#saying she was fired if anything would have protected her from death threats in the korean hellscape that is their gender war??

[agriocnemis]

relistening to what happened with the Ishmael wetsuit thing really just makes you hate misinformation, because so many people quit for no reason in the end. especially since it's been a while since we've learned that the artist quit- she wasn't fired. she quit because she didn't want to get harassed nor project moon to get harassed further,, she got given a lot as she left from project moon. go support her but gods damn guys,,, biases in translations are very real,, especially when one of the parties involved literally wanted to take OVER the company then illegally released documents the artist did not want to get out because she would get targeted further.

[comewithmeintothedeep]

Fem!Reader X Male Red Half-Dragon

Sequel to: Here. Word Count: 10,397 Explicit: Yes. Warnings: Size difference, breeding, marathon sex, somnophilia.

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It was borderline unheard of for a queen to rule a kingdom unanimously without a king. News of the usurpation spread quickly throughout the surrounding kingdoms, the Red Queen making her presence known once she took the throne from King Frederick by force and changed the kingdom completely. You remembered the fear in your father when he heard of King Frederick’s death.

Rumours spread quickly. They say that the Red Queen made a pact with Ammar, the Red Dragon, destroyer of kingdoms, and bringer of fire and death. Ever since you were a young child, your father, the king of the Kingdom by the Sea, became overly protective of you. He forbade you to accompany him to any of his meetings with the Red Queen, but he always returned…perplexed? Angry? You couldn’t say for certain.

Either way, he always seemed confused and it upset him greatly. You could always hear him shouting in his study or muttering under his breath about some sort of trick, some sort of deception. A woman who would murder her own queen and fraternize with an evil Red Dragon could never truly be kind or courteous. That it was some sort of plot to undermine him and the other kingdoms.

Rumours of her connections to Ammar were only confirmed by the announcement of the Red Queen’s son, Prince Balmorn – a Red Half-Dragon.

Your father only grew more overprotective despite your growing curiosity. You were the princess, didn’t you deserve to know what was going on in your neighbouring kingdoms? Shouldn’t you have a say in interkingdom relations? Even now, as an adult, your father still forbade you from any business involving the Kingdom of the Red Mountain…until one fateful day when your father, brows furrowed and jaw set, met you with a most peculiar proposal.

One you would not have expected in all of your wildest fantasies. “The Red Queen and I have made an arrangement – you are going to marry her son, Prince Balmorn.”

You weren’t outraged, exactly. More than anything, you wanted to meet with the Red Queen and see for yourself why your father was so apprehensive when it came to her. But why marriage…and why now? Your father had always kept you away from most other children when you were young, the only other children you were allowed to meet were the children of other nobles or royalty from other kingdoms. Your father even said that it was likely you would marry one of them.

So why the Prince of the Kingdom of the Red Mountain? Why the son of the Red Queen? “Father, you have always been suspicious of the intentions of the Red Queen. Why marry me into her family?”

“I’m still suspicious, (Name).” Your father promptly reminded you, lips curled into a sneer. “But I’m no closer to figuring out her secrets or discovering that witch’s true motives or her plans…but she was curious about you, and she made a proposition. Our kingdoms would be united through your marriage to her son, Balmorn. But I know this is a trick.”

You tilted your head. Your father had always gone on and on about how everything the Red Queen did was a trick, but he was never able to procure any evidence to his claims. All he ever did was cast suspicion on her acts of good will, but to your knowledge, the Red Queen never made any threats to the other kingdoms nor did she act in a way you would consider to be duplicitous, at least from the accounts the nobles in the other surrounding kingdoms gave. So far, there was nothing to denote that your father was right about any of it being some kind of deception.

Naturally, you had your own reservations about marrying Prince Balmorn – you hardly knew each other, on account of your father forbidding you to accompany him to his meetings with the Red Queen.

Your father, however, was quick to reassure you. “That’s why I want you to marry her son.” He stated, shoulders square and head raised, crown glinting in the light of the sun, the sounds of the sea lapping on the nearby shore cascading into your ears as he spoke, the familiarity of home like a comforting blanket draped across your shoulders. “I want you to earn the Red Queen’s trust and discover her secrets within. I want you to discover what precisely her schemes truly are and report back to me once you do. And once you discover her true treachery, I want you to end both the prince and the queen’s lives.”

Audibly, you gasped, rising from your seat and raising your voice with a defiant tone towards your father. The king though he may be, had never asked nor demanded anything like this of you before and you didn’t have even the slightest idea how he thought you could do such a thing. “Father, I’m not trained in the art of skullduggery. I’m not a violent person. What makes you think I could accomplish this?”

“You will because I am asking you to.” Your father said sternly, sighing heavily as he took his crown off of it head and laid it in his lap, taking a seat in his throne. “The Red Queen is dangerous. Every day that her true intentions are a mystery is a day that the threat of her and that monstrous dragon hangs over our heads. She won’t even grant her name to us, insisting that we call her only by her title. Not even her knights, guards, or citizens know her name and even if they do not it, they will not speak it. A queen who rules alone with secrets held that closely cannot be trusted…I’m asking you to protect our kingdom.”

The fear of the unknown was a powerful one. Humans were not immune to it, truly. Your father was seemingly no exception, but you would be lying if you said you were not uneasy with the prospect of meeting the Red Queen and marrying her son. But it was not because of anything your father told you, but because these people were effectively strangers to you. You were never allowed to form your own judge of character about them because your father never allowed you to.

And, that was before asking the most obvious question. “And what if you’re wrong, father?”

Your question was met with a sharp glare, your father’s head lowering as he growled under his breath. “I am not wrong. A woman with secrets held that closely is dangerous and it’s only a matter of time before the knife in her sleeve is brandished and used to cut all of our throats.” He replied without yielding, reaching down to take his crown and place it back upon his head, staring you down. “It is why your mother no longer graces our palace with her presence.”

Right…your mother. Your father had told you that your mother had attempted to kill him in his sleep one night. Your father claimed she wanted sole claim to the throne, but the idea just didn’t make sense to you. Not from what you remembered of her.

But you accepted your role. If your father willed it, it was what needed to happen. And if he was wrong, then no harm would come to him or your kingdom and he would have nothing to be concerned about

Though…somehow…you couldn’t be entirely sure of that.

The carriage ride to the Kingdom of the Red Mountain was a long and anxious one, anticipation causing you to practically rattle in your draperies. You weren’t afraid of the Red Queen nor her son, but your fathers worries echoed in your head. You weren’t so sure you could go through with what he asked of you, even if he was right.

But he was so sure that because you weren’t the woman your mother was that you could. You had no idea how that made any sense, so you simply put the thought away and focused on rehearsing your manners and pleasantries. You didn’t want to make a poor first impression, after all.

Once you promptly arrived in the kingdom, the Red Queen was the first to greet you, her knights standing at attention and opening the door to your carriage, allowing you to step down and offering a hand for you to take, of which you accepted out of politeness.

Facing the Red Queen had you…surprised. She did not wear lavish draperies nor expensive jewelry, nor did she seem to carry herself any higher than her knights. The only remotely expensive thing she wore was her crown. She did wear a suit of armour, but it didn’t look any different from that which the knights wore.

You remember your father mentioning that King Frederick’s throne was usurped by one of his knights.

And off by her side was a large humanoid Red Half-Dragon, tough scales practically glowing like rubies in the light of the summer day, eyes glowing a burning amber as fierce as a raging hot fire. His horns curled gracefully behind his head, though the fins protruding from behind his head seemed flattened against him. What struck you as particularly odd was that this had to be Prince Balmorn, yes? So why did he seem so…meek? His head was ducked, wings resting on his shoulders like a cape, and his tail was curled around his feet. He even refused to meet your gaze.

Was he…nervous? Well, I suppose the feeling is mutual, then. Clearing your throat, you bowed and performed a curtsy as was customary when greeting royalty, head lowered to show respect to the Red Queen. “Your Majesty,” you said with a pleasant tinge of honey to your voice, “I’ve been anxious to meet you for some time.”

To your surprise, the Red Queen put up a hand and shook her head at you. “No, please. You do not have to bow to me. You are Princess (Name), yes?” She said, encouraging you to stand tall once again, which you did. You did not want to disrespect her in her own kingdom, after all. “I’ve been just as eager to meet you, but your father, King Richter, has been adamant in not taking you with him to meet with us. I was quite surprised to hear he accepted my proposal for you and my son to marry.”

“Yes…quite surprised.” Prince Balmorn spoke, voice low and unsure as he tucked himself a bit lower, still attempting to avoid your gaze. Even when he was trying to appear smaller, it was clear he was much bigger than his mother.

You nodded in agreement as you walked up, approaching her. Your father was so suspicious of her, but you could sense no trace of malice from the Red Queen, nor her son. In-fact, he seemed more afraid of you than you were of him. How odd. “I was rather surprised, too. But I understand that it would be advantageous for our kingdoms to be united by marriage, given outside threats to our kingdoms across the mountain pass.”

“Yes, it would be advantageous to be united as one, especially given your father’s famous naval fleets.” The Red Queen said plainly before shaking her head. “However, this agreement is not binding. It would be a blessing for you and my son to be wed, but if the both of you don’t find the arrangement agreeable, I will not force it and I will send you back home to your father and we can negotiate some other avenue for unification.”

Finally, Balmorn nodded and met your gaze properly, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders. Stepping forward, he knelt onto the ground, looking up at you as he gently took your hand in his. Your heart was beating in your chest once his scaly claws met yours, his rough, yet polished scales against your skin and his talons grazing it. Yet, he handled you so delicately, keeping his claws carefully tucked so that he would not hurt you by accident. You could even feel him tremble as he brought your hand to his snout, placing a tender kiss on the back of it.

You did not expect his lips to be so soft when they met your skin, but they felt warm. “I would hate for us to be bound in a state of dislike. Her Majesty emphasizes that a marriage should come with mutual respect and…an appreciation for each other’s company.”

That caught your ear, and you could not help but tilt your head. “Not love?”

The fins on the sides of Balmorn’s head twitched at your words, a hint of warm amusement behind his amber eyes, slitted pupils rounding ever so slightly when he gazed up at you. “Love is…most ideal.” He replied, rising up to stand, gazing down at you. A small smile tugged at his lips, creasing his maw as he took in your features. You were smaller than his mother, which meant you were very small compared to him. Even the thought of handling you made him feel anxious. Too harsh or too rough, even by accident, and he could break you. You were not a knight like his mother, nor were you raised among the common folk.

No, you were a delicate flower. Though he never attended meetings between your father and his mother, he could hear clear as day that he treated you as such. That he thought you were too fragile to be in the presence of the Red Queen and her son. Of course, King Richter never said as such, but it was what Balmorn could discern through the veiled meanings and subtext your father often spoke in.

It was something that quietly irritated the Red Half-Dragon. His mother spoke plainly and openly, never veiled, and yet King Richter always hid his intentions behind secret meanings and coded language. A dishonest man…it was what had him so anxious to meet you.

That didn’t mean he held any ill will towards you. If anything, it only motivated Balmorn to show you his true nature, that he truly harboured no desire to harm you or anyone. “But sometimes marriage doesn’t come with love and I cannot expect that from you.” He admitted, ducking his head a bit and glancing down at his feet. “I don’t want us to marry if you dislike me. I could never forgive myself if that happened. So, instead, the best I can hope for is that…you like me and…enjoy my company, at the very least.”

You did not expect the Red Prince to be so meek, but you supposed it was a pleasant surprise. This was the man your father was so afraid of? It was somehow both shocking…and unsurprising.

Allowing him to continue holding your hand in his, the Red Queen cleared her throat to get both your attention and nodded. “Well, now that we’ve made ourselves acquainted, why don’t I show you to where you will be staying and we can become more familiar with each other over dinner this evening?”

Nodding in agreement, you allowed the Red Queen, Prince Balmorn, and her guard to escort you to the palace. Though, once you arrived at the palace, the guard simply returned to their posts, allowing you to be mostly alone with the royal family of the Kingdom of the Red Mountain.

Your bedchambers were quite comfortable. It was much more modest compared to your own, but you didn’t actually mind that so much. You got the sense that nothing in here was meant to be superfluous or opulent. Everything here was meant to be comfortable. You had your bedchamber and then a lavatory through a door within your bedchamber.

One thing you noticed was that though the bedsheets weren’t expensive, they were incredibly comfortable and clearly well-tended to. It was evident that the Red Queen cared very much about her guests’ comfort. Your clothes almost seemed excessively gaudy compared to all of this.

Dinner went quite amicably, the cook attempting to be conscientious of your more expensive tastes, but quite honestly, you were more curious about what the actual local cuisine was. You were surprised to be greeted with something like a stew. Though it didn’t look too fancy, it was immensely flavourful and quite filling.

The Red Queen was naturally interested in your upbringing, given that throughout all of her dealing with King Richter, she knew next to nothing about you. Balmorn, of course, was curious about you as well. And, naturally, you couldn’t help but be curious about him, too. As he spoke about himself, his muted and more demure demeanour began to make sense.

Naturally, as the son of the Red Dragon, Ammar, and the kingdom’s new queen, the people were skeptical of him. Some still were left uneasy by Balmorn’s status as the prince. But, as the people grew used to the new rule, the majority got used to Balmorn as well.

And when the Red Queen gave you a proper tour of the Kingdom of the Red Mountain, you immediately began to understand why. The people’s spirits were bright, they greeted the Red Queen eagerly like she was an old friend, like she was one of the townsfolk. Given that she was a knight before she was a queen, that was likely true.

But what struck you was that none of the people lived in squalor. None of the people’s homes had holes in their rooves, none of the people’s clothes were ragged or torn, and none of the people seemed to struggle to eat or make a living. Indeed, none of the people seemed to be left behind.

It was a stark difference between the Red Queen’s kingdom and your father’s kingdom. The difference between the nobility and ruling class as compared to the common folk was…glaringly obvious, even when you were a child. Though your home was the palace, it wasn’t hard to see the state of things from your tower window as a child.

The days were quite pleasant as you spent your time with the Red Queen and her son – your fiancé, you supposed. However, it was not only them that you spent your time with. Your sheltered life led your inclinations towards the common people and the people who worked for the palace. It was quite easy to get to know the people as they were quite eager to share.

They could tell you were a bit out of your element and treated you quickly with kindness. The cook that made the food for the Red Queen and the knights was eager to share her family life with you. The food she made was often the favourites of her children when they grew up, and it was well liked by those that inhabited the palace and those who came to the palace gates to take what was left.

The cook was very quick to tell you that any food that was left was given to the townspeople to share. Thus, she always made a little more than was necessary so that more of the townspeople could have a hearty and healthy meal.

The townspeople remarked often about how young you were, and thus commented that you were probably too young to remember the scourge of Ammar. You replied that your father often frightened you with stories of the Red Dragon when you were a little girl, but the people here actively lived those nightmares for a very long time through the generations.

It was not until the Red Queen took over the kingdom that the people no longer feared the shadow of the Red Dragon over their heads. And it was now that they did not have to fear losing their homes or means to live, thanks to being freed from the rule of King Frederick.

That struck you as odd. Your father had always said that King Frederick was a good man, but every time his name was uttered by the people, the life would die out in the conversation and they were rather quick to change the subject.

You wanted to know more, but you weren’t sure who to ask. Though, your father did say your mission was to discover their secrets.

So, you asked, attempting to ask in a veiled way as to not give yourself away as a potential spy. However, the Red Queen knew what you really wanted to know right away, and to your surprise, she was not only unoffended, but quite quick to tell you her story.

The version of King Frederick that the Red Queen spoke of was not the one your father had told you. The King Frederick that the Red Queen spoke of was nothing short of a tyrant who bled his people dry, sent them to die in a battle they could not win, and executed those who survived to fight another day.

And that was only in his kingdom. The Red Queen was quick to pull out a map of the kingdoms King Frederick had conquered. She had wondered why the other kingdoms seemed amicable with the Red Queen while her father constantly distrusted her – the nobility of the other kingdoms had their power restored by the Red Queen after King Frederick had conquered them.

You had to wonder what kingdoms your father had conquered in much the same way for him to still hold King Frederick in such high regard. Come to think of it, you remembered arguments between your father and the other nobles when he thought you were asleep at night…perhaps that had something to do with it.

The Red Queen told you of how the Red Dragon Ammar had spared her to teach her a lesson about her own kingdom and her own king, as well as a lesson in what it truly meant to slay a monster. And…his attempt to force her to marry him in exchange for her life.

You couldn’t help but wilt. It was no wonder she was so adamant about your choice in this arrangement with her son…and you had to admit, you had found him quite pleasant, thus far. Throughout the week, he often presented you with small gifts, things that you either told him you liked or things he overheard you speak of. Or even small things that reminded him of you.

Something of a small hoard began to accumulate in your bedchambers. The dresser was the perfect space to display the trinkets Balmorn found for you. You never thought of a hoard as something that could be so sentimental, but seeing it all together changed your opinion of dragons in a small way.

The Red Queen finally told you the end of her story – how she took the kingdom and the throne from King Frederick for herself to free her people and the Blazing Star made a proposal to her – marriage, not unlike the proposal the Red Queen made to you and her son. And, just like with you, Ammar made it clear that the choice was hers whether or not she wanted to pursue peace through marriage and begetting a child or through some other avenue, and the Red Queen chose marriage.

So, the Red Dragon now protected the kingdoms that were under King Frederick’s rule. Now you knew why your father was so anxious about the lack of activity from the Red Dragon and the Red Queen’s dealings with him. And why the Red Queen proposed marriage.

If their kingdoms were united through marriage, there was no risk of them being at odds and your kingdom would be under the Firewyrm’s protection as well. But if not, and for whatever reason your father decided to attack the Red Queen and the kingdoms she was allied with…the Red Dragon would not take kindly to such an offense.

There was no doubt that there was a reason to fear the Red Dragon…but the Red Queen was nothing but kind to you since you arrived and given how highly her own people and even people affiliated with her spoke about her, you were inclined to believe her.

At the end of the week, the Red Queen announced her departure from the kingdom, leaving it in the care of the captain of her knights. She needed to converse with her husband at the top of the mountain where he dwelled and she trusted her knights to keep a careful watch and guard over you. So, you took this opportunity to spend some alone time with Balmorn.

It was easy to approach him. He often spent his time in the palace garden, tending to the flowers, there. Though, you noticed that he paid special attention to the flowers you pointed out were your favourite since you told him – Salvias, specifically the blue variety.

And once again, that was where you found him. He knew your presence immediately. You made no effort to hide yourself and your presence was warm and welcome to him. And he knew that his questions were not unwelcome. “What’s it like by the sea?”

Blinking, you tilted your head at him as you approached, putting a hand on his powerful shoulder. “You’ve never been?”

“No. I’ve never been outside of this city.” Balmorn replied, a hint of solemn sadness to his tone of voice as he answered. “My mother thought I would be…safer if I stayed in the city, at least until I could prove I could establish myself. Both to my mother and my father.”

You were glad that Balmorn had grown comfortable enough around you to stop referring to his parents by formal titles, at least when it was just you two.

Sitting next to him, you leaned against his side. You didn’t know a lot about his past, but his nature told you a lot about who he was. He was sensitive, careful, and incredibly considerate, always putting your comfort first. He paid close attention to not only what you liked, but what you disliked. Indeed, it seemed his first priority was ensuring you never felt unsafe, uncomfortable, or even like you were disliked.

In-fact, that was one of the first things you noticed. He seemed to like you very much and you didn’t have to perform for him. He was to be your husband, after all, and at this point, the Red Queen was going to be your mother-in-law. The thought made you feel…comforted. It had been a long time since you could call anyone a mother. It felt…nice. “It’s…cool.” You replied, taking in a deep breath and remembering the time you spent on the seaside as a child. “The ocean breeze against your face, the sun on your face…the soft and warm sand beneath your feet. The smell of the ocean isn’t like anything else.”

Balmorn hummed at your answer. It was hard for him to picture, but it sounded lovely. He hoped he would be able to see it, someday. Though…he wasn’t sure your father would be happy to see him with you on his doorstep. That led him to his next question, since his mother was going up to convene with his father. “What’s…your father like?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean you’ve never met him?”

“No. I’ve overheard his meetings with my mother, but I’ve never attended.” Balmorn replied, throat rumbling as he tried not to let his displeasure for the man be too obvious. “I had a feeling we…wouldn’t get along.”

“From the way he speaks of you, he makes you sound like some creature dragged in from the streets.” You confessed, your walls down after you spent so much time with him. The prince looked a bit wounded, his fins drooping sadly and eyes glittering with disappointment. Though…he didn’t seem surprised. “He…always made it sound like he’d seen you, at the least.”

Balmorn shook his head. “No…not once. Not in-person, anyway.”

Regarding him for a moment, you sighed through your nose. You were sure there was no way to fake the deep sadness and disappointment he seemed to feel in that moment. The way his shoulders sagged and his hands fell in his lap…your heart ached.

You put your hand on his, having grown used to the texture of his scales and his claws. Glancing down at you, his tail then curled around you, pulling you closer to him, draping his wing over your shoulders. The warmth he gave off was comforting. You were almost tempted to fall asleep like this. “My father is…a cautious man.” You admitted, seeing no reason to hide your secrets, given how open both Balmorn and his mother have been about theirs. Even calling them ‘secrets’ was a bit misleading – they were so open about their pasts that they weren’t even really secrets at all.

It was even common knowledge to the common folk in this city. “He refuses to believe in the kindness my mother has consistently shown him.” Balmorn pointed out, a small nervous laugh behind his words as he spoke to you.

“He’s convinced that your mother’s hiding some sort of nefarious secret, that she has plans to conquer him and that her kindness is a front.” You continued to admit, laughing yourself. It was only now after you had spent some time away from your father that you realized just how ridiculous he had been about all of this. “He simply refuses to believe that any of her kindness is genuine and that her secrets make her dangerous.”

Laughing more light-heartedly, Balmorn let out a small ember through his snout as he snickered, utterly beside himself. “If your father refuses to believe anything my mother says is the truth, I can see why he would think we’re hiding something.” He replied, the corners of his mouth tugged up by his eyes creased with laugh lines even underneath his scarlet scales. “Such a shame he lives his life that way…I can’t imagine he has many genuine allies if he believes that transparency is a farce.”

You nodded in agreement, sinking into his muscled arm. Your other hand held onto his tail that was draped over your lap. You felt him rest his chin on your head and felt his chest heave with every breath. Another thing you noticed was how affectionate he was towards you, at least away from prying eyes. Never enough to make you uncomfortable or to seem like he was claiming you, but enough to make you feel like your company was liked.

Though, you couldn’t help also being curious about him and his upbringing. “What’s your father like?”

Fins twitching in response to your question, Balmorn hummed as he contemplated it. It was very difficult to describe his father…but he supposed he should try. After all, you did when he asked about your father. “Tired…” Was his response, looking up towards the mountain where his father lived. “Larger than life…intimidating…older than old…aging gracefully. He wasn’t involved much in raising me, that burden fell to my mother. Though, his expectations of me can be…heavy to carry.”

Looking up at him, you furrowed your eyebrows. People seldom spoke of Ammar as an individual, mostly seeing him as a presence. The Red Queen and Prince Balmorn were the only people who knew him as anything more than that. “What sorts of expectations?”

Humming, Balmorn softly nuzzled you with his chin, softly putting his arm around you, leading you to sit in his lap between his legs and only persisting once he was sure you were allowing it, wrapping around you for comfort. “I am…not my father.” He said quietly. “I have no desire to own land. I have no desire for great riches. I have no desire for great battles or to rule kingdoms. I am not the heir to my father’s legacy, but my mother’s. He always knew that…and I don’t think he begrudges me for it, but…sometimes I can sense that he regards me with…something like disappointment.”

Glancing up at him, you craned your head to regard him closely. His words rang true and more than anything…you wanted to know who he was rather than who he was not. “And…what do you want?” You asked.

Meeting your gaze, amber eyes glowing with an affectionate warmth towards you, he smiled. “I want…to care for the land.” He stated, his chest burning deeply with something he couldn’t quite describe. “I want to make maps. I want to travel and know more than this. I want to plant gardens and create new life. I want to write stories, paint pictures. I want to do more than just own, I want to give to the world.”

Then, his gaze burned hotter when he looked at you. Before you arrived, he wasn’t entirely sure about you. He wasn’t sure if marriage to you was what he truly wanted. You seemed pleasant, and he didn’t want you to be afraid of him. He wanted to like you, at the least, and he did.

He liked you very much.

Gently tracing his claws along your jawline, he held your face tenderly in his rough hands, his smile soft as he gazed down at your delicate beauty. How a human could seem so…harmless, yet so hauntingly beautiful he would never know. Was this how his father felt about his mother? He dared not ask.

He knew what he wanted…now more than he ever did, before. “And…perhaps selfishly – please forgive me for this…” He swallowed before making his proclamation clear, tilting his head as you followed his gaze. “I want you, (Name). You’ve been…kind, patient, and understanding. But you were never afraid of me…I never had that.”

Every sincere word that tumbled out of his lips made you feel guilty. You knew what your father wanted from you and you knew you couldn’t do it. You never could, but now being faced with the possibility that your father would expect you to murder this man, your future husband and mother-in-law?

You couldn’t do it…and you owed it to him for him to know the truth. He had been so forthcoming to you thus far…it was what he deserved. “Wait…Balmorn, I…have something I must confess.” You interrupted shakily, taking a deep breath. The Red Half-Dragon pulled back a bit, giving you space to collect your thoughts and say what you needed to say. His face betrayed only concern and worry for you, and that just made this more painful to admit to.

But…he needed to know. He needed to know the pretenses upon which you were here. “My father…the reason he agreed to this…was because he believed I could learn your and your mother’s secrets…and…” It was so difficult for you to admit to out loud, but you needed to…you needed to no matter what. If you were going to be married, you needed full transparency with one another. “My father told me…to kill the both of you once I learned. But I could never go through with it, that’s not who I am! I’m not…dishonest. I’m not violent…I could never do such a thing…”

You couldn’t meet Balmorn’s gaze, fearful that his sweetness and his kindness and gentleness would fade away. Truthfully, you were afraid – afraid that your father had been right all along and you would meet your fate, here. “I can…understand if you don’t want to marry me, knowing that. But you deserved to know –”

Pulling your face towards his, claws still as gentle as they had always been, he traced your chin, tilting your head up towards him. His lips were merely a breath away, his eyes on yours. There was a heat behind them you hadn’t seen, before, and for a moment you were afraid he was angry with you.

But instead…his voice was gentler than you had ever heard it, before. “I know you would never hurt me…” He murmured, thumb softly tracing your bottom lip before he softly pressed his snout against your nose. “Thank you for telling me, (Name). I trust you…”

Before you could even realize what was happening, he pulled you close, lips pressed against yours as he gingerly kissed you. You gasped through your nose, eyelids falling closed as you sunk into it. His lips were very warm and inviting and he smelled pleasantly like a bonfire. The half-dragon didn’t dare move to elevate the kiss, letting you be free to pull away if you wished.

You didn’t move. Instinct, instead, pushed you to climb further into his lap, seated down comfortably on it as you grabbed his head and tilted it, deepening the kiss and feeling him rumble from within his chest. You had no idea what propelled you to continue like this, but tender turned heated as breaths turned heavy and grip turned firm. You could feel him grow hard from between your legs and when he pressed against you, you whimpered at the sensation you had never felt, before.

Balmorn’s hands grabbed hurriedly at your rear as he pulled you against him, you grinding down against him in response. You were holding onto his horns as you had opened your mouth to let him in, his long tongue filling your mouth and almost tempted to reach down your throat.

When he pulled away, fearful for your sense of safety and comfort, his breaths were heavy, mouth hanging open as he drank you in. His deepest instincts demanded that he make you his mate right then and there, breed you in that garden and fill you with wyrmlings that belonged to him.

But he would not do so. His mother taught him better than to follow his baser instincts like that. No, he didn’t even have the first idea whether or not you were even a virgin. He had to be gentle with you, ease you into this.

And the first thing he needed to do…was make sure you really and truly wanted this. “Should we…continue this in the privacy of my bedchambers?”

Just as short of breath and feeling unbearably warm, you nodded, arms wrapped around his neck. You had never felt anything like this, before, and you were sure you would never feel this way about anyone. Whatever your father said about your union, you didn’t care. Balmorn’s heart was pure and you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You wanted to be his wife. You wanted him to be your husband.

And – right now, more than anything – you wanted him to deflower you. “Please, my prince…” You purred, meaning that now and truly.

Groaning lowly, Balmorn’s rough clawed hands were on you, hoisting you up and carrying you bridal style in his arms, wings flared open as he lifted off from the ground and flew up. You had never flown before, so you naturally clung to him, knowing that he wouldn’t dare drop you.

He carried you up and up and up, to the highest room in the tallest tower of the palace. Lighting down on the balcony, he opened its doors and carried you inside of his bedchambers, closing the door behind him and locking them promptly. You had never seen so much red, before, and it was a deep wine red. In his room, a pile of treasures was haphazardly kept in the corner of the room, a nest made of comfortable and worn blanket and pillows taking the place of a bed just across from a fireplace that was not lit.

Until Balmorn set you down in his nest and turned away, leaning forward and blowing a flame into the fireplace, taking the poker to stoke it before closing it promptly, letting its warmth and its light fill the room. All of the curtains were drawn and the only other door into this place was closed and seemingly locked.

You looked up at him, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. “No one will interrupt us, right?”

“No.” Balmorn replied gruffly, shaking his head. “The only way that leads to my chambers is from the lower levels. There are secret passages along the stairwell if I need to get somewhere quickly, but only I and my mother know them. No one else. So we will not be bothered unless it’s truly important.”

Nodding at him, you sighed shakily. You supposed that made sense, but this sudden domineering attitude was…unexpected. And it made you uneasy. “So…what happens now?”

Raising an eyebrow at you and seeing how you curled in on yourself, Balmorn took in a breath and let it out, trying to calm himself down so that he would not accidentally hurt or frighten you. After all, you may be his bride-to-be, but you were only human.

You were still fragile…he needed to be careful with you. “Now,” he said, wings flared as his tail began to swing languidly back and forth as he approached you, broad shoulders making him appear even larger as he leaned over you, arms propping him up on either side of you as he gazed down at you with eyes that blazed brightly in the dim light of his room, “I make love to you.”

Your heart practically leaped into your chest when he said that in such a low and husky tone. You had never felt anything like this, never felt so…desired. You whimpered when he leaned in, pressing his chest against you as his snout buried itself into your neck, the half-dragon deeply inhaling your unique scent of sea breeze.

The moment your arms threw themselves around him, Balmorn had to fight every instinct not to bury himself in you right then and there. He was a prince and you were a princess. He needed to conduct himself with manners. You were to be his wife, for gods’ sake.

Restraining himself, he pulled back, gazing down at you with all the affection in the world, admiring your flushed cheeks and the way your eyelids fluttered at him. He felt like his heart would stop if he looked at you any longer, but he needed to persist. For your sake. “I must ask…for your sake, my dear: you do want this, yes? You want me? You want me to bed you? To mate you? To make love to you?”

Smiling softly at his meekness coming back just to ensure you were safe and comfortable, you giggled sweetly at him, putting a finger up to silence him and reassure you. “I wouldn’t allow anyone else but you to deflower me, Prince Balmorn.” You said, holding his draconic face in your hands as you pressed your forehead to his, basking in the tender intimacy of this for the moment while you had it. It was necessary…to take a moment to bask in the warmth before it became an all-consuming blaze. “So yes, I want you to make love to me. I want you to claim me as yours. I want to be your wife. I want to have sex with you and I want to marry you and share our lives and our kingdoms together.

“And most importantly…I want to show you the sea, someday.” You added with a cheeky grin.

Laughing a little, you could hear a deep rumble in his throat as he pressed himself into your touch, Balmorn practically melting into you. You had never felt him be this pliant and relaxed, but he still had himself propped up on his elbows. It was then that you could hear him start to growl, his maw right by your ear as his hot breath rolled over your sensitive skin. “Then…I have one last question, my princess…” He hissed, claws tugging at your clothes as he practically pawed at them. “Do you care about these rags?”

Chuckling at his impatience, you gently stroked at the scales on the back of his head and shook yours. “No. Tear them off, if you wish…they’re not important to me.”

With a low hungry bellow, Balmorn could hold himself back no longer, growling as his claws quickly tore apart your blouse and ripped apart anything else that laid underneath, leaving your chest bare and on display for him to admire and gawk at. So much tender beauty encased in supple flesh and it was his.

You were his. You had given yourself fully to him and, with your enthusiastic permission, he was going to take all of you and mark you as his inside and out. Not an inch of you would be left untouched by him. Normally, it was customary to wait for marriage to initiate the consummation, but he didn’t want to wait. This was a consummation of sorts, of their commitment to this relationship and this marriage, but he could just keep this as their little secret from his mother and pretend the night of was their first for her sake.

After all, Balmorn wasn’t going to complain about ravaging you again. Your soft and supple body was nothing short of exquisite.

All at once, your groom-to-be’s long tongue and teeth were everywhere they could find purchase, nipping and lavishing at your neck, holding your body still as you tried to hold onto him for dear life, to grasping at and fondling your soft and plush breasts in his rough hands. He was rutting against you and all of your senses were filled with nothing but him.

Words were beyond you as he began to ravage you, your senses overloaded with pleasure and sensation, but you didn’t mind. It was Balmorn. He could have as much of you as he pleased and then some as far as you were concerned.

His lips and tongue were on your breasts immediately, the soft flesh pliant under his attention and your whimpers and whines music to his ears when he found that your nipples were especially sensitive. Suckling one and rolling the other in his fingertips, he alternated, getting you writhing and riled up as he handled you.

He could tell that you were trying to stifle your noises, but with a wet pop, he scolded you, but not before grabbing your face harshly and stuffing his tongue into your mouth, again, gladly swallowing him down as you grabbed onto his horns, making him hiss and harshly thrust into you, pulling away and leaving a string of saliva connecting you. “Don’t stifle yourself. No one will hear you but me, and I want to hear you sing for me when I make love to you.”

Nodding, you were barely even given a second before your pants and remaining undergarments were torn off of you, leaving you completely bare for him as he suddenly hoisted you up by your hips, your legs slung over his shoulders and his claws pulling your thighs forcibly apart.

Embarrassed, you instinctively tried to shut your legs, but Balmorn would not allow you to hide his most precious treasure from him. And there it was, glistening, wet, hot, and puffy for him. He could smell the musk you were giving off, taking a deep breath of your scent before blowing hot air on your plush and soft mound of flesh.

You felt strange and a bit sheepish when he was examining your most sensitive and private area with such hungry intensity. He didn’t even give you a moment to realize what he intended to do before he pressed his long tongue against you, licking a stripe up your plush and soft folds and causing you to yelp when he dragged it up along your clit.

Once Balmorn got a taste of you, your hot searing silky sweet wetness on his tongue, his appetite was ravenous. His lips formed a seal over yours and his tongue plunged deep inside of you, claws tightly digging into your soft skin as he suckled hungrily and roughly at you, growling and groaning into you as he practically devoured you from the inside out.

Wriggling tongue and suckling lips had you writhing and whining, unable to escape his grip but somehow wanting to draw him even deeper in, even when it wasn’t physically possible. Your entire body was set alight with fiery blaze running red hot through your veins, sensation after sensation wreaking havoc on you as you fought to maintain any coherent thoughts.

Your hands found purchase on his horns, squeezing them in your hands as you fought to ground yourself to something, and it only spurred Balmorn on even further. He suckled even harder at you, swirled his tongue around and pumped it in and out of you even faster. He could feel you dripping down his chin, feel your walls twitching and clenching around his tongue. He was almost tempted to drive you over the edge and finish you, but he wouldn’t.

Not here…not like this. If there was a time you should unravel, it should be while he’s properly mating you.

Breaking the seal his mouth had over you, he pulled away, sliding his tongue out of you at an agonizing pace, maintaining eye contact with you as he allowed you to see just how much of his tongue was inside of you. Your eyes widened as his tongue rested on your naval, your own fluids dripping down your skin and past your breasts.

Before you could even bashfully comment, he kissed you again, snaking his tongue soaked in your fluids into your mouth and letting you taste yourself as he grinded you against his leg, the rough scales making you whimper and jerk in his grasp.

Pulling away from you, he leaned back and began to properly disrobe, shedding his clothes almost as hastily as he tore yours off of you. It didn’t take much to be completely nude, crimson scales glinting like rubies embedded in his hide in the light of the fireplace, his cock standing fully erect as you admired the twitching, leaking, angry looking thing.

It was a fleshy pink colour, and you could almost feel its heat rolling off of it as you stared at it. It was thick, thicker than you thought you could reasonably fit. The tip was tapered at the end to a point and along the underside of it were several fleshy, spiny ridges that formed an unbroken line down to the base where it protruded from its slit. The base was somewhat bulbous in nature where it protruded from.

Nervous, you curled in on yourself, an action that Balmorn took notice of before he sighed, looking over at you and purring affectionately at you, pressing a kiss on your cheek and nuzzling you. “Don’t worry…I won’t hurt you. You can take it nice and slow, a bit at a time until you don’t think you can take anymore. And then we’ll go from there.”

As he softly lapped at your neck affectionately, you relaxed. Even at his most primal, at his most unhinged and most beastly, your safety and wellbeing was his highest priority. What else could you possibly want from a husband?

Nodding, you put your arms around him, holding him close. “O-okay…I trust you.”

Smiling, Balmorn purred softly pulling your arms off of him as he met your gaze hotly. “Turn around, on your hands and knees. Present yourself to me.” He murmured, whispering softly into your ear. “It’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Doing as he told you, you turned around, spreading your legs open for him and resting on your elbows, looking back towards him. “Like this?”

Smirking as he admired the position you were in, he approached you from behind, hands on your hips and hot erection pressed against your naval when he started to feel up your side and your back. “More like,” suddenly, he grabbed you by the back of your head and forced your face down into the blankets and pillows of his nest, releasing his grip and gently running his hands along your back as he hummed contentedly at you, feeling incredibly dirty and indecent presenting yourself to him this way, “this.”

Pressing his hand on your shoulder blades, his other hand kneading at your hip, he then let go of you to line his throbbing hot cock up with your sopping wet entrance, the tapered end allowing easy penetration. Once you felt the intrusion, you gasped, moaning loudly when he started to fill you properly. Once his head was firmly inside, he hissed through his teeth. Fuck, you felt so hot around his cock. Were he not made of fire, you would have burned him.

As he began to press further in, you whimpered, hissing as the painful sting of the stretch proved sharper and more unexpected than you anticipated. Thankfully, Balmorn was quick to soothe you, leaning forward to press his chest against your back and leave kisses and licks along your neck and jawline, whispering encouraging and gentle words into your ear. “Easy, it’s alright…just relax, I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He murmured, hand reaching down as he circled your clit with his fingertip, making you involuntarily grind on him, earning a soft hiss from him. “That’s right…I won’t let anything hurt you, just relax…and feel me reach deep into you.”

Slowly in increments, he pushed his way into you. You could feel the ridges of the underside of his cock bump against your clit on its way inside, making you yelp and whimper as you ground yourself even more on him. The stretch was painful, but his cock felt so good. His gentleness with you helped the pain melt away with each inch he pushed into you.

Bit by bit, he sheathed himself into you. It wasn’t until your lips met the base of him that you decided you were ready.

Once you gave him permission, Balmorn wrapped an arm around your shoulders from underneath your chin with one arm, the other gripping your hip tightly in his hand. His wings tented around you, serving to help hold up his weight as he prepared to rock his hips into you properly. He had every intention of making this well worth it.

His thrusts were slow and methodical, his focus on dragging himself slowly against your walls, making you feel every inch of him. You had never felt anything this good, every bump on the underside of his cock bumped against your clit with every pull and push of him. It practically had you seeing stars, shuddering and wriggling your hips so you could feel more of him. The more you moved, the more impatient you got. The pain didn’t even seem to matter much, anymore.

It didn’t take very long before Balmorn started to fuck you like he was going mad, your sonorous voice echoing around his bedchambers as he plowed you into his nest. Rapid wet slaps accompanied the songs of pleasure and carnal desire, the half-dragon snarling as he bred you and mated you like his deeper draconic instincts demanded that he do. The ridges on the underside of his cock were no longer bumping against your clit one-by-one in slow long drags, but pulled all together against it with his rapid punishing pace.

You had never felt anything like this before, nothing this good. You were practically screaming wildly as he fucked you madly, chasing his high like he would die if he didn’t fill you with his seed. You wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, twitching and jerking like mad as the assault on your senses began to build to a breaking point.

With a snarl, Balmorn paused for a moment, pressing himself as harshly into you with a sudden snap of his hips as he stilled, his cock pulsing and throbbing into you as something hot then began to spill into you. The thought of pregnancy never occurred to you before or during your act of lovemaking, but before you could think any further with what little thought you were capable of having, the half-dragon suddenly fastened his teeth into your neck and bit down, tongue lavishing at the site as he started a punishing pace once more. Even after he had already cum, he still wasn’t empty.

No, his loins still burned and he had a need to put out the fire by any means necessary.

The sounds and smells of sex only intensified as he fucked wildly, fast, hard, and deep. You could hear how wet and sloppy this was becoming with his fluids added to yours and you could feel his base popping in and out of you, your body managing to stretch enough to accommodate his full size, somehow.

It wasn’t long before you were wailing, your insides pulsating, spasming, and contracting as you came and came hard, fluids practically leaking and dribbling out of the both of you as he still continued to fuck you, desperate to chase his second release.

Your mind was mush, your thoughts nonexistent, and your words incoherent as Balmorn made an absolute mess of your insides, snarling by your ear as he grew closer and closer to release.

Then, finally, while you were still cumming on his cock, his second orgasm followed swiftly after, Balmorn fucking himself as deeply inside of you as he could as rope after rope of white hot cum stained your insides and cascaded out of you, the half-dragon reaching down to circle your clit just so he could hear you shudder and clench around him as he came.

The both of you were shuddering messes, hot, sweaty, and filthy with the scent and slick of sex on the both of you. You were both breathing heavily as you came down together, Balmorn feeling satisfyingly empty and you feeling satisfyingly full. More and more fluids trickled out of you as you remained locked together, the half-dragon scooping you up in his arms and rolling on his back with you still impaled on his cock. You were completely limp, barely weighing anything as he held you in his arms, you going completely slack against his chest.

You stared down at yourself, your belly looking slightly swollen when you examined yourself. You could see the growing trail and puddle of fluids forming on the ground, feeling so embarrassed and trying to curl in on yourself, but having no strength in your arms or legs.

Balmorn noticed and laughed, wrapping his wings around you to cover you and kissing at your neck and your cheek, purring softly as he held you in his arms. He never would have expected to be able to have this with anyone and of everyone in the world…he was glad it was with you.

Licking at the bitemark he left behind on your neck, he nipped at your ear, getting your attention. “Did that feel good? Did you enjoy that?”

Sharing his sentiments, you laughed softly, nodding blearily as you kissed the tip of his snout, nestling yourself as best you could under his chin, suddenly feeling quite tired and sleepy once the fervour had died down and you were basking in the afterglow.

Softly, Balmorn rumbled, happy with you in his arms and feeling completely safe and pliant against him. He was glad he made this a good experience for you. “I’m glad…I can’t wait for us to be wed.”

But just as he started to pull out of you, you whined, wriggling your hips in an attempt to stay sheathed on him. At this, he couldn’t help but laugh, amused by your refusal to be separated from him. “What? Can’t get enough of me now that you’ve had me twice?”

You shook your head, clinging to his arms as you pressed as much as you could against him, mewling softly. “Just a little longer…wanna…enjoy this for longer…”

Enjoy this for longer, you said? Now, what a lovely idea. “Well, now…if you’re not in a hurry to get off of my cock, then…” He purred, pulling your legs up so that your knees were pressed against your shoulders, his hands locking behind your head as this angle made his cock feel so much deeper inside of you, whimpering as your inside involuntarily shuddered around him. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I…indulged for a bit? I’ll be gentler, this time. Nice, soft, and slow…would you like that?”

Eagerly, you nodded yes. Anything to not be separated from him. You were perfectly content to just let him use you for a little while to relieve himself of everything he had pent up all this time. You were safe in his arms. You knew it, so you surrendered yourself to him completely, head rolling back against him.

Purring at you and nipping your ear affectionately, he planted his feet into the floor and let his tail assist in lifting his hips. “As you wish, my princess.” He murmured sweetly, voice dripping with honey.

Just like he promised, he languidly began to thrust up into you, the position allowing him to reach deeper into you as he kissed you, nipped at you, and licked you while rocking you on his cock.

If this was what you could expect for the rest of your life, you had no complaints. Fuck everything your father said, Balmorn was a good man and you were certain that no man would ever make you feel this good, this warm, this loved.

The rest of the evening continued like this. You drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling completely safe in his arms as he gently rocked his cock in and out of you. He was no longer in any hurry, so he could take his time with you until you both grew tired and fell asleep.

He had two more climaxes left in him before he decided it was time to get the both of you washed up and ready to sleep, as tempted as the both of you were to fall asleep with his cock sheathed in you. Though, as you cuddled in his nest together, that somehow ended up happening anyway, Balmorn’s cock slipping out of his slit in the night and directly inside of you, involuntarily having sex with you while you both slept and achieving one last climax before he fell into deep sleep, nestled deep inside of you and twitching as it slowly softened during the night, still buried inside.

Perhaps his inner dragon knew where it belonged, and that was inside of his mate at all times.

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: eris x reader

🔮 preview: (Y/N) Vanserra was cunning, ambitious, and confident, all wrapped in a beauty that could rival Lady Autumn’s. For forty-nine years, she had been hidden away, in Autumn Court, much like a diamond, waiting for the day she could come out and shine. And so, when the threat of a Death-God loomed over Prythian and Beron slowly became a concern, (Y/N) uses her beauty and intelligence for a ploy bigger than herself — one that included sitting her husband down on the Autumn throne, Eris Vanserra.

📣 trigger warnings: Inner Circle bashing (I love the IC guys, but we’re in Autumn Court territory now)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 5.6k+

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: I thank my lovely nonnie from here for suggesting a Roxana-inspired reader from the manwha, How to Protect the Heroine’s Older Brother! I loved Roxana as a character and I found it very difficult (as many of you know, whom I’ve talked to about this story) to write a character who is cunning and intelligent as my character reference. This series was a beast to write (and I am still writing the other parts of it, so please do be patient) — I wanted it to stay canon as much as possible, but also give a story that would reveal the mysterious nature of Autumn Court. Please do give feedback about the first part of this series! I would love to hear your opinions and thoughts for the next part!

And I thank both @prythianpages & @thesunloveschips for their amazing help with this first part (I apologize to them profusely at times for bothering them)

“Be my eyes, be my ears. Be the wallflower that lurks in the breeze. Be the viper that stings all my enemies. We shall become one, to conquer our shared destiny.”

The burn of the bargain tattoo seared onto your skin, a ring of fire that surrounded your left ring finger. It took you a moment to look at it, admiring the dark ink that stained your skin before much larger hands enveloped yours. Looking up, you stared at familiar amber hues as he slipped the golden band on that finger, hiding the tattoo. Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles his smirk widening slightly.

“You will be my secret, (Y/N)… My weapon within the walls of Autumn Court…”

“Do you know who she is, Az?” his High Lord’s voice echoed in his head as hazel eyes focused on the female that seemed to have garnered many lingering gazes.

“I unfortunately do not, Rhys… My shadows do not whisper anything about her. I—-” there was hesitancy in his words, “I didn’t even know she existed.”

The Spymaster was stumped, to say the least.

In his centuries of being Night Court’s Spymaster, wielding shadows to his very will, Azriel had every confidence that he knew everything that happened in Prythian. Nothing was able to pass him nor his shadows — he knew all the intel, the gossip. He knew everything that might be deemed a threat to his court and used that knowledge to his advantage.

But it seemed like something slipped, because there was something… more like someone, that passed his shadows; and that was you who was on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir.

Azriel felt like he should have known you, should have heard the whisper of your existence at least. You were accompanying the Autumn Heir to Winter Solstice, for Mother’s sake! How could someone as vital as you slip passed his shadows.

He waited, waited for those slivers of darkness to whisper something… anything about you. Even just your name, the Spymaster would have been pleased to know.

But nothing.

His shadows lazily moved underneath him, not a care in the world about the female that seemed to have warped his mind in chaos.

You had become an enigma to the Spymaster.

And it was something he would go to the ends of the world to unravel.

He continued silently observing you from his position next to his High Lord on the dias, watching as you pressed yourself close to the Heir side, your hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, leading you through the throughs of people that packed themselves into the grand ballroom. He watched as your rouge dress, a stark contrast to the endless sea of black and blue, swayed around you — like a fire that danced in the darkness of the night. Even Eris stood out in his regality in a similar shade of rouge, Autumn Court colors seeping out from every inch of him.

The two of you maneuvered through the halls like flames blazing through the darkness — and Azriel was worried that you would burn his home down.

And when he watched you lean up to the Heir, whispering something into his ear before a boisterous laugh escaped the Autumn Heir, he sent his shadows across the floor, motioning them to listen in — and all the Spymaster hoped was to get a tidbit of anything relating to you; even just the sound of your voice would have been better than nothing.

However, hazel hues watched as his shadows retreated quickly as they had flocked. And it was only then did Azriel had seen it.

A barrier.

One that was so powerful and so thick that his shadows couldn’t even penetrate. He watched as the tendrils of darkness slithered away, retreating back to their master, hearing their cries of pain as they had attempted to break through the barrier.

That was the reason no one knew of your existence — why Azriel never heard of you, why his shadows never picked up your name.

You were a secret — Autumn Court’s well-kept secret.

The shimmer of the barrier caught the corner of your eye, watching it reflect different colors under the dim lighting. You raised a brow, eyes darting around before noticing the lonesome shadow retreating back to its master. You watched as that lonesome shadow slither through the crowd, slithering back to the Spymaster’s side.

“Did that bastard just —-”

You fought back a chuckle, gently squeezing Eris’ forearm — a silent confirmation about the attempted attack from the Night Court Spymaster. You felt him stiffen underneath your touch and you didn’t need to look to know that the Heir was pissed.

Beneath his mask of well-practiced composure, you felt his body thrum with rage and fire — it swirled and bubbled underneath his skin, radiating up to your palm that rested in the crook of his elbow.

Eris had always been quite overprotective over you, thus the millennial old barrier that had kept your existence a secret from all of Prythian — including from the nosy Spymaster of Night Court.

You were not surprised by the Shadowsinger’s actions — curiosity killed the cat, as many would say. And who wouldn’t be curious about you, the female that hung on the arm of the Autumn Court Heir? You had expected something similar to happen, but it seemed that the Spymaster sending his shadows to investigate you did not sit well with Eris.

No one dared to attack you while in his presence.

“Eris…”

The whisper of his name from your lips paused the rage that bubbled from the Heir — amber hues glancing your way. A delicate smile tugged onto your features, another melodic hum escaping your lips as you reached up and caressed his forearm — a gesture that showed you were perfectly unharmed — the barrier had done its job, keeping you safe. It was a gesture that always seemed to calm Eris down — especially when it came to your safety, a silent confirmation you were safe. You felt that bubble of rage and fire simmer, the Heir calming underneath your touch, and felt his hand slip on top of your own, his thumb gently caressing the gold band on your ring finger— a tall tell sign that he was holding himself back from confronting the Spymaster.

“Ah, Eris!”

Annoyance rolled off from the calm of Eris’ demeanor and you fought all urge to tease the male as you watched from the corner of your eye Keir making his way to the two of you, behind him his daughters in tow.

With a well-practiced smile, Eris gave a bow of his head towards the Steward, you mimicking his actions as surprise tugged on the Steward’s features, his steps paused to a halt at the sight of you at Eris’ side.

“Ah, Keir, pleasure to see you again. I thank you for inviting me to such festivities…” Eris greeted the male with a light smirk tugged onto his features — the normal look of arrogance from the Autumn Heir.

Keir had stiffened at the sound of his name, without any lordship from the Heir, as he bit back a reply with a strained smile, “Of course, Lord Eris. We are indeed partners… I had wanted to introduce you to my daughters—-” the male gestured to his side as his daughters gave a bow, their cheeks pink with a light rose color, evident even in the dim lighting.

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at Eris to watch that smile twitch at the corner of his lips — the annoyance very evident despite his mask of pleasantry.

“Unfortunately…” The Autumn Heir had cut off the Steward, giving the ladies a bow of his head. Eris, no matter what was taught to be a gentleman, especially to females. His mother taught him that. “I do not need a partner tonight for the dance… As you can see, I do have a lovely lady on my arm, and it would be such a shame to ignore her presence… don’t you think, Keir?”

A pleased smile tugged at the edge of your lips at the quip — not only did the Steward ignore greeting you, he had ignored the fact that you… without needing to be announced, would be the one accompanying the Heir for the evening’s festivities. And yet, there he was attempting to set up partnership with one of his daughters.

Keir’s eyes shifted from the Heir to you, his hues shaking as he looked at you.

“My apologizes… my lady, I was not informed that the Autumn Heir would be bringing a partner with him tonight—-”

“—-She has been with me the whole night, Keir… and she has not stepped away from my side. I would think, with your… keen eyesight, it would make it clear that I did not need a partner tonight.”

“—- Ah, yes… I apologize…” the stutter was evident in his tone as he quietly shooed away his daughters, watching longing gazes at the Eris before moving through the crowd. Keir straightened up and gave you a formal smile, before clearing his throat, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady —- before the festivities start…” What a quick change of subject, “My High Lord would like to speak to you…. if you do not mind following me…”

And with that the Steward turned around, his cape bellowing behind him as he maneuvered his way through the crowd… towards the dias where the Inner Circle had perched themselves for the night.

You watched as Eris rolled his eyes, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips, while you let out an airy laugh, bracing yourself on his arm as you leaned up, your breath against his chin, “Tired of being the most eligible bachelor, Autumn Heir?” you teased him.

It had always amused you on how many marriage proposals Eris had throughout the time you were together, and how many he had thrown those letters into the hearth of your shared bedroom at Autumn Court. You had always teased him about it, much to his own dismay after being with you for several millennials — you always found something to tease him about.

Eris raised a brow, turning his head so that your breaths intermingled, “I had not been a bachelor for centuries, my butterfly… It pains me to pretend that I am every time I step outside Autumn Court.”

You gazed up at him, staring in those amber hues through your lush lashes, “Well… tonight we’ll make that clear, once and for all, won’t we?”

A wide smirk tugged onto his lips, as he let out a satisfied sound before straightening up and guiding you through the crowd, steps behind the Steward to the dias. The two of you were a perfect picture of Lord and Lady, graceful and regal in every way.

Pull… pull… pull…

Eyes snapped towards the dias, your body going ridged for a few moments as you felt the familiar magnetic tug — the call of the blade. Eris paused in mid-step, feeling you go still, his head snapping towards you as eyes betrayed his indifferent expression — worry pooling at its depths. No words needed to be communicated between the two of you, you had known each other for centuries… you were honed into each other’s emotions, habits, gestures… you two could read each other so easily, despite the mask you have learned to put on for centuries.

Your eyes shifted from each member of the Inner Circle, trying to find where the magic pull was coming from, landing on the velvet box that was in the lithe hands of a familiar fae — the eldest Made Archeron sister, Nesta. You felt your magic flicker underneath your skin, answering the pull from that velvet box. You knew that the blade was in that box — the whole reason why you had decided to accompany Eris to the Winter Solstice, stepping out of Autumn Court into the wider world of Prythian, risking your identity, and exposing your person to the Night Court. That box, that blade was your sole reason.

Regaining your composure, you pressed yourself against Eris’ arm, placing your hand on top of his own as you silently motioned him to continue moving forward. The Autumn Heir hesitated, but when he glanced into your eyes and saw the resolution in them, he couldn’t argue. He gently squeezed your hand and started to move forward again before leaning down, pressing a kiss on the side of your head to whisper, “Did you find it? The blade?”

You glanced up at him and just gave him a light smirk, gently squeezing his hand. Another laugh escaped him, drawing attention towards the two before he pressed another kiss on your cheek, “You are magnificent, my butterfly…”

The Autumn wind blew a chilled breeze through the large windows of the Forest House. The sky was still in orange, red, and yellow hues as the moon started to peak over the horizon — the seasonal courts never saw true nightfall, the skies still glittering with their court colors. It had just grown dark enough for sleep to fall on its inhabitants.

Slipping onto the large balcony of your shared bedroom, you pressed your hands against the cool marble railing as you watched a monarch butterfly flutter down from the skies. Magic wrapped its fragile wings as you allowed it to gently perch on your left eye, a sigh escaping your lips as you closed your eyes — allowing its magic to seep into you. Visions passed behind your eyes, your all-seeing gaze shifting from Autumn Court, zipping through the seasonal courts and into the depths of one particular solar court — Night Court.

A rusty hammer struck metal, sparks of light flying into the air as the loud ring echoed in your ears. You watched delicate, yet calloused fingers grip the hilt of a forged blade — a power from those very hands seeping into the metal, one that mimicked the ancient Cauldron, which was lost. The blade breathed fire, one so similar to your own that you felt it pulse, no… push against steel — calling out to you, as if it knew you were waiting, watching from afar.

Shifting your gaze from the mysterious Made blade, your eyes wandered to those fingers, traveling up their arm to their features — the eldest Made Archeron sister. You had heard of the eldest sister of the High Lady of Night, once a human, doused in Cauldron power that made her into fae. Her powers were unknown to all, and yet — here she was, creating a weapon from her unknown powers.

“It looks like she isn’t quite as lovely as the winds have whispered…” you murmured, mirth in your tone as you continued to watch the vision unfold before your eyes.

“Who isn’t as lovely?”

Arms wrapped around your middle, large sturdy hands pressing you against a much sturdier front. Another sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, breaking the connection of magic as you watched the butterfly disappear in a waft of red and orange mist. Your hand raised, swirling the colors in the air before it dissipated. Twisting your neck, you glanced up at the Autumn Heir, his features illuminated by the colorful autumn sky.

You had always thought he looked ethereal.

His complexion glowed something dark that always stirred something inside of you. How his auburn hair beautifully framed his chiseled features and how his amber hues glowed — his innate fire burning through those irises.

Those amber eyes caught your own, his brow raising as his question was left in the air. A chuckle was pulled out of you at his look, “The eldest Made Archeron…”

Eris’ brows scrunched in confusion, as your comment did little to answer his question. He knew that there was much more hidden behind your simple words about the Made fae, much more than you were willing to tell him without him prodding you more. You lifted a hand to gently smooth Eris’ brows, a feeble attempt at a distraction — for both you and him.

“What did your butterflies show you, (Y/N)?”

Eris was able to read you so easily, no matter how many walls you had put up, the Autumn Heir was able to see right through them. He had learned how to read you for centuries, ever since the two of you were children — ever since that fateful day.

You felt him grasp your hand, tugging it away from his face, giving your palm a caress, causing a sigh to escape your lips.

“She forged a blade that breathed fire, one similar to our own… I do not know the purpose of said blade, but I am quite sure it has to do with that bloody bargain you made with that High Lord…”

It was no secret to Eris that you had despised that bargain between the High Lord of Night — a bargain to help him claim the Autumn throne from his father. You understood that it was under stressful circumstances — the looming doom of war with Hybern, needing allies during the war. However, you had known that Eris didn’t need that bargain, not with anyone within the Forest House walls, especially not with pesky Night Court bats — not when he had you to help with the coup within Autumn wards.

You needed no help from overgrown bats with what you had promised Eris all those millennials ago.

“(Y/N)…” he called your name, pulling you from your thoughts. Eris held your waist and turned you in his arms, pushing you against that marble railing, forcing you to look up at him.

Raising a brow, you tilted your head up at him.

“If they made a blade for us… then we’ll use it — take advantage of it,” he asserted, “Let’s play into their little game for now. Make them think they’re on higher ground, that they have control — but when in reality, we’ve always known. And you never know…” A smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned down, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks, “That blade might be useful for our plan…”

A light, airy chuckle escaped your lips, “You’re asking me, Eris… out of all things… to act dumb in front of those bats?” amusement laced in your tone.

He chuckled as well, pressing his lips against your cheek, “I’m asking you, my butterfly… is to act dumb with me. We do better everything together, right?”

You hummed, eyes fluttering close, your lashes brushing against his cheeks. Your arms slid up his more muscular ones, hidden beneath his sleeping tunic, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him, “Then that means, Autumn Heir… you will have to bring me to that Winter Solstice ball if you want me to act with you.”

Eris froze underneath your touch at the mention of Winter Solstice. He had mentioned it a few times to you in the past several weeks — especially when Keir kept sending secret correspondence, begging him to join the festivities. The correspondences had annoyed Eris completely, any chance the Heir had was to verbalize his annoyance to you about it — and you had been very amused to hear it each time. You were to let him go on his own to the Court of Nightmares — it was something you didn’t need to be a part of. You could remain in Autumn, continue to secretly monitor his father and brothers, gain followers, and be the wallflower that you have always acted as.

But, with this newfound information and the idea of the Night Court using the bargain against Eris, you knew you couldn’t just be passive with the invitation.

Opening your eyes, you looked up at Eris who had a conflicting look — you knew why he had been so hesitant.

You had never stepped outside of Autumn Court — no one knew of your existence outside of the Court. Despite being in Autumn Court for millennials, Prythian didn't know, the other Courts didn’t know of you. And yet, you were willing to sacrifice your identity, your role in his bigger plan to gain something as simple as a blade that a Cauldron Made Fae made.

Eris didn’t like the idea, it didn’t sit well in his thoughts.

Reaching up, you pressed your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin there, “You will get wrinkles at this point, Eris…” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the skin there before catching his gaze, “I have done everything I can here, Eris…” your words were cryptic, you knew Eris would understand — you couldn’t risk it, not when the walls, trees, the winds in Autumn would listen and give away your plan.

“… I have asked you to use me, Eris. All those millennials ago, on that day… so use me. Make me the weapon I made myself into. I can't help you now if I'm in Autumn —-”

Sure, you had been the one to limit your influence solely on Autumn Court, but if Prythian called, then you are willing to step into the larger world.

Your eyes showed your determination, your willingness to devote your entirety to him as you've done for years.

A reluctant sigh escaped his lips as he forcibly pressed his lips on your forehead, “Alright. I will bring you… but you must remain by my side the whole night. No one will rip you away from me..”

An amused chuckle escaped your chest, leaning up to press your lips against his pulse, “So overprotective, Autumn Heir. It sounds like you're too fond of me…”

You felt Eris shake his head at your teasing, tugging you closer before maneuvering you back into your shared room for the night.

The bellow of Keir’s introduction pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the older male give a sweeping bow — overdramatic and with flair — his words of congratulations echoing throughout the large ballroom, the citizens echoing the same sentiments. As the elder male stepped aside, you stepped up along with the Autumn Heir, giving an elegant curtsy, while Eris gave a regal bow at his waist.

“And allow me to extend our congratulations, High Lady of Night, on behalf of my father and the entirety of Autumn Court…” Eris bellowed, his voice of regality, “A Fae child being conceived, what a miraculous announcement to give during Winter Solstice…”

You drowned out the conversation between Eris and the High Lord, barely focusing on the pageantry between them. It was rare for you to be so out of focus on the situation. Normally, you were in tune with your surroundings, focused on the now; however, all you and your magic could focus on was the call of the blade that thrummed inside that velvet box. You watched as lithe fingers grip the box tighter, and your eyes shifted to the eldest Archeron sister

“—- Before you go, Eris…” your delicate ears perked up, eyes shifting back to the High Lord who waved his hand allowing a dark wind to carry that velvet box through the air, handing it into Eris’ awaiting hand, “I offer you a gift, a solstice gift. A friendly token… between a High Lord to a future High Lord…”

Eris’ gripped the box tight in his large hand as you felt the muscles underneath regal clothes grow taunt.

A quip, from the High Lord. A disguised reminder of the bargain between the two of them.

Gently squeezing Eris’ forearm, you urged him to open the box, to ignore the jab from the older male. You felt those muscles relax underneath your squeeze, his mask of indifference returning onto his features as he opened the velvet box.

Inside that box, laid on plush pillows, was an ornate dagger — it was roughly the size of the Heir’s forearm, its handle weaved from iron as if it was cloth, an intricate design of wood and fire etched onto the metal.

One that was similar to the vision that you had seen weeks ago.

Eris picked up the blade by its serpentine handle, raising it, and watched the silver and jewels shine in the dim lighting. It was a beautiful blade — much more than you had seen in that vision. From the corner of your eye, the two of you locked gazes a light smirk tugging on his lips before the air around him flickers.

Eris’ magic throbbed in the air, as you watched flames appear around the blade — surprised screams echoed around you, as all eyes were on the pair of you — the center of attention. Eyes glanced at the Inner Circle, watching the guard dogs step in front of their masters to protect them, your keen gaze watching how the Captain pulled the eldest sister in his arms. A curious brow raised before you gazed back at Eris as he poured his power into that blade, disappearing into the silver in a flash of bright light.

A groan escaped the Autumn Heir, his head tilting back, a long breath escaping grinning lips. It took a moment’s breath before he regained his composure, rolling his shoulders back before his gaze returned to the blade, turning the blade in his hand as the metal changed, the color from a simple silver to a dark black — an obsidian color that swallowed up the light. A mixture of auburn and saffron tinted the onyx-colored blade, changing the way the light hit it — a blade mimicked a dark fire, swirling underneath the dim light.

Eris flipped the blade, holding it by the blade as he turned his body, facing you and staring at you with those brightly colored hues — flame and light within those irises — handling the blade to you, a nudge of his chin, gesturing you to take the blade.

A light chuckle escaped your lips, fighting the urge for your knees to buckle at the look on the Heir’s features — it was an alluring look on him, the power that raged in his eyes, in his veins — as your gaze shifted down the column of his throat and followed the patterns of his auburn suit to the blade in his hand. With lithe fingers, you grasped the hilt and you felt a shiver run up your spine — the mix of Eris’ power along with the power that already surged through the metal, Nesta’s power — no… the Cauldron’s power — was intoxicating. The call and pull of the magic that pulsed in the blade was strong and you felt your own magic answer the call, causing you to tilt your head slightly as you stared down at the blade, your magic pulsing underneath your skin.

What a dangerous weapon… You thought as you shifted slightly out of Eris’ hold to move the slit on your skirt, where an empty sheath was strapped onto your leg, sliding the blade into its new home — a perfect fit.

“I had been meaning to ask…” The High Lord’s voice reached your delicate ears as you glanced up, fingers trailing up your thigh before pressing yourself close to the Autumn Heir again.

“Who are you?”

Eris gently squeezed your waist, as you stepped out of his hold and you gave a sweeping curtsy, one as dramatic as Kier’s earlier.

“Late introductions, I apologize, High Lord of Night…” your tone had mirth and sarcasm tied underneath a layer of elegance and regality, “My name is (Y/N)… (Y/N) Vanserra.”

You glanced up at the High Lord through your lashes, watching his façade of arrogance and boredom shift into surprise — his face showing his thoughts:

Vanserra? Beron does not have any daughters.

Nor did he take up a second wife.

Vanserra? On the arm of the Autumn Heir…

Bright violet hues glanced between you and the Autumn Heir that stood behind you, before locking onto your gaze — your colored hues staring into violet hues. In defiance, you tilted your head up, as you straightened from your curtsy.

And that’s when you felt it — those tendrils of his powers creep near your mind, you couldn’t help but frown, your body stiffening, your hand gripping your gown tighter.

In your entire lifespan, you have never encountered a Daemati — especially one as strong as the High Lord; you had thought that the barrier would protect you from such intrusion of your mind, but it seemed, even that was futile against the power of a High Lord Daemanti.

Not breaking your eye connection with the High Lord, your eyes glowed an eerie ruby hue as you focused on that tether, that connection that he forged between your minds, to those coils of darkness that invaded your mind.

How. Dare. He.

And with a flick of your wrist, your mind grew walls of flame, surrounded by fire hounds who growled and attacked those shadows — successfully pushing him out of your mind. You heard a faint yell from the High Lord, and you saw his hands sear with flames, his hands combusting as he frantically tried to pat it down on his leathers. However, the feeling of lightheadedness started to cloud your mind, and you teetered on your heels before you felt Eris’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing your back against his chest. Eyes pinched close, panting, fighting off the heaviness you felt throughout your body.

It had been simple enough, you had thought, to push the High Lord’s power from your mind — but it seemed you had used too much power, in such a quick second that your delicate stature was giving up. Your mind grew hazy, spots of darkness appeared in your vision and you fought every urge to just pass out right there that you barely noticed the commotion that surrounded you.

Feeling Eris’ grip on you tighten as you heard him growl, “Did you just try to get into my wife’s head, Rhysand?! How fucking dare you!”

That had fully ticked off the Autumn Heir. Not only did the Spymaster attempt to attack you from afar, but now the High Lord tried to invade your mind. Two attempts at your life were too much for one night for Eris — and he threw his well-practiced self-control out the window.

Shrieks from the onlookers reached your ears as you peeked an eye open, noticing a bright light that illuminated the dark room. Heat radiated onto your skin, feeling Eris bring you closer to him, protecting you from the ring of fire that surrounded the both of you, separating the two of you from the Inner Circle. Blinking the haziness from your mind, you watched through the flames as the General and Shadowsinger stood in front of the High Lord and Lady, weapons drawn against the two of you.

“Eris…” you breathed out, grasping his Autumn colored suit, “Calm down…”

His head whipped towards you, that fiery gaze staring down at you, “But he tried to invade your mind, (Y/N)…”

A confirmed hum escaped your throat, straightening yourself in his hold, “I know… But I got him out. That’s all that mattered… And don’t blame the barrier,” you panted, blinking away the spots at the corner of your eyes, “His power is immune to it I guess…”

You stared up at him, your scarlet hues dimming back to your normal colored ones. Amber hues stared into them, assessing your condition, hesitation marred his features.

“Bring down the flames, Eris….” you softly commanded him.

His eyes flickered between you and the Inner Circle before he followed that command, the ring of fire flickering until it had gone out. You did not bother to appear composed — you could appear fragile — play into the heartstrings of the citizens of Hewn City.

The High Lord of Night Court attempted to invade the mind of Autumn Court Heir’s wife.

Word would spread throughout all of Prythian — sympathy and pity would be whispered your way while scrutinizing words would be thrown towards the High Lord.

Even if you despise showing such vulnerability to anyone let alone the Inner Circle, you can use it to your advantage.

You pressed yourself closer to Eris, playing the soft wife that just got attacked by a High Lord. Eris’ arms wrapped around you, as he bared his teeth against the Inner Circle.

“You attempt to attack my wife in your Court, Rhysand, and yet you have your dogs try to protect you? We have not laid a finger against you nor your Court, and you have weapons drawn against us,” anger vibrated in Eris’ tone. He knew how to play your games, he knew exactly how to play them with you — and yet the anger, the fury that lurked in his features were genuine, “You have no damn right to try to lurk in our heads, even if you are a High Lord.”

The General and the Spymaster shifted in their stance, their eyes foggy before stepping aside to reveal Rhysand, cradling his now scarred hands — that was what he got for trying to attack you in front of his people.

“…I…”

“I do not accept your apology if you ever were to have one, High Lord…” surprise tugging onto his features at your declaration, “Myself and my husband arrived on Night Court soil as guests, and yet we are treated as enemies. I have done nothing to you to cause you to try to invade my mind.”

Whispers surrounded you, words of ill-intent for their High Lord reaching your sensitive ears.

She’s right. They have done nothing to them, and yet he tried to hurt her.

The Autumn Heir had every right to act the way he did. It was to protect his wife from Rhysand.

I never did like him… He has trapped us here in the Mountain while he and his people live in Valeris.

He’s nothing but a hypocrite. He says that he welcomes all, but he hurts others as he sees fit.

You fought back a smirk, staring at the High Lord as his features flickered — his mind racing on trying how to turn the situation back to his favor. But you knew, both of you knew, it was too late for him to do anything.

Things have turned in your favor, much like you had hoped.

“I have no need to stay for the festivities any longer, Rhysand. You have attacked my wife twice in one night, your Shadowsinger earlier tonight and now you. I do not feel safe within the walls of your Court and I do not feel safe for my wife’s safety either…”

With a growl escaping his throat, he gently maneuvered you into his arms, lifting you bridal style, turning on his heels as he stepped out of the Court of Nightmares, the crowd parting to make way for him as flames surrounded the both of you. You felt him pause mid-step, and you glanced up at him with a raise of your brow. Eris looked down at you, his face contemplating for a moment before he looked over his shoulder, back at Rhysand.

“—-And the bargain between us is over High Lord… Especially after tonight. No one dares to hurt my wife in my presence.”

The Autumn Heir winnowed the both of you out of Night Court in a flash of fire and light.

And back into the depths of Autumn Court.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages @strangelygreat

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms @assriels @kiarathace

[astarionancuntnin]

Bad Blood

summary: it was meant to be a nice, simple plan. get the sorceress to fall in love with him to assure his own safety, nothing more. what he didn't plan was to fall for her as well, and all the complications that came along with it.

or

my own twist on the astarion confession scene with the reader!tav from my previous fic, Undisclosed Desires

rating: M

word count: 3.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, sorceress!tav)

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, self-destructive tendencies from tav, dissociation, mention of past trauma (rape/abusive relationship), toxic coping mechanism, near death experience, talks of manipulation tricks (Astarion's confession speech). full list on ao3

a/n: a follow up to Undisclosed Desires (master list can be found here), now featuring astarion POV! reading the previous fic isnt mandatory but i do highly suggest it to get a feel of their relationship + reader!tav's character and the build up that brought them there (mind you UD is explicit).

read on ao3

or keep reading down below ~

How do I try? I don't know why I wanna fall in love

I wanna die, every time I see you parking up

Forget about the fights, remember the nights we had, it's not enough

I wanna lie, pretend I'm alright, but-

-

I’m… not expecting you to say it back, but I meant what I said yesterday. I don’t know where this’ll go, but I know I want to be with you.

The words resonated in Astarion’s head.

He pretended to be sleeping back then, but he heard everything she said. He appreciated that she didn’t expect an answer from him, since he wouldn’t have been able to give one. Of course, this was the expected outcome; he did everything to make her fall for him. It was easy after all, a routine of sorts. She was cold at first and he doubted he could get to her, but in the end, everything had gone exactly according to plan. Except for one simple detail.

I think I’m in love with you. 

Astarion has had those words in mind ever since her declaration, a few nights ago. Since then, she was more lenient with him in general, but what he was most grateful for was how she was more keen on letting him feed on her. They didn’t talk about what happened, but their relationship was stable. He had what he wanted; security from the leader of the group, assurance that she wasn’t going to turn on him, and a meal every night. She was also less aggressive towards him but she still had that fire in her that made her a menace on the battlefield, without taking away that softness towards people in need. That balance in her character, this goodness within that drifted him towards her, that made him love her in return.

…Love? No, that couldn’t be right. He found himself enjoying the banter between the two of them, it’s true. She was just as witty as he was, and their back and forth was the most fun he had during the day. She challenged him, kept him on his toes, ready for anything, and the few times they had sex were great, he couldn’t deny that either. It started out as a ruse to have her trust and protect him, but then it became more intimate, she opened herself up to him during those precious moments. He was able to know her unlike anyone else among their group.

She was more than he expected her to be, and at first, he hated it. Couldn’t believe how his own plan turned against him. But then he saw how she cared, when no one else did, and she let herself be vulnerable for him when she came forward with her own feelings. When he held her close that morning, he didn’t want to let go. She sounded so sincere, felt so warm and soft against him, a safe haven. Until he could come forward with his own feelings, if he ever did, he would accept any form of affection from her, when she’s the least likely to notice. After all, he couldn’t let himself show any type of vulnerability, lest fall for her. It would go against his plan.

Every chance she had to take a stand for him, she did. She was merciless and cruel to those who posed a threat to their group, protecting him as much as she protected herself. She was probably the most courageous member of their party, but as of late, this courage turned into recklessness; casting strong spells that could have wiped an entire village when a simple, smaller one, would’ve done the trick. Every fight made her take more unnecessary risks to secure their victory, and given the shadowlands were dangerous territory, she believed it justified her recent impulsiveness. She used to be more strategic, she was resourceful and able to lead battles using everyone’s abilities; that’s why they had put her in charge of their group, but their latest fights had been too close for comfort, and tension had risen around camp. It has worked so far, she had claimed, not seeing the issue with her behaviour, and dismissing everyone who came forward to express their concern.

But what would they do when it would fail?

His fellow companions blamed it on the shadow-cursed lands that must’ve been affecting her, surely, as she was growing back to her cold, distant self, but Astarion noticed the change in her behaviour specifically following their visit at Last Light Inn. She was fine when they first entered the vicinity, but by the time they were leaving, the sorceress seemed anxious and eager to go back into the woods, away from the security the inn provided, oddly enough. When she was asked about it, she blamed it on a bad gut feeling. Shadowheart agreed and blamed it on the presence of the Selunite, who they didn’t even get the chance to discuss with. The rest of their party didn’t push for more information following that interaction, and she stayed mostly silent for the rest of the day and even ignored Astarion’s remarks, which was unlike her.

Still, she let him feed the following nights, but she seemed away during their sessions. She wasn’t exactly the talkative type and he didn’t want to pry, but she caught his attention when she walked out of her tent, panting, a few times throughout these last  nights. When he had taken a peek, he found her clutching at her chest, struggling to breathe as she was pacing nearby. Something was troubling her and it felt too critical to let it go unnoticed. After tonight, Astarion decided to confront her about it.

She was dabbing her neck, cleaning the traces of his recent feeding, her eyes lost in the distance, when he spoke up. “I’ve noticed you seem… away, during our little sessions, as of late.”

“Hm?” She’s snapped back to reality, proving his point, but still avoiding any eye contact. “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“But I do worry. Especially with those nightmares you’ve been having lately.”

Her gaze locked with his, a dread settling within her. Her eyes darted across her tent, questioning if it was even worth it to lay her heart out. She sighed deeply, taking in a moment to find the words and it took her a few tries to finally speak up. 

“When we passed by the Last Light Inn, I… recognised someone. He…” Her breath cut short. “We used to date. Ish. It wasn’t a great experience, to put it lightly. I was young and naive, and he took advantage of it. He–” Her breathing quickened as she was explaining further, the memories vividly coming back to her. The words got stuck in her throat, unable to carry on. “I hated myself for so long. I felt guilty of what had happened to me. It took me years to get over it– I thought I was over it, but the second I saw him again, it all came back at once.”

She paused once more, trying to regulate her breathing. “I spent all those years thinking about how I could make him regret what he did to me, if we ever crossed paths again. And when it finally happened, I froze. I. fucking. froze.” 

Tears were threatening to fall and she pulled her knees close to her chest, turning her head aside; she couldn’t bear to let him see her in that state. “I’m sorry– you need to leave.”

He wanted to hold her, tell her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would help her get her revenge if that’s what she desired, just like she promised to help him out against Cazador, but he simply couldn’t. The words remained caged in his chest as he got up and opened the flap of her tent before bidding his goodbyes.

The next morning, she avoided him like he used to avoid the sun; anytime he was nearby, she would turn to face someone else among their group, as if she couldn’t stand to look at him. Her speech was concise, mathematical, she had lost any sign of the emotions she had experienced the night prior. When she selected the members of the party for the day, he was surprised to be a part of it. He wasn't scared to be left in camp, after all, she made it clear in the past that his ability to lock pick any and every thing made him a valuable asset, but he had his doubts after how she had been acting this morning.

The sorceress proposed to visit Moonrise Tower to get to the heart of their problem, but the shadow curse had made it tedious to navigate further and Karlach urged the group to revisit the Last Light Inn to get the help of the Selunite cleric. With the majority of the party agreeing, their leader had no choice but to step over her current feelings for the sake of their mission, but she made it clear that they wouldn’t stay a second longer than needed in there. 

To her dismay, that moment would take up most of their day.

After receiving the blessing of the cleric, a winged man, that Isobel referred to as Marcus, arrived from the skies claiming that she needed to leave with him, and when it was made clear that it wasn't an option, a fight ensued with his own army of undead. They should've been able to handle them, it was their first fight of the day and they were prepared for anything. Or so they thought. 

The hits from their enemies were stronger than anticipated and Shadowheart barely managed to keep everyone alive with Marcus who drained them dry at every chance he had; against their best attempt, Isobel was knocked out and captured by the winged man.

Without the moon cleric to protect the inn, all its inhabitants were claimed by the shadow curse; one by one, the group of adventurers watched them die and turn against them, prolonging their already lengthy battle. They defeated all the harpers within the inn before making their way outside, where another group of possessed fighters were waiting for them. The fight had been going on for what felt like forever; waves of new enemies kept coming in and the party was running short on spells and patience. More worrisome: Shadowheart had used her last healing spell. 

With everyone’s health running dangerously low, the sorceress knew she had to act fast to assure their victory. She was scanning the battlefield to evaluate her options when she froze, her gaze stuck on one of the Harpers that was approaching them. Astarion recognized her behaviour from the night before and he knew he had to step in. He screamed her name, trying to make her snap out of it, but she remained motionless, unable to react to her environment, as a range of emotions visibly flooded her all at once. Without Karlach by her side to slash the undead that was coming for her, she would’ve been downed right there and then. The fiery tiefling screamed her name again and grabbed her by her shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

“Soldier, hey! You with me?”

Their leader blinked quickly, taking back her surroundings, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, sorry.”

“What’s happened to you? You were this close to being a goner.”

She didn’t answer back, but when her eyes fell back on the Harper she recognized seconds ago, an uncontrollable anger started boiling within her, and although Astarion noticed the fists clenching tighter and tighter at her sides, he wasn’t expecting what came next.

She freed herself from Karlach’s grasp on her shoulder as she bolted straight to the Harper she had in her sights. No one was able to stop her before she casted flaming hands on the undead, with a guttural scream that was cut short by the explosion that followed.

Blinded by rage, the sorceress missed to notice the multiple barrels of smoke powder that surrounded their last enemies as she cast her spell, blowing them up and herself in the process.

The rest of the party remained far enough to be spared by the explosion, Karlach receiving barely any damage. As the smoke settled down, the figure of their friend appeared, spread on the ground among the corpses of their fallen enemies. 

No… it can't be…

Despite his distance from her, Astarion was the first one to reach her. He quickly rushed past the cleric and barbarian to land next to the fainted sorceress, bringing her head close to him. He tried to look for her eyes, but they were shut tight with no sign of life.

“Wake up… Wake up! Come on now. Please…” His hold of her became desperate, looking for any sign of consciousness; her body’s warmth was turning to a familiar coldness, and the soft melody of her heartbeat was getting quieter. Dread started to settle in and he shot a deadly stare at Shadowheart who was still standing next to Karlach, checking on her smaller wounds. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?! Heal her!”

“I'm all out of spells!” She tried to explain. “We need to bring her back to our camp.”

“Would it kill you to try?”

Karlach nodded, agreeing that their friend was in bigger need of care than her, and Shadowheart approached the fainted party member begrudgingly, knowing fully well she would be of no help, and knelt next to her as she tried to cast a healing spell, but nothing happened. She tried again, and again, but her magic had run out. “I'm sorry, I– I can't.”

“What do you mean, you can't?!” Astarion spat out. “That's your sole purpose! What good of a cleric are you if you can't even heal her!”

“Hey!” Karlach stepped in before Shadowheart could retort. “Yelling won't get us anywhere, alright? We're all exhausted, and Soldier here needs serious help – let's just all go back to camp? Halsin might be able to take a look at her.”

His eyes narrowed, looking back at his lover, and he nodded to his friend. Without wasting any more time, Karlach picked her lifeless body from the ground, leading the march to their campsite without muttering another word. 

Back at camp, the party rushed to bring the burned sorceress to Halsin’s tent. At the brief sight of her lifeless body, everyone else rushed to see the state she was in.

“By Sylvanus, what happened back there?”

“Does it matter? She clearly needs help!” Astarion shouted.

“She was in the middle of an explosion, it was pretty bad.” Karlach stepped in, providing an answer for the archdruid. ”Can you fix her up?”

“I’ll do what I can, my friend, but I’ll need some time– “ He turned to Astarion who was hovering. “And space. Do not worry, I will come to you once I am done.”

With those last words, Karlach laid their fallen friend down in Halsin’s tent and guided Astarion out with a pat on the shoulder and a soft “Come on, Fangs''. He followed her, giving one last look at the woman he grew to love, a mix of anger and worry painted over his face. Astarion remained at his tent, trying to take his mind off of her by sewing up his torn clothes, but his mind kept going back to the moments before the explosion. He had pieced together what had happened, but he couldn't understand why she had put herself at risk like so. She was the smartest among them – he even enjoyed taunting Gale about it – and she was logical in combat. Why would she go as far as to risk her life over this? He kept pacing around in circles for the rest of the evening, expecting the worst as time went by. 

As night time approached, the flap’s of Halsin's tent opened to reveal an exhausted healer. Astarion hurried to him, his worry circulating to the druid with unspoken words.

“I stabilised her.” He tried to reassure the pale elf. “She will be alright, but she needs to rest. Her wounds were… a lot. If she didn't have the resolve of a sorceress, she might’ve not made it.” 

His eyes darted to the opening of the tent, mindlessly walking in, not ready for what was before him: the sorceress half naked, her clothes having been replaced almost completely by bandages. The few bits of her skin left bare showed old scars and new bruises covering them. She lifted her eyes to meet his, only to turn away at the vision of his visible worry.

“It's bad, isn't it?” she sighed heavily. “He said I shouldn't use my powers for a few days. Said it could ‘compromise the healing process’.” She mocked the archdruid’s voice. When Astarion didn’t say anything in return, her eyes darted back to him to notice his expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“And you shouldn’t have blown yourself up, dear.” 

“It’s not like I did it intentionally.”

“Not unless your intention was to end your life,” he snapped.

“Gods, what’s wrong with you?”

“Me?! What's wrong with me is that I happen to care for a brat who's prone to self destructive behaviour!”

“Excuse me?!” She raised herself up on her elbows.

“That stunt you pulled back there? You almost died!”

“We all could've died! I made the right choice to save our skins and nobody is grateful for it.” She groaned in pain, her body reminding her of her recent wounds.

“What choice?! Blowing yourself up? You blindly rushed in and put your life at risk. Gods, do you even realise the danger you put yourself in?”

“It was a calculated risk,” she hissed, her voice lowering. “And… I needed to do it.”

“What, kill yourself?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know why I’m trying to justify myself to you – It worked out, didn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it now?” 

“Because I care about you!”

"Oh right, it would be such a shame if something happened to your precious meal." 

"You are more than that to me!”

She froze, the anger vanishing from her face, “...What do you mean?”

“When you… when I held you in my arms, back there I – I thought you were gone.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think I would care, Hells, I didn’t plan to, I–”

She quickly blinked in confusion, “Plan?” and he realised just then what he had let out; he needed to come clean. 

“I know how it’s going to sound but, please, just hear me out. I… I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

She stayed silent, taking in everything he confessed, her gaze going back and forth as she was considering his words, and Astarion was starting to fear this was a mistake; this was meant to show her he cared just as much as she did. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not now that he laid out his feelings, not after almost losing her. He reached out for her hand, trying to bring her back to him.

“You–... you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

She scoffed, finally finding her voice again. “So all this time…” Her chest rose as her breathing accelerated and she pulled her hand away from him in disbelief. “Everything you said, what we did–… Gods, were you even attracted to me?”

“Of course I was! Look at you, for goodness sake – you’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

“Right. Then all of this,” she points at the two of them, “The flirting, the teasing, the soft words, you caring about me… It was an act, all along?”

“No! I mean– only at first, but then what we had – after that first night – it was real, I swear.”

She looks away as her eyes tear up, removing her hand from his grasp. “Why are you telling me this, Astarion?”

“I… I’m not sure… But you deserved to know.”

“I cannot believe I let myself fall for you. I’m such a fool.”

“Please–” He reached out for her hand again and she backed off abruptly.

“Don't touch me.”

The familiar words made his undead heart clench in pain and he backed off slowly. Despite her visible tears, Astarion knew she was boiling with rage.

“I really do care about you. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

The tears streamed down her face as she blinked, her gaze stuck on the ground before them.

“You better have had your fill yesterday, because that was the last time I let you feed on me.” Her eyes met his, in a fury that he had never seen before, and she spoke with a shaky but dark voice. “I don't want you anywhere near me anymore.”

He nodded, “I understand–”

“I don't think you do,” she cut him off, her raging eyes piercing through him.

He looked at her incredulous, until she confirmed his worst fear.

“I want you gone from this camp by tomorrow morning.”

-

But every time I see those eyes

I wonder if you know you're keeping me up late at night

I don't know where to go

I pretend, I don't care, I tell myself you're right here

It's nothing but a nightmare, nightmare

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce

[weepingchronicles]

yan!azula (atla) getting back reader 🙏🏻 (headcanons, or one shot please!)

yandere azula x airbender reader (part 2) platonic or romantic tw/cw: yandere, choking, death threats, verbal abuse, possessive behavior a/n: erm guys.. it's getting kinda scary  😰 😰 (part 1)

being with aang and the others was unlike anything you've ever experienced.

when you first met everyone you were scared- but they all welcomed you with open arms. katara emphasized with you, having her mother also die at the hands of the fire nation. sokka tried to flirt with you, which you were oblivious to, until aang and katara told him to knock it off. after that, you became like katara to him, like a younger sibling who'd he protect.

you were so naive to the world, never stepping foot outside of the fire nation before.

when aang had told you his story, how he was in a iceberg for 100 years and was the avatar, but more importantly one of the last airbenders- you could hardly believe it.

the more the gang told you their stories, the clear it became that the fire nation had took away your parents, your culture and your freedom. you knew azula was evil, but you still believed you had no other choice but follow her.

you told aang that you had no airbending ability, you thought you'd be discarded away, just for being useless

but aang did no such thing, just offering a smile and saying he's just glad he has someone from home.

and you did feel at home.

You woke up to shaking, and your eyes immediately lit up. For a minute, you were back in the palace. Azula waking you up so she could sleep beside you. It was when we were in our younger years and Azula would wake you up at odd hours of night, slipping with you under your blanket. You assumed it was because she had nightmares, you did too, but you never dared ask her about it, fearing you'd end up with a scar like Zuko's.

You woke up from your flashbacks and took in to the actual scene in front of you. It's Aang.

"What's wrong?" "It's someone. They're following, come on, we need to get onto Appa."

You all pack your sleeping bags and ride on Appa. It's still the middle of the night, and the cooling wind blowing past your hair is not making your exhaustion any better.

Finally you all spot a place to settle down, it's in a middle of a forest which will be hard for anyone to navigate through

You lay out your tents and sleeping bags again to finally rest. You find yourself somewhat missing Azula, when she would be nice for once and fall asleep beside each other until morning. You push back those thoughts, remembering how she treated you. If she really cared she'd let you go and be happy.

With all these thoughts swirling in your head, you don't notice yourself start falling asleep.

You feel a hand on your mouth causing you to snap your eyes open. There she is, Azula. It's only been a week and she's already found you. Your eyes look to where the rest of the gang were sleeping but instead they're gone!

"Aw, don't look so surprised. You really thought I wouldn't go looking for my favorite pet?" The nickname made you cringe and Azula removes her hand from over your mouth, but both her knees restrain your arms to the ground.

"Where's Aang, Katara and Sokka!?" You spit out, but you instantly regret when you see Azula's sly smirk turn to an expression of jealous rage.

"Really? I could kill you right now but you're more worried about your friends!?" Before you could reply, her hand slapped over your neck, squeezing around your throat. Perfect manicured nails dug into your flesh, practically leaching the breath you had left in your lungs out of you. Azula's eyes leaked of fiery rage, pure fuel and the truth is you've never seen her like this. She's dangerous, more dangerous than ever before but she is not as calculated. You knew that Mai and Ty Lee couldn't defeat the Avatar on their own so she must know that, but instead she came for you.

Still, your heart ached for your friends, the only true ones you've made all your life. You yourself felt a fire deep inside you, not as fiery as Azula's, but it was ignited when you first met Aang.

"Please.. don't hurt them." was all you could manage out before you start turning purple. Azula's face turned shocked, like she couldn't believe you care more about your friends than her. She dropped her claw-like grip on your throat, you let out a gasp of air before rolling to your side and coughing.

While you were coughing, Azula let go of your arms and stood. "(Y/N), they don't truly care for you. At least not like I do, look at what I have done for you! You really think a pesky water tribe girl, a non-bender and a 12 year old Avatar really care for you? Tell me, do you really think the Avatar would save you if you weren't from the Air Nation?"

You were on your side, refusing Azula to see your face. Was she right? It's true that Aang came for me because we are both air but Aang is a good person! He would definitely rescue me even if I were someone else.. right?

You felt Azula's hand cup your cheek and turn your gaze towards her. Her eyes now are half-lidded and the fire was just warmth now.

"(Y/N), please, come home now and we can forget about this. This is silly." She tucked a piece of hair away from your face, which would have been loving but all it made you feel was owned. Like you were a pet, something to leash and expect obedience from. You wanted to show her you were nothing like her, and she did not own you.

Without even thinking you smack her hand away, a surge of strength powering you as you stand up. You moved to shove away Azula but as you did so, a gust of wind flew her back more than 8 feet away from you.

What?

You look down at your hands and back at Azula wobblily getting up, pure shock but also confusion on her face.

You turn around, hearing a familiar girls voice calling you.

"Katara!" You yell, running back to her. "Come on, we have to go! This girl somehow took away my bending." The girl Katara was saying about sounded Ty Lee but you knew you had to get out before Azula fully recovers. You finally made it back with the others and flew away safely on Appa. You look down as fly away, Azula's form getting smaller and smaller by distance. Aang speaks, finally pulling you you of your daze.

"(Y/N), are you okay? How did you manage to fight off Azula?"

"I.. I don't know." The group looks at you with confusion but you're more confused than they are.

You were safe from Azula for now but you knew she'd be back for the Avatar, especially now since he wasn't the only Airbender..

And that's a wrap! Sorry it took so long, I got really busy and I couldn't figure out an ending I liked. Comment or request whether you'd like reader to fully escape Azula or not, or something completely different!

[aphroditelovesu]

Um, hello there. I just wanted to ask, can you write yandere headcanons of House Lannister? I just read that you can, but if not then I’m sorry and you can skip it anyway. But if you can then it’ll be wonderful

2nd request: ''Hi, umm… I know that you’re probably busy with requests and asks, but um can you write Yandere platonic Lannisters with the Reader? If you can of course'' - send by Anon.

"Hear Me Roar." — House Lannister.

❝ 🦁— lady l: I'm sorry for the delay but I think you're used to it, right? Lol, I really apologize. These last few months have been absolute madness and my grandfather is sick, my father too and everything is out of control. Anyway, I hope you like these headcanons!

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of death by fire, threats and implied murder.

❝🦁pairing: yandere platonic!house lannister x gender neutral!reader.

None of this was planned or thought through. Just happened. Your introduction to House Lannister just…happened. Some would say you were lucky, others that you were cursed to have to deal with this family, but none of that really mattered. It didn't matter because you're with them and they won't let you.

Contrary to what many people think, your family was already close in the right measure to the Lannisters, your family was from a House Vassal of the Lannisters so you already had a connection, but it wasn't really strong or similar to what it became in the next few years. Your mother was a close friend of Joanna's and both of them shared the pregnancy, you grew up alongside the twins and that was something that solidified the bond between the three of you.

You, Cersei and Jamie were inseparable. Though Tywin was initially apprehensive about this relationship, Joanna eased her husband's concerns by demonstrating how much she adored you too. It was quite common to see the three of you playing together at Casterly Rock for everyone's amusement. The three of you were never apart, and Cersei sulked when she was forced to say goodbye to you. She hated it.

Tywin was never really close to you, it wasn't because he had anything against you or anything, he was just distant. But that all changed when tragedy struck your family and you were forced to flee to the protection of the Lannisters. Your parents had apparently insulted the Mad King and, as a form of punishment, he had given orders to burn your family. You were the only one to survive because you were protected by Tywin and Joanna. They were your family now. Whether you want to or not.

Cersei was over the moon when she heard you were her sibiling now. And Jamie couldn't be happier to finally have you with them, really with them. Joanna didn't mind, she was happy and she really adored you and was quick to refer to you as hers, Tywin tried to be rational and the voice of reason saying you'd just stay with them until everything worked out, but nothing would work out, not after he became as obsessed with you as the rest of your family.

Joanna was a loving and very kind mother, she absolutely adored you and spoiled you in spades. You were allowed to do whatever you wanted and get away with no punishment. She tried to fight her growing obsession, she really tried out of consideration for her late friend but when you called her ''mother'' for the first time, there was no going back. You were hers from that moment on. She loves spending time with you, reading or doing whatever you like.

Tywin was an authoritative figure and that has never changed over the years, he has only the best for you in mind and that's why he is so strict, but he has a soft side that shows only to his wife and you. He tries to be as tough as his wife doesn't even try, but he will always give in to you. Especially if you look at him with tears in your eyes, his heart melts right there and he does what you ask on the spot. Just like Joanna, you can get away with whatever you do because to him you could never do wrong. You were perfect, and anyone who dared to disagree would find it no good to cross Tywin Lannister.

Jamie is the quietest of his family, he is the understanding brother with your feelings and is always there to protect and take care of you. He is the most protective of his family and he is very suspicious of anyone who tries to get too close to you. He will get into fights for you, feeling proud and triumphant when he gets your support during a fight. Jamie adores you so much, you're the closest thing to an understanding brother he's ever had and he'd be damned if he let anyone take you away. You were a Lannister and always would be.

Cersei is the most possessive and greedy of her family, she will do anything to get your attention and will fly into a rage if she doesn't get it. She hates sharing you with anyone other than her and her twin brother. Cersei might even see you as she sees Jamie, as an extension of herself and not really a person. Like a possession. Something that belongs to her and she's not the type to share. She loves spending time with you, talking, gossiping or just enjoying your company.

The whole family was happy, everyone adored you and you adored them. Everything was perfect. Tywin and Joanna were your loving parents and Cersei and Jamie your mischievous and clingy siblings. Everything was perfect like it's never been before. Until Joanna got pregnant again. Everyone was happy about her pregnancy, including you who were longing for a younger sibling. Cersei wasn't really happy about it all, seeing as you seemed to spend more time with mom than with her because of the pregnancy. Jamie had no problem with that, not like her sister, and just enjoyed this period of Joanna's life.

When the day of delivery finally came, it was difficult and painful, you were there the whole time and you saw Joanna Lannister die. Your mother. It was as if your world had collapsed, not just yours, but Tywin and the twins' as well. You welcomed with joy Tyrion, but your father and sibilings did not. They rejected him, treating him like nothing and blaming him for Joanna's death. During the long period of mourning, you were the only company Tywin sought out. You tried to comfort him and seek solace for yourself, you were the only one to witness the Lord of Casterly Rock's vulnerability.

You were Tyrion's only constant companion as he grew up, constantly despised by his family and those around him for being a dwarf, he clung to you more and more. You were the only person who really cared for him, the one who convinced Tywin and Cersei to act with a modicum of decency around Tyrion, at least while you're around.

Tyrion is the most abrasive of his family regarding his obsession with you, he knows very well that his feelings are wrong, to say the least, but he tries to control as much as he can, although he can't help but be so attached to you. He craves your attention and approval as he grows up and even as an adult that hasn't changed. He wants your approval, if he can't get it from his father then he wants his. He is very kind to you, but he is still a Lannister, and may the Seven have mercy on anyone who dares to harm you, for Tyrion would be sure to ruin them utterly.

All Lannisters are obsessed with you in their own way and have their own infighting, Tywin and Cersei want to keep you away from Tyrion as they are sure Tyrion will be your undoing, Jamie is happy to see that you care too about your brother and he makes sure you spend your days with him and Tyrion, much to the chagrin of your father and sister. They all fight each other and wouldn't mind killing each other to have you. But everything changes when there is a threat against you and they all quickly join together to get rid of that threat quickly and painfully. May the Seven forbid anything to happen to you, for you can be sure the whole family would go wild and most likely blame each other.

There are rumors that Tywin supported Robert Baratheon because of a personal revenge, some say it was because of what the Mad King did for your dead family, others say it's because Rhaegar insulted him. Rhaegar insulted him by wanting to take you as his spouse instead of Cersei, and Tywin could not allow that. He would not allow his beloved child to be taken from him. And Cersei agreed with that completely, she didn't want you to marry and leave her, Jamie didn't seem to mind too much but he doesn't like the idea of being taken away from you, as long as you were happy he would be fine. Tyrion is the most selfless and says that if you ever want to marry, he will support you, as long as it is someone he has highly valued. You are a Lannister and therefore you must have only the best and your family will ensure that. They promise you.

[yan-lorkai]

Can I request a Mother!Reader x Ciel? Like the reader became a shinigami before the fire consumes her (she has knowledge about demons, angels and grim reapers) so that she can still see and protect her son alongside Sebastian.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The occult fascinated you when you were younger and although this type of knowledge was highly frowned upon by the society you lived in, you were always the type of person who did what you wanted. You spent hours studying and reading everything you could about demons, their classifications and rankings, their names and positions, you also learned about Shinigami and angels. At that time all of this was just to satisfy your curiosity about the beings on the other side that all humans feared so much.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ During your life you have met many of these beings, some by coincidence, others through rituals or things like that. The occult followed you into adulthood, but you let it all go when you married Vincent. You didn't want supernatural beings to continue to follow and seek you when you intended to build a family with your husband, so no longer did you spend afternoons studying and talking with other occultists, living peacefully for several years until tragedy struck you and your little family.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ The passage of time for you became blurred as your soul was collected by the shinigami and, instead of being laid to rest as is done with all others, someone turned you into a shinigami. You couldn't say who specifically since you had no friends among them nor did you know why anyone would risk their reputation for you but you were grateful for being alive again.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ By all means, your "rebirth" is abnormal and strange and if the other shinigami realize what an anomaly you are then they will hunt you down and eliminate you, so for a while you are left wandering in isolated places, brooding in guilt and grief. You've just lost your entire family and your humanity, that's a lot of information to process at once, however, your world turns upside down again when you discover that your eldest son is alive.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ As any good mother would you return home, a bundle of nerves and anxiety as your fist slams against the door and you find yourself face to face with a supernatural being. You know Sebastian as soon as you see him, your heart pounding inside your chest as you swallow hard. It seems that like you, Ciel ventured into the occult more than he should have. You return home, but everything is so different, so sad and cold, the place where the family photo once stood is now empty - a painful reminder of everything that had happened.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel's reactions when he sees you are diverse, every quiver of his lips, every erratic breath and the barely contained tears in his eyes, you can see everything. And even if he doesn't immediately hug you in front of his demon pet so as not to show weakness, you hold him in your arms. At least you still have each other. Each other until the contract is finalized, you remember with regret, knowing that there is nothing stopping Sebastian from getting what is owed to him in the end.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ However, you again find yourself with your books. Reading each one almost obsessively to learn how to break a contract or how to kill a demon - if Sebastian knows what you're doing, he hasn't done anything to stop you or told your son yet.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Whether you find a way to break the contract or not, you and Sebastian fiercely protect Ciel from any and all threats that may come his way. It's tiring having to predict assassination attempts, poisoning or kidnapping, but with the strength and knowledge you now have, everything is easier. Holding your death scythe feels so right in your hands, as if it were custom-made, capable of cutting through almost anything.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ There is still distrust in you about everyone around you, about any imminent danger and on nights when you find yourself tossing from one side to the other in bed, you stand at the door of Ciel's room, listening his breathing heavily and snoring. Hearing him being alive. On these nights it is common for Sebastian to find you and stay by your side, talking, exchanging experiences, although he doesn't really like reapers he seems to tolerate you if only because you are the mother of his contractor.

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Five: That Kind of Love - David Hale x Reader, Jax Teller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@hatersaremymotivators@bennykk@kelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

Part Two: Fucked - Stahl fucks up you entire life in pursuit of Jax Teller.

Part Three: Hell or High Water - David visits you in jail.

Part Four: Damage Control - David tries to contain the damage and makes a decision about the future.

Everyone thinks the relationship between you and Jax was just sex but the truth is it wasn’t. There are things that Jax told you throughout your time together that he has never told another person. His suspicions over his father’s death, his dismay at the direction the club is taking under Clay’s leadership, how trapped he feels by the legacy that’s been foisted upon him.

Those three months you’d spent together he had found himself falling in love. You were so different than the other people in his orbit, open, free spirited and you didn’t say a single thing you didn’t mean. That’s the reason he’d had to end it with you, because you were so unapologetically yourself it was detrimental.

When he hears you’re leaving for Santo Padre, he knows you won’t be coming back. The art scene over there is bustling, it’s the perfect place for a budding artist especially one of your calibre. He is surprised that Hale’s going with you. That man hasn’t taken so much as a vacation day since he graduated the academy and how he’s taking an eight week sabbatical so that he can that he can be with you over the summer.

It's just another way that Jax would have failed you because if he were in Hale’s shoes, he wouldn’t have been able to leave Charming, Clay would never have let him.

All of this shit you’ve been through recently, the arrest by Stahl, the vandalism charges, losing your placement in San Franisco, all of that’s on him. You’d had it in your power to put him back in prison, to take down the club and instead you’d set your life on fire. He’d like to think it was because of him but the truth is, he knows you were protecting Hale. If Clay thought you were a threat he would have come after you and Hale, he would have got caught up in the crossfire.

That man would do anything for you, he’d proved it when he used all of his political leverage to keep you out of jail. The promotion Hale had been seeking, it’s gone, he doesn’t have the juice for it anymore but he doesn’t seem to care. His priority is you, it has been since the very beginning.

When Stahl shows up at the club that night to wipe that in Jax’s face, he sees the writing on the wall. This bitch, she’s not going to stop just because the two of you have hightailed it to Santo Padre. She tells him as much as she sits in her car in the Teller Morrow forecourt, the engine still running. She’s going to follow you, try and use the Mayans connection to come at SAMCRO. Those guys may be running legit now but there’s still skeletons in their closet, ones that could lead back to Charming.

That’s the reason he gives Clay when he shoots her at point blank range in the head, he was protecting their business from a possible RICO case but the truth is, he was protecting you because Stahl. That cunt was never going to stop, not until she destroyed you, Hale and the club.

They make it look like it was the IRA. It makes sense to the AFT, she was tracking Galen, and now they’ve found her on the outskirts of town, carved up with the Butcher of Belfast’s signature. When Galen turns back up in Ireland, the investigation is torn from their hands and the ATF withdraw from Charming once again.

The night before you leave for Santo Padre Jax turns up outside your house. He wants to say goodbye, to tell you that you’re safe, that you don’t have to worry about repercussions from Stahl or the club. He barely has time to get off his bike before he sees Hale’s Jeep already pulling into the driveway. The other man doesn’t see him, he’s too busy collecting his bags out the back of his car.

You’re wearing one of Hale’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers shorts when you open the door. It rankles Jax to see you in another man’s clothes, he remembers the mornings you’d slip from his sheets wearing a shirt of his that barely covered your ass. Hale smiles when he sees you, his fingers threading through your hair as the deputy kisses you with a tenderness he had never exhibited before he met you.

This is what love looks like, Jax understands, the kind of love that he can never give you.

He waits until you’ve gone inside before he starts his bike. He doesn’t want to infringe on your life any more than he already has. You deserve a man who puts you first and Jax has always known it could never be him.

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[vinomino]

Mess: Monsters in Human Flesh

Falling from grace with the flames. A mess.

Featuring: Takiishi.C x f!reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, incest, angst, bigbrother!Takiishi x lilsis!Reader, broken/toxic family, alcoholism, prostitution, corruption, animal abuse&death(not by rdr or takiishi), slight yandere!reader&takiishi, murder threat(from rdr), fingering, masturbation, virgin!reader, virginity loss, blood, period mention, blood licking, oralm!receiving, biting, voyeurism, creampie, crazy dark incest smut, not beta read

WC: 9.7k

a/n: for the moots that were interested, I don’t think anyone else will bother to read this

@ Read at your own discretion

Born from the same womb. 

“No– I don’t know.” You sob into your knees, snot sticks to the tissue. “Why don’t I understand myself– sniff –something’s wrong with me.” Mascara runs down both of your cheeks. 

Chika sits beside you and rubs his hand along your back. The touch sends a burning sensation through you. He doesn’t say anything. The mattress springs creak when you bring your feet onto the bed frame. 

“I…” you throw the tissue away and grab a new unstained one, “...Do you think I’m messed up, Nii-chan?” Turning to see him, his face remains stoic. 

He looks upon you with something deeper than love, something filthier and meaner, something pure and purer– as pure as the driven snow. However, he no longer remembers when it started. When protection and loyalty morphed into hunger and desire. You’re no longer his baby sister. 

The neon lights from the ceilings make him glow and his red-ombre hair is lit further on fire. Takiishi, bored, leaves the club Endo invited him to. The hostesses continued servicing the Noroshi members who drank the night away, some were already red-faced. Hostess #1 wore a blue mini-dress and a lot of makeup. Hostess #2 had on a coral red top and a black miniskirt, her makeup was less dramatic. Hostess #3 went for a more natural look, trying to appeal to those who prefer more innocent women, she seemed to be buzzing around the fastest, a tell-tale sign of a desperate need for cash. A sleazy nightlife, not even a fat stack of cash was needed to invite one of them back to a hotel room.

The club wasn’t low-class, though. Endo would never spend money on a random place on a crappy street. Speaking of the black-haired man, he’s sitting on a sofa surrounded by a few of his favorite girls. Girls who would do anything he’d ask for a few ¥10,000 bills. Shrugging his jacket on, he pushes his way out of a room full of sweaty bodies towards the entrance. Hostess #4, in a long-sleeved dress, slides past him, and Takiishi stops dead in his tracks. He calls out to her, “Hey.” Her heels clack against the tile and she turns to see who called out to her with a smile, “Yes, is there anything you need?” 

An amateur, even Takiishi who doesn’t frequent these places often was able to tell. “What perfume are you wearing?” He watches her eyes widen with surprise, but she answers quickly enough to deter his interest. To his disappointment, it’s not the perfume you wear, but it smells similar. He knows since went along with you to buy it and you use it religiously. A knock-off? Maybe he’s missing you too much, smelling you on women who have zero resemblance. For a split second, your face overlaps her face. Now his insides stir, they cling to the front of his skin, trying to wrap themselves around this stranger. No touch policy, but it doesn’t apply to him, just as it doesn’t apply to Endo. And he must satiate his thirst. 

His manicured nail pushes the top of her lip up, revealing her canine, it could hardly be called a canine, dull and soft around the tip. The hostess has a nervous look in her eyes, her blush extends all the way down to her neck. She glances at the manager, to her surprise, the uptight woman only nods her head and goes back to counting bills. Takiishi tilts his head, eyeing her down, and he trails his sights as low as the dress allows him to. She gives herself up, following Takiishi to a nearby hotel. “This one?” Her mouth is slightly parted as she peers up at the tall upscale building. 

“Yeah, follow me.” He holds her by the wrist and she nods. 

Takiishi doesn’t think of himself as a big spender, but he finds it disgusting to stay in a run-down motel, and waking up next to a bug makes him itch at the thought. Money isn’t a problem for him, so he’ll do as he pleases. The lady at the front desk politely gives him a list of available rooms, one-night prices that reach higher than both women’s salaries. The hostess shifts between her heels, trying to secretly peer at Takiishi, the man who took a liking to her. She makes small talk during the elevator ride, asking him what he prefers to be called, complimenting his nails, sweet talking like the sisters back in the club taught her. 

“Takiishi, right? Are there any honorifics you want me to use?” 

“Just Takiishi is fine.” 

He reads the number on the screen increasing, he taps his shoe waiting to reach their floor, and wonders if she’ll make a face if he asks her to call him “Nii-chan”, like the way you do. As he shuts the door behind him, taking his jacket off and throwing it on an armchair, he instructs her, “No kissing and no marks.” If Takiishi tastes something different than what he thinks you’ll taste like, this fantasy would shatter apart. He can’t feel any need to learn her name either. She nods, stepping out of her heels. Takiishi tugged his shirt off in one go and sat down on the edge of the bed. The room wasn’t too cold or too hot, but he felt ice melting on him. He watches the hostess undress, she strips down to her birthday suit and walks up to him. Running his hands up her sides, she lets out a shaky exhale, a moan comes out of her– the same octave as your voice and it fuels him. His delusion grows stronger by the second. 

Some of her parts are eerily similar to yours, but the closer he looks the more differences he finds. Upon closer inspection, her perfume is more warmer than yours, she holds onto his shoulders to steady herself as he inhales in the crook of her neck. In this position he can’t see her face, he stops his vision and slides his fingers against her folds. His eyelashes tickle her neck, but she can’t feel it as his fingers nudge their way into her. She gasps, shakes, and her belly trembles.

“Tak–iishi–” she whimpered. 

Would you whimper too? A smile creeps onto his face, he questions how much he’d need to do to make you whimper as well. Takiishi zones out, his mind overrides his senses with sinful visions of you.

The hostess he was fingering, fumbled around— lightly gripping him about, trying her best not to leave any marks on his skin. She cries out when she cums, a light sheen coats his digits when he withdraws them out of her cunt. Grabbing her hips, he slots her between his legs and brings his fingers to her mouth. She licks them clean, making sure to stare into his eyes while she does so. Something she was advised to do to win brownie points. The shade of her lips resembles yours, when you finish taking a shower and come out with a clean face. For a moment, he thought about kissing the hostess. “Get on your hands and knees.” He says it slowly with no rush. She does so, planting her palms on the plush of the silk sheets. When Takiishi pushes his pants down, he tells himself that he’s taking you instead of some random hostess from a club. 

She does what he expects, and performs to sell her services, but he doesn’t care if it feels good to her, he doesn’t care if it feels bad either. His brain releases signals throughout his body, giving him the satisfaction of reaching a peak. Placing his hand on the middle of her chest, he presses his forehead into her back and questions if your heart would beat this fast for him. If you would join him down in hell— it steals his soul away. 

Tying the condom, he tosses it into the bin and fixes his pants up. “You can stay as long as you want,” Takiishi simply says while pulling out his wallet and leaving a few ¥10,000 bills on the table. She lifts her head off the mattress, muttering out alright, and doesn’t pry into it. Some customers want no lingering feelings. He leaves the room and the hotel like nothing happened, but whatever’s brewing inside him continues. 

The next day, Endo tries to dig into Takiishi’s night. 

“You left with a girl, didn’t you? Takiishi, that’s not like you.” The tattooed man grins in his seat. “So, I asked around, Yuko Shitara, a new girl, just employed. What caught your eye?” Endo leans in, “C’mon, Takiishi, I’m dying to know. Well, she is cute, but most of them are. Haha, it’s kinda like their job to be cute. If you’re open to it, we should have a threesome with that Yuko girl.” He laughs, hits the back of the chair, and strands of his hair fall into his face. 

“Stop talking. I’m not going to have a threesome with you.” Takiishi drinks the rest of his coffee and gets up. 

“Leaving so soon?” Endo rests his chin on his hand while he watches Takiishi stroll off. The man did what he pleased anyway, that’s what drew Endo to him so much– he’s a real god. 

Stepping out of the campus building, you spot Chika sitting on a bench scrolling on his phone. The tree provides him shade, casting a shadow over his figure. Your face lights up as you beeline straight towards him. “Chika-nii! Are you here to pick me up?” You smile when he looks up. “Yeah.” Chika stands up and takes your bag off your shoulder, “I’ll walk you home, I have nothing else to do.” You giggle and wrap your arms around his, “Thank you, Nii-chan.” He walks you back to the house he left— the house you still remain at. 

It looks more crummy than when he was here last time, you know that. “The recent storm damaged the roof a bit, if you’re wondering why it’s like that.” You laugh and open the front door. It’s been a while since he actually went inside his childhood home, and it was even more gross than he probably remembered. There’s a big black trash bag in the kitchen corner filled with beer bottles, so many that it makes you feel revolted. A few cans litter the counters and tables, and there's a stench of malt in the air. You’re surprised that there hasn’t been a bug infestation yet. “Sorry, I’ve been asking Dad to throw them out, but he just ignores me.” You start to feel awkward, fiddling with your fingers. Chika notices, he always does. Your eyes widened when you felt him pat your head, “Don’t apologize, I know it’s not your fault.” You think back to the day he left, Dad was screaming his throat out at him and threw all his stuff out into the street, calling him a bunch of names. 

“Let’s go to my room, it’s cleaner.” You lead him back to his old room. 

Inside, Chika places your bag down and takes a seat on his old rug. It’s much more worn down due to the years. You sit on the other side of the table and lean your arms on it. Licking your lips first, you begin talking to him, “Dad only comes back home a few days. So, it’s fine if you stay longer today, he never comes back on Mondays. I don’t know where he even goes, it kinda gets lonely sometimes. I tried bringing in a cat, but he said if he saw it again he’d kill it,” you rub the corner of your mouth, “I thought he was just being a prick, so I ignored him. He’s a nutjob, there’s something wrong with him now. He could’ve just told me again, to take it out–” You let out a sob. “He didn’t need to kill it, it didn’t do anything wrong.” Burying your face into your arms, you cry, an innocent creature that was depending on you died because of your ignorance. All you can feel is regret and an underlying rage towards the perpetrator. 

Your head stays low when Chika stands up and sits beside you. He comforts you in the way he always does, so he doesn’t speak. When you lift to sit up, you wipe your tears with your sleeve, Chika places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you to lean against him. With your body resting against his sturdy frame, you take long deep breaths. 

“Chika-nii, I’m scared…” 

“Why?”

“What if he kills me too?” 

Screwing your eyes locked shut to wipe your memory of your dad throwing the helpless animal against a wall, you start hearing his voice again. You stupid girl. I told you to take that out! You never listen! You’ll end up dead just like your brother! Remember this is all your fault. When you reopen your eyes, your vision is a pale blue. There’s a stillness in the room. The rug is scratchy when you run your palm over it. There’s a light citrus scent traveling through the air from the open wax melt on the desk, a slip of sun shines vertically directly against the wooden door, and the sound of your heartbeat intensifies. A tear meanders a path to the tip of your nose before falling and splattering on your leg. The skin around your nails is fraying from your nerves. Flexing your toes, they’re tightly confined within a squeezing cotton. You note that the bottom of your socks is dirty, the washing machine has been broken for weeks, and no one makes any effort to get it fixed. 

“He won’t.” Chika grips your shoulder more tightly. 

You let out a quick exhale. 

“Can you help me with something?” 

Chika lowers his eyes to meet yours. “What do you need?” 

Clutching yourself, you watch Chika shovel a hole in the backyard. The dirt piles up on the side as the hole gets bigger, when it’s deep enough he pauses and stares at the white plastic bag. “I thought, if I put it in a black bag, it wouldn’t go to heaven. White’s better isn’t it?” You explain, trying to ease the silence. He nods, “It’s better.” Holding the bag in his hands, it dips in the middle. The coffin of a poor creature; once living. It crinkles when he places it at the very bottom of the pit. Chika steps out of the three-foot hole and picks the shovel up, he begins filling it back up. You step closer and rest your body against his back as he does so. The internal music of your big brother dulls everything else. The muscles in his shoulders ripple along your cheek when he packs the soil down. It doesn’t take long for the hole to be filled, but it’ll take longer for the hole in you to leave. 

“Why’d you leave?” You lean on the doorframe watching Chika wash his hands clean. 

“I had to, you know that. You were there.” He dries his hands with a paper towel. 

The hallway was in disarray, objects were scattered along the ground, and there was angry screaming. “You, You! Just stand there!” Dad points a finger at you trying to stop what he was doing. Chika’s door is nearly ripped off its hinge, everything is being taken out and thrown onto the sidewalk. His clothes, his laptop, his sheets, his mirror, and anything that wasn’t screwed into a wall. You can see him toss all of it out without a shred of care, biting at your nails, you hope Chika got your text message warning about what’s going on. “So, now you come home! Is this place a hotel where you can come and go as you please?! Spoiled brat! Joining gangs?! Who’s son, are you?! Fuck off, you’re so stupid! I let this go for too long…You son of a bitch!” You cover your eyes as he continues to spew insults at Chika, coming closer to the front door you can see Chika standing in the road, a few feet away from Dad, and he doesn’t even bother to talk back. The mirror is shattered and pieces lay all over the cement. Chika is no longer looking at Dad, but instead, at you. He smiles. 

“I didn’t raise you to be a gang member!” 

Gritting your teeth, you can’t take it anymore, “You didn’t raise either of us!” 

“You shut up! You’re just a useless daughter, who can’t even make a decent pot of rice! Didn’t I tell you to stand back?! Are you going against me too?!” You flinch backward when he storms towards you. 

“Old man!” Chika gets his attention, “I’ll leave.” 

Dad’s rapidly breathing, “Yeah…yeah. Yeah, you better!” The rage on his face is gone and he waves his hand around, “Whatever.” He strides past you and into the kitchen where he takes another swing of beer. Your face cringes up when you see him walk towards the fridge and start kicking it. Curses continue out as he beats the metal object, the condiments on the door fall off and roll on the floor. He kicks a ketchup bottle into the living room. Tearing your eyes away from the scene you look back at Chika. Scrambling towards him, you step over the items, “Nii-chan, he’ll be over it in a few hours. I’ll help you bring your stuff back up. You got into a fight again, I’ll get the first aid kit. He’s mad he didn’t get a bonus, I think. I don’t know how many he’s had, but I know he’ll leave soon–” 

“No, I need to leave,” he speaks like it wouldn’t mean anything to you. 

“What. Why? What do you mean leave? Where’re you going to go? Are you leaving me here? Chika-nii. You said you’d always be by my side. What do you mean leave? You can’t, you can’t go.” You weakly grip his shirt. 

“I’m going to leave this house. I can find another place to stay.” 

“That means you’re going to leave me!” 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

You cry. It was already hard enough, but with the idea of Chika being gone, it’ll be unbearable. 

“Then, I want to go with you.” 

He shakes his head, “No, you need to finish high school.” 

“I don’t care! I want to leave with you! I hate it here!” 

You hate the tiny house. You hate the broken plates. You hate the missing knobs. You hate the desolate fridge. You hate the packed shelves. You hate the angry father. You hate the missing tiles. You hate the bottles. You hate the absent family picture. You hate the cans. You hate the cold water. You hate the tip-toeing. You’ll hate the missing sibling. 

“But you, you left me here.” Bending your neck, you harshly swallow. 

Chika walks to you and presses his palm into your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

Sniffling, “It’s fine. He doesn’t even bother to look at me anymore. I just, I just hate that you didn’t come to find me sooner. I was worried, I was so worried about you. I thought something bad happened to you, I couldn’t sleep, or do anything.” You lock eyes with him as he caresses the side of your face, his fingertips touch the hairs on the base of your neck. His nails scrape your scalp and his thumb strokes your skin. “I’m glad though, that you got out of here. I really am glad.” You force a smile. 

Chika stared at you, his eyes felt more soft, but it didn’t look like he was staring at your eyes, rather slightly above. 

Looking around, you see the sun would set soon. “You should stay, I don’t want to be alone tonight. Will you stay the night, Nii-chan?” 

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll stay.” 

Laying on Chika’s old mattress, you shuffle. The room no longer contains any part of him— replaced by you. It started getting unbearable being alone, so you wandered into Chika’s room seeking comfort and spent more days in it than your room. It didn’t take long for your stuff to start being kept in his room and it didn’t take much longer for you to permanently move into his old room, since you knew he wasn’t coming back. 

It’s a twin-sized bed, there isn’t much space, but you and Chika make do with it. A distant, yet familiar sensation. Your shoulders are pressed against each other, he's outgrown the bed, so his feet hang over the edge. Turning onto your side, you curl up. You caress his features with your eyes, his eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the shape of his chin. Your fingers itch to reach out and touch him. Tormented by the past, present, and future, you lie in silence. Not much time passes until you stir again– unraveling to curl up again. 

“Can’t sleep?” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

“No.” Because there’s an uncertainty and you’re never at peace in this house. “I’m thinking about moving out too.” 

“Where are you going to go? Do you have the money?” He asks. 

“Somewhere I can still commute to college and…I’ll get a loan. I don’t want to stay here. Sometimes I can’t take it.” 

“Don’t get a loan, I’ll give you the money.” 

“You have enough?” You never dug into his personal life, you don’t know what he does, who his friends are, or where he even lives. Chika lays next to you, but he’s miles away. 

“I have more than enough.” 

“I feel bad if I ask you though.” 

“Don’t be, it’s my job to take care of you.” 

You let out a little laugh. “Thank you.” 

Night comes and goes, when Takiishi opens his eyes again, the room is bright. He turns his neck and sees you, bare-faced as the sun drifts over your cheekbones. Bringing his arm up, he moves the back of his knuckles along the bone, he feels the sun heat his hand. It’s Tuesday. Takiishi sits up, the bed squeaks, and he debates about waking you up. You look at peace for the first time since he picked you up. It’s true he felt regret about leaving you behind and not coming back to see you for so long. Takiishi left because he could no longer deal with his father and hoped his leaving would ease the man up and lessen the hatred you see. He never wanted to leave without you, but taking you with him would pull you into his life of violence and you were smart. Smart and dedicated enough to graduate, and get into a good college– he’s seen your exam scores, and they were well above average. 

Takiishi wanted you to get an education, get a degree, and go further in life. He didn’t want you involved in his dirty doings, you were still innocent and strong. He’s seen what girls become when they drop out of high school– when they weren’t born into a good family and choose to run away. He’s the only guardian in your life, the only person who’s listed on your emergency contact list and he’ll be damned if you become tangled in that kind of life. You’re a good girl, going to a good college, getting a good bachelor’s in something most can’t. You deserve a clean life. 

At the same time, he desires you. There’s something about you that taunts him— tells him he must conform, to stay in line. If he thinks about it for long, he’ll end up with the answer. Your blood flows through his veins. You share 50% of each parent– you share the same parents. The same mother. The same father. You’re more similar to him than you know. Nothing he can do could possibly change his DNA. Your last name is evidence of that– Takiishi. It’s deeper than leaves and branches, its roots wrapped around one another, embedded until the end arrives. 

You shift, starting to wake up. Your eyes open, Takiishi sees a reflection of himself. 

“G’morning…” Your voice is raspy. 

“Good morning.” 

He walks you back to campus, hands in his pockets as you card into the building and disappear from his sight. College students stride past him and he stays for a few minutes before leaving. That night, he’s back at the same club with Endo. “Takiishi, it’s not like you to go back to a club on a weekday.” The black-haired man had bumped into Takiishi and decided to follow him until they stopped at a familiar entrance. “The one we went to Sunday?” Endo is further perplexed by the Takiishi’s silence. 

“Is it about that Yuko girl? Do you actually like her?” 

“Somewhat.” 

Endo greets the manager as they head in. She looks up and asks if they are looking for anything in particular. It’s a random Tuesday night, so she was not expected to see Endo and Takiishi. Endo asks her about Yuko Shitara and tells her about Takiishi’s interest. The manager nods and tells them that she’ll be in soon and will direct her to see them. 

Takiishi situates himself down on the cushion in the empty room– a VIP room, private and padded. 

“I’ve never seen you get this interested in a girl before.” Endo sits on another sofa, laying his arms out. “Does she remind you of someone?” He probes wanting to know more. But Takiishi does not answer. He pulls out his wallet and the first thing he sees when he opens it, isn’t a card– it’s a picture of you. Young, fresh, and soft-cheeked. Staring up at the camera with wide eyes– eyes the same color as the ones he’s using to look at the photo. Your mouth is stained a dark red from berries, he doesn’t remember what you were eating, but the juice of the fruit was in every crease of your lips. The photograph was no bigger than a business card and behind it was his driver’s license. Takiishi was the one who took the photograph, it captured your natural expression since he caught you off guard. An old camera he stumbled across in a box deep in the basement. He thinks about how free you were back then with no responsibilities and laughing the days away. 

A tightening occurs in his chest and Takiishi questions if he failed you– let down little you. These desires erode him, but it’s not as if he declares he has justice in him. He spent his teenage years beating his peers into a pile, doing everything but the good. And all you see in him is good. Takiishi wants to ask you if you can’t see him in a bad light because of your connection to him– why do you continue to defend him? What are your thoughts on blood, does it tie you to him together while also dividing you away from him? For the first time, he asks himself if these feelings will ever go away. 

“Who’s that?” Endo is next to him, focusing on the picture in his wallet, trying to remember if he ever saw the girl in the picture before. He reaches for it and Takiishi grabs his wrist so tightly that it threatens to break his bones. Endo just smiles, amused that he found something that drew such a reaction from Takiishi. 

A knock on the door, Yuka stands there, “You called for me?” She almost says it in disbelief, not expecting to hear from the manager that Takiishi and Endo are waiting for her.

“Alright, enjoy your time, Takiishi.” Endo gets up and promptly leaves, not turning back, and that’s odd of him, but Takiishi doesn’t care. 

He’s left alone with Yuka and she’s filling his glass up. “Would you like to order anything else?” Yuka smiles at him. Takiishi is looking at what she’s wearing and he can’t visualize you wearing her outfit. “Why’d you wear that?” He’s blunt. Yuka’s smile falters, she peers down at what she’s wearing, “Do you not like it?” Takiishi raises his hand and pushes her hair out of her face, “Why’d you choose to wear it?” Yuka hums and thinks about it, “I guess, I just like how it looks. Does it look bad on me?” Do you wear things simply because you like it? Do you wear certain shoes just because? Takiishi can’t stop thinking about you. Nothing special happens, he spends an entire hour listening to her talk about herself and he doesn’t stop her– until he asks her if she has any siblings. 

“Siblings? I have an older sister and a younger brother. Why?” 

“What do you feel about them?” 

“Well, I haven’t talked to my brother in a long time, we’re kind of estranged now. I see my sister from time to time, we get coffee and talk, and sometimes all she talks about are depressing topics. Are you having trouble with your siblings?” 

“Do you love them?” 

Yuka doesn’t respond. Then she scrambles up half answers, “I’m not really sure, it’s difficult, I guess I do love them.” Takiishi stares at the melted ice that’s watering down whatever she poured for him. “Alright.” He gives her cash, pays his bill, and leaves unsatisfied. All her answers made him feel further away from understanding you. Takiishi seeks her out every week or so, sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t, and sometimes they end up in a hotel room. He has no explanation for it, he doesn’t sense a necessity to understand Yuka, and ironically, even if he goes to her to take his mind off of you– you plague his mind the entire time. 

You ended up moving out into an apartment Chika leased for you. It was surprising how sudden it was, a week after you mentioned it to him, he held out a key to you. Dad wasn’t around, in fact, you haven’t seen him since a week before Chika spent the night at the house. Maybe he finally left and abandoned his children, but Chika told you not to think about it because it didn’t matter anymore. Now, you’re fully settled into the place, with no more cardboard boxes and no more echoing. It’s a place you wouldn’t have been able to afford– dreamed of living in if it wasn’t for Chika. A fuzzy cloud makes space in your stomach, you’re glad that you have Chika– your big brother. 

He was spending the night again, keeping you company by watching movies and playing games with you. You spot his laptop on the dining table, Chika is in the shower, and your curiosity is piqued because you still know very little about him. The screen brightens when you tap the trackpad, it goes to what it was previously on; a bank transaction log. As you scroll, there are normal purchases of clothes, food, and some miscellaneous items. But what stood out to you were the high amounts to a hotel, it repeated every couple of weeks. Why would Chika keep staying at a hotel? 

It left an odd itch in your brain and it didn’t go away when Chika sat down and watched a series with you or when he stayed by you as you did your work. When it got late enough, he left back to his place, and you brewed in the apartment about it. 

Texting your friend, you ask her for an idea why a man would often book a hotel room, and she replies that it’s likely to sleep with someone. If your friend hadn’t answered you, then maybe you wouldn’t have stood across the hotel Chika frequented and waited to see if it was true. The thought of Chika sleeping with a woman sent fireworks down your spine, it was an awful murky feeling that you had no right to feel. Why did it matter to you if Chika spent time with another girl, held her in his arms, and cared for her? It’s unexplainable, the storm of emotions turned you bitter. It was as if you lost your footing in your carefully built world. But if it was true, then what? 

You watch Chika arrive with a girl, enter the building with her, stay for hours with her, and then walk out without the girl hours later. Four hours and twenty-three minutes exactly. Your breathing is erratic– you lost something that belonged to you, but it never was yours to begin with. However, what you feel is real— it burns your logic and direction to ashes. A betrayal from someone you love. A betrayal to what? You don’t know.

Chika gets into a taxi and leaves the street. 

Pulling your hood off, the cold night air scratches the skin on your face. Two hours and sixteen minutes later, the girl walks out of the front doors. From the distance, her appearance is slightly disheveled. Your legs move for you, taking you closer to her until you’re walking directly behind her. She notices because you weren’t trying to hide, she stops and turns towards you, “Is there something you need? You’ve been following me.” Her tone was accusing. 

“That guy, you’ve been seeing Takiishi, right?” 

“Huh? What does it matter to you, are you his girlfriend? Actually, I don’t care, just stop following me.” She quirks her brow and continues walking. Her heels rhythmically click.

“My name’s Takiishi.” 

Her eyes almost pop out of her skull, “You’re his wife?” 

You grab her wrist, grip her shoulders, and drag her into the alleyway. 

“What the hell?! What’s your problem?! Let go–” 

Slamming your palm over her mouth, you shove her against the wall. “If you ever see him again, I’ll kill you. I swear, I’ll find you, I’ll fucking kill you.” You dig your nails into her cheek. “Or I could just kill you here. Do you understand me?” Her squeak is muffled by your hand as her eyes start to water. “Should I just fuck up your face here?” She shakes her head. “If you meet with him again, I’ll find out where you work, where you live, and I’ll slaughter you.” Your brain is rushing from adrenaline. Releasing your hand from her face, she sobs. Her neck has dark purple spots littered all over it and you question if you should kill her now. 

“O-Okay.” She straightens herself up on the wall. 

You step back and she glances at you once before cautiously moving away and hurriedly flagging down a taxi. That was the last you saw of her. 

When you got back to your apartment, you stripped yourself down and tossed away the clothes into the bin. You lay under your blanket and feel nothing. No regret, no anger, no guilt, no betrayal. You had opened a pandora’s box– out spilled these emotions you couldn’t get rid of. Why did you do that? What is Chika to you? Where is your head? 

You didn’t leave bed for the rest of the day. 

When you drift asleep and wake up again you dreamt of Chika. Hot-faced and panting, you felt his skin against yours, his lips on you, and his arms locked around you. It’s so strong, your body shakes with an unquenchable thirst. Morality crumbles and leaves behind nothing. Perhaps, you lost yourself a long time ago and only now realized it. Your thighs twitch and you stare up at the ceiling as you get damper and damper. 

Snaking your hand into your waistband you roll your finger along your clit and gasp. The relief electrifies you, never in your life have you been so winded up. Tears gather up in your eyes as you slip your fingers into yourself and you find yourself wishing they were Chika’s fingers instead. Closing your eyes, you imagine that it wasn’t you touching yourself– it was Chika, you conjure him up. You came hard— your toes curled and your body practically took a screenshot. A bright white layered over your sight as you heaved, chest rapidly rising and falling. A sticky liquid clung to your fingers as you pulled them apart from each other. You don’t think you can ever go back. 

As the weeks progressed, you watched Chika closely, trying to see if there was any change in his behavior. Though, you’re cautious if he caught onto you watching him. Your thoughts have become less muddled. But you wonder why he doesn’t refer to you as his little sister, you wonder why he kept a childhood photo of you in his wallet, and you wonder why he looks at you like that. You know there’s something wrong with you, but you wonder if you two were more similar than you could’ve ever imagined. 

You got invited to a mixer and you couldn’t be less interested. Swirling the soda in the cup around, you couldn’t pick up any changes in Chika, maybe that girl continued to meet up with him. You still don’t have a reason. 

“Hey, what about you?” Someone taps your shoulder. “Do you have anyone you love?” 

Love– you never thought of it. Is what you’re feeling love? People love their families, but you knew this wasn’t normal. You love Chika and you love him romantically. 

“No, I don’t have anyone I love.” 

Everything is wrong— you’re dirty. Siblings don’t love each other like this. You should not want to fuck Chika. It’s taboo– blacked out and everyone at this party would express their disgust. You have to free yourself from this fixation. 

“It’s your first time?” The guy you met now stands at the end of the hotel bed. “Oh, I feel a bit honored then.” 

You never thought of needing to lose your virginity, it was never something that crossed your mind. You had a couple of crushes, but they never worked out, mainly because you still lived with Dad. All you wanted was to get out of that house, the only way was to do it yourself. Get a good job, make enough money, and then be free. Now what? You’re out and Dad is no longer a part of your life and you must rid yourself of this thirst— although you get the awful impression there was no solution to this problem. 

Kissing was easy enough to learn, lips to mouth to tongue, touch touch touch. But you don’t feel anything. When his hand traveled up your thigh, you felt nauseous and gagged. The food in your stomach wanted out. You wanted out. 

“Sorry.” You murmur, pressing your head into the window. Your pinky twitches.

“It’s no problem, I can see how it’s scary.” He continues on the gas. 

“Sorry.” You apologize again when you step out of the car, you can’t bring yourself to say anything else.

He only offers a sympathetic smile, “Have a good night. Take care of yourself.” 

You don’t nod, say or do anything back. When you open your apartment door, you see Chika’s shoes. Dread fills you up. Chika is sitting on the couch, he stares at you when you enter, but you don’t spare him a glance, heading straight to your bed and throwing yourself onto it. You start to cry– hysterically cry like a mad woman. 

Chika tries to talk to you. “What’s wrong, what–” 

“Do you promise to not think badly of me?” 

“I would never think badly of you.” 

“No– you have to promise me, Nii-chan. You have to swear you won’t think I’m a freak.” 

He stares at you, “I promise. I swear.” 

You sit on the edge of the mattress, your feet touching the floor as he hands you another tissue. 

“No, I don’t know.” You sob into your knees, snot sticks to the tissue. “Why don’t I understand myself– sniff –something’s wrong with me.” Mascara runs down both of your cheeks. 

Chika is beside you and rubs his hand along your back. The touch sends a burning sensation through you. He doesn’t say anything. The mattress springs creak when you bring your feet onto the bed frame. 

“I…” you throw the tissue away and grab a new unstained one, “...Do you think I’m messed up, Nii-chan?” Turning to see him, his face remains stoic. 

“Why do you think that?” 

Your nails scrape your meat. “I think, I think I’m in love with you.” You don’t look at him when you say it, you don’t want to see his face of mortification. It made perfect sense that he’d be weirded out, disgusted even at the confession. 

Takiishi looks upon you with something deeper than love, something filthier and meaner, something pure and purer— as pure as the driven snow. However, he no longer remembers when it started. When protection and loyalty morphed into hunger and desire. You’re no longer his baby sister. 

From an outside perspective, he can see why you’re horrified to tell him, but his connection with you runs deeper than blood and bones. He sees you biting down on your lip, Takiishi brings his thumb up and presses it into the plush of your flesh. You instantly look up with confusion, a mix of emotions swimming on your face. He grabs you and presses his lips onto yours, falling on top of you in the process. You squeak out and go big-eyed. 

“What’s so messed up about it?” It had eaten his soul away. 

“Everything…” You murmur while bringing your hand up to caress his jaw. 

The room was unbearably scalding, burning him, stripping him bare. You lay naked beneath him. His fingers melt as he touches your skin, he’s tipped over his boiling point. Takiishi kisses you— kisses you all over. You squirm and twitch. He wants to burn you with him. 

“You trust me right?” 

“I’ll always trust you, Chika-nii.” You warmly smile at him, a smile that used to be missing teeth. 

He promised to be gentle to treat you with the utmost care, your eyes press shut as he pushes himself into your cunt. Despite him working you out, it struggles to accept him, take him in— take his cock. You claw into his shoulders from the discomfort, sobbing his name out. He bends and kisses your cheek, you relax a bit. 

Your cheeks shine when he bottoms out. Takiishi grits his teeth to control himself, because how long had he dreamt about this– to feel you around him? He and you belong as one. You sniffle and writhe, he sees blood. You bled for your first time and he recalls a memory. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shift uncomfortably, holding your skirt down. “I’m bleeding…” You whisper while tears flood your eyes. 

He stops. Glancing around, he decides to take off his Furin jacket. He crouched on the ground and instructed you, “Lift your arms up.” You do and he ties the jacket around your waist, covering your skirt. 

“T-thank you, Nii-chan.” 

“C’mon, there’s a shop nearby,” he takes you by the hand.

All kinds of childhood memories began resurfacing. Taking a digit, he swipes some of the bright blood onto it and sticks it into his mouth, tasting the metallic substance. 

“C-Chika-nii,” you say aghast at what he did. 

“Just focus on relaxing.” 

You nod and even out your breathing, “Y-you can move now…” 

Takiishi does, pulling back his hips and nudging forward, he watches your facade dissipate. You throw your head back and whine. His hands find purchase on your waist, your face turns softer the longer he fucks you. His cock nestles into your pussy and hits your walls. “Nii–hah–” You choke out, eyes parted and staring at where you were connected with him. Takiishi captures a nipple in his mouth, you arch into him and card your fingers through his long hair. His eyelids lowered and he mumbled something into your skin, his forehead pressed into the middle of your chest. Your heartbeat was even faster than Yuka’s. 

He knew you went after him that night when he went to find Yuka again, but was told that she moved away. Some of the hostesses gossiped amongst themselves that she mentioned a crazy wife. While Takiishi doesn’t pride himself on being a genius, he was able to put two and two together, and he knew he was correct when you became more sensitive. But he doesn’t feel a shred of concern for that hostess– he felt validated that your feelings were just as strong as his.

You mewl and quiver when you cum around him, it smolders him. Takiishi followed you, emptying himself into the condom. Your hand rests on his back as he laps the sweat off your skin. “N-Nii-chan…I’m dirty…” You oppose his doing. “You’re not dirty.” 

After that, he stopped praying for mercy.

In your shared bed, you come to it and giggle when your eyes land on Chika. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Your face feels hot as you trail your hand down, “You still left so much inside me, Nii-chan. Feel s’full.” Trailing your polished nail over his chest, you draw a line connecting his fading marks. Your eyes sparkle with amusement when he relaxes into the plush of the mattress, he doesn’t stop you when you press your lips into his skin and suck. When you finish, you can’t help but admire how pretty the spots looked, like stars decorating the sky. 

“Are you satisfied?” Chika wipes your face with the back of his hand. 

“Mhm!” 

“Alright, let’s take a bath now.” 

The water is tepid, it flows around you when you lean back into Chika’s chest. You hum and rest your hand on his knee, he has his arms wrapped around your torso. Nothing felt better than this. So sweet. So blissful. The subtle scent of body wash is present. “Oh, my nail chipped.” You bring it closer to see the damage. Chika takes your hand and pulls it back, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “You can just get them done again.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You suppose nothing frankly matters, all you need is Chika, and if you’re together with him, you couldn’t care about anything else. 

Fresh clean clothes lay over your frame as you sit on the couch. It’s a different apartment, one big enough for you and him, and you enjoy being around him at all times. The tartness from the cherry explodes over your taste buds, and the stem and pit are discarded in a bowl. “Did you finish?” You see Chika head over towards you, drying his hair. 

“Yeah, what’re you eating?”  

“Cherries. Do you want some?” You hold the half-eaten fruit out to him. 

Chika takes a seat next to you and leans his face in. You let out a light laugh and pressed the cherry to his mouth, the deep red juice flowed into the creases of his lips. He opens to take it in, devouring its body. His eyes bore into yours— you share a breath with him. You can slightly taste the cherry on his tongue when you run yours over his. There’s a string of saliva when you lean back to catch more air. “Nii-chan, let’s go to bed.” You wrap your arms around his neck and he buries his face into you, “Sure.” 

Hands are intertwined under the blanket, it feels intensely warm. Your face hurts from how long you’ve been smiling. 

“Are you happy?” 

“I am. I’m really happy, Chika-nii.” 

“I’ve never seen you smile like this before.” 

Maybe, you’ve never been this immensely at peace before in your life. You grew up more starved than you knew. As Chika pulls you into him, you tell yourself everything is meant to be. 

His fingers tap on the keys and you can hear the clicking if you listen close enough. The tiles dig into your legs as you press your weight into them. Chika has a hand on top of your head, petting you. He sharply inhales and leans into the chair to look down.

“You really like doing this, huh?”

You hum around his cock, the fat tip hitting the back of your throat when you take him deeper. You peer up at him through wet lashes, his face breaks out into a smile. You squirm at the sight from below. Releasing him from your mouth with a lewd pop, you stick your tongue out under the tip and stroke his length. Chika lets out a guttural groan and tilts his head back. After a few pumps, he cums all over your tongue and white ropes spew over your chin. You laugh and use a finger to push all of it into your mouth. “Did I do good, Chika-nii?” His chest rises as he curses. 

Your question if your big brother actually had any friends was answered when you stood in front of Endo. 

“We’re best buds.” The black-haired man laughs. He had tattoos all over his skin.

“Are you sure?” A part of you doesn’t believe him. 

Endo had jumped out in front of you as you were walking down the street and invited you for coffee at a nearby cafe. You were going to ignore him until he started talking about Chika. Crossing your arms, you eye him suspiciously. 

“What? You don’t believe me? I’m kind of hurt. Look here.” Endo takes off his flannel, leaving himself only in a tank top, his arms also covered in ink. He turns around and shows you his shoulder—the exact same tattoo Chika had. You lean in to inspect it— to see if it's really the same. “I designed it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep, I drew it for Takiishi, him. You guys have the same family name, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, we do. But, how long have you known Chika? I’ve never heard him talk about his friends before.” 

“Since elementary, I’ve been around him for that long. I even transferred to be closer to him, we went to the same middle and high school as well.” 

His answer drew out surprise, Chika had a friend for that long and you had no clue about it. “Seriously? Can you tell me more?” Your eyes sparkle at the opportunity to learn more about your brother.

“What’re you guys doing?” Chika’s voice. 

You and Endo both turn to where it came from. 

“I’m just chatting with your lil sis, didn’t know you even had one.” Endo laughs. 

You pause when you see his expression when he looks at Chika, your smile falters because you know that look all too well. Could you blame Endo though? Even you fell for Chika’s allure. You nearly burst out laughing at the situation, but Chika came here for you. The same sin binds you together. Your relationship with Chika was both the knife and the wound, an endless outpour of extreme love. Endo reminds you of yourself, the admiration and longing in him points a finger into your chest. You almost feel bad for him. 

When Chika grabs your hand and takes you back home, you can sense Endo knows. The way he watches you leave— he might’ve figured out this dirty secret. He might've already knew everything. 

Endo was jealous that someone was able to receive Takiishi’s care and affection. It was beyond what he felt about Takiishi letting Umemiya into his world. The Takiishi he knew wasn’t affected or influenced by anyone, but he kept you hidden. Endo never heard him talk about any siblings— the thought never crossed his mind. Everything Takiishi has done might’ve been for you. 

When Endo saw you for the first time, he recalled the photograph Takiishi kept in his wallet. It felt unbelievable that the man cared about his family. But blood ties people past the grave. You’re eerily similar to Takiishi, it made his skin crawl— he felt like he was standing before Takiishi himself. You were cut from the same cloth as him. He couldn’t get a read on you. To him, Takiishi was a real living god, so what did that make you? 

Confusion courses through his body, the reason doesn’t matter, but he still wants to know. 

The bathroom window was unlocked and Endo shimmied his way into the apartment through it. He’s careful to not make a sound, he steps out into the hallway and picks up noise from the bedroom. What you and Takiishi had going on was not in a way a mortal could understand. He realized he was one big idiot, the rules of mortals don’t apply to gods. No one else can be considered Takiishi’s peer if not for someone who shares blood with him. Endo leaned against the wall, he stood beside the open door. For someone who could come up with words at ease, he was at a loss for them. It was the most difficult thing in his life right now to describe what he was bearing witness to. 

It’s beautiful. 

Incest is frowned upon for normal humans– an eternal paradox. Those who were in power would do it to keep bloodlines pure, gods did it because where else would they find someone equal to them? Beings who did as they pleased. 

A whimper when Chika bites into your neck, only hard enough to leave indents of his canines. His cock batters your insides, turning your brain into a puddle. The bed creaks beneath. “Ch–Chika-nii, I’m gonna–mngh! Nii–” Your mouth falls open as you approach your peak. Chika stills and you express your confusion, “Nii-chan?” 

He breathes and sweat beads along his muscles, “I know you’re there.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. 

“How’d you know? Sorry to interrupt.” Endo steps out. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you moan when Chika harshly thrusts into you. “W-Wait– Chika–” 

“Only pay attention to me.” He turns your face away from Endo and back to him. 

The embarrassment of someone– Endo watching is quickly washed away when Chika hikes your legs over his shoulders and fucks you into the mattress. Your toes curl and you pathetically mewl. Chika’s a monster— a beast and you were no better than him. He dares to love you in the way you longed to be loved. Your big brother always doted on you. Babbling out his name, you weakly submit to him, allowing him to do whatever he wants, you trust Chika after all. He’s always taking care of you, making sure you cum a few times before he does, letting you suck his cock whenever you want, quenching your thirst without hesitation. 

“Your gonna cum?” Chika presses his forehead into yours. His hair falls all round. You quickly nod, too out of it to form words. 

“Hey, you better turn away when she cums. If you don’t I’ll kill you.” 

Endo stood glued in place, he fumbled out something but bent to Chika’s declaration. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn away. “I–” 

“I know.” Chika palms your breast, stopping it from bouncing. 

Your face contorted, it started to become too much. 

“Let go for me.” 

You do. Coming undone around him, you wildly shake. Gasping his name out over and over, your throat goes dry. You cry when he spills himself into you. This was all you ever needed. You’ll love him until your teeth fall out of your gums, indulge his every want to your grave. You know he feels the same way, he kisses your feelings back into your mouth. You felt ready to live again— falling into the burning pit with him.

Endo is the witness to this immoral act, you wonder what he’s thinking. Chika kisses your collarbones. When Endo peeks, your eyes meet his own. He’s crying. No one in this room is sane. 

You think about your Dad again. You think about that cat again. 

You’re no good. 

In your haze, you hug Chika. You remind yourself that nothing can sever your ties with him. You come to terms that you’re messed up. You felt wrong for what you did to that girl who was seeing Chika, but at least she got away. Your heart is sunburnt, but that’s fine, you never needed a pure heart anyways.

“Mom, are you gonna go with Uncle?” A little boy with black hair tugs on your skirt and fresh blues looks up in curiosity at you. He looks exactly like him and that was for the better. 

“Mhm, Dad will take you to the park later.” 

He smiles and fiddles with the fabric before skipping back into the living room and crashing down on the rug to play with his toys. “Mom, can you play with me?” 

“Sure,” you cover the pot and make your way over to him. You pass by the framed picture; you, a baby, Endo, and Chika. The cover of a sinister play. 

“You can be this one!” He hands you a dinosaur figurine. “It’s red, just like Uncle right? I think Uncle’s so cool. He showed me his super awesome kick yesterday.” 

“It is,” you smile and ruffle his hair. He shrieks out a fit of giggles and presses his small body into your side. 

“Mom, can I go with you and Uncle next time?” 

“When it’s the weekend, we can go together. What about Dad?” 

“Hmm,” he taps his tiny finger on his chin, “he can come too.” You laugh and pinch his cheek. 

It’s a facade, but no one else needs to know. Things will be fine like this. The three of you will take it to the grave. You watch the little boy wave the toy in the air. 

To hear, to see, to feel, to smell, to taste, to sense— it’s all part of the human body. In the end, you’re still 206 bones all put together. Does truth matter? Is what you’re doing correct? You’ve long abandoned such thinking. It probably died the moment you confessed to Chika that you loved him. That day you crossed the bridge and could never go back. The blazing inferno swallowed you up— it was a real spectacle. So willing to fall. When you die, you’ll die with a smile. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favors and Broken Promises

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x journalist!fem!reader

Summary: When you begin receiving death threats while writing an article on a dirty cop, Deacon Kay reluctantly agrees to protect you. He makes the situation worse before it gets better.

Warnings: angst to fluff; non-descriptive fight scene and injuries. the detective and dirty cop's names are a somewhat obscure book reference

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: I didn't proofread this, but I'll be back soon to do so!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon is attempting - and failing – to enjoy his day off. When his work phone rings, he sighs before answering.

“Sergeant Kay,” he greets, hoping this will be quick.

“Deacon, this is Detective Jeff Sherman.”

Smiling, Deacon is pleased that it’s not a SWAT call.

“What can I do for ya, Sherman?” he asks.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything for an academy classmate. Couldn’t have survived without you,” Deacon replies.

“It’s a big favor, Deacon. Big enough that if you say no I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“What have you gotten yourself into? This LAPD business?”

“Yeah. It’s for a case I’m investigating. Dirty cop working in the academy.”

“LAPD academy? For how long?”

“Started around the time we were there.”

“We would have seen it, wouldn’t we? Is there any truth to the claims, Sherman?”

Sherman sighs, and Deacon isn’t prepared to hear, “You didn’t know to look, Deac.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’ve got a friend, a journalist investigating the cop, and she needs protection. She started receiving death threats last week, and she was being blackmailed before that.”

“Why call me?”

“It would be off the books. Our history and your time in private security make you the perfect choice to keep her safe while we find this guy, get to bottom the threats.”

“Of course. Like I said, Sherman, anything for you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Investigating a dirty cop in the Los Angeles Police Academy isn’t as easy as one might think. After years in investigative journalism and a brief history in the criminal justice field, you found yourself drawn to telling the stories of the people who need justice the most but can’t get it for themselves. This particular story caught your attention because you know exactly what these young women are dealing with.

Walter Greener has been harassing, blackmailing, and assaulting female recruits since you were in the academy years ago. His history of mistreating women and the fact that he’s still at it with no record of any reprimands makes you eager to expose the truth.

You were likely one of the first. Greener harassed you constantly, and when he grew bold enough to assault you on numerous occasions, putting his hands on you or getting rough in the locker rooms after training, you began considering dropping out. Letting the actions of one man dictate your life seemed ridiculous, and you vowed not to quit without good reason.

When the first letter demanded something in exchange for your safety, essentially asking for a piece of your soul to keep your life, you knew you couldn’t keep going on the track you were on. You pulled away from your friends and family before dropping out and moving. During this time, completely alone, you began studying to become a journalist, refusing to let other women’s stories go unheard. Your classmate, Jeff Sherman, tracked you down and demanded to know what happened, able to see something that no one else could.

Years later, when you learned that Greener was not only a cop but was working in the academy, you had to return to the heart of Los Angeles and find the entire story; the good, bad, and ugly. Now that you have enough evidence, both past and present, you’re ready to write your article. There’s more than enough to get him fired and charged with harassment and assault if anyone else is willing to testify against him. The moment you began preparing the story, a death threat appeared in your email inbox. Within a few days, they were being delivered straight to your door.

The only relationship that survived your forced exit from the academy was with Jeff Sherman, so you called him and told him everything. He jumped to action, promising to find him and keep you safe. Believing him, you continue working on the story, unwilling to let Greener scare you away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This woman have a name?” Deacon asks.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sherman says before telling Deacon your name.

“Are you kidding me? No way, Sherman.”

“You already agreed, Deac. C’mon, man, do it for me?”

Deacon pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he went from being suddenly abandoned by you to being responsible for your safety. While you were in the academy, you dated Deacon for several months. He was happy, and things were getting serious, and then, out of nowhere, you started pulling back before disappearing completely. You dropped out of the academy, and Deacon had to accept that he’d likely never see you again. You broke his heart without giving him any idea about what happened. Even today, he is hurt and angry that you didn’t talk to him about the unknown issue. 

Unaware of how you were forced to pull away from him and the career of your dreams, Deacon has remained clueless about the blackmail and harassment that targeted your personal life. Each threat included your family and friends, including your cop friends and Deacon himself.

You and Detective Sherman only stayed in touch because he realized something was going on with all of the women and found you, cornering you for answers after your disappearance. 

Deacon already agreed and won’t go back on his word, but he really doesn’t want to see you again. Doesn’t want to be that close to you, responsible for you, any of it. He was pissed when you left, and he’s still so angry and hurt that he can’t imagine letting you walk into his life, his house, without at least providing a few answers. The idea of someone threatening to kill you, however, makes it harder to say no (if he could).

“You said death threats?” Deacon asks. “Are they bad?”

“They weren’t at first. Progressively, yeah, they’ve gotten graphic and detailed. The blackmail was rough too, though. Greener knows a lot about her.”

“Wait, Richard Greener? From the academy?”

“Right, you didn’t know, I’m sorry. That’s who the article is about. He’s still harassing and assaulting young girls in the academy and she’s trying to get to the bottom of it, get him fired or indicted.”

Deacon wants clarification on the ‘still’ aspect of Sherman’s statement but decides that getting close to this is a bad idea. It’s a job, nothing more, so he can’t let you get under his skin. The anger and hurt are as powerful as they were years ago, so Deacon will keep you alive and then watch you walk away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Why won’t you tell me who my bodyguard is, Sherman?” you ask, approaching a back door.

“Because you wouldn’t have come,” he admits while knocking.

The door opens, and you find yourself face-to-face with Deacon Kay.

“Hi,” you whisper, shocked to see him.

He ignores you, looking at Sherman instead. “Check for trails?”

“Of course, Deac. We weren’t followed. Thanks for your help.” He looks between you to add, “Don’t kill each other.”

Sherman walks away, and Deacon enters the house, leaving the door open for you to carry your bag inside.

“Guest room is the second door on the right,” he says, his back to you.

“Thanks,” you reply. “I’m sure you didn’t want to do this, but I appreciate it.”

“Oh, yeah, I just live for protecting people who intentionally piss off the wrong people with their second career choice of journalism. Because writing will change so much.”

You try to ignore his hurtful jab, opting to find the guest room instead of staying close to Deacon. He’s already forgotten this is supposed to be a job, letting his emotions control him. When you reemerge a few hours later, he wordlessly slides a plate of food to you.

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to throw it away if you suddenly decide you don’t like it, since you seem to enjoy that,” Deacon snaps, taking his plate into his room and closing the door.

“I think I might prefer the death threats,” you say to yourself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, you don’t get it. She left me, took part of me with her,” Deacon says quietly, pacing as he asks for advice.

“Sounds like she may still have it,” Luca offers. “Maybe give her a chance to explain. Have you talked to her yet?”

“Um- sort of. Nothing civil though.”

“Deac,” Luca sighs. “You can’t attack her for something she did back then and expect her to feel safe, for one, but that’s also no way to move on, man. At some point you just gotta let go and find something else.”

“You’re telling me to forgive and forget?”

 “I’m telling you to remember that neither of you are the same people you were back then. Give her a chance, and maybe be a little respectful of the fact that the man who destroyed her life is threatening to take it.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call and exits his room, noticing your door is closed. He sees your shadow move in the light under the door and decides that Luca’s advice can wait a day because his hurt feels brand new.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is that wise?” Deacon asks, walking into the kitchen the following morning. “Isn’t writing what got you into this?”

“Not exactly,” you answer, completing your outline.

“Well, it’s what got me into this, and it’s not my dream vacation, so maybe don’t do anything to make the situation worse, if you can manage that.”

You nod slowly, sad that Deacon seems stuck on what you did in the academy. If he can’t move on or at least give you a chance to explain after all this time, then it’s probably not worth trying, you think.

Deacon notices the sad, misty look in your eyes as you continue typing but exits the room before anything else happens. He’s not in the mood to give you pity or feel empathetic toward you; you got yourself into this situation, but you also drug Deacon into it.

Throughout the rest of the day, you don’t even react to Deacon’s jabs and outright mean comments. Whenever he sees you, you jump as if you didn’t know anyone else was around, are lost in thought, and ignore him, or stare longingly out the window. Even after stumbling upon you crying at two different times, he keeps pushing you, letting the past impact his current treatment of you. Deacon thinks you don’t seem to care, so why should he?

By the end of the first day, you refuse to meet Deacon’s eyes and try your hardest to avoid him. Deacon notices, of course, and realizes that something in your past must be affecting you, maybe even the same thing that made you leave him. Everyone seems to think Deacon needs to move on, but he’s not the only one.

✯✯✯✯✯

A few days into your nightmarish stay with Deacon, he wakes up in an especially bad mood, which shows in his snarky comments and low-aimed insults.

“Couldn’t make it as a cop so you sit behind a computer and judge those of us that answered the call to serve and protect,” Deacon mutters.

Tired and unable to take Deacon’s – for lack of a better word – verbal abuse for a moment longer, you snap. “Well, I am so sorry that I was harassed and assaulted so often that I didn’t feel safe anywhere, not even with you! Dropping out and pulling away from everyone I cared about was my only choice, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt you, Deacon, but I’m not trying to make you feel like a monster for letting me leave and not noticing that Greener was putting his hands on me every time you looked away!”

Deacon’s eyes are wide as you continue, “And if the panic attacks and trust issues get to be too much, I’ll just leave again, because I think anything would be better than sitting in this house, with the man who is supposed to be keeping me safe but instead is making a bad situation a whole lot worse.”

With your emotions raging, you can feel the panic attack building in your chest, and you storm away before Deacon can witness that level of vulnerability.

Once he’s alone in the living room, Deacon begins piecing together all of the little signs he missed before, growing more and more determined to make it up to you. From the academy to this moment, he has a lot of hurt to mend, but he can help you now, even if he didn’t back then. Your situation requires a reminder that there are good, trustworthy cops; despite his recent behavior, Deacon is one of the good ones.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon knocks softly on your door, and you harshly rub the tears off your cheeks before answering.

“I’m so sorry,” he says when you come into view. Staying in the hallway, Deacon holds his hands before him, his genuineness evident in his gaze and body language. “I’m here with you and I will protect you, I promise.”

You nod, and he sends you a small smile before retreating into his room. Your heart feels a bit lighter, and Deacon’s does, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

Over the next few days, Deacon’s heart begins healing. He’s casually protective, gently moving you out of the way when you’re blocking something he needs, calmly asking you to stay away from the window, and refusing to let you out of his sight for too long. When you spend too much time in the shower, Deacon knocks and asks if you’re okay. Your responding laugh makes Deacon smile for the first time in too many years.

Deacon does more than a bodyguard should, with evident kindness and concern underlying each of his movements and commands. When he speaks, his words are nearly parallel to his previous comments.

“What are you writing?” he asks when he finds you curled on the couch with your laptop perched on your knees.

“Working on the article,” you answer carefully.

“I’ve read some of your pieces. You write on important topics in a way that makes them relatable. That’s admirable.”

Later the same day, he encourages you to keep writing when you mumble that it feels pointless.

“Even if you help one more girl, isn’t that enough?”

He even walks you to bed, holding the door open as he apologizes again. “And I didn’t mean what I said – any of it – but especially the part about you not being able to be a cop. We both know you were on track to be the best of us. But what you’re doing now is just as important.”

“Still can’t help but feel robbed,” you admit. “He took everything I loved.”

Glancing up at Deacon, you think he understands your meaning when he smiles.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Kay,” Deacon says, answering his phone. “I’m off this week… How bad is it?... Yeah, I’ll get right back to you.”

“You should go,” you say, looking over your laptop. “Sounds like they need their best.”

“It’s a major hostage situation, and they only called because it’s urgent. I shouldn’t leave you, though, they can find someone else.”

“Deac,” you call. “I’ll be okay for a little while. And I will call if anything happens, or I get worried or just want to talk. I promise.”

Deacon reluctantly agrees, gathering his things as he calls his team back and tells them he will meet them at the scene. As he leaves you, he feels like something is wrong, out of place, but maybe that’s just because he misses you after spending so much time together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Something scratches across the front door, and you’re immediately alert. It hasn’t been long enough for Deacon to return, so you rush to his room, but the front door slams against the wall before you can escape behind another locked door.

“An article about me?” Greener asks. “I’d be flattered if I didn’t know exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“Now, I’m the kind of woman that you can’t intimidate.”

“Intimidate?” Greener laughs as he cracks his neck. “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

You step back as Greener lunges, glad you continued training after dropping out of the academy. You’re still a good fighter, and Greener underestimates you because you’re a woman. While Deacon deals with a tiring afternoon of saving hostages, you win a tiring fight.

Car doors close in the neighboring driveway, and an exhausted and injured Greener rushes out of the broken front door. You don’t want to call Deacon, not because you don’t trust him but because you know he will blame himself. Regardless, you dial his number and lean back against the wall.

“Hey, what happened?” Deacon answers.

“Uh, Greener broke in. I’m okay… mostly okay. We fought but he got scared off,” you answer softly.

Deacon hangs up, rushing home and patching you up. He covers your scrapes and bruises, apologizing as he goes.

“I will never put you in this situation again,” he promises as he secures the last bandage over your split knuckles.

“Stay by my side?” you ask, offering your less bruised hand.

Deacon takes it with a soft touch as he answers, “Through it all.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps his promise, staying by your side through the trial, the mixed backlash and praise over the article, and perhaps most surprisingly, your sudden fear of being alone again.

Standing by his door with your bags in tow, you can’t cross the threshold.

“You don’t have to go,” Deacon repeats. “Stay as long as you want. I’m by your side, remember? There’s nothing to worry about here. Other than me getting attached to you and clingier.”

You smile, glancing at the door before stepping closer to Deacon as he pulls you into a hug, and you wrap your arms around him before pressing your cheek against his shirt.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Deacon vows. “I lost you once, and after everything we went through to find each other again, what I put you through, I’m not losing you again.”

[star-girl69]

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, blood, gore, death, battle, injury, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Three- Belonging

—-

“You must learn to fight.”

Maybe you knew Ronal’s words would come, but you still did not want to hear them. It’s not that you were against learning the art of the spear, the bow, anything- it’s just you simply weren’t good at it.

You had tried to be a warrior, many years ago, a phase of something to get your mother’s attention, but you simply weren’t good at it.

Maybe you just didn’t put your heart into it, knew somewhere deep down it wasn’t your calling.

“I don’t want to,” you say carefully, looking at your sister over your shoulder. She sighs, let’s you turn back to the fruit you are cutting.

“It is not a matter of want. Mother and Father are dead. You have no mate. And what if Tonowari or I cannot be there to protect you? You don’t need to be a warrior. You just need to be able to defend yourself.”

“Ronal,” you sigh, setting down your knife-

“No. Listen to me.” She spins you around, nails digging into your biceps. Not enough to hurt, but enough to force you to listen. “Please. I want- I need you to be safe. Just- just learn how to throw a spear, at the least.”

You look up from her necklace to her eyes.

“Fine,” you whisper, and her face breaks out into a smile.

—-

Something else takes over your body, action and reaction, your ribs, a different part of your head.

The ship is slippery when you climb onto it, and if you’re silent, you can hear the sound of something in the air- hidden by the darkness. The only light is from the burning fires, the only sounds from the humans and the dreamwalkers.

You swear if you were to place your hand to your chest- you wouldn’t even feel your heartbeat. The silence takes up the entire ship, the fear in your bones igniting and fading, your own small war in your body to simply keep your head.

A spear lies next to you, lodged into the metal of the ship, and you grab it quick, leaving no room for hesitation, any second guesses.

You can only rely on your hands, your instinct. See this, do that, keep yourself alive for another second to face the next threat.

You feel like air floating, silent and focused, fueled only by something under your ribs and a need to save your children. Because that’s what a mother does, and you are a mother. Lo’ak called you it- Tuk does. You must be some sort of a mother then, right?

A few more steps, you think to yourself, until you reach the main deck of the ship, until you can find Jake and Neytiri, fight for your children.

“Ah!” you yelp, kicking and screaming as a hand is placed over your mouth and you are dragged under a curve of the ship.

A hand wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to someone’s chest, until someone’s head is pressed to your own and lips are at your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You let out a sigh and sag against him, and he waits another second, muscles tensing around you, before he takes his hand off of your mouth with a hiss.

“My Jake,” you whisper, reaching behind you to place a hand on his cheek.

His hand rests over the bandages wrapped around your side, and his body is tense against yours.

“What,” he breathes, “are you doing here?”

“Helping,” you say, and he grabs the hand you have pressed against your face. Your swear his lips press against it- but you can feel how mad he is, so you must be imagining it. “They’re my daughters too, Jake.”

He grunts and spins you around, and you catch a glimpse of Spider off to the side, looking out over the edge to the deck of the ship.

Your eyes meet his, but he holds nothing tender for you, only anger, only worry.

“You’re hurt.” His hand presses against your wound again, enough for you to really feel it, enough for you to wince. His face falls. “Shit. I- I’m sorry, baby. But you- you can’t-”

“They’re my daughters too.”

His eyes search yours, before he ends it, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course they are. No one’s questioning that. But you want to save them- it will hurt them just as much if you’re dead. It’ll ruin them. Destroy them. You’re so fucking-” he cuts himself off, shaking his head with a smile. “Precious. You know? Like treasure or some shit.”

But he is not talking about the girls anymore.

“Jake,” you whisper, trying to sound comforting, but only a plea manages to come out. A plea to let you help, let you be a mother. “It was only a graze, my love, please,”

He shakes his head again, finally letting go and taking a step back. Although you mourn his loss, you know what his actions mean.

“What?” you breathe, disbelieving, tears in your throat again.

“I can’t let you get hurt. The rest of this family is falling apart, babygirl, and I’m trying to repair this family, this fucking fortress. I won’t tear it down more in the process.”

But your ribs ache again, and you think of them, so you tuck your ears in and hiss at him. He flinches, but takes it. Takes it like a solider.

But you don’t need a solider- not right now. Right now, you need your husband, your love. You need the Jake you know is in there.

You see he won’t come out-

“I don’t need your permission.” You tighten your grip on your spear, turn to walk away from him, do this on your own.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mutters as you turn, and you take one step, two steps-

A hand on your wrist.

“Fine. Fuck, fine. I have a plan. And when I tell you to go- you finish what you’re doing and you run, you hide, you get the fuck out. And you stay close to me.”

You let your eyes trail up his figure, legs to head to arms to his hand on you. You see the man you mated with. You See the man you mated with.

“I See you, Jake Sully.”

His gaze softens. “I See you too, my Y/N.”

—-

“Stay here,” he whispers once more, eyes switching between you and Spider. You send a look to the human next to you, and you almost want to protest, but then you see the small device in his hands.

His eyes meet yours. He nods, holds the small object tighter, before he climbs out of your hiding place and onto the deck.

Each second is torture, watching his figure climb, until he becomes one with the darkness.

One moment, two, until he emerges again-

“Get down!” he shouts, sliding down the metal next to you and Spider.

You barely have a second to breathe, let alone get down, until the human boy is suddenly throwing his arm around you- and the force of his fall makes you fall as well.

A blast rocks the ship, fire exploding into the night, the light swallowing the darkness, igniting everything in a bright yellow tint. Ears ring and ribs ache, before the initial shock is gone and Jake is tugging you up.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?!”

“Yes,” you whisper, pushing everything down.

Strong heart, that’s what Jake had said to Neytiri. What Neytiri had said to Jake before you even knew they existed.

You feel your heart becoming strong now, you feel your heart knowing-

You lean down, wrap your hands tight around your spear.

Jake watches you as you saunter forward, hips swaying in a deadly dance, a deadly promise.

Screams fill the ship, but it is nothing compared to the sound of your roaring heart, blood in your ears.

Jake nods to you, hand on your shoulder, before he grabs his own spear and climbs and jumps.

And your heart knows, and you follow.

—-

Jake already took out the two men closest, and you see him duck behind a fallen helicopter, gunfire drawn on him.

But the dreamwalker firing doesn’t see you.

Your spear soars through the air, loud enough for her to hear, but quick enough to allow only a moment on realization- before it sinks into her chest like feet sinking into sand. You can’t find it in yourself to feel any remorse.

One moment of victory-

Neytiri lands on her ikran, somersaulting into a standing position, arrow already drawn and sinking into the man a few feet in front of you.

You run forward, pulling your spear from the Avatar’s body, Neytiri’s arrows flying through the air, your spear swinging out, carving a large gash into a humans stomach, his hand still on the trigger of the gun he would have shot you with.

Neytiri grabs her arrow from another fallen Avatar, Jake covering you, before she turns to you.

She hisses, and words are on your lips.

“My Y/N!”

An arrow shooting past you, time moving so fast, so quick, staccato, how far away is the fire? How far away is your death?

You gasp as you turn, seeing a man fall to his knees behind you, shooting bullets into the floor as he falls.

“Down!” Jake shouts, jumping over the edge, Neytiri following him, and your heart knows, your heart really does know, and you’re following.

Following them to death is nothing, right?

You have faith in your heart, in Eywa. You know you would be safe in the Great Mother’s heart, and soon you wouldn’t be alone.

You barely manage to slide down, hide behind a piece of something, before bullets rain down on you, sinking into the metal behind you.

Neytiri jumps from one cover to the next, shooting and arrow midair with a grunt. You take a deep breath, watch as they circle around her cover.

“Who’s got eyes?”

“Anyone got eyes?”

She jumps from over them just as you find a target, your spear releasing and her arrow releasing at the same time. They both meet their targets, and she finishes an Avatar off with her bow, letting you run forward, and arrow shooting past, you spear flying again as soon as you grab it.

You join her in her cover, spear too far away, and she breathes heavily next to you, roughly ripping one her arrows out from her satchel and giving it to you.

It is different from a spear, but it will still work. It will still kill.

Gunfire from Jake takes care of the human close to your cover, letting the two of you emerge.

Running and practically punching on the Avatar before you, arrow sinking into the back of his neck, blood spurting from the wound like some sick joke of a firework.

You roll to the dead body where your spear lies, just a Jake throws a human into another Avatar, gun at the ready- but it clicks, empty.

You mumble his name, and he runs into cover, leaving you to stay close to the floor, using the shadows.

Gunfire follow his movements, and he throws his useless gun into a human, and you throw your spear at the chest of one wrapped in metal.

Jake fights off the next one, pushing him into the open bowels of the ship.

You lean against a piece of metal, breathing heavily as you look over your spear, making sure it’s not broken. Making sure it can still kill.

Neytiri in the corner of your eye, ripping an arrow from a dead body.

“Neytiri!” you shout, an Avatar rising, gun in his hands, but Jake fights him off with nothing but a hatchet, not letting you or Neytiri help him.

“My Jake!” she shouts, and tears fill your eyes. Caused by the smoke of the fire, by the prospect of losing them.

Neytiri turns, as you stand with your arm tense and pulled back, releasing her arrow into a far off human.

You breathe heavily, waiting for an opening, but the fight it too chaotic, and you can barely even tell who is who in the darkness.

Finally, with one grunt, Jake throws him off of the ship.

You breathe out, arm aching from fighting, sweat pouring over you, legs tired and achy.

Jake’s eyes meet yours, and you have to lean against something, the blood loss too much, the fight too much.

“My Jake-” you say, eyes flicking between him and where Tuk and Kiri are. You had caught a glimpse of them earlier- but the battle was moving too fast.

Jake nods, grip on his knife tight, and you follow him with your spear, eyes wide.

When you see Tuk, you have to bite back at something under your ribs, and her eyes light up, and she tries to shuffle towards you.

“Daddy, Mama,” she whispers.

“Shh, Tuk,” you whisper as Jake cuts her binds, and she stands with a wince.

“Where’s your sister? Where is she? Where is she?” Jake asks as you place a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back against you. Your head searches the space- but Kiri is gone.

“That way,” Tuk whispers, and you follow the turn of her head. “Mama,” she whispers, and you shush her again, grabbing her hand and squeezing tight.

Jake follows the direction she said, cautious and in front of the two of you, ready to protect.

You see him stop, see his ears twitch-

“Kiri!” you gasp, watching as Quaritch walks out from behind a wall, Kiri in his arms and a knife to her throat.

“Kiri! Kiri!” Tuk calls, and you feel a tear fall down your face as she hugs your leg.

Jake grunts, placing a hand over your chest as you try to go forward, delirious and adrenaline falling off, pain in your veins. Your heart doesn’t know, and your ribs ache but there’s nothing to draw from anymore.

You just want your family back together. You just want the arms of your mates, the voices of your children.

“Running out of time here, Corporal,” he says. So casual, so nonchalant, as if he does not hold a piece of your world under his knife.

The water laps against the ship, slowing rising, slowing bringing death.

Quaritch nods towards you. “Your girl already got hurt tonight. Don’t make me hurt another.”

Jake hisses and jumps forward, but Quaritch presses the knife closer and Kiri groans, so he jumps back. Tuk digs her nails into your leg, and your spear is lose in your grip. You know you can’t get a good shot- he would see you, he would have enough time to move, enough time to use Kiri as a shield.

Your stomach rolls at the thought.

“Just kill him, Dad!” Kiri screams, before the knife jerks again.

“No,” you whisper, wanting to take a step forward, but Jake’s hand keeps you in place. “No, no, please, my baby,”

“Put your weapons down,” he hisses.

“Don’t do it!”

But Jake ignores Kiri’s cries, and you follow him, kicking it away after he does.

Quaritch throws an orange band to him.

“Cuff yourself,” he hisses.

“No!” Spider shouts, emerging from somewhere. “No. Don’t hurt her, okay? Don’t!”

“Stay there!” Quaritch orders, and Spider stops in his tracks. “Don’t move! Not a step closer! Cuffs! On, now!”

He is overtaken by it, his need for revenge, it’s written all over his face. His insanity, his lack of emotions. You cannot even fathom how someone gets to be like this.

“You son of a bitch,” Jake says, but there’s resignation in his voice, and you need to scream. Jake cannot leave you, Kiri cannot. You have been floating for too long and this family has saved you, your family saved you.

He leans down, grabbing the orange band.

“Jake, Jake,” you hear yourself saying, but you are out of your body. Unreal and metaphysical. Floating above. “Jake!”

Until Neytiri comes from the darkness, looking as if she has tied death to a leash and it now follows her. It is now under her command, and she controls who dies on this ship.

You can barely blink- she isn’t there and then she is, hand is Spider’s hair, knife at his throat.

“Release,” she hisses, “or I cut.”

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulbli @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer @ambria @homeispandora @hxgemxscles @ripnevillestrevor @amiets2 @reallysparklychaos @ok-boke @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nerd-squad-headquarters @abaker74 @ara-a-bird @queenzeemelanin092201-blog @marvelsimps @marydragneell @lola-bunn1 @erenjaegerwifee @blackgaladriel @vane28282 @eternallyvenus @aerangi @alwaysinwritersblock @minkyungseokie @luvlykrispy @ivyplays @slutforspacelatinos @tejas-kris

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Two

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

"But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands."

Joel and I don't stay in the town for another night, we continue on. Our pace is slower than what I've become accustomed to, but Joel's wound isn't completely healed yet. The two of us have been silent after our discovery, Joel didn't have anything to say after I declared my death threat. No, instead of saying anything, he just handed me the photos and nodded solemnly.

With the two of us getting closer and closer to Omaha, I find myself feeling appreciative of Joel's slower pace. This gives us opportunities to find things we may have otherwise missed. And it also gives me more time with him. Since his near-death experience, I find myself trying to memorize the way his eyes shine golden in the sunlight, the way his voice sounds in the morning, how his shirt clings to the broadness of his shoulders, just small details. The small details are the ones I know will fade first, and I want to be able to hold onto them for as long as possible.

I know this to be fact because I can no longer quite remember what Ryan's voice really sounded like, and I can't quite remember just how soft Lucas' hair was. The simple things about them have slowly faded from my mind without me realizing it, until I thought about them one day and could never truly remember. I've never been able to forgive myself for forgetting, and I know I don't want to forget these things about Joel. After all, he's the man who has kept me alive all this time.

A part of me wishes I could be there when he's reunited with his pseudo-daughter. I wonder if he's going to tell her about this, or never mention it to her at all. She would have no idea I exist, or that Joel and I took this trip together. I know Joel is trying to protect her from the people of this world due to her immunity, so it makes sense if he never tells her about any of this. She's still a child at the end of the day, and no child should hear that there's a bunch of crazed men out there trying to find and kill them. Even if she never knows about me, or any of this, I know I'll still be able to rest peacefully at night with the knowledge that I helped protect her.

"This okay for tonight?" We stop walking as Joel points out a small, run-down gas station. It's likely the only building for miles, and so I agree to stop here for the night.

As we set up our makeshift camp, I continue to think about the girl waiting for him back in Wyoming. After hours of on-the-road thoughts, I can't help but to be fascinated with someone who is immune. It's glaringly obvious that she's one of a kind. Sure, I've known for a while that she's immune, but I think it just took some time to process it, to really understand what it means and the ramifications of it. But mostly, I just want to know how it happened. What caused her to be immune and why it's not being replicated anywhere else, that we know of.

My eyes follow Joel's form as he starts the fire for the night, my thoughts anywhere but the present. I watch how he situates the flammable material while wondering what his life is like in Wyoming and if he's excited to be back. Obviously, he's probably eager considering he's got family waiting for him. He lights the fire and the amber glow illuminates his features in soft light. His eyes look warm and inviting, the curve of his nose beautifully adorns his face with unique character, the plumpness of his lips reflect with the drink of water he just took. As if he feels my eyes lingering on him, he looks over and meets my gaze.

"What's on your mind?" He asks, shifting back from the fire a few feet as it takes flame. My eyes dance between him and the fire, debating if I should confess or not.

"I um, I've just been thinking about a lot of things." It's not a complete lie, I guess. Orange flames rise and dissipate, crackling in front of us.

"About what? You've been quiet since this morning." Instead of confiding in him my most recent thoughts, I decide to unload the other thing that's been bothering me for a while now, since he was stabbed. With a sigh and a quick lick of my lips, I tell him my moral dilemma.

"I've never been one to enjoy taking a life. Didn't like it when I was on FEDRA gate duty, and I didn't like it when we ran into the Fireflies. But that night you got hurt, I enjoyed killing them. I liked hearing them die in front of me, their blood staining my hands. And I've been having these thoughts of what it's going to feel like to kill these people. It's almost anticipatory." Our eyes stay locked on one another as I speak, my words quiet and somber. With a shaky breath, I continue,

"And I'm not sure what that makes me. Am I really any different from them if I look forward to killing?" My throat constricts, like my body doesn't want me to voice my fear. The silence between us is palpable and dread grows in me with each second Joel doesn't say something. Not being able to handle the criticism when he opens his mouth, I focus on the fire.

"Doesn't make you a bad person, if that's what you're worried about." He finally speaks, and his words catch me off guard, the total opposite of what I was expecting.

"Then what does it make me? Because it isn't good." My voice cracks. I know it's not fair to be asking him these questions, but, I can't stop from asking them. He shifts his weight to his other side and leans forward slightly, looking deeper into my eyes and I fear if he looks too hard he'll be able to see right into my soul.

"Makes you human. Means you have purpose, something worth protecting. Or, in your case, a ledger to balance." There is no trace of anything but authenticity as he speaks, his words settling into my mind. My eyebrows come close together as I mull over what he's said and I realize he may be right.

"You know I really thought you were going to die that night." I change the subject slightly, not wanting to admit to him that he's becoming my 'something to protect' and a part of my 'ledger to balance'.

"And if I did I suppose it was just my time." He relaxes his posture as if the thought of death is no more stressful than deciding what he's going to wear the next day.

"Don't say that." I shake my head, not wanting any more images of his dead body in my mind. The one from this morning, from the photos, still haven't left my mind. Each time they pop up behind my eyelids, it instills a new fear in me each time.

"You did a damn good stitch job." He tries to lighten the mood, pulling up the hem of his shirt to show the still intact sutures.

"It's a wonder you didn't bleed out. Do you even remember what happened?" I'm not entirely sure how much he saw, or what he remembers. To answer my question, he shakes his head.

"Not really, just remember you gettin' there and the rest is just kind of-" He motions with his hands that his memory of the night has become scrambled.

"One of them got you real good with their machete. I stuffed the wound with my shirt to try to stop the bleed and then I had to get you to another building. On the ground just outside of where we ended up there was one of their torches, barely still burning on the sidewalk. So I took it and heated the blade of my hunting knife, then I cauterized the cut. Found the sewing supplies when I was looking around and just did my best. Truthfully, you lost a lot of blood, like, way too much." I give him the brief recounting of the night. His fingers lightly trace the stitching before he meets my eyes again.

"Thank you." He tenderly says, dropping the hem of his shirt.

"It was the least I could do." I shrug one of my shoulders. The silence between us returns for a few more moments before Joel announces that he's going to get some sleep for the night. I tell him I'm going to as well, but end up staying awake.

After a while, the flames of the fire begin dying off but my eyes remain affixed to the back of Joel. The shirt across his shoulders is drawn tight, battling to stay intact. His dark curls are barely brushing the collar of the shirt, more prominent from the humidity of the day. As my eyes wander down his solid form, the chain around my neck seems to burn my skin. Disgust with myself boils up from within, and I force myself to look away from Joel.

My gaze turns up to the ceiling and I try to flood my mind with how Ryan sounded, how he felt, how he loved me. Bits and pieces come back, like how his hand felt on my cheek, how solid his chest felt when I hugged him, but I cannot remember his voice. I can feel the timbre of it, but can't place the true tone and inflection. Tears well in my lower lash line as I accept that I genuinely can't remember him fully anymore. I've known for a while that certain things have faded, but I never took the time to mourn that loss, I have not allowed myself to mourn Ryan the way I should have all those years ago.

My hands curl into frustrated fists, my nails digging crescent shapes into my palm as silent tears run down my face. Tears of guilt for forgetting, tears of sadness because I can no longer remember all of my husband. Tears of fear because I realize that I may be falling in love with another man; one whom I cannot be with. I grit my teeth together in lieu of screaming and a hollow feeling opens in my chest.

Moving faster than my mind can keep up, I go outside where the air hits the wetness of my face and sends a shiver down my spine. Once I'm sure that I'm far enough to where Joel can't hear me, I let myself cry. With each ragged breath I take my chest heaves up and down unevenly. Tears uncontrollably run down my face and I grip the chain around my neck tightly, wishing I could just have one more second with my family, wishing I could feel the warmth of their skin on mine, to tell them how much I love them one final time. Hoping and praying that my love for them and their absence is enough to stave off the feeling blooming inside of me for Joel.

All through the past ten years I've yearned to have my family back, there's been a hole in my heart, a void that has never been filled since outbreak day. A void that hasn't been hurting as much the past couple of weeks. I've always missed Ryan and Lucas, but lately their absence has been a dull ache as opposed to the sharp stabbing I'm used to. I'm not sure what this means, because I know I love and miss them vehemently. But I also know how I feel about Joel.

Unable to stay standing, I lower myself to my knees, burying my face in my hands. My eyes squeeze shut and the tears fall off the ends of my eyelashes. Guilt overtakes me as I remember how on outbreak night Ryan protected Lucas and I to the best of his ability. How he told me he loved me, and that we were going to be alright. If only I had turned that corner first. Why was I the one to survive, but they had to die?

Guilt burns into anger and I blame myself for what happened. If only I had been brave enough to go first, then maybe they would still be on this Earth. I know they could've forged a life for themselves somewhere. Meanwhile I was content being shipped everywhere and ended up being a lowly pill runner. Why couldn't that FEDRA guard have shot the infected two seconds earlier and spared them? It just isn't right.

Sobs strain my throat while I try to stay quiet and I use the sleeve of my button up to wipe my nose. The stars above me shine brightly and I stare at them, stray tears falling down my cheeks. If only they could reach out to me and let me know that wherever they are, that they're together and they're not suffering, that they're not angry at me for feeling this way about Joel.

Ryan and Lucas will never be able to be replaced, they will always occupy a special place in my heart. I know I can never have them back with me physically, yet I know that they are forever with me, tethered to the very fiber of my being. But I feel that my heart is opening up a new spot, and I'm not sure I'll be able to kill whatever is blooming. I'm not sure I want to.

With wide eyes I search the sky for some sort of sign, some indication that my feelings are right or wrong. But my search is cut short when I hear the door of the gas station open. Quickly, I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my face and hope that the darkness of night will conceal my puffy face. As my head turns to face Joel, I can almost swear I see a streak of light in the sky. But by the time I do a double take, whatever I thought I saw, is gone.

"Are you okay?" Joel's voice cautiously asks as he slowly approaches me. The stars are shining so bright tonight that I can see the familiar crease between his brows. His boots crunch softly on the loose pebbles on the pavement and I nod my head, trying to stabilize my breathing.

"I'm okay." My voice betrays me as I speak, it comes out hoarse. Joel comes to my side, and lowers himself next to me, crouching instead of resting on his knees.

"Why don't you come back inside? I'll get the fire started up again." I feel his eyes on me as I stare back at the sky, one last lone tear sliding down my cheek. Joel's words are smooth as honey, calming and soft. A gust of wind blows past us, sending another shiver up my body.

Joel must see the slight quiver as the breeze passes, and he puts an arm around my shoulders, the other under my elbow, and he helps me back to my feet. He keeps his arm gently wrapped around me as we go back to the gas station, and I lean into his touch out of instinct. Before we enter the building, I stop and take one last look at the sky, hopeful to see whatever it was that zoomed past when Joel stepped outside just to confirm what I think it was. But nothing happens.

I step back into the building in front of Joel, who works to get the fire reignited. My body begins to physically calm down from my crying, jagged breaths turn into hiccups. The first one shocks us both, but after the second I think I can almost see a tiny smile on Joel's face. However, when he turns to me after the fire is rebuilt all signs of a smile are gone and is instead replaced with a caring expression. Joel's dark brown eyes are wide and I see how his eyes look over my face, his shoulders aren't tight and rigid, he almost looks relaxed.

He walks over to me and leads me to what I've claimed as my spot for the night, marked by my backpack. Gingerly, he sits me down and crouches by my side once more, moving a rogue strand of hair out of my face that was plastered to my cheek from the tears. His fingers are warm against my face, and he lets them linger there for just a second longer than he needs to. My eyes slowly blink, appreciative of the contact. He licks his lips and his eyes look over my face once more, trying to piece together what's wrong.

"You don't have to tell me why, but I just need to know that you're alright, that you're not hurt." I look into his eyes that are inches from me and I nod with another hiccup jolting through me.

"I'm not hurt." My hoarse voice confirms to him and I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand to dry them fully. I feel that my eyes are puffy, my lips swollen from keeping quiet and I hope I don't look as disheveled as I feel inside.

"Okay." Joel nods and only then does he back away from me. Though I wish he would stay. However, I know that with my uncertain emotions, that it's probably better he that he doesn't. For his sake. He doesn't need to be roped into my personal shit show.

Every few minutes a hiccup interrupts the quiet, and each time I see Joel struggle to keep a smile at bay. I'll admit, they do sound a little ridiculous and if I weren't so upset I'd probably laugh at them too. But as my hiccups calm down, I find myself transfixed by the dancing flames.

Perhaps I needed to come to terms with my reality, accept my losses, and understand how Ryan and Lucas are still a part of me to be okay with something new. And perhaps this something new is for the better. Even if it doesn't work out, at least I know I'm still human enough, capable enough, to keep going.

Twenty Three

[sorchathered]

I am going on anon, because I don't want to be crucified in my inbox/ on here.

First off, I 100% agree that doxxing is wrong. That is a line that should never be crossed. However, I would like to play devil's advocate here.

May shared a lot on Tumblr, and I am not say that is a bad thing.

However, May did work in the medical profession, and I have seen more than once that she posted a selfie with her badge that has her name and place of employment on it.

She has also posted pictures that had schedules and information on it. And that's a big no-no in the medical world because it is a HIPPA violation.

So, what if she wasn't maliciously doxxed? What if someone saw what she was posting and reported it? I mean, we don't know the whole story, just what we have been told.

Because I can't reasonably justify someone getting fired over having a Tumblr, unless they were sharing something that legally shouldn't be shared.

Please do not come for me with hate, I am just trying to think about this logically and from a different point of view.

Obviously, losing your job is terrible, but I feel like some people have blown this out of proportion, especially with the accusations and death threats in people's inboxes.

I would never condone death threats being given to anyone because that is just as bad as the doxxing. Once again I’m going to state this because apparently people aren’t listening, this is not a speculation this is something that actually happened, I talk to Mo personally every day I know exactly what’s going on. I am not going to doxx anyone even though I know who the people in the discord were. Also all you’re doing by sending this on anon is protecting your peace and that’s fine but if you or whoever in your friend group did this I hope it’s eating you up with guilt. Really all this message seems to be is an excuse for your behavior or the behavior of whoever you are protecting, so once again I would never ever ever do the same thing that that group of people did to my friend but if you honestly expected me to answer this message positively you picked the wrong one. May never posted anything on Tumblr that had anything to do with violating HIPAA, and that’s interesting that you say that because no one mentioned that in any of the conversations that we’ve had on Tumblr in the past 24 hours as to why she lost her job. You seem to know a whole lot for someone who’s just trying to play “devils advocate”. I would not ever wish harm on anyone, or for anyone to have to suffer through anything bad, but I do wish whoever did this minor inconveniences that make their day frustrating. Anyway have a good night nonny.

[zoyaofthegardvn]

thank you for doing gods work for the gay girlies... my lil gay heart would explode if you did a "reader gets kidnapped/hurt & love interest goes feral" trope with zoya <33

A Mission Gone Wrong

A/N: One of my most favorite tropes! And Zoya is my fave book character ever, so I'm so glad you requested this! I'm here for the gay girlies always!!!! Hope this makes your little gay heart happy! :)

CW: Mentions of violence and torture, angst and drama, blood, death threats, actual death, fire, explosions, all that fun stuff. Def violent but in my opinion nothing is super graphic, but this is darker than the typical 'who did this to you' trope! So just be aware!

---

"Are you sure you don't want me to send anyone else with you?" Zoya's voice is pleading, near begging you to accept the offer.

Her concern is sweet, but maybe, a bit overbearing. You'd completed many diplomatic trips, investigations, missions of any sort on your own several times. As a Tidemaker, highly skilled in not just the Small Science, but combat too, and incredibly intelligent, you rarely ran into a situation you truly couldn't handle. Then again, since your marriage to the Queen of Ravka, you were hardly ever sent out to do anything even resembling a challenge.

You smile softly at Zoya, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her pouted lips. "Yes, my love, I think that one Inferni and one Squaller is more than enough," her face begins to contort in skepticism, and you playfully roll your eyes at her. "It will be fine, sweetheart, you worry too much."

She scoffs, as if what you'd just said was an offense. "Maybe I should go with you, it's the only way I'd worry less."

You run your hands up and down her arms, shaking your head at the comment. "And what would the heart of Ravka do without her Queen, Zoya?" She goes to protest, likely to tell you that you're more important, as she's said dozens of times, but you give her a warning look before she can speak up. "I'll be super careful, I always am. You're just stressed because it's the first time in a long time we'll be apart."

She gives you a long look, as if to say, yes, but not only will you be gone, you'll be hours away seeking out rogue and most likely hostile Grisha who don't realize they need your help.

You grin, reading her mind, yet you're still wholly unconcerned. It's been so long since you were out in the field, working intimately with the Grisha whom you've sworn to protect at all costs.

"Zoya, baby, I've done things like this several times, I'll only be gone for a few days, and that's if we even find anyone."

"Then why go? Why you? If there's a chance it won't even amount to anything, why do you have to go?"

You can't help the agitation beginning to grow. You sigh, heavily, and level a glare at her. "Because, this is what I'm good at. It's what I love to do. You know I love the Grisha, you know I'll help them as much as I can. Please, don't try to stop me from doing that."

Her eyes flutter down, and she grabs your hands, playing with the ring on your finger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you aren't capable. And I wouldn't worry if I was accompanying you, the way that I used to."

You give her hands a squeeze. "I know that, Zoya, but we knew things were going to change when you became Queen."

She looks back up at you and smiles, though the discomfort is still evident on her face. "I know, I know. Just, please... promise me you'll be careful. You won't take unnecessary risks. You'll come home to me."

Your heart speeds up a bit, at the look on her face, the request she's made. "I promise, my love."

---

Hours later, you're atop a horse, riding along a dirt road. The two Grisha accompanying you, Nadine and Ilya, make small talk, inquiring about why the oppressed Grisha may be hostile towards any help you'll offer. You explain that because they've spent so long hiding what they can do, it's difficult to believe that post-war, they all have somewhere they can call home, somewhere they can learn and train. Their lack of education makes them dangerous, because their power is uncontrolled. Lack of control mixed with fear, hesitation, resentment, anger, even jealousy towards Grisha that haven't had to hide themselves since childhood can lead to explosive emotions, causing harm to anyone involved. They nod at everything you say, and eventually, the conversation dies down, and a comfortable silence follows the three of you.

Your thoughts begin to wander, thinking of how you'll approach any potential Grisha. There's been reports of physicians being able to remarkably heal life-threatening injuries in small towns, Healers. Reports of entire gardens and fields blooming back to life after years of lack of care and abandonment, Durasts. But this isn't what you're investigating, it isn't what truly concerns you. It's the reports of fires starting at random, wiping out villages and citizens in an uncontrollable blaze, Inferni. The reports of lakes and ponds suddenly flooding, wiping out travelers and livestock and crops, Tidemakers. The reports of storms occurring on an otherwise sunny and calm day, Squallers. These are the Grisha in most need of help, the ones that have to learn some sort of control before the public handles them themselves. You refuse to believe that they're truly malicious, just lacking any sort of guidance and outlet.

And then, eventually, your thoughts wander to her, your Zoya. You miss her, like a string tied to your heart, tugging you back the way you've came, hours away from home. Though you don't plan to be anymore than a day's ride from the palace, it's still difficult, being this far from her.

And the thought of Zoya makes your cheeks burn, remembering all the ways she said goodbye to you. Not just with her words, but her fingers, and mouth, and...

And then one of your partners is speaking to you. You shake your head, clearing your dirty thoughts, and look to your right where your companion is. "I'm sorry, I was a bit distracted, can you repeat that?"

Nadine, the Inferni, smiles, like she knows exactly what you're missing right about now. Or maybe, she's too worried she'll offend the Queen Consort. "I was just wondering if we should stop soon?" She glances down to a small map she's got clutched in her hands, "there's an inn up ahead, maybe another half hour ride? Then only a few more hours to the village we're needed in, after that."

You sigh, and give a tight nod, spurring your horse onward. You hadn't even noticed the sun had began to lower, painting the sky a red-orange haze. Truthfully, you wouldn't have minded continuing to the village, where reports of a possible Inferni had been made. But, you won't tire your companions out for your own selfish desire to get back home, to your wife.

The three of you continue towards the inn, and after another 15 minutes, your surroundings slowly look more village-esque. It's small, just a few houses littering the streets, a tavern. It's a commerce town, known for harvesting and trading out to bigger cities. Not many actually reside here, and anyone who does is a worker. It's not built for leisure. But, alarmingly, the place seems rather dry and dead. The grass is brown, the air feels... dusty. A few people in the streets give gentle nods, but they seem exhausted, clothes dirty and faces drawn tight. They recognize the three of you as Grisha due to your keftas, and while public opinion has mostly changed for the better, you can still sense some hesitation from them, some looking a bit worried about three Grisha coming to their little town, one they've surely worked hard to keep from becoming unneeded, one they've ensured people rely on through their trade.

But, what really stands out, is in the distance, there appears to be a large crater in the ground. A few people stand around it, speaking, likely the leadership figures in the town. One woman spots the three of you, and she waves you over.

Turning to your companions, Ilya, the Squaller, gives you a shrug, obviously curious about what's gone on here. Although it isn't the town you've been sent to investigate, something has clearly happened that is out of the ordinary. The three of you dismount and walk the rest of the way.

Before you reach the scene, the woman calls out, "More Grisha come to take from this town?" Her voice is hardened, her face in a scowl, but she doesn't seem to be telling you to leave.

When you get closer, you notice how deep the hole is. The area around it is absent of grass, though now, you suppose, it would be dead grass, and it proves what you had suspected, but dreaded. This was obviously a pond, or a lake, of some sort. And now, it's a dry, lifeless void.

You shake your head at the scene, and ask, "What happened? When?"

The woman, who you can now see is older, but a hard working woman, evident by the dirt on her skin, her messed hair, the muscles in her arms and the calluses on her hands, purses her lips and spits onto the dry ground. "Grisha, that's what happened. A few days ago."

Ilya, relatively new to these types of jobs, speaks up. "I'm sorry, that this happened. What else can you tell us?"

A young man, hardly out of his teens standing next to the old woman answers him. "Middle of the night. Woke everyone up. We all ran out of our houses, and there were these people..." he pauses, and his face screws up in disgust, "Grisha," he spits out, "killing our town."

The other villagers at the emptied lake nod their heads. So much for a good public opinion, you think.

The woman speaks again, "There were several of them, they emptied the lake. Just... picked it all up.. and.. carried it away. How is that even possible?" The last part doesn't seem directed at you, really, and your chest aches with empathy. "And then... there was another one. Th-they sucked the life out of everything. Look at it all! Dead and dry. There's no life here anymore."

Nadine speaks, "We're here because there's another town, farther south, that has supposedly been terrorized by a possible Inferni. We think it's a rogue Grisha, from Shu Han, that's fled the cities. Are you saying there are more rogues, ones closer than we thought?"

The woman nods, her face grim. "They've ruined everything. Our source of natural water... gone. We're the only town for miles. How will we survive, let alone trade anymore?"

And at that, your heart breaks. "I am so, so, so sorry this happened. We've been trying to find these Grisha, each time a new report crops up. It's our goal to find them, give them a home, train them. But this, this isn't just uncontrolled power. This was an attack, and I swear to you, they will be punished accordingly."

"And what does that do for us now?"

You flinch at her tone. "I'm a Tidemaker, and... the Queen, Zoya Nazyalsenky... she's my wife."

All of the people gathered at the empty lake pause, and stiffen. They stand up a bit straighter, their eyebrows raised. You always hate pulling that card, but in times like this, when it can be used as reassurance, you do it.

"As soon as we possibly can, we'll send Durasts, and Tidemakers, me included, Squallers, too, to bring water and life back to your town. I swear it. We won't let you be wiped away."

The old woman's face grows less concerned, but just a bit. "You're Y/N Y/L/N? The Queen Consort?"

You nod. "Yes, but please, just call me Y/N. I'm just here to help, however I can. That's all."

She sticks her hand out. "My name is Polina."

---

It turned out that Polina was the owner and operator of the inn, and her grandson was the young man you had also met, Alexei, was his name. Polina gave you and both of your companions rooms, and Alexei had given the three of you warm bowls of stew.

Before turning in for the evening, you had your Grisha meet with you in your room, to discuss how to proceed.

"I'm not sure we should even proceed to the next village. Truthfully, I think the reports were wrong."

Nadine nods, like she had also considered the possibility. Ilya's eyebrows raise, but he doesn't disagree. He says, "Do you think they were misunderstood, or lies, to throw us off?"

"I think that the Inferni either doesn't exist, or made themselves incredibly obvious to cover for the Tidemakers and Durasts that are apparently working together."

It isn't unusual for Grisha types to stick together, but it is for so many of them to be so malicious. It sends a chill down your spine.

"They've been working together a lot longer than we may even think. They seem organized, out of control, but organized," Nadine says. You nod in agreement, running a hand down your face from the stress.

"I think that our priority should be to help these people. I think we should head back, fulfill the promise we made by coming back with more Grisha. We help restore this town, and then travel onwards, with reinforcements. This is obviously more than the three of us intended to handle."

Ilya sighs. "What if they're destroying another village as we speak, what if they're at the village we had intended to go to, taking their water, killing their crops, too?"

Before you can respond, Nadine does. "The three of us won't be able to help them, not without more Tidemakers, more Squallers, and honestly, we'll need Healers and Heartrenders if this gets violent, and I suspect it will be, facing off with anyone willing to take water and food from an entire town."

You give her a nod of approval, proud of her logistical thinking skills and protectiveness of Ravkans. You make a mental note to urge Zoya to promote her sooner rather than later when you return home.

You send both Nadine and Ilya off to their rooms for a good night's sleep, as the three of you will return home at first light, eager to help this town before it's too late.

You turn down the lanterns of your room when they're gone, changing into a night gown and burrowing into your small bed. Though your brain is active with worries and unease, you eventually settle into a deep sleep, dreams of returning to Zoya there to greet you.

---

A harsh light is filling the room, and you awaken with a jump at a loud bang, several loud bangs, actually. Your eyes fly open, and immediately you see smoke filling the room. From the window, you can see the glow of a fire, and your door shakes with the force of someone trying to take it down.

"Y/N!" Nadine shouts from the other side, and you fly out of bed, ripping the door open with your face tucked into your elbow.

Her face is covered in soot, her eyes pinched shut from the smoke. "W-We have to g-" she cuts herself off, breaking into a violent coughing fit. A loud creak fills the space, and a wooden beam falls just feet behind you, setting your bed on fire.

"Where's Ilya?!" You ask, grabbing Nadine's arm and making a run for it. She's obviously been in the smoke more than you have, so you do most of the work, navigating the two of you down the burning hallway. You pass by Ilya's empty room and keep running, hoping he's waiting outside.

The two of you stumble down the stairs, the rail catching fire as you reach the landing, the both of you practically falling down the last flight.

Ahead, you can see flames licking closer towards the entrance, and you raise your hand, summoning what little water moisture hangs in the air to keep the doorframe from catching alight.

When the two of you burst out of the building, Nadine falls to the ground, clutching her chest and gagging from the coughs. You're disoriented, brain and vision fuzzy from the smoke, the heat, the adrenaline.

You look around, and faintly register that the entire town is burning. You want to scream in rage and despair, but your throat feels like it's on fire, and you break into a coughing fit. You try to find Ilya in the mess, but you don't see him, and instead, you're met with the vision of Alexei dragging Polina's body from the inn's entrance before finally, the entire thing is consumed by flames.

You land on your knees by Nadine, bracing a hand on her back, and attempt to scream out to Alexei to leave Polina, to move, before the entire thing collapses, before a sharp blow to the back of your head knocks you unconscious.

---

There's a throbbing pain in your temples, and it hurts to even move your eyes, but slowly, you peel them open. They're fuzzy for a few moments, and your ears are ringing, but eventually, you hone in on the sight of Nadine, across from you, out cold and tied to a chair. There's a gag in her mouth, and her hands are tight behind her back, her legs restrained to the legs of the chair.

Your eyes widen, but you can't move. You're restrained too, scream muffled by a gag similar to one used on Nadine shoved in your mouth. Your whole body hurts, you jerk and buck, trying to break the restrains, but they're tight, and it feels like you'd been given a thorough beating while you were under, as it hurts your ribs to even take a breath in. You can tell that your right eye is swollen, nearly entirely closed, and your lip is busted. You feel wetness dripping down your face, and you assume there's a cut, somewhere near your hairline.

Eventually, the sound of you struggling pulls Nadine awake, but the sound draws other attention, too.

A door swings open, and two men walk in, one carrying a lantern. The added light, provided by your kidnappers, provides more clarity on where you're being held.

It appears to be an empty, wooden structure. Some of the boards are loose, and through the cracks, you see a whole lot of nothing. There's light, bright enough that you can see that it's well into the next day, but not enough to really see inside of the place. If you had to guess, you're in the small barn, or shed, whatever the town called it, that you had passed by when you'd first arrived.

So, they hadn't taken you far at all, then.

Good, you thought, they're exhausted from all the magic they used tonight.

The man without the lantern steps between you and Nadine, a sinister smirk on his face. His fists are bloody and bruised, blood splattered on his white shirt. Nadine looks to you, an expression of rage on her face, and you can see that she's been beaten, too. Nadine, your closest Inferni friend, known for her red-hot rage.

Yes, you were angry, but you knew they should be terrified of Nadine.

And Ilya, he was nowhere to be seen. Though it stung to think he abandoned the two of you, you hoped it was just that, and that the fire hadn't claimed him, or worse, he had been killed by rogue Grisha, killed by the people he wanted to protect.

You snarled, as best as you could with your mouth gagged, when the man bent to be at eye-level with you.

"Well, when we lured the Grisha out here, we didn't expect to get the Queen Consort herself, but you won't hear me complaining." The man chuckled, his companion with the lantern joining in.

The comment confused you, none of the other rogue Grisha you'd encountered had ever been so malicious. Most of them wanted to be trained, wanted to stop wreaking havoc wherever they went. Most were grateful that there were people who cared enough to go find them, to take them in, rather than hunt, kill, or imprison them. There were the occasional Grisha who didn't like the idea of the Ravkan government knowing who they were, being at Ravka's whim, but mostly, they agreed to receive training in exchange for a life of peace and anonymity once they could be trusted with their power.

But this, this sheer, raw, hate and contempt, you'd never encountered it before. It terrified you.

He obviously noticed your confusion, and so he said, "Did you really think no one would realize what you've been doing? Forcing anyone with power into a life of servitude and restraint?" His eyes narrowed, and he smirked, like he'd caught you at something.

You bucked against the restraints again, and quicker than you could blink, he pulled a knife from his back pocket, holding it to your neck. You stilled at the threat, your breath coming out through your nose in sharp exhales.

"I won't let you do to them what you did to me," he hissed out, amusement turned to rage.

And then, it dawned you. This man specifically, he's not a rogue Grisha, no. He was raised in Ravka, taken to the Little Palace as a child to attend school, and then he defected.

It's rare, but it does happen. Some Grisha don't believe in balance of the Small Science, they don't believe in protection and using their powers for good. They're greedy, and power hungry, and view themselves as Gods.

Grisha aren't forced to serve, especially not under Zoya's rule, but there are the ones who view their education and the philosophy of Ravka has a restraint, a confine. They don't see it for the gift that it is, the necessity to keep not only the common man safe, but the Grisha, too. Small Science is a tricky thing, sensitive and delicate. Many rogue Grisha are found on the cusp of burn out. What you do, finding them, bringing them back, giving them a home, in many cases, it saves their life.

Clearly, this man has festered in his unappreciation and resentment for a long, long time.

He noticed the moment you figured it out.

"Yes, yes, that's right. While you were busying rallying up strays, I was busy finding the ones that don't want your charity. The ones that desire freedom and power, who won't give one up for the other."

You started shaking your head, tears of frustration welling, but he pressed the knife at your throat harder, your movements stopping at the feel of a prick at your neck, a small trickle of blood sliding down your throat.

Behind him, you could see Nadine struggling harder, her chair lifting off the ground a few times from the force of her efforts. Please, Nadine, don't give him any reason to hurt you, you thought, as admirable as your friend's efforts were, you had no doubts in your mind that this man was out to kill.

He snarled, whirling around to face her. "Stop moving, Grisha whore! Or I'll kill you first while the Queen here," he gestured behind himself, towards you, "gets to watch. Do you want that?"

Nadine, with a scowl on her face and likely a growl in her throat, shook her head 'no.'

The man, whose identity you still did not know, hummed. "Good girl."

The comment made you sick, bile bubbling in your throat. He had told Nadine, "I'll kill you first," meaning, he definitely had plans to kill both of you. You didn't know when, or how, and the panic began to curdle your stomach.

He glanced to his partner, still off to the side, lantern in hand. "Meet the others outside, take a few, spread out, look for anyone that fled during the fires. There can't be many left, but find them." The other man gives a sharp nod, sets the lantern on the ground, and leaves.

Then your captor turns to you, he smirks. "I have a few questions."

---

For hours, he questions you and Nadine. For hours, he punches you whenever he gets too frustrated, or holds his knife to your throats, or chokes you until you see stars. He pays no mind to your tears, Nadine's grunts and growls and snarls. Your gags are discarded on the ground, but the town is isolated, and no one hears a thing.

But, you're only just now entertaining the very real possibility that you'll never see Zoya again. You'll never come home to her, like you've always promised, and Zoya will forever be waiting for her wife to come back to her. It isn't the pain that you're in that makes you cry, no, it's the devastation that you will never see her again, the love of your life.

But, there is no chance that you'll give in. You won't tell him what he wants to know about the Grisha, the Little Palace, the Queen. Never would you compromise them. And so if it takes Zoya losing you, to keep her safe, so be it.

Your vision is blurry, eyes swollen, blood dripping from your mouth. Your entire body aches, it hurts to breathe. Dimly, you hear the man, who finally revealed his name to be Gregor, say, "I'm going to ask one final question, and then, you're both done."

Through the haze, you peer up at him, and spit a wad of blood at his feet. "I-I... will t-tell you... nothing."

He nods, like he was expecting it. The knife, for the millionth time it seems, is pulled from his back pocket. He flicks the blade out, and he stalks closer.

And then, in the matter of seconds, the entire space is dark.

He halts his movements, staring around the room curiously. It's like a curtain had been pulled around the barn, and the wind has picked up, whistling through the broken boards, gathering dust, whipping it around fiercely. The lantern goes out, and he grits out, "shit." He flicks his wrist, attempting to light it again, but the wind won't allow him.

A large clap of thunder makes him, you, and Nadine, who is hardly conscious, jump. A streak of lightning flares, and in the brief light, you can see Gregor's conviction falter. He casts you a long look, and then stalks towards the large wooden door, which is rattling from the force of the storm.

But before he reaches it, several screams ring out from outside. Instantly, there's a flurry of activity. The all too familiar sound of fighting is like music to your ears. You hear wind whipping around, bullets flying, water wooshing, fire igniting and soaring through the air, balls of flame creating streaks that you see fly by the structure.

Gregor looks terrified. And he should be. This isn't a few Grisha come to rescue you, no. It's the Second Army, led by Zoya Nazyalensky.

Though you can hardly see, can hardly move, can hardly think. You level a gaze at your captor, and send him a smile, it's toothy, bloody, and smug.

Rage takes over his features. He moves towards you, knife at his side, large strides carrying him closer towards you faster than you anticipated, but he doesn't make it far.

The doors to the barn fly open, breaking from their hinges. In the doorway stands her, your wife, Zoya. Never, in the all years you've known her, have you seen her look so furious.

She's mighty, and beautiful, and the relief that floods through you aches from how good it feels.

The scene that plays out behind her is vicious, but truthfully, it doesn't last long. Gregor never implied there was anyone else working with him that was trained and skilled. A fool, to do this work, while leaving the messiest players on the field. The Grisha Zoya had brought with her are cutting the rogues down with ease, showing no mercy.

And evidently, Zoya has no plans for mercy either.

"Step the fuck away from my wife." Her voice is cold, calculated. Her lip curls into a snarl, and you can see her trembling with the force of her rage. To others, her voice would sound alarmingly calm, but you can hear the unmasked terror in the tremor.

She doesn't look to you, but you know she wants to. Her gaze stays steady on Gregor, who stands halfway between you and her. He seems to genuinely consider her demand, for a moment. But then he grits his teeth, and tries to make a run for you. Briefly, so fast you think you may have imagined it, you see Zoya's eyes shift into those of the dragon.

You almost find Gregor's determination admirable, him thinking he could win against the most powerful Grisha alive. Almost.

Zoya's arm shoots up, her hand pushing forward, hardly breaking a sweat with the force she'd summoned to throw him. He hits the wall of the barn hard, and yet he tries to rise. Again, Zoya lifts him from the ground, throwing him against the wall with a sickening crunch. And yet again, Gregor, with broken and bruised limbs, attempts to rise. Zoya, like a predator toying with her prey, allows him to shakily brace himself on his hands and knees. She takes slow, measured steps forward. "What a pathetic excuse of a Grisha, such a waste of power," she sneers, and the jest hits him hard. He chokes blood, spits it out, and says, "you unworthy bitch." And, if you weren't currently holding onto life by a thread, and still tied up, you would've killed him yourself for that little comment. But Zoya merely clenches her fist, and she sucks the air right out of his lungs.

She continues moving forward, shielding you from the sight. Her face is clenched in fury, her fist shakes as she robs him of life. She holds, exactly like that, until Gregor's chokes are quiet whimpers, until he stops moving, stops twitching, and his eyes stare at her, lifeless.

Zoya doesn't pay him attention a second longer than necessary. Immediately, her rage contorts into worry, and her gaze shifts towards you.

"Y/N, oh saints..." Her voice cracks, her lower lip trembles, and she's launching herself at you.

"Zoya," you whisper, but it's gurgled and choked on blood and saliva. Tears leak from your eyes, streaking through the muck on your face.

Her hands are on you, something you never thought you'd feel again. They shake as she cuts through the bonds around your wrists. You wince at the ache in your shoulders and arms as you bring your hands in front of you, reaching out to stroke Zoya's face as she cuts the ties around your ankles. Your fingers tremble, you hardly have enough strength to graze her cheek. Once she frees your legs, she's gathering you in her arms, bringing you to her chest while she releases a sob into your hair.

She cries your name again, repeats of, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," but you pay it no mind. As much as you want her to hold you, you know you're not the most important thing right now.

You pull back, ignoring the sharp pain in your head and chest. You look up at her, into Zoya's heartbroken eyes, and give her a small smile. "N-Nadine, Zoya... h-help her..."

Her brows furrow, but she doesn't resist, knowing you'd never forgive her if she refused to save your friend, too.

She plants a kiss to your forehead, lips dry and trembling. With a last longing glance, she turns to Nadine, limp in her chair. Like she had done for you, she cuts through her bonds, and Tamar and Tolya come rushing through the broken doorway. They survey the space, anger and shock clear on their face. Tamar makes for you, and Tolya rushes to help Zoya with Nadine.

When she's free, Zoya has him take Nadine in her arms and leave, likely to find an available healer.

Don't let it be too late, please, let her live. The concern almost hurts more than any of the physical torture you'd endured.

Tamar stands you on your feet, but you don't make it far before Zoya's returning to your side, again, bringing you into her embrace. Tamar backs off, giving the two of you space.

"I'll go find a healer for her, somewhere to lay her down while they work."

Zoya doesn't respond, but you feel her nod.

She wraps one arm around your back, the other cradling her head. "My love, can you walk?"

You give her a weak nod, exhaustion beginning to take over, and you know you won't be conscious much longer. You try to take a step, but your knees buckle, and Zoya's immediately scooping you up, the arm around your back taking your weight as the other grabs you from behind your knees.

You don't even have the energy to assure her that you're fine, and besides, Zoya's already making for the exit, her steps hurried and frantic. Again, she's apologizing, you can hear that faintly. You want to tell her it's okay, that nothing is her fault, but your tongue feels thick and your mind feels foggy. You register that you're outside of the barn when the light hits your eyes, the storm Zoya summoned clearly over now that she has you in her grasp. You squeeze them shut despite the pain from the bruising, and you slowly fall under to the sound of Zoya calling your name.

---

When you come to, you're immediately confused. Opening your eyes is hard, and even as they flutter open, it's difficult to see. The pain you're in, that's clear, but you aren't exactly sure where you're at. Things are coming back to you in flashes, bits and pieces. The village, Polina, the fires, the barn, the abuse, Zoya.

There's pressure on your arm, and with a groan, you turn your head to look to your left. There, your wife rests her head on the cot you now notice you're laying on. She looks sad, and exhausted, and you want to brush her hair back from her face but she's got her hand in yours, her forehead rested against your forearm. You admire her for a moment, swallowing thickly, your throat dry and croaky. You notice that many of your cuts and injuries had been healed as well as possible, but many had been too much for healers to erase entirely. Mostly, bruises are left, but all of the soreness, the ache and sharp pains, remain. You can see that you'd been wiped down, your skin not so dirty and bloody as it had been. Settling into your thoughts, you can tell that you're undressed, bandages around your middle, others in various places across your arms and legs.

You bring the hand that Zoya does not occupy to your face, and notice a bandage around the wrist, likely where you'd struggled against the binds, tearing into your skin. You brush hair from your forehead, and wince at the nasty cut your fingers skim. The movement shoots an ache through your back, ribs, and temples, and the jostle rouses Zoya, which you had not intended. Truthfully, you knew she needed rest, and she was just so pretty while she slept.

Her head flies up, and she blinks the sleep from her eyes, her gaze settling on you once she remembers where she's at. Her blue eyes widen, and she breathes your name in a sigh of relief. She scoots closer, and holds your face in her hands.

"You're awake," she whispers, like she worried you never would be.

You give her a weak smile, and she tries to return it, but she fails. Her eyes well with tears again, and she can't control the sob that bursts out of her.

"Zoya," your voice is hoarse, "don't cry, baby, I'm alright."

She huffs a laugh, but it's humorless and bitter. "You are certainly not alright."

She reaches down, and picks up a glass of water that had been next to the cot. She cradles the back of your head, lifting it gently while bringing the glass to your lips. She pours it into your mouth slowly, the fresh water is an instant relief. You drink eagerly, and she pulls back. "Slow down, my love, you'll choke."

She helps you take a few more sips until you stop, satisfied and feeling more awake. Your head meets the pillow again, and you lick your lips with the newly provided moisture.

She sets the glass down, and you watch her closely, her face pinched, a few tears leaking from her eyes.

"Zoya, please, I'm okay. Sore, but I'm okay."

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. "Y/N, you were nearly dead when I found you."

"Zoya..."

"Nearly dead!" She bites out, turning to face you.

You flinch at her tone, and she sighs. "Nearly dead, Y/N, if I had been seconds later..."

"But you weren't, you saved me, you saved Nadine..." Your voice trails off, and Zoya senses the question. She nods softly, "Nadine is okay, I think she woke up an hour or so ago."

You sigh in relief. "H-How long have I been out?"

She shrugs, "I'm not completely sure. I haven't been paying much attention to the time, I haven't left your side. I haven't gone outside. It may have been a couple of hours, or days, I wouldn't know. I didn't leave you."

She sounds like she's reassuring herself, not you. Your heart aches for her, at how dedicated her love is. "I don't doubt it, Zoya."

She nods, and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. She goes to speak, but you know Zoya all too well, know what she's about to say. You beat her to it. "Zoya, nothing that happened is your fault."

She scoffs, shaking her head.

"Zoya, I mean it. Even I hadn't anticipated this, not Nadine, not Ilya, none of us. And speaking of... is Ilya..."

"He's the one that alerted us. He was awake, when they set the inn on fire, he left and came straight back home."

You nod, relieved that he had made it out, thankful that he had done exactly as you taught him. Never engage with a threat out of your range, always get backup.

"I was so, so terrified when he got there, when he told us what happened."

"Sweetheart..." You reach for her hand, holding it tight,

"It was the middle of the night. I woke up to Tolya banging on my door, telling me something had happened, that you'd been attacked," her voice cracks, and you squeeze her hand. "All I could think about is how I was going to lose you, how I was a fool for letting you go, that I had let you leave and I was going to pay for it. I felt like I was going to be sick. I left immediately, the best of the Second Army with me. I-I thought I wouldn't get in here time, or I'd arrive and you'd have been... long dead. That somehow you would have died, been taken from me, and I wouldn't have known."

You shake your head, tears of your own threatening to spill. "Zoya, no. Stop thinking that way. You didn't let me leave, I'm a grown woman, with a duty to Ravka and the Grisha, if it's anyone's fau-"

"And look what that duty did to you!" She emphasizes 'duty' like it's a curse, leveling her gaze at you. Zoya, when upset, when frightened, masks it with anger. You know that, and so you don't take it to heart.

"Zoya, this doesn't need to be a fight. You know that I love my job. And you know, better than anyone, that what we've done has done far more good for the Grisha than bad. You can't let one incident change that."

"Incident?" She looks at you like you've grown three heads, her tears falling quickly now, distorting her voice. "You were nearly killed!"

"Yes, I was, but I survived, because of you."

"Look at you, Y/N... bruised, bloody. You can't even hold your own head up!"

Yes, it's true, you've never been this injured before, especially in front of Zoya. And you know that if the roles were reversed, if it was you waiting at Zoya's bedside, terrified she may not wake up, you'd be distraught. You aren't denying your wife's terror, but you do wish she wouldn't let it manifest into anger, into self-loathing.

You sigh, trying to keep the frustration at bay. "Zoya," your tone is sharp, "I am so, so sorry you had to see me like this. But I won't give up my job for it."

She shakes her head and looks down at your interlaced hands. "I didn't mean to start a fight, I'm sorry."

"I know, baby, it's alright." You squeeze her hand again, in an attempt to get her to look at you, but she doesn't.

"But, I can't let you go out again, n-not... not for a while."

"Zoy-"

"No, Y/N, please, just listen." Finally, she reconnects her gaze with yours.

"Clearly, something went very, very wrong." You nod your head, because yes, something went terribly wrong. "I don't know yet if it was just simple misinformation, or if someone, one of our soldiers in the field, deliberately falsified intel in order to lure you or I out, away from the palace, away from protection."

Truthfully, you hadn't considered that. It's difficult for you to fathom any of the Grisha wanting to harm one another. But your love for them isn't a universal sentiment.

You swallow thickly, but you don't interrupt.

"I am going to find out, though, Y/N. I swear it." Zoya's voice is a dangerously calm whisper, her tone sharp. "I won't stop until I find every single person responsible for this, whoever did this to you, they're going to pay." It isn't just a statement, it's a promise.

"So some escaped, then? They fled?"

Zoya flinches, as if she blames herself for anyone who had harmed you escaping her wrath. "Yes. When we arrived... it was like Hell broke loose. So much fighting, everywhere, across the whole town. So, yes, some of them... managed to escape. I'm sorry."

"Zoya, no, please, don't be sorry for anything. None of us really knew the extent of what was happening."

She nods, firm and absolute. Her eyes narrow as she looks at you. "Now do you understand why this has to end, these rescue missions? At least until we have a better understanding of what these rogues are capable of, what they want to accomplish?"

Ahhh, you thought, she doesn't know that Gregor, the man she killed, wasn't a rogue. He was one of our own. I'll tell her later, let her worry later, she's been terrified enough.

"Yes, my love, I do. I respect your wishes, you know that. I won't go out into the field for a while, but I won't quit this. If there's an investigation to launch, I want in."

She rolls her eyes, though it's playful. "Yes, yes, I figured you would."

You grin, and reach for her face, cupping her cheek. "I love you, Zoya. Thank you, for saving me."

She turns, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand. Then she leans forward, careful of your split and swollen lip, and places a kiss there, too. "I love you, Y/N, more than anything."

---

It isn't for another few days that you're able to be moved. During the first two days, Zoya fills you in on all of the details you were unaware of as you'd been held hostage. You learn that nearly every building, every home, every business, had burned, save for a lucky few. Many had died, but not all of them. Healers were able to bring many people back from the brink of death, and soothe any minor injuries sustained. Zoya told you the village people are resilient, and thankful towards the Grisha that had come so fiercely to save them.

You learn that while Alexei had lived, surviving minor burns and scrapes, Polina had died, her injuries far too grave. Zoya held you while you cried through the sadness and guilt, and she swore to you that Grisha would be stationed in the village to help them rebuild. They were already developing a plan to return water to the lake, and they would continue to provide financial support while the town reestablished its commerce. And while you knew that Zoya would never, ever, back down on that promise, you still felt miserable that it was one that even had to be made. Polina, a hard working woman, that earned everything she had, that loved her town, would never see it restored, all because you had stopped to stay at her little inn. The tears came often, and Zoya wiped them away each time.

On the third day, Zoya helped you sit up. She'd been babying you, but you couldn't complain, secretly adoring when she dotes on you. You insisted that you could stand, too, and walk around. While she wasn't too fond of that idea, she delicately wrapped her arm around you and supported you as you left the little healer's tent you'd been staying in.

You were able to finally see Nadine, and Ilya, who volunteered to be one of the Grisha that stayed behind. Nadine was promptly promoted for her intellect and, as you recalled her growls and efforts to resist Gregor, for her passion. Just as injured as you, you two weren't able to embrace much, but you did tell her how proud of her you are, and how thankful that she'll be going home, too. Though, if there was anyone more eager than you to keep working, it was Nadine, and because she isn't married to the Queen, there isn't anyone to really stop her. Ilya tried to apologize for leaving, for not trying to find the both of you first, but you quickly shushed him, telling him he had done everything right. And, you supposed he had a bright future ahead of him, seeing as Zoya was incredibly thankful to him for his swiftness.

On the fourth day, you finally convinced Zoya that it was time to go home, and that you'd survive the journey. Every night, she'd been applying ointments and medicines to your cuts and scrapes, hand feeding you food and water. She'd get a wet wash cloth and wipe your skin, due to absence of a bathing room. Every morning she'd brush out your hair and braid it, to prevent knots. She rarely left your side, only budging when the Grisha needed guidance and direction. She slept on your cot with you, declining to have her own, claiming, "I don't think I'll ever be close enough to you anymore."

A few members of the Second Army that were to return to the palace, Nadine included, sat on their saddled horses waiting for you and Zoya to join them. Zoya, ever the dramatic, had added blankets and such to your horse, for comfort. She even made a Fabrikator attach buckles to your saddle, because she was worried that if you weren't strapped in, you'd fall off.

She lifts you with ease, putting you on top of your mount, and making sure you're secure before she climbs atop her own. The trip, while able to be made in a day, was to be split into two, for your and Nadine's sakes.

Zoya sends everyone to ride a few paces ahead, so that she can trail closely next to you. You giggle at her protectiveness, but your heart swells at just how perfect of a wife she is.

Zoya watches you, noticing how every so often, you glance back at the ruins of the village you're leaving behind.

"We'll come back, love."

You shoot her a confused glance. "We will?"

She nods, she smiles, and she sighs. "I know you won't stop thinking about this place, won't stop worrying. When they've rebuilt some, and they're back on their feet, you and I will come back, we'll help with the finishing touches."

You could cry at how well Zoya knows you, how she'd do anything to make you happy and satisfied, including travel back to a village, one any other royal would have written off as insignificant and unimportant, one that is now a source of trauma, maybe even more so for her than you.

"I would love that, Zoya, thank you. I love you, so much."

She smiles, and her cheeks grow a bit pink at the sheer adoration in your voice.

"I love you, too."

---

A/N: WOW! I made this a hell of a lot longer than I had originally intended lol. I hope you liked it, anon! And thanks so much for requesting!

[sunshine-on-marz]

Go for the heart

——— -technoblade x reader- ———

Enemies to lovers

Royal AU

Tw: blood, slight gore, weapons, fire, death, fighting

Cw: not angst but not all fluff

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“Sylvee, where are we goinggg” you whined, your maid and one of your best friends had dragged you from the training grounds (where you weren’t supposed to be, as you’re brother forbid you from doing anything that could hurt you) “shhh, they don’t know you’re coming” she whispered. Puzzled, you kept following her, until you came to an opening in the trees, that’s where you saw him. Technoblade. “Sylvee, I cant talk to the enemy.” The three boys jumped and saw you. Wilbur and Tommy seemed angry at the blonde girl who was clearly leading you towards them, knowing that she had put their lives in direct danger by bringing you near them. You immediately drop the sword you where holding and bowed to the men. “Prince Thomas, Prince Wilbur, Chief Technoblade. You are in no danger as far as I can control, but I will protect myself and my maid as needed.” As you stood and saw Sylvee standing you smacked her shoulder to make her bow quickly. “Sylvee, why am I here?” You asked as you picked back up your sword. “You’re infront of the best swordsman on this side of the globe, if you want to learn, learn from him” she said before running back to your home.

Sighing you turn back to the men. “Gentlemen, I am so sorry for her behavior-“ you then notice the pink haired man kneel infront of you and hold out a hand. While it is proper, you didn’t expect a proper introduction from the commanding chief of your enemy kingdom. Placing your hand in his he kisses your coronation ring and smiles. The two princes bow. “Boys boys, don’t be so stiff. You’re not in danger.” The elder prince speaks up “actually, by interacting with you, we are.” With a sigh you walk up to him and hold out your arms for a hug. The man seems shocked before stepping closer, you wrap your arms around him and hold him for a moment before stepping back. The brunette has tears in his eyes and whispers “thank you” you nod and smile “of course. I’m here for you darlin.” All three men seem shocked. The blonde speaks “b-but that’s against the rules, and by the rules I mean the law.” You smile at him, a toothy, cheeky, excited grin. “Oh doll, the rules don’t work on me. I’ll tell my brother to fuck off and I’ll stab a bitch.” You jab the air with your sword, making the teen laugh. Proud, you sheath your sword and turn to the pinkette. “Now, how do I convince you that I’m not a threat” you smile at the man. He holds a hand out and you shake it, but he doesn’t let go. You hold eye contact. He expects you to reach for your sword, but you don’t. Your sly grin changes to a small sweet smile. His grip loosens enough that you could have moved your hand, but you didn’t. Then he completely lets go and you let your hand drop. You’d not only gained his trust, but his respect. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you, despite the fact that he could’ve. You looked at him, to anyone else it would seem like you where sizing him up, but techno knew the look. You where trying to find out what’s wrong with him, he’d been giving you the same look. “Raised by my brother, grew up in a castle, you do the math” you say to him, he chuckles. “Fair enough” you sat yourself down on the ground and start picking at grass. Tommy sits next to you. “You can call me Tommy.” He says, you smile. “I think I’m gonna call you kiddo.” He seems gitty, happy to be accepted as a kid, not as a prince, but a kid. “Ok.” And he puts his head on your shoulder. After a while Techno grabs your sword. “Hey.” You say as you gently push the sleeping Tommy onto Wilbur’s shoulder instead of yours.

Techno swings the weapon, you catch his wrist mid swing, making him drop the blade from shock. “Woah” Wilbur whispered from behind you. You pick the sword up off the ground. “To slow.” You tease the caped man. In any other case he would’ve been pissed. “Wilbur, bring Tom inside for me” he said, the brunette nodding and doing as told. Once the younger two where gone, techno pulled you in by the hips. “How?” He asked “pattern recognition.” You say back, matter of factly. He nodds, asking for more information. “You swung upwards, you weren’t going to hit me, so you’re arm was going to swing left, to counteract your momentum, so I grabbed you before you could move” he seemed intrigued. Gently grabbing your cheek and leaning towards you. “What are you doing soldier?” You asked with a smirk. “You aren’t my king darling, I’d watch how you speak to me” you lean in a bit more “shut up and kiss me” he closes the gap, moving his hand from your shoulder to your hips, leaving one on your cheek. Once he pulled away and you opened your eyes, leaving your forehead resting on his and smiling. “So princess, may I walk you home?”

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Tags for all the lovely people I got hooked on this @a-gay-little-ghost-2 @kit-is-a-weeb @lillylvjy @art3m1s-adelia

[solreefs]

was browsing my notes app and found this. it’s from last year so uh. don’t judge it too harshly.

post-canon Santi angst go brr. cw for guilt and fire because Santi is Santi and I’m me.

Santi falls into a routine. 

Never walk home at exactly the same time, so no one can learn his pattern. Stick to side streets in order to better hide, but stay within sight of the more well-traveled streets, in case he needs to disappear among the crowd. Move slowly, scanning for danger at every turn, only moving when he’s sure it’s safe to do so. Trust his training, despite the countless times he’s failed to spot anything until it’s too late. 

Don’t think about Murasaki. Don’t think about how he was supposed to protect her, and how she died when he couldn’t do his fucking job. 

Check around the house for anyone lying in wait for him. Inspect the windows and door for signs of damage or forced entry. Then, and only then, unlock the front door and enter.

Don’t think about coming home from Belgium to an empty, ransacked house.

Step inside, shut the door quickly behind him, call out to Wolfe if he’s home. Turn the key in the lock, as though it will protect them, as though a locked door ever kept out anyone who really meant them harm. Pretend it makes up for his inability to keep Wolfe, or anyone else, safe.

Don’t think about the Artifex promising Wolfe would have scars to match Santi’s, because Santi couldn’t stop asking questions. Don’t think about the way the man who made the cuts on his chest whispered in his ear, told him he could save Wolfe if he just kept his mouth shut. Don’t think about how Santi agreed, caved to their threats, stopped looking for his lover, abandoned Wolfe to those dark cells beneath the streets of Rome.

Take a deep breath, bite his lip until he tastes blood, the sudden, stinging pain bringing him back to the present. Shrug when Wolfe asks about his day. Say it was all right, tell him about the training exercises, mention anything else Wolfe might find interesting or amusing. Change the subject before he can say anything about the guilt that feels heavy enough to choke him. Ask Wolfe what he’s working on, listen to his lover ramble about his latest project, wonder how he ever ended up with someone so brilliant.

Don’t think about Wolfe being ripped apart by that Translation tag and sent back to the prison he’d spent so long avoiding. Don’t think about how Santi should have seen it coming.

Have a late dinner together. Ignore the concern in Wolfe’s gaze when Santi barely eats anything. Don’t mention that everything tastes bitter these days, or that sometimes even the thought of food makes him feel sick.

Don’t think about the scent of Greek Fire, tasting the bitter, acrid reek of it on his tongue with every mouthful. Don’t think about how the chemicals clung to skin in that cell in Philadelphia.

Do one last perimeter check of the house. Confirm that all his weapons are where they’re supposed to be. Whisper a desperate prayer that if danger comes, this time Santi will be able to protect what matters to him. Go to bed, dim the glows, but don’t turn them all the way off. Pretend he isn’t afraid of the dark like a child.

Don’t think about sleeping in dark tents, war zones, bombs, Greek Fire, all the death around him that he is helpless to prevent. Don’t think about Morgan dying in a blazing inferno as Santi throws himself against her invisible barrier, unable to save her.

Wake up gasping for air, absolutely certain that the house is burning. Sit up, look for the fire, see nothing, and lay back down. Hide his face in a pillow to muffle the terrified sobs he can’t hold back no matter how hard he tries. Lay there, shaking and shattered, crumpling under weight of his guilt and fear, and the knowledge that he is supposed to be better than this. Remember how it used to be said that Niccolo Santi didn’t fail, remember all the soldiers who praised his work.

Don’t think about all the friends who died because of him. Don’t think about Zara.

Stay in bed until the sun rises, then get up and make coffee. Get ready to do it all over again.

Don’t think about what happens when he finally breaks.