain soaked clothes off his shivering body. the purple hue on his lips, aching joints. 

hands on either side of the counter, flushed cheeks and sunken eyes, sam caught his breath, stealing any strength he could from the hardwood holding his hands. 

i have to fix this. don’t be a fucking bitch. suck it the fuck up, you fucking moron. 

hanging his clothes over the bathtub, towel still in hand, he caught sight of you pacing back and forth in your kitchen. 

chewing on your thumbnail, something you only did when you were stressed. brows furrowed, only snapped out of your endless loop by the kettle whistling loud. 

“better?” you asked, back turned to him as you poured him a mug full, adding a bag of his favorite tea from the traveling merchant in to simmer. 

“y-yeah. thank you,” rustling his hair with the towel, worn and faded, trying to rid it of any extra sorrow carried inside. 

“sit, mister,” you pointed at your couch, eyes stern almost like a mothers. 

he did as he was told, slowly caving in on himself as he felt like a bigger burden than ever before. 

“here, i’ll be right back,”. 

gently handing him the warm blue ceramic mug, the one vincent had given you after you spent your afternoons helping him learn to read, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly at the lax in sam’s shoulders once his joints found warm relief. 

grabbing a comb from under the bathroom sink, you came back wordlessly, floorboards creaking below your hurried feet. 

in a matter of minutes, you went from fast asleep on the couch, tv paused  from lack of activity when asked, cuddled up closely to your cat and your blanket, to wide awake and flustered, worried beyond belief. 

you knew that kent had come home, and you had planned to introduce yourself in a few days, allowing him time to settle in. 

rattling your skull was the fear that something horrid had happened, so bad that sam had run in the fucking rain to your cabin of all places after the endless era of radio silence. 

“so,” you sighed standing behind him, a small shadow casting over him as your body blocked the light in your entry way. “you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on?” 

your words were harsher than you wanted them to be, but fuck man, you hadn’t seen him in months, no matter how many attempts you made. 

pulling his head back a little, you began to comb through his incredibly tangled hair, feeling him dissolve under the slightly bit of affection. 

“can-can i ask a question..first?” his eyes were closed, mindlessly rubbing his thumb into his opposite palm. 

“only, if you pinky promise to tell me everything after,”. you stuck out your pinky, and he didn’t hesitate to reach yours. locking in his fate, peeling away the plastic film that was the only bit of his shield still remaining, your fingers crossed and released as the promise was sealed. 

“how are uh, how are you and seb?” it felt like blood came up as he spoke, riddled with sorrow filled expectations of what your response would be. 

“what?” you hands stopped their attempt to comb through his tangled blonde mess, stunned at the question. “were..fine? have you not talked to him recently?” 

huh? 

“no i uh- no i haven’t. i thought you guys were like…” 

“sam, you don’t think we’re dating, do you?” 

you-

“you’re..not?” covering his face with his hands, trying to hold any bit left of him together. 

“no? sam i-”. your breaths were deep, focusing all your downright confusion into releasing the knots through his hair. 

“oh,”. 

oh. 

“alright, now that your speculations on my nonexistent sex life are over can you please explain why you are here right now?” 

a black hole, all consuming, everything everywhere all at the same time. the inside of his skull, spinning, spinning, spinning. 

“i um-fuck, im so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry,”. leaning his head back, fully into your overworked fingertips, soaking in every ounce of touch he could. 

“why are you sorry? sam you didn’t do anything, other than give me a goddamn heart attack,”. 

how are you not mad? 

how are you so casual about this? 

“i-” 

“if this is because of seb i swear to god i’m going to beat the shit out of you samson,” he could feel you shake your head in disbelief, as if he should have known or as if there was this big sign that was supposed to be placed in front of him that he managed to look right through. 

“y/n, i-”

he couldn’t cough the words he wanted out, embarrassment flooding his entire being, shame mixing in at a searing rate. 

he felt you silently leave, pulling his airways closed the further you went. 

so pathetic, so goddamn fucking pathetic. cant even tell her, what am i doing- 

“sammy, come back from whatever planet you're on please,” you were sat on the coffee table, knees touching his. two shot glasses in one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other. 

you set them both on the table, filling them each to the brim. dark amber syrup, so foolishly innocent, burning its way all the way past your lips. 

as if your voice didn’t make him dizzy enough, the liquor you kept on hand was always the strongest, outshining anything else he had ever had before. 

“each shot, we each share something. okay?” 

handing him his glass, clinking them together and kicking it back. 

he winced at the burn, the warmth bubbling in his stomach. 

he watched you drink it far too easily, better than you did the last time you drank together. your eyes, your soul looked tired, gone unnoticed in his own self-pity. 

soon the heater was shut off, both of you warm enough from the poison seeping into mutual bloodstreams. 

shot after shot, losing track in storytelling as he listened to you speak on your adventures in the newly found desert, all of the new weapons you learned to use. 

how he had tried to teach alex to skateboard, his first time getting high, struggling to find any reason to talk about himself when you were sat in front of him, inches away. 

he was simply infatuated, beyond infatuated, soaking up every breath to make up for lost time.

“oh! sammy, sammy,” you nearly whined, placing a hand on either one of his thighs. “will you pleaseee tell me where you’ve been all this time?” 

your slightly jutted lip, flushed cheeks and steadfast grip on his legs froze his surroundings, eyes locked on your pleading heart. 

just fucking bite the damn bullet. 

“i-seb canceled on me, that night he took you to the lookout. and i-” he leaned forward, heaviest sigh blowing fear out of the way. “i realized i couldn’t handle that. i couldn’t handle you being with-”

“sam-”

“i couldn’t handle seeing you with someone else when all i ever wanted was you, i just,”. 

“sam-”. 

“i knew that wasn’t fair to you and i just, i didn’t realize how much i-”

guilt ridden words cut short, your liquor stained lips shutting his. entire body pushed into him, not even enough time for him to fully register what was happening. 

is she..? 

“you’re fucking stupid,” you pulled away for a moments time to mutter that to him, pressing your forehead against his. “it has been you this whole time, idiot”. 

what? 

“what?” his eyes forced rapid blinks, unable to process what you had just said, what you had just done. 

“i-god damn it all sam LISTEN TO ME, i never went with seb that night, i wanted to do that with you,”. 

shock was the only way to think of it, the world frozen on its titled axis as it listened to your confession, to his heart that was on the brink of collapse as it beat so hard it shook the ground. 

a few short stutters, words falling flat. months of self-imposed torture, losing everything he knew, breaking his father’s heart, really was selfish, too scared to do anything. 

if he had swallowed his fear, faced the music, done something, anything. 

don’t let this get away. don’t fuck it up. don’t fuck it up. 

lifting his hands from his awkward side, roughly placed on either side of your hips. 

using a newfound strength, he pulled you from the table, right into his lap. 

falling into his wordless surrender, you let your body collapse into his, legs straddled on either side. 

your clothed cunt immediately rolled against his length, pulling all of the blood from his body to an aching throb under you. 

addicted to the sheer desperation in the air, gravity itself forced your lips back together, making up for months of time apart. 

feverish from the first touch, wildfire to a field of wilted grass, burning oxygen faster than it could be replaced. 

each heavy breath another exposed confession, his grip pushing you into him even harder another apology for leaving you for so long. 

tongues fighting for a chance at forgiveness, soaking up the words that were too hard to exhale. 

he let out a soft whine at your separation, instant drop of his stomach as you pulled away from his bruised lips. 

dropping your head to the side, he shivered under your heated breaths against the side of his neck. heartbeat nearly visible, your swollen lips pressed slow praises down, not leaving an inch untouched. 

opposite hand keeping his jaw turned, you trailed your tongue back up, a smirk hitting your lips at the twitch you felt against your spread legs. 

no permission, no hesitation, just a gasp from his aching lungs as you sucking a mark of sheer possession in the form of broken blood vessels. grazing your teeth along with your vampiric latch, leaving a bruise dark enough no amount of makeup could cover. 

your hips now indented with the lines of his fingerprints, permanently etched into your skeletal structure. 

“bedroom,” you whispered into his ear, sin coating your voice in blatant need. 

body driven by nothing but lust, he stood from the couch as you wrapped your legs around him, one hand cupping your ass while the other was itching to open the door to a new life. 

it was all happening so fucking fast. 

you wanted him. 

this whole time, you wanted him. 

letting your head hit the plush of your bedding, he loomed over you with two devilish sparkles in his eyes. 

one glistening as his broken heart glued itself back together, your touch ensuring that every piece was perfectly aligned. 

the other shimmering in primal greed, suffocating any thought other than possession. to not lose the chance to keep you all to himself. 

a needy look twitched in your jutted-lip pout, a wordless plea for him to take what was his this whole. time. 

now fluid joints, unphased by the ache in his tortured hands, hooked under your shorts, no underwear in between. 

warm fingers against exposed skin, the small bit of decency on the floor with one swift effort. 

cold air hit your already wet cunt, a small trail of your sticky pleads following your clothing to the floor. 

“can i..?” he looked up at you for a moments time, not wanting to lose sight of your glistening slit like his life depended on it. 

you nodded, not letting the small voice of insecurity speak up before your aching heart did, unprepared for intimacy to this degree. 

or intimacy at all for that matter. 

a touchy subject, too used to getting hurt. leaving your life behind in the smog coated city, one night stands back in the poorly painted walls of your studio apartment. 

you thought you knew what love was, the overwhelming panic, the world ending promises to be better, to be prettier, to be someone they wanted. 

forcing the thought out of your mind, each synapse in your aching brain going fuzzy at the first swipe of his hesitant tongue. 

it had been so long since you had been touched, too afraid to ruin a friendship in such a small town. to not overstep your place as the new addition in an already woven community. 

too exhausted to do it yourself most of the time, the thoughts only settling in when it came to him. 

a single brush of your fragile bud make your ears buzz, the sheer ache to feel it again, and again, and again. 

silent prayers answered, waters tested, sam’s tongue writing apologies and months worth of confessions in your pooling slick, feeding him the first meal of his life. 

placing your hand over your mouth, muffled whimpers replaced exhales, sharp inhales through your nose not providing nearly enough oxygen to your racing heart. 

“don’t hide, pretty girl,” his slightly slurred voice stuck like honey, pulling your hand away without a second thought. 

his plea a few octaves deeper, your walls clenching around nothing at all and with his drunken confidence. 

like he would die of hunger if he strayed away any longer, you lost sight of him between your legs, tongue teasing your pleading hole. 

“sammy please,” you couldn’t do anything but whine, a fistful of his hair in your shaking fingertips. 

pushing his flushed face deeper, nose pressed against your clit, shoving his tongue in as far as he could. 

muffled vibrations of his satisfied moans shook your core to near collapse, the slight movement of his nose making your legs quiver against the side of his head. 

thighs increasing their strength, ensuring he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to, the telltale that you were already on the brink of release. 

the first of many, just the beginning to a man who would never forgive himself for leaving you for what felt like an eternity. 

no time for warning, words broken into a mess of jumbled up letters, your salty-sweet slick flooding his overworked taste buds at an alarming rate. 

nerve endings twitching, spine forced to endure repeated bolts of serenity with each spasm. all ten of his fingers bruising your thighs as he held onto them so tightly, a feeble attempt to keep you still until you rode out your first high of the night, your first in so, so long. 

finally able to breathe at the weakening of your hips, legs shakier than you would have liked them to be. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, more than enough of you on him, and he loved it. 

meeting your blown out eyes, you couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled over, dragging his long lost smile out of the dark with each little sound. 

both hands covering your face, embarrassed, nervous. 

how a man like him, so gorgeous, so gentle, would want a single thing to do with you, you didn’t understand. 

hiding away your feelings for him for what felt like ages, heart shredded when he took his reclusive leave, without a word on why. 

weeks spent spiraling, wondering what you did wrong, how you could fix what you didn’t even know. 

“nuh-uh, no thank you,” his tsks were so thick, so heavy as he pulled both your hands away from your face, eyes softening just enough at the sight of your embarrassment. 

“do you want to keep going?” question so very gentle, not assuming like you had always known. 

and it was fucking hot. 

a quick nod, a little shy at the urgency in your reaction, but needing him anywhere was all you could think of. 

you watched him stand beside you, a better angle to strip himself of his clothes. 

nearly drooling at the sight, you could have died and gone to the highest bits of heaven, and it wouldn’t compare to the feeling of him looking down at you with his hand on his cock, thumb tracing over his pre-coated pink tip, silver bar glistening. 

oh fuck. 

each scar that covered his arms, each muscle contracting with labored breaths, made a whimper fall out of you, like a bitch in heat. 

“needy girl, aren’t you?” he climbed on top of you, urging you to sit up just a little so he could tear away the fabric hiding the rest of you. “haven’t been touched in so. very. long. huh?” 

usually, patronizing teases would have angered you to the third degree, but it had you melting into his palms like ice cream on a midsummers day. 

feeling his fingertips graze over your whole body, thumbs baaareely drawing circles around your nipples, another guilty whine for more, more of him. 

“think you can take me without stretching ya out?” his demeanor turned a little cocky, nearly pulling a bratty remark out of you, just to run his tongue against your over-sensitive chest. 

palming one tit, mouth fixed on the other, you nodded without thinking. a muffled ‘mhm’ and a handful of hair, pulling his fixated mouth away. 

“tell me if it hurts, okay?” a sliver of seriousness caught in the bubbling excitement pooling inside his blood, you knew he really did mean it. 

length in hand, he lightly traced his leaking head up and down your already swollen cunt, a small attempt at teasing you before he plunged inside your screaming walls, begging to pull him in and not let go. 

both hitching in air through gritted teeth, holding onto the last molecule you could manage as he slid inside, so. goddamn. slow. 

maybe in fear of hurting you, but really trying to gather himself at the sheer grip you had on him, regretting his own choice to not stretch you at least a little before letting his greed take over. 

so warm, so wet, better than any drug he had ever taken, or ever would. 

“s-sam, m-more, please?” you begged, batting your lashes ever so slowly to not give him a choice, but needing him so, so much deeper. 

any sense of restraint lost as your pleading eyes surrendered to him, and who was he to say no? 

he would never say no to you, not after what he did. 

an obedient dog, snapping his hips into you, flush against you. knocking the wind straight out of you, only thing you could feel was him. 

settling in, head dropping as he lost all of his strength, losing it all to restraining his urge to breed you right then and there. 

“fff-fucking hell,” his sputters were whiny, causing a slight spasm around him. the sound of struggling, barely keeping it together drove you fucking. insane. 

feeling full, feeling whole, wanting nothing more than for him to destroy you, molding your walls to the shape of him. 

“sammy, please,” you shifted your hips slightly, pushing against his hip bones, brushing the sweet, sinfully sweet spot you don’t think had ever been reached. 

his blacked out eyes, taking photos of the scene to never forget how goddamn angelic you looked under him, committing a cardinal sin. 

white-knuckle grip on your sides, bruising your bone marrow with his desperate grasp. 

jaw slacked, eyes locked on the mess of slick you coated him in, a slight clench in his jaw. 

free of his chain link leash, a feral animal let free for the first time since its previous carnation, learning to live again. 

focused on nothing else but you, your pleas for him to claim you, to mark up your insides far beyond recognition, begging for him at every breath beyond this moment in time. 

his whimpers mixed with low hums and exhales with each violating thrust, veins pulsing, a sick smirk pulling on his lips as he ruined you. 

instinctually squirming away, the urge of another trip over the edge already settling in, overstimulation hitting you like a bullet train without its lights on. 

feeling the slight quiver of your legs against his hyperactive body, a hand released your side, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder without a falter in rhythm. 

held hostage, you swore you could feel him in your chest as he fucked into you again, and again, and again. 

hypnotized by the furrow of his brow, glossy lips swollen from his hyper focused bite, holding back his own profanities as he tried to hold back his own release, never wanting the moment to end. 

if heaven existed, it was buried deep in your cunt, chest bouncing with each relentless thrust. it was the dig of your nails, grasping on to whatever they could. 

it was your fucked out eyes, watering at the corners in desperate need, in submission to his every want, his every dream. 

since that very first day, you were the thought at hand when he was fucking into it, edging himself for hours as punishment for thinking of you that way. 

but your innocent glances, and hard to read gestures every friday, the time you wore a that dress, dancing along with abi at the flower dance. 

taking the masculine role while dressed in a white skirt, a little too short for such a windy day, excusing himself to the depths of the forest. 

back against an oak tree, knowing seb would come looking for him at any moment, and god did it excite him in such a twisted way. 

he couldn’t fuck his fist hard enough to get the thought of taking you then and there out of his mind, flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side. 

making you carry his cum around all day, slowly dripping out of you as you spoke to his mother. 

but this, the real thing, was better than any fantasy he could ever imagine, the sound of your sopping wet cunt pornograohically loud, each wall of your unpainted cabin holding onto your sobs for more, more, more. 

hiccups caught in your throat, back arched and nails leaving crescent moon cuts in his arms as your second snap pulled him in harder, deeper. 

watching you fall apart was the sweetest thing, spilling out onto your bedding as he refused to let up. 

a dangerous game, knowing he was teetering on his own edge from the start. 

“m-‘ya gotta let me know if this is gonna be-”, his words cut off by the purposeful squeeze of your walls, offering a raised eyebrow and your bottom lip bitten. 

nearly knocking the wind right out of you, he flipped you onto your stomach, forcing you onto your knees. 

“you think it’s funny, huh?” leaning over you to purr in your ear, only focusing on how empty you felt, needing his pierced tip beating the life out of your cunt. 

“mm-no,” you shook your head, face red, pushing your ass into him just a smidge, hoping he would grant you your wordless wish. 

a palm to your ass, red hot and stinging, a startled gasp slipping out as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. 

without a warning, his hips were pressed against your ass, one hand forcing your arch deeper, the other holding your hip to keep you upright as he rammed into you. 

mine, mine, mine. 

over, and over, and over. 

sobs of overwhelming everything spilled out of you, moans nearly cut silent by the permanent bruising to every inch of you. 

sucking him off so well, pulling him back in with a force greater than gravity itself, his jumbled profanities mumbled under his breath only making it that much harder to hold on to reality. 

“wanna-” stuttered breathing, feeling the twitch of his cock buried inside you flash like a warning sign. “wanna fill you up- m-make you mi-mine,”. 

higher pitched, through clenched teeth, you had never heard a man so shattered, so beyond steady that his eyes blurred. 

the most you could offer was the push of your ass against him, too close to your own unraveling again  to remember a single word. 

his hand slid from your hip to your swollen, battered clit, squirming against him as the warm pad of his middle finger matched his sacrilegious pace. 

a matter of seconds is all it took, suffocating his overworked length that much tighter, too lost in your own ecstasy to feel the ropes of sin inside you, met with a loss of rhythm and short gasps for air. 

a weak attempt to catch your breath, feeling him slowly relax inside you, blood making its way back to his shaking hands and overworked core. 

releasing himself from your now relaxed grip, his fingers ran small circles on your back, delicate whispers that slowed your heart rate to normal. 

drained, all the energy stored in the form of internalized anxiety depleted, no control over your emotions anymore. 

a silent sob, tears of everything allowed to flow free at your relaxed inhibitions. 

“shhh-shhh it’s okay, it’s all okay,”. he pulled you up from your knees, gentle fingers moving you to his lap. 

head against his chest like a child, he rocked back and forth ever so slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his own tears at the sight of you upset. 

what happened ? is she okay ? what- 

“never-” your muffled words caught behind a screen of hyperventilation. “never run away like that again,”. 

your heaving body against his, his heart paralyzed at the sheer heartbreak rooted in your syllables. 

so goddamn mad at himself for bringing you to tears, but so fucking relieved that you wanted him to stay. 

“i-” a tear stained hiccup, an attempt to bury yourself inside of him completely, “i thought you left and didn’t say goodbye,”. 

she-she thought i would do that..? 

“shhhh, no no no, i’m not going anywhere,” cradling your face, letting a small stream pool over his lash line. holding his breath enough to mask the sputtering spasms thrashing around in his chest. “i would never, ever, do that to you. i promise,”. 

“pinky promise?” you pulled your face away from his chest, blurry eyes meeting his. raising your fragile hand, awaiting his interlocked promise. 

“pinky promise,”. interlocking without hesitation, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“will you stay tonight?” body running cold, the fear of him leaving settling in your stomach, overtaking the bubbling acid. 

“i will stay with you forever if you asked me to,”. gentle, soft. thumb against your cheek. 

“will you stay forever, then?” 

“anything for you,”. a gentle kiss on the nose, a sigh of relief mutually exhaled. 

tears dissolving, mending two broken hearts as they dried. 

matched breathing, hearts beating in unison. 

anything for you.

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

long time no see! so sorry this was so delayed, i had to work an insane amount of overtime at work and had a massive lyme flare up.

i have an alex fic in the works, who else would you like to see?

lots of love to @justwolosers for being there through all this!

mwuah! ᥫ᭡。

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (6)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, violence, domination, sexual tension ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

She walked into her chamber trembling all over and burst into loud sobs as soon as she closed the door behind her. She felt that what had happened between them was more than her mind could handle, and on top of that she was horrified that they had been caught in such a humiliating position.

She didn't fully understand what was happening to her body durning their wedding night.

No one had prepared her for how she would react.

She wondered if the queen had not mentioned that hot, pleasant, tickling feeling to her because it was something bad and unholy, or because she had never experienced it herself.

She was afraid that the whole court would find out about what her husband was doing with her body, that he treated her in bed like a common whore.

She was terrified that she felt pleasure during this act and was completely torn apart inside, relieved at the same time that he hadn't hurt her the way that she had imagined, but on the other hand she was still afraid of him, just for different reasons.

She calmed down after a few minutes, rinsed her face in the basin standing on the wooden table and weakly called Lyanna, asking her to prepare her a bath.

As soon as she stepped into the tub with hot water, she felt an instant, miraculous relief; she no longer felt dirty from their shared moisture, from what had flowed out of him inside her. Lyanna added her favorite oils to her bath, their scent and the soft chirping of birds outside the window calming her down, making her think straight again.

She swallowed hard, leaning the back of her head against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes, deciding to analyze the situation.

She was sure that he desired her, he was also apparently able to keep his word, because in fact, even though she still felt discomfort between her thighs, she understood perfectly well that her husband was holding back.

She knew now that what the queen and her sister were speaking about was only at the end of the act, after he touched her with his hand. It awakened something inside her and her body produced moisture, so that he could enter her more easily.

She could imagine how painful it must be to rub dry skin so intensely against each other and she shuddered at the thought.

She knew that he didn't have to do this.

He could take her by force, regardless of her discomfort, moans and cries, because they both knew that she would have had to comply anyway.

Everyone would tell her that she had to accept it, press her lips together and hold on.

After much thought, she decided that she preferred pleasure to pain, even at the cost of humiliation. She saw this as her chance to appease him slowly, to make him drop his shield and trust her enough not to show his aggressive side to her anymore.

She knew that he wanted her to submit to him.

Giving her the initiative would mean taking control of the situation away from him, and he would never let that happen. She had to make him believe that he was in control when, in fact, he was not.

One mistake could cost her everything, so her every move had to be delicate and thoughtful.

She thought with amusement that she felt as if she were planning a war.

She waged a wordless war with her husband for dominance, for what their marriage would be like, and she had to win as much as possible.

After her bath, when Lyanna dressed her in a clean, fragrant linen chemise and started to put on her brown and blue gown with cut-out sleeves, she felt much better.

She was herself again, Lady Baratheon, not someone's mere whore.

She thought, looking in the mirror, that she was no longer a girl, but a woman.

She only left her chamber for the shared supper intended for their families in a much better mood. She decided that she wouldn't care about the rumors about their wedding night − their marriage was sealed and her husband was obviously pleased with her, since he wanted her for a second time in the same night.

The truth was that it couldn't have gone better.

When she stepped into a great chamber with a fireplace in which there stood long wooden table, all eyes turned towards her. She immediately spotted her husband, standing in the distance with his older brother and swallowed softly at the sight of his face.

Even though his expression was stern and indifferent, there was something in his gaze that gave her hope.

Curiosity.

Her brother Royce, who was standing anxiously by the fireplace, he almost threw himself at her as soon as he saw her, grasping her shoulders in his hands, watching her closely as if looking for any sign on her face that she had come to harm. She smiled broadly at the sight of him, his presence an indescribable relief to her.

"Are you well, little sister?" He whispered, looking at her with worry, probably horrified by the vision of what she must have been experiencing in the arms of a complete stranger, moreover as cold and distant as her husband. She placed her hand over his, looking at him gratefully.

"Yes. Don't worry, brother." She said softly, and he exhaled loudly, as if a great stone had fallen from his heart.

He leaned over her and placed a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead, as he often did when he wanted to comfort her.

She threw him a fond smile as he let go of her and stroked his arm, stepping around him.

She met her husband's gaze and froze in half-step, seeing how tightly his lips were pressed together, his gaze dark and impenetrable. She thought that he was furious for some reason, but she didn't know why.

He looked away, answering something to his brother impatiently and after a while the king entered the hall, accompanied by his wife and her father. The king could barely move, but despite this, he greeted everyone with a warm smile, inviting them to sit at the table.

She, as the prince's wife, sat by his side with his family. She saw, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, that he was looking in the direction of her brother, who was conversing about something with her father, his hand stretched out on the table clenched into a fist.

She wondered if the incestuous habits of the Targaryens, such as his brother Aegon's marriage to his sister Helaena, had made him see more of her relationship with Royce than she would have liked.

She swallowed silently at the thought, looking down at her hands placed in her lap. Several toasts were made to the health of the bride and groom, and then everyone began to help themselves with food.

The thought that perhaps she had frustrated him again made her throat and stomach clench.

She realized that the last time she ate any meal was the morning before, however, the mere thought of swallowing something made her sick to her stomach. She flinched as she heard her husband's low grunt.

"Eat." He commanded low, putting one of the platters back in its place.

Resigned, she looked around for something light and decided to eat the soup that was standing nearby. It wasn't until she ate that she had a chance to look around the table.

She saw several boys with black hair who must have been her husband's family and the sons of his half-sister, the heir to the throne.

She was sitting nearby, across from them, contentedly chatting about something with her husband-uncle, they were accompanied by two white-haired girls who gave her calm, comforting smiles, which she returned.

Then her attention turned to her own sisters. They didn't look at her, Cassandra seemed to her pale and frustrated, the rest of them only pretended to be pleased.

She thought painfully that they still hadn't forgiven her and put her spoon down halfway through her meal, losing her appetite.

She saw that her husband froze mid-movement and swallowed loudly, feeling him look at her. She pursed her lips at the thought, a drop of cold sweat ran down her back as she tentatively looked up at him and met his frustrated, dark gaze which did not tolerate any objection.

He wanted her to keep eating.

"I don't feel well." She mumbled, feeling that if she took another spoonful of this soup down her throat she would just vomit.

He turned his head at her words, grabbing his goblet in his hand, taking a sip of wine from it, setting it down on the wooden table with a loud clink of metal.

She sighed softly in relief, seeing that he had obviously left her alone.

She hopped on her seat as his brother, sitting next to her, leaned over her, obviously wanting to whisper something to her, she could clearly smell the intense, unpleasant odour of alcohol from him.

“I could hear you all the way in my chamber. I want you to know that the door to mine will be always open for you." He hummed, taking a loud sip of wine from his cup as if he had said something light and amuzing at the same time.

She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth slightly parted in complete shock. She turned her head to look at her husband and shivered at the murderous gaze in his good eye that was directed at his brother, she felt that she was in the middle of some big storm that she didn't like at all.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the king ordered music to be played, several people stood up to dance with each other. She reached for her cup and took a few sips of wine, feeling that what was happening around her was too much for her sober mind.

She knew that her family was returning to Storm's End the next morning and decided that she wanted to spend as much time with her brother as possible, since she was not going to see him for a very long time. They met alone in her chamber, sitting on her chaise longue.

Royce had asked her about her husband and she had tried to give as truthful answers as possible, without giving him certain details that she knew would infuriate him.

"He's introverted and strict, but I believe we'll be able to communicate. He was understanding with me on our wedding night and didn't hurt me." She said softly, looking at her fingers and Royce nodded at her words, still tense.

“He seems pretty brutal to me, I don't want him to treat you badly." He said lowly, taking her hand in his, looking at her expectantly. "If he ever hurts you, I'll rip his heart out."

They both turned towards the door when they heard someone come in, her husband stared at them stony-faced but she could see in his eye surprise and frustration that she wasn't alone. She stood up quickly, bowing to him, followed by her brother, albeit reluctantly.

"Leave me alone with my wife, my Lord." He spoke low, not even gracing him with a single glance, his gaze fixed on her, piercing and expectant. She shivered hearing those words.

My wife.

Royce tensed inside himself, not used to being spoken to like that, seeing this she looked at him and nodded for him to go. Royce sighed and left, throwing her husband a defiant look, closing the door behind him.

They were left alone.

They stared at each other for a moment in an awkward silence.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything before he did.

She flinched when he suddenly spoke up.

"Are you feeling well already?" He hummed coldly, she felt that there was a second bottom in his question.

For a moment she did not understand what he meant, but then she realized that he was referring to her words during the supper.

"Yes, thank you, my prince." She said softly, not taking her eyes off of him.

Silence fell between them again. She felt that he had come for something completely different and prayed that he wouldn't want to possess her again.

She was barely able to sit up because of their two intense intercourses.

"You and your brother are touchingly close to each other." He said slowly, a dangerous, dark gleam in his gaze that made her swallow hard.

A statement, not a question.

She knew she had to think carefully about what will leave her mouth.

She could not laugh at or disregard his concerns, feel that he would feel humiliated or ridiculed. Whatever she thought of him, if she wanted to gain his favour and sympathy, she could not offend his pride.

"Yes. Yes, we are." She said softly, trying to sound as innocent as she actually felt, deciding that she didn't need to explain herself further, as she had nothing to hide from him.

Her husband looked at her with his hands folded behind his back, as if wondering what to do with her answer. He lowered his gaze, involuntarily running his tongue over his full lower lip, as if he was collecting his thoughts in his head.

"I do not want any men to visit you in your chamber, except me and your father." He said warningly, lowly, looking her straight in the eye as if he wanted to make sure she understood what he meant.

It wasn't a suggestion.

"If that's my husband's request, I'll respect it." She said calmly, twisting his words so as not to give him a psychological advantage.

She saw his eye narrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a small, dangerous smirk. He knew exactly what she was doing, but chose not to react.

Her answer was enough for him.

He moved towards her and she trembled all over, with the remnants of her will holding back the desire to retreat, to escape.

She could be submissive to him, but never weak.

She shivered as he suddenly took her cheeks in his big hands, rough from holding a sword, his thumbs pressing and brushing over her soft skin.

She thought, shocked, that he was imitating her brother's gestures as he greeted her in front of him.

That gentle, tender gesture that didn't suit him at all.

It moved her.

As then, she lifted her hands and placed it over his; she saw him swallow hard as she buried her face in his fingers, closing her eyes.

She dared to kiss the center of his palm, pressing her moist, puffy lips to his skin, felt him gasp at the gesture, surprised, her lips parted as her eyelids opened again to look at him.

He leaned over her, pressing his nose against her warm, soft cheek, taking her completely by surprise, his eye was closed as if in pain,he breathed heavily as if he himself did not know why he had actually come to her, what he was looking for in her, why he desired whatever he saw then.

She wondered if anyone had ever shown him that kind of care and tender, gentle touch.

She swallowed loudly and lifted her hand to touch his cheek. He looked at her then fear, his lips parted in indecision whether he wanted it or not, his brow arched in pain as her fingertips gently ran over his bare skin. She could see that he was fighting with himself, with his male inner, humiliating feeling that he was showing her weakness.

She decided that she couldn't let him think about it.

"Kiss me." She whispered, surprised by her own words, her gaze clouded by some strange, warm feeling, her swollen lips parted invitingly.

He leaned over her uncertainly, she could feel him struggling with himself as his lower lip barely brushed against hers, drawing a soft, contented sigh from her.

She returned the tender caress, her soft lips finding his, teasing him encouragingly without kissing him fully, he made a sound as if he was in pain, low, quivering that made her heart clench. She took his face in her hands and kissed him timidly, not quite knowing what it should look like, simply pressing her lips to his.

He returned her gesture after a moment with a loud, wet click, his kiss slow and drawn out, completely different from the one she had experienced with him before their wedding night, this time he took his time, allowing her and himself to enjoy this new, surprisingly pleasurable sensation.

He dug into her lips more and more greedily, caressing their fleshy, sticky texture, brushing and sucking them, they both began to pant loudly, she felt the familiar wetness leaking down her thighs again.

"Only I have the right to touch you." He exhaled with anger, irritation, regret that she had allowed herself to be intimate with another man in front of him, that she dared to derive pleasure and comfort from the touch of someone other than himself.

Their kisses were chaotic, loud, moist, sticky, she shuddered every time the tip of his tongue ran over her upper lip, she tentatively licked his tongue with hers, making him gasp aloud, combing his hand through her soft hair.

"Does he kiss you like that too?" He breathed out into her mouth and she felt that for some reason she was aroused by this question, by how incredibly possessive he was.

Surprised by her own inventiveness, she licked his palate with the tip of her tongue, making him draw in a loud breath.

"No." She whispered and that was enough for him.

He started to kiss her like mad, his tongue deep in her throat, his hand holding her neck, not letting her move away. They panted into each other's mouths, clouded by the insane pleasure this simple, obvious closeness gave them.

She thought, surprised, that she wanted this.

That she would let him take her again now despite the pain, if he only wanted to.

She felt them both lose their temper, heir lips, their tongues, their teeth danced with each other in this sticky, hot, loud act of desperation. Her hand slid into his hair, drawing a throaty, low groan from him that made her nipples harden.

He broke away from her abruptly, taking a few steps away, panting heavily.

She felt that he was closing into himself again, distancing himself from her after that sudden, wonderful closeness, and there was nothing she could do about it.

He recognized that he had shown her his vulnerability, his jealousy, which she could use against him.

"If you let him touch you like this again and I find out about it, I'll kill him." He said matter-of-factly, coolly, without emotion, his lips all puffy and red from their caresses. She shook her head in disbelief.

He could not have meant it.

Could he?

She wanted to protest, to say anything, but before she could utter any words, he left her chamber with a loud slam of the door.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines @heavenly1927 @hiatuswhore @it-is-getting-better @linkpk88

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Love's Embrace | TFP Optimus Prime x Ratchet | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1500k

Warnings: Smut ( spike in valve, size difference, sex toys and mech on mech ). NSFW 18+.

Notes: This is a valentine's gift for @beemochi-art through an event on discord. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

It was a day of celebration on earth, a day for love, something the humans did for their significant other. When the autobot's first arrived on earth it was something both Ratchet and Optimus had discovered but never have celebrated before. At first it sounded silly to the medic, why there needed to be a day to express one another's love, and why you couldn't express the same love everyday for the rest of your life.

Optimus seemed to have a small understanding, explaining it was just an extra special day for lovers to express even more, to devote and make the day about themselves. Still, Ratchet found it silly, and so it wasn't really something neither had brought up again, until it did.

The autobot leader and his most trusted friend, his lover, his conjunx endura, have been together since the beginning of the war between autobot's and decepticon's. Both found comfort and love with one another, charging through every battle together, nothing holding them back. It's a bond that can never be torn apart.

Ratchet had finally caved and decided to ask June about this valentine's day, to get a better insight from another human. Although she might've not been the best choice, considering her former partner had left her and Jack on their own, she was the only one Ratchet trusted, and she was happy to talk to him about it.

Ratchet wanted to finally celebrate the day with Optimus, to express his love, to give him extra attention. At first he thought it was a day for expressing love, exchanging gifts, and having the day for themselves, but that wasn't all. June had blurted out about making things interesting in the bedroom before becoming flustered and apologised, but Ratchet insisted on knowing more.

It seemed he found something of interest.

In the evening, Ratchet took Optimus out for a delightful evening together. It was simple, but perfect. A beautiful night of breathtaking clear skies, an enchanting evening for stargazing. Together they lay on the ground, wrapped in each other's embrace, whispering promises of everlasting love and relishing the tender moment.

The moon glows down on them, and it felt the right moment to play some slow dancing music and lean into one another while swaying with some of earth's gentle music. Different from cybertron, but it's a beautiful harmony. Ratchet leans his helm against Optimus' chassis, silently thanking for his happiness and love to grow with Optimus, his leader, his friend, his spark. Optimus wouldn't be here today without Ratchet, he's been there for him through everything, protecting and helping him no matter what. He couldn't ask for a better friend and lover.

Returning to base, Ratchet had one more surprise for Optimus. Entering their shared quarters, the room was already set up with the lights dimmed, warm hues highlighting areas in the room.

“What’s this?” Optimus questions curiously, astonished optics glancing around.

Ratchet smiles delicately and slides his servos up across Optimus' chassis again, bringing his helm down and sharing a graceful kiss with him “Happy Valentine's day.”

A flood of warmth rushes through him again, the pulsing love continues to throb between them. "Happy Valentine's day."

Ratchet lets out a delightful hum then. "I have a gift for you. I've been working on it this week, and I hope you like it." Optimus is given the gift, and upon opening, he's astounded by just what Ratchet had given him. "It's a spike sleeve, with added ridges for stimulation, and I've added a mod that vibrates, providing excellent pleasure for us both."

Optimus can't hold back his growing smile. "It certainly is beautiful. How would you like to proceed?"

"I want you to decide. Tonight, I want you to do what you want." Usually, Optimus lets Ratchet decide and that's how it's been mostly.

Optimus is touched by his offer. "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain, my love."

"Then...perhaps tonight, I'll try it."

They proceed, sharing soft kisses while sitting on the berth and Ratchet slowly pumping at Optimus' spike, circling his digit across his twitching tip and using his other servo to rub between the folds of his valve, adding another skillful digit against his sensitive node. Ratchet knows how to take care of him, to bring him an adoring amount of pleasure at any pace possible.

Once throbbing hard, Ratchet helps slide the sleeve over his spike, slowly rolling it down and making sure it's snug around him. "How does that feel? Not too tight?"

"No, it's perfect, but I'm concerned about the girth. While it's...alluring, I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, I promise."

Ratchet feels a rush of arousal rushing through him, frame quivering excitedly at the thought of being buried down on him, knowing the sleeve has extended his size and the added mod will provide even more pleasure. Moving himself, he straddles Optimus' lap, servos running across his shoulders onto the back of his helm.

Slowly, he positions himself over his spike and grinds down along the thick girth, gliding his valve along the length, his own spike now extended out and rubbing up against Optimus between their heated bodies. An emotion of thrill bursts out, full of love and happiness.

"Lay on the berth." Optimus says, wanting to be on top and face his lover. Ratchet doesn't hesitate and spreads his thighs wide for him to settle against. The mighty love pules through their sparks, desperately wanting to reach out to one another, but not yet.

"I love you, Optimus." Ratchet lets out a husky whisper, sharing another kiss, before finally feeling his thick spike slide into his eager valve, and indeed, the sleeve provided much more thickness for the medic to take, something he was more than happy to have buried deep in him.

Optimus lets out a low groan from his chassis as he clenches his dentas together, watching himself slowly sink into Ratchet, each rippled ridge passing his plump valve lips. It's intoxicating, watching yourself frag your lover, an addictive thrill Optimus always enjoyed.

Ratchet arches his back from the berth while using his servos to cling onto his lover's broad shoulders. "Primus. Feels wonderful. Please, Optimus, don't stop moving."

He didn't need to be told twice and continued to push himself inside, until he was fully embedded, and slowly drew his waist back and forth, gently rocking into him and keeping a slow pace. The size of his spike and the sleeve provided the perfect pleasure for them both, the rippled ridged gliding through Ratchet's valve as he clenched around him, letting out fierce moans.

Optimus smiles between his heated vents, grunting softly after each delivered thrust. Then, he remembers. "How do you activate the mod?"

Ratchet looks at him and lets out a greedy smirk. "So eager for it? Alright than." He had the activator, and once he does this, the sleeve starts vibrating. This causes both him and Optimus to let out surprised shouts through their eager groans.

The whole sleeve pulsed rapidly with the vibrations Ratchet had installed, never even testing it out on himself, this was the first, and he couldn't have praised himself even more just how damn clever he was. What a beautiful sensation he felt rushing through him.

"Optimus!" He cried out through a lingering mewl, thighs clenching firmly around his lover's thin waist as he pumped his spike into him rapidly. Optimus lets out heated grunts against Ratchet's neck, dentas nibbling against the sensitive cables as he rocks his hips against the medic in a firm and brisk pace, loving how the sleeve feels around his spike and buried deep in his lover.

Ratchet feels his channel stretching more, a bulging lump formed at his lower abdomen, craving and loving the feeling it gave him. His own spike and sensitive node is stimulated against Optimus through his rapid thrusts, increasing by the second, hips rutting against him over again. It was going to be over shortly, this they both knew, and they didn't hesitate holding back.

Without words, Optimus kisses Ratchet, glossas tangling together with hungry moans, devouring each others lips and swallowing one another's muffled sounds, right before Ratchet feels himself overload, spike shooting sticky fluids as his valve compulses, the thick spike suddenly throbbing even more before Optimus overloads deeply in him, letting out a muffled loud moan against the kiss.

Ratchet made sure that his fluids could be emptied inside him, even with the sleeve on, and lowered the vibrations to a stop as Optimus slowed his movements to soft jerks and lay half against his frame, cooling fans kicking in hard from both of them. His servo touches between them as he caresses the bump formed against him, loving out his pulsed under his servo.

"So, like the present?" Ratchet manages to ask between heated vents, feeling proud of himself and very satisfied.

"I adore it. Thank you." Optimus smiles, servo caressing his cheek plating and kissing him once more. "I love you."

"As I love you, darling."

[bieddiediaz]

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray we'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made and you'll say, "oh my, we really were t i m e l e s s."

happy birthday @oneawkwardcookie 💖💖

[Image ID: 10 GIFs of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1, overlaid with lyrics from Taylor Swift's Timeless. GIF 1: A painting and an open book on a black wooden table. The painting has an ornate gold frame. Inside the painting is a GIF of Buck hanging from the extended ladder of the ladder truck after he is struck by lightning. Partially on top of the painting, a book lies open with a GIF on either page, of Buck and Eddie respectively facing each other after Eddie is shot. The lyrics are stylised as text in the book, reading 'I came upon a book covered in cobwebs / story of a romance torn apart by fate.' GIF 2: Two GIFs overlaid on top of each other. The first GIF shows Buck laying on the road staring at a fallen Eddie after Eddie is shot. The second shows Eddie yelling Buck's name as he rushes to get to Buck after Buck falls from the ladder truck. Both GIFs are blurred. The lyrics are stylised in old gothic font, reading 'somehow I know that you and I would've found each other / and I'd die for you in the same way.' GIF 3: Eddie and Buck are in full turnout gear. Eddie is walking as the fire truck drives alongside him, with Buck hanging off of it. The GIF is tinted orange. The text reads 'if I first saw your face / on a crowded street in 1944.' GIF 4: Two GIFs overlaid on top of each other. The first GIF shows Buck rushing out of Maddie's hospital after he gets her letter telling him that she can't run away with him. This GIF is black and white. The second shows Eddie in his army uniform getting on a helicopter. The text reads 'and you were headed off to fight in the war / you still would've been mine.' GIF 5: Two GIFs overlaid on top of each other. The first GIF shows Buck as a bartender in Peru, listening to Connor tell him about LA. The second shows Eddie at his parents' house, listening as they tell him that they think Chirstopher should live with them. The text reads 'cause I belive that we were supposed to find this / even in a different life / you still would've been mine / we would've been timeless.' GIF 6: The GIF has a crack down the middle. On the left of the crack, Buck begs his parents to love him despite him and Maddie not being perfect kids. On the right, Eddie breaks down after he learns that all his teammates from the army are dead. The GIF slowly transitions from colour to black and white. The text is aligned along the crack, reading 'time breaks down your mind and body / don't you let it touch your soul.' GIF 7: Two GIFs overlaid on top of each other. The first GIF shows Buck turning around in the firehouse to see Eddie for the first time. The second shows Eddie grinning as he meets the team for the first time. The GIF has a papery texture to it. The text reads 'it was like an age old classic / the first time that you saw me.' GIF 8: A piece of parchment paper. In a large square on the left side, Buck and Eddie shake hands after working together for the first time. On the right side, the lyrics are stylised like text in a book, reading 'the story started when you said hello.' GIF 9: Two GIFs overlaid on top of each other, of Eddie and Buck covertly meeting each other's eyes in the middle of the firehouse. Eddie is in black and white while Buck is in colour. The text reads 'in a crowded room a few short years ago / sometimes there's no proof you just know.' GIF 10: A pocket watch on the screen. Inside the pocket watch, a montage of Buck and Eddie through the years cycles repeatedly. The hour and minute hand of the pocket watch rotate clockwise. In the background, behind the pocket watch, the same series of GIFs is enlarged and blurred. Around the watch, stylised in old gothic font, the text reads 'you're always gonna be mine / we're gonna be timeless.' /end ID]

[nottyourlover]

Broken Bonds - ch 1.

a/n: hopefully a series :)))) stay with me for the start here okay guys good things come to those who wait 🤡

summary: as azriel leaves for a long mission in vallahan, you find that clinging onto old bonds does nothing to heal them.

warnings: reader's pregnant, falling out of love, angst. dark mental health themes.

word count: 1594.

pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // epilogue?

***

The Night Court was abuzz with activity, as preparations for Azriel's departure on a long mission to Vallahan were underway. The news had come suddenly, leaving everyone scrambling to get everything in order. Azriel was to leave in two days' time, and the thought of being apart from him for so long was almost too much to bear. You had begged and pleaded with Rhys to not let Azriel go, delay the mission, shorten the mission, anything. Obviously, he did not budge on the decision, but you could imagine the strain on a High Lord that war would bring, especially since he also had Nyx now. Ultimately, you did know the importance of his mission. Mor had returned to Velaris as the Night Court Emissary to Vallahan, but she needed backup and Azriel's skillset along with his ability to fly was perfect. He had left for many dangerous missions in the past, but when you had asked Rhys about the duration of this one, you were shocked to hear him say "A year? Maybe two".

Your child would be born before your mate returned.

>>>

You and Azriel had been drifting apart for a while, the once intense passion between you now replaced by a strained silence. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when things had started to change, but you both knew that something was different. Maybe it was your last wedding anniversary, when you had fought over not seeing each other for months due to clashing hours, but that was years ago. A century was a long time to spend in a romantic relationship with just one person, let alone almost two centuries.

You had learned that you were 3 weeks pregnant, a fact that you had been keeping hidden from Azriel for fear of driving him even further away. When Madja had come to heal one of Cassian's injuries that had knocked him unconscious, she had asked to have a word with you afterwards.

"You're with child, y/n," Madja said, smiling as she pulled you into a private room.

"I'm pregnant?" you were in complete disbelief. You and Az had barely even seen each other lately because you were either asleep when he got home, or the other way around. Your immediate thought was to run to Azriel, hug him, kiss him, congratulate him. He was going to be a father. You were going to be parents!

Then you remembered. You two were barely speaking now. A few days ago, there was a disagreement over a dinner date that Azriel was almost two hours late to, and when he finally came, he seemed distracted and uninterested. You had only just started your entrées when Rhys burst into the restaurant with some urgent news, drawing Azriel away and leaving you to eat alone.

"Yes, y/n. Oh, I'm ecstatic for you!" Madja wrapped her delicate arms around your shoulders, but you were frozen. There was nothing worse than not being able to talk to the one you longed for the most.

After your experience with Madja, the only person who really noticed was Feyre, who had asked you what the matter was immediately, and yet again when you refused your favourite tarts. After you told her everything, she had immediately asked Helion to travel to Velaris and help mask your new scent so no one would find out about your pregnancy until you told them. The thought of bringing a child into a war-torn world with parents whose relationship was already on such shaky ground made you feel sick with worry.

However, despite the tension between you, Azriel was still the only person you wanted to be with. You were mates after all, and husband and wife too. You couldn't imagine a life without him, even if it seemed like that was where you were headed. Growing up in the Illyrian camps, books were scarce, but stories traveled by word of mouth. You had heard about the beauty of mating bonds, the love, the desire these couples had, but also the sorrow that sometimes broke the same bonds, the disasters, the catastrophes. They said losing your mate was like losing yourself.

So as you watched him pack his bags, you couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over you. The future felt uncertain, and you didn't know how things would turn out. Would you end up like one of the females in the legends you heard as a young girl, so broken by the loss of their mate that they died young and unhappy and unfulfilled?

Flashbacks of better times flooded your mind as you watched Azriel move about the room. The way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way he would wrap his arms around you and hold you close. It all seemed so distant now. Your afternoons reading by the fire, training together, heavy breathing but content as you walked up the House of Wind's stairs together, just talking and laughing. You remembered the moments where your relationship was new, so fragile you hadn't dared to tell anyone, the two of you sneaking off for just a moment of alone time.

You remembered the day you were mated, oh, how happy and in love you both were. The world had seemed so full of possibility then, and you had both believed that your happiness would last forever. Azriel's whispered promises still echoed against your skin, the memory of where he first murmured them, when your bodies were entwined, and your hearts were beating in sync, was still strong. Back then, the mating bond between you was like a beacon, guiding you to a happier future. You both deserved a better future... Now though? It was dull.

Things had changed. Azriel was leaving for a mission that could potentially be dangerous, last for years, and you were one month pregnant with a child that you didn't know if you could raise on your own.

On the morning of his departure, you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. You fell into Azriel's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He instinctively wrapped himself around you, shielding the both of you with his wings.

"I don't want you to go," you whispered through your tears. You could hear his heart beating through his armor, comforting and steady, so familiar.

"I know, y/n. I'm sorry," he kissed your forehead and your skin tingled. "I have to though," Azriel replied softly, regretfully, his arms tightening around you. "I don't want to leave either."

You murmured inaudibly, sniffing.

"This mission is important," he continued, hands circling your back soothingly. "We need the Queen of Vallahan to sign the peace treaty as soon as possible."

"But what about us?" you asked suddenly, looking up at him. Were you selfish? Your world on the brink of war and you were worried about your love life?

"What of our relationship?"

Azriel's expression was pained as he looked down at you. "I don't know," he said honestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Things have been difficult between us, and I don't know how to fix them."

You wanted to tell him about the baby, to beg him to stay with you and start a family.

"As many little ones as you want, love," Azriel had once replied, smiling at you lovingly. You were sitting on the kitchen counter happily, his oversized shirt falling off your shoulders. He had kissed your left shoulder, exactly on your scar, your skin tingling. He pulled the shirt back up but this had only led to the other side falling down more, causing him to smirk a little as he adjusted it, lest you accidentally show more skin than intended if someone made the unfortunate decision to walk into the kitchen that morning.

"But my dear mate, I want what you want," you had replied, smiling, reaching for his hands to kiss their scars.

As you opened your mouth, the words wouldn't come because you knew deep down that it wouldn't change anything. You were a little selfish, but not ignorant nor sabotaging. Prythian would need all the allies it could get, and you were hopeful that with Azriel's persuasion, Vallahan's queen would finally sign.

You slowly pulled away from Azriel, wiping your tears. His eyes softened to an expression almost recognisable. An expression that almost reminded you of your past. Almost.

"I love you, y/n," Azriel said after a while. You smiled sadly, reaching for his hands to kiss their scars like you used to do.

"I love you too, Azriel," you replied, the dull bond in your mind slowly reigniting. Azriel gave you a kiss, longer than all the ones you had shared in the many months of your previous rough patches, and for those few wonderful seconds you felt the spark again, almost like new. He rested his forehead against yours, whispering, "I'll be safe, I promise". The two of you stayed like that for a while before you heard Rhys calling him and the noisy flap of wings from just outside your balcony window.

With one last glance at you, Azriel turned his back with his belongings, pausing at the window when,

"Don't forget me," you called, half-smiling.

"I couldn't if I tried," Azriel replied, before soaring into the sky.

You heard his powerful wings thumping as he soared from the balcony, away from his mate and away from his future child.

As you placed your hand on your stomach, you thought to yourself that maybe things would work out, maybe there was still a chance for you and Azriel to be happy together.

It seemed that only time would tell.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans so please keep that in mind! Homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More polls here and more info here! Lyrics for the songs and FAQ under the cut!

Timeless lyrics

Down the block, there's an antique shop

And something in my head said, "Stop," so I walked in

On the counter was a cardboard box

And the sign said, "Photos: twenty-five cents each"

Black and white, saw a '30s bride

And school lovers laughin' on the porch of their first house

The kinda love that you only find once in a lifetime

The kind you don't put down

And that's when I called you and it's so hard to explain

But in those photos, I saw us instead

And, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other

In another life, you still would've turned my head even if we'd met

On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right

And you would've been fine

We would have been timeless

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

I had to smile when it caught my eye

There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway

Holdin' hands on the way to a dance

And the date on the back said 1958

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you

Time stood still like somethin' in this old shop

I thought about it as I started lookin' 'round

At these precious things that time forgot

That's when I came upon a book covered in cobwebs

Story of a romance torn apart by fate

Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love, like we did

And I'd die for you in the same way if I first saw your face

In the fifteen hundreds off in a foreign land

And I was forced to marry another man

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this

So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

Time breaks down your mind and body

Don't you let it touch your soul

It was like an age-old classic

The first time that you saw me

The story started when you said, "Hello"

In a crowded room a few short years ago

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know

You're always gonna be mine

We're gonna be

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made

And you'll say, "Oh my, we really were timeless"

We're gonna be timeless, timeless

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

You still would've been mine

We would've been

Down the block, there's an antique shop

And somethin' in my head said, "Stop," so I walked in

🫶🫶🫶

Castles Crumbling lyrics

(Once, I had an empire)

(Once, I had an empire)

(Once, I had an empire)

Once, I had an empire in a golden age

I was held up so high, I used to be great

They used to cheer when they saw my face

Now, I fear I have fallen from grace

And I feel like my castle's crumbling down

And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground

And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down

You don't wanna know me now

Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty

Crowds would hang on my words and they trusted me

Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far

I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart

Power went to my head and I couldn't stop

Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off

And here I sit alone behind walls of regret

Falling down like promises that I never kept

And I feel like my castle's crumbling down

And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground

And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down

You don't wanna know me now

My foes and friends watch my reign end

I don't know how it could've ended this way

Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor

People look at me like I'm a monster

Now they're screamin' at the palace's front gates

Used to chant my name

Now they're screaming that they hate me

Never wanted you to hate me

My castle's crumbling down

And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground

And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down (Just let you down)

My castle's crumbling down

You don't wanna know me now, now

(Once, I had an empire)

(Once, I had an empire)

(Once, I had an empire)

🫶🫶🫶

The question is which song is queerer to you! Queerer can mean whatever you want it to mean; you might consider a song queer because you think it was written that way, or because of Swiftian lore. It might be queer to you because of how you relate it to your own life. Maybe you think from a purely literary standpoint the lyrics have queer themes; maybe you're just thinking about vibes!!!

If you’d like to send in interpretations or propaganda for a specific song you can send them to my inbox! All interpretations are welcome and let’s be open and kind in response to all interpretations <3