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fatuismooches · 1 month

Text

cor meum, manus tuas.

synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!

For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.

One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.

“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.

“Go on.”

“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”

“No.”

“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”

“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.)

Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)

The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.

Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)

“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”

“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”

“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”

“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”

That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem.

Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.

Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.

He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.

Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies.

It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it.

Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…

That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.

The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.

It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.

Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.

The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought…

Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.

“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.

“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.

… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…

“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea.

—

When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…

You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.

“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”

“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.

“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.

“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”

“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.

“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.

“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.

“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.

“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was.

“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.

“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.

“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.

“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.

“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.

“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.

“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.

“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.

“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.

“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.

“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.

“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.

“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”

“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.

When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.

—

Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.

The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.

Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)

After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.

You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.

—

While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.

Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.

Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)

As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.

Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.

—

“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.

“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)

“Foxttore, spin around!”

“Foxttore, roll over!”

“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.

“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.

“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.

“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”

“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.”

“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”

—

The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.

“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.

… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.

“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on.

“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.

In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.

“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”

“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.

“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.

“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.

Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.

—

You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.

… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.

As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.

“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”

“… Pardon?”

“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him.

If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.

—

It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)

You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”

“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.

“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.

“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.

“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”

“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.

If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.

“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.

He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.

Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-

Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.

The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.

“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.

Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin il dottore #genshin dottore x reader #genshin dottore #dottore #dottore fluff #il dottore #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #zandik x reader #genshin dotttore #dottore genshin #genshin impact x you #fragile reader <3 #divider by cafekitsune

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arabellasleopardcoat · 2 months

Text

Two ships (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Two people who do not understand each other, but keep coming back together. Familiar much? It’s the tale you share with your brother, Daemon.

Warnings: Crybaby! Reader. Medieval punishment for children. Canon character death (Alyssa and Baelor) Sexual thoughts. Prostitution. Mature language. Incest. Fluff.

A/N: In which we explore the complicated dynamics of the sister wife. Requested. We also suscribe to @just-some-random-blogger doctrine about Daemon being a scary unhinged man but soft for the reader.

THE FIRST TIME your brother makes you cry is when you are eight years old. It is, of course, not the first time you tear up because of him. But there is a difference between tearing up because he tugged too hard on your braid, or because he cut your favorite doll’s hair and what he did to you that day.

You shall never forget the reason for your mother’s death, not for the rest of your life. It’s one of those core memories, a truth of the universe. You cannot forget fire burns, you cannot forget water is wet, and you cannot forget your mother is dead because of you. Even if you do not know when you learned those facts, they are still there. Tucked into your mind.

As a child, you used to be quiet. You barely cried, or demanded things of anyone. As the youngest and only girl of the household, you often felt like there was an unbreachable gap between you and your family. And so, you filled your days with your lessons, and behaved well, eager for praise and attention.

Your relationship with your brothers was complicated. Your father was often far away, busy with his important position, so Viserys felt more like a parent than a sibling. The age difference didn’t help things along. While you were still learning how to walk, his betrothal was already negotiated.

Daemon, while much closer in age, is much more distant too. He is mercurial, playing the cruelest tricks on you, but also defending you from other children. Just last week, he had dyed your beloved white dog green, but he had also punched a steward’s son for mocking your braids.

He can never decide if he hates you or loves you. And today, it’s one of the days he hates you. You can’t do anything right, it seems. As you break your fast, with Viserys cutting up your food for you, he calls you a baby. When the Septa comes to get you for your lessons, you are a suck-up. His bad mood escalates during the day, and when your father arrives for lunch and dares ruffle your hair, Daemon doesn't hesitate to call you a cocksucker whore.

For his offense, his mouth is washed with soap. It is not a punishment you have ever endured, because everyone knows ladies don’t get physical punishments, but it looks unpleasant. Whatever cocksucker whore means mustn't be very nice.

By the time his punishment is over, your father is long gone again. He has disappeared into his chambers, and Viserys has been left with the bitter task of reconciling you.

“You will apologize to our sister.” He orders Daemon. “Now.”

“NO!” Daemon shrieks, face blotchy from the humiliation of his mouth being washed with soap. He has not shed a single tear, which you find admirable despite yourself. The taste alone would make you gag, and that is without including the humiliation of a servant holding you while Viserys does the deed.

You feel awkward at the thought. Something doesn’t sit right with the thought of such a thing being a punishment, but you do not dare voice it. You simply sit in the chair Viserys has pulled for you and kick your feet. It soothes you slightly.

“Take it back, Daemon or so help me the Seven…”

“I will not take it back!” Daemon screams, pushing at Viserys. “She is a little whore! She has you all wrapped around her little finger, and now you will send me away…”

“Daemon.” Viserys grabs his wrists, in warning. With several years and a growth spurt on his side, he manages to subdue him easily. You worry that will not be the case for much longer. Daemon looks very different from your peaceful Viserys, shoulders broader, hands a bit bigger. In a few years, he will become a fearsome warrior, and Viserys will still be your bookish older brother.

“Why do I have to go squire for some stupid lord, anyway? We are the blood of the dragon! We do not need those fools.” At this new information, you frown. You clutch your doll more tightly. No one had informed you Daemon had to go squire away from Viserys and you.

“Fostering is important. It helps us form bonds with other houses.” Viserys explains, with the patience of someone who has had this argument already. You tug on your doll, feeling sadder by the minute. Everyone knew but you?

“Why don’t we send her away?” Daemon points at you, and a sudden wave of fear hits you. Viserys can’t agree with him. You cannot leave. Your panic almost makes you miss his next words. “She is the reason mother is dead. I hate her.”

And the world stops for a second. The argument goes on, Viserys screaming at Daemon, but you are still stuck there. Your ears begin to ring, so you press your hands tightly to them and shake your head.

By the Seven, Daemon is right, you realize with growing horror. Your father and Septa always told you your mother had died the way you were born, from the difficult birth. Tears begin to fall down your face, but you barely notice them. It feels like you are choking.

In your childish mind, the death of your mother in childbirth, and your birth had never been connected. You never thought it had been your fault. But Daemon was right. She was dead because she had birthed you. It was your birth that killed her.

Her death was your fault. You killed her.

No. No. It can’t be right.

“That is not true.” You turn to Viserys, uncaring they have long since moved on with the argument. He has always protected you and reassured you. Even takes care to get rid of the monsters beneath your bed every night. He will fix it. “Brother, he is lying again!”

Viserys makes a strange face. A cross between a grimace and a frown. He doesn’t refute it, nor tries to comfort you.

“It’s the truth.” Daemon smiles, with the smugness of someone who has delivered a killing blow. He advances, his eleven-year-old body seeming larger than life to you, and pokes a finger in your sternum. “You killed her.”

It feels like a rug has been pulled from under your feet. You stumble back. It’s all your fault. Your mother is dead, and your father is never home, haunted by the memory of his wife, because of you. Daemon and Viserys lost their mother, because of you.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. The world looks the same around you, despite the revelation, and you wonder if it is so because everyone knew but you. Is it why Daemon doesn’t love you? Why father is never around?

A sob makes its way out of your throat, and then another. And another. Soon, you are bawling like a dying animal, and feel like it too. You cry so much, your little heart feels like it will jump out of your chest and you will die. You cannot breathe, choking in your own snot and tears, and panic makes you nauseous.

Never in your life had you ever cried so. A nervous fit, the Maester will call it later, after you puke your lunch and stop making heaving noises like you are lacking air. One caused by extreme distress. Daemon will be standing guard at the foot of your bed when you come to be again. They had ended up having to give you three drops of Milk of the Poppy to calm you down.

It doesn’t happen again, and you barely remember it when you grow up. But Daemon never forgets it.

CRYING IS A weakness that cannot be tolerated. The three of you had been born dragons, but sometimes Daemon doubted Viserys and you had as much fire in your veins as he did.

Said doubt intensifies when he finds you crying in the gardens. Daemon has never been fond of crying women. He is not an empathetic man, and has a tendency to think he is surrounded by fools. Such a character trait doesn’t lend itself to soothing crying maidens. At least, not sincerely.

If he wants to bed the chit, Daemon can pretend like the best mummer. It’s not hard at all to fool highborn maidens into thinking he shares something special with them, convincing them that the pain won’t last, that it will start to feel good soon. When it comes to you, though, the problems start.

You are not a common whore, like most women at court. As a daughter of House Targaryen, you are closer to a goddess than a woman. Fooling a goddess is no easy task, much less when the goddess knows you so well.

His usual tricks do not work. When Daemon tries to apply faux pity, and forced pleasantries, you see right through him. It’s not because you are particularly cunning, but rather the fact that you have a long memory.

Long enough to remember all the pranks and fun he had had at your expense when the two of you were children. With how much Daemon tortured you, it’s no wonder you prefer Viserys.

Daemon never meant to be as nasty to you as he had been. He coveted the attention Viserys paid you, as the youngest in the family. He disliked how everyone fawned over you, how his mother had died, and his father had left, and all they had gotten in exchange was you.

Another part of Daemon simply enjoyed mischief. Causing chaos for chaos’s sake. Like any young boy, he had fun playing tricks on others. The disdain he felt for you had made you into the ideal target.

When the years began to pass, Daemon had noticed you were flourishing into a beautiful maiden. Targaryen custom dictated you were meant to be his, since you were too young to be Viserys’. There was no point in fixing your relationship, or trying to win you over like he did with the other maidens. You were a given thing. No matter your shared past, you would have to marry him.

It’s only the fact that you are embarrassing the family name that prompts him to approach you in the gardens. He has no intention of comforting you. It’s not like he cares that you are crying. Really. How ridiculous.

“What happened to you?” Daemon asks, sitting next to you. “Princess shouldn’t cry.”

It is quite recent, of course. Viserys' ascension to the throne has not actually yet occurred, but the succession issue has been settled in their favor. Daemon had gathered a small force of loyal men that hadn’t been necessary in the end, but Viserys said his first act as King would be rewarding him from his loyalty.

He knows what he will ask for already. Marriage. His grandmother had tried to marry him to a Vale woman, but the idea had ended up being discarded because Viserys’ own match ensured the allegiance of that kingdom. Daemon wanted to have his Valyrian bride before anyone, especially the Hightower cunt, got any ideas.

“Nothing.” You wipe your tears away, angrily. You scoot your cute little rear towards the edge of the tree you are sitting under. As far as you can go without losing the spot of shade.

Daemon sighs. He is used to you being difficult, but it would soon change. You would be informed of your duty and behave in a manner befitting your position in life soon enough.

“Do I need to protect your honor?” The very thought unsettles him. Three years his younger, you are still barely a maiden in his eyes. A pure, unspoiled being. The idea of someone else corrupting your innocence, something that is meant to be his, is infuriating. Daemon hates when other people touch what is his.

If anyone will corrupt you, it’s him.

You laugh, bitterly.

“If only!”

“What do you mean?” Your statement has clarified nothing. He feels more confused than before. Perhaps, you have a secret lover who refuses to take your maidenhead? Or are you suffering from unrequited love? But when? With whom? You spend nearly all your time in the library, pouring over dusty books, or on dragonback. Not much time for entertaining suitors.

You stay quiet. There is a strange expression on your face, a mix of embarrassment and sadness.

“Hāedus.” Daemon prompts, gently tugging on your braid.

“Some ladies Aemma brought were talking about knights, and kissing…” You get a fit of hiccups and nearly choke, so Daemon is forced to wipe the snot from your nose so you don’t suffocate to death. Let it not be said he is a bad brother. “They laughed at me!”

“They laughed at you?” How dare them. Only Daemon was allowed the honor of your tears. You were too important.

“No one asked to dance with me at the feast! And no knight has ever kissed me.” You pout, about to go into hysterics again. “Ever.”

“Doña hāedus…” Daemon wipes your tears, fighting his smile. He has an inkling you wouldn’t think it funny. “You shouldn’t listen to them. You are a Princess, the blood of the dragon. They are just sheep.”

You pout more. Daemon hurries to comfort you. Oddly, he dislikes seeing tears on your face. It must be because you are in public. As a Princess and his future wife, your actions reflect on House Targaryen.

“Ugly sheep. In fact, the actual sheep in the Vale are prettier.”

“But knights have kissed them! And they get asked to dance, and to walk in the gardens, and…”

Daemon raises his hand.

“Knights would kiss you too if they could. But you are too superior to them. They wouldn’t dare.” Or they would meet Dark Sister. All your first should be his. “It’s excellent that you have not sullied yourself with just any knight who looks at you.”

“But I am getting old.”

You are about to cry again. Your female vanity must be hurt, thinking yourself unwanted. Daemon will never understand caring about what others think of him. Dragons shouldn’t concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.

But there is something about you, the soft little Princess who crumbles up completely when someone is mean to her, that tugs at his heartstrings.

It is why he leans in and captures your mouth with his. You taste like innocence and salt, melting on his tongue. It’s not Daemon’s first kiss, but it feels like it. There is a tug deep inside of him, a strange yearning on his chest, that has not been present when he has kissed other women. Not even maidens.

Cloyingly sweet, dripping on his tongue like the most enticing potion. His. Never has he experienced this before. Daemon wants to drown on it, drown in you. But before he has a chance, you give him a shove and run as fast as you can.

And he stands there, as if struck by lighting, pinned down by the unmeasurable realization that this is love. Love, in its purest form, for his soon-to-be sister wife. It leaves him dazed, confused, rooted to the spot. Utterly out of control.

“DID YOU HEAR?” The serving girl whispers loudly, her voice carrying through the corridor. Night has fallen already, and you pour over a heavy tome on constellations while sitting in one of the windowsills of the Red Keep. It is the best time to put your new knowledge into practice, but the constant chattering of the maids interrupts you.

You close your book, hesitating between scolding them and sending them away, or waiting for them to leave on their own. Scolding them feels unkind. It’s late enough for them to no longer be on duty, and there is no harm in what they are doing. This corridor is a heavily transited one.

Perhaps you should move to your rooms. But you do not have a balcony, and the view from your windowsill it’s quite limited. As you ponder on it, something they say catches your attention.

“And they say the Prince asked for a blonde girl. A maiden.” The Prince. Daemon! You have not seen hide nor hair of your older brother since he stole your first kiss. In fact, you have been avoiding him.

As children, he had played plenty of nasty tricks on you. Once, in a fit of temper, he had beheaded all your dolls and hanged their little heads from a window. But adulthood had mellowed him out. Or so you thought.

The worst thing wasn’t that Daemon stole your first kiss. It was that you enjoyed it.

“No!” The other girl sounds scandalized.

“Yes. And that is not all. He took her roughly, and was kicked out before even…”

Took a whore roughly? You knew he whored around, but hurting whores was a new low. You weren’t too approving of his behavior, but whoring was normal for young lords. Everyone knew they did it, even the most pious ones. Hurting them, though? It was no better than being a rapist.

The other girl lets out a gasp, but she sounds more delighted by the gossip than anything else.

“Imagine how rough it had to be for them to kick him out.”

“I would say plenty. Poor girl.”

“He is out again, is he not?”

“Every night, like clockwork. Something has roused his appetite, it seems. He used to whore, but not…”

Their scandalized voices drift down the corridor, and you think the rumor must be wrong. Daemon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sure, he whored around, and took plenty of maidenheads, but your brother wasn’t cruel.

Was he?

He had stolen your first kiss. Beyond the softness and the sweetness of the kiss, Daemon had ruined a moment that was meant to be special. Now, it was forever tainted with the memory of being made a mockery of. Not only by those girls, but him too.

There was a difference between stealing a kiss and hurting whores, though. Much more, when it came to hurting them seriously enough to be kicked out of the pleasure house.

Was it your fault? Had he discovered with you he enjoyed taking from women by force? Was he taking out his anger with you on them? The maid had said the girl was blonde. Perhaps Valyrian blonde.

You needed to know. You ran to your rooms and got your black cloak, set on finding him.

Finding Daemon was no easy task. You made it to the city on foot, but once there, you had trouble locating the pleasure houses. There was no sign outwardly pointing to them, but you managed to get to Flea Bottom without getting mugged. Or at least, this looked like what you thought Flea Bottom looked like.

The streets were dirtier, the crowd rougher and drunker. There were people sleeping on the floor, no Sept in sight. This was a place far away from the Gods. The few Goldcloaks patrolling seemed uninterested in actually preventing crime.

You made sure to walk with purpose, afraid of being stopped if you looked like you were out of place. The streets were badly lit, and you could barely tell apart one alley from another.

A sudden tune caught your attention. A woman was singing in a tongue you didn’t recognize. You decided to follow her voice, but before you could do so, someone blocked your path.

“… A dragon for half an hour.” It was a woman. Her hair was dark and hanging limp around her face. She swayed as she walked. “My prince, I will let you choke me.”

You made a face, realizing a strand of your silver hair was peeking on the edge of your hood. She thought you were Daemon, you realized. Both your brother and you kept your hair long, and in the darkness of the alley, with your hood up, you may have looked alike. Was she a whore?

“I’ll let you. A dragon, please, I need to feed my children.”

Children. She had babes. You imagined them, tucked in their beds, wondering where their mother had gone. What if something happened to her? If the children had a present father, he would provide for them, and she wouldn’t be here. It was how the world worked. She must be alone with the babes.

You reached inside your cloak, and pulled out a gold dragon. There was an odd sort of pity building inside you. You imagined yourself, offering up your body to strangers to feed your children, and your heart shattered into little pieces.

You had never questioned the role of whores. They were sullied women, but they served a purpose. Entertain the men so they didn’t hurt others. Tend to their baser needs. It didn’t feel so clear-cut as you avoided the woman, in fear she might attempt to service you.

The voice sounded louder, so you ducked into the next alleyway. It was then you saw them.

The woman singing was sitting at the entrance of a small house. She was scantily clad, as were the surrounding women. But there was only one of them who caught your attention.

She was tall and willowy, with long limbs. There was a haunting elegance to her that looked out of place in the Street of Silk. Her blonde hair was long, and in the right light, could be mistaken for silver. It cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was eerily similar to your own. She was tragically beautiful, stricken by some unseen grief.

Sitting down and clapping along to the song, she looked as if she was praying. There was a dark stain on her neck, cleverly hidden by her hair. The closer you looked, the more it seemed like a bite mark. Not just any bite. A vicious one.

You gasped, hands coming to your mouth to muffle the sound. Whores had never been of concern to you, but now you were seeing their reality, and it was heartbreaking. The thought of women in brothels, in cages, as pleasure slaves, made you want to weep.

Women like you. That she wore your face was even more jarring.

WHEN CARAXES HAD been born, he had not done so alone. Out of the ether, his sister had come, hands linked with his. Meraxes, goddess of the sky, an eternity doomed to hold to her sibling. Caraxes only reflected his twin’s colors, gazing up at her as the flowers did the sun.

It was said that they met only once a day, thanks to the mercy of Gaelithox, who allowed the twins to embrace every sunset. It was the reason Meraxes hated him. He held on to her too strong, and prevented her from embracing the one who she truly loved. He invaded even her reflection, seeking to make himself a part of her, even invading her sacred reflection in the waters of her twin.

The story was always one of your favorites. You begged Viserys every night to tell it to you, sickening Daemon with your romantic tales. He isn’t sure why he is reminded of it today, of all days.

Foreboding, he will think later, when the storm has passed. But now, he chooses to focus on the coronation taking place in front of him, and bask in their triumph.

“Kings reward loyalty.” Viserys says, after the crown is placed on his head by a proud Aemma. “And my first act will be rewarding those that stood by my side.”

Daemon and you are kneeling, the first among the crowd. The first to take a knee to their King. There is a strange feeling in his throat, and he fights the urge to cry. Daemon has always considered tears a weakness, but the moment is so perfect, so magical, he feels the urge to do so.

Men don’t cry. Instead, they take big breaths, and savor their victory. Viserys on the Iron Throne, and Daemon about to be given your hand. All they have ever wanted, now ripe for the taking.

“Brother, please rise.” Viserys' voice is clear and loud. Daemon does so, pleased by the honor of being the first to rise in front of the masses. They had talked about it, of putting up a show for their political enemies, but Daemon had never expected Viserys to grant him honors before any other of his advisors. “Your diplomatic and martial skills were essential to securing my claim. As a reward, I give to you our sister’s hand, and name you my heir. May the two of you have a fruitful union and make House Targaryen proud.”

And when he turns to you, with a smile on his face, he realizes why he remembered the story of Caraxes and Meraxes.

Your beautiful, purple eyes, are wet with tears. You remain on bent knee, frozen.

Daemon pulls you up with the utmost tenderness, one reserved for family alone. The hand on your elbow seems to shake you out of your stupor.

“Thank you, my King.” Your voice trembles, but you speak the words dutifully. You know as well as him that this is Viserys’ day. Everything has to go perfectly. There can’t be any hint of division between the three of you, not when the rallying cry for Viserys had been that he was bringing back the three heads of the dragon.

Three siblings. Three dragonriders. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys.

“It is a great honor.” Daemon adds, tightening his grip on your arm. You look ready to bolt, and he is tasked with reminding you that you can’t.

A silent tear travels down your cheek. With your back to the crowd, no one but Viserys and Daemon can see it. Viserys gives him a long look, pleading him to do something. Neither of them had been expecting your reaction.

They had thought you would settle well into your duty. That marriage would give you a stable tether, a shield for your fragile soul. Viserys had chosen Daemon for the honor, had given you to him to care and protect.

But you seem even more scared that you were before. How wrong had they been.

“We are very excited.” Daemon hugs you to him, fighting to keep his composure. Your rejection stings, and he wants to rage, but he can’t. Because you are in public, and House Targaryen doesn’t air their dirty laundry in front of witnesses, but more importantly because your dam is breaking. You let out a little sob, and Daemon has to embrace you fully to prevent you from falling apart.

Fools that they are, the rest of the courtiers mistake it for a sound of joy. What else could you want? To marry the King’s heir, a Valyrian husband who can give you pure Valyrian babes.

“Good.” Viserys smiles, a bit strained. You take a shuddery breath, and straighten up under his arm. Daemon can practically feel the change, from scared girl, to experienced courtier. You know as well as he does the importance of presenting a united front.

You smile. It’s as fake as the silks whores wear, when pretending to be a Targaryen Princess. To the inexperienced masses, it tears all the same.

“How joyful days come ahead. Long live the King!”

You open your arms, the picture of the hopeful bride. The smile threatens to crack your face in two. The crowd cheers. A royal wedding is always something to admire, and there is no better way of celebrating a coronation than with one.

The hour is late when Daemon finally manages to catch Viserys alone. You have gone straight to your rooms after the feast, sulking. Aemma has been sat outside your door for hours by now, trying to coax you out like one would do to a skittish cat. Her talks of duty and royal wombs only got her a pillow to the face for her efforts.

Daemon and Viserys, much more used to your moods, hadn’t bothered. You were angry, but not hysterical. Both often manifested in tears in your case. Only one could prove lethal.

“I do not understand.” Viserys frowns. “What more can she want? The two of you will get Dragonstone, for a few years at least, and when I have an heir, you will not be kicked out. You are family.”

“I do not understand it either.” Underneath the simmering rage Daemon feels, there is only confusion. He is a knight, and has proven his skills sufficiently enough to be awarded Dark Sister. He is of an equal standing to you, a Prince to a Princess. He loves you so deeply it scares him.

The Seven know he has tried to get you out of his head through every means possible. He has deflowered more maidens that he can count this week alone, his cock is chafed raw, and yet, no matter how beautiful they are, your face still haunts him. It’s your name on his lips when he comes, and your body he pictures under him. The whores are never right. Their hair is the wrong shade, they are too thin or too fat, their tears taste of iron instead of your sweet salt.

You should not think it is a bad thing. Women love that sort of thing, leading men by their cocks, getting them so cuntstruck they cannot see straight. You should love it too because it is a weakness to him, but a power you can wield. And yet, you hate it. You had run.

“I cannot go back on my word now.” Viserys reaches for his cup of wine. He knows that his reign is still fragile, and if his lords see his sister defying him, they might get ideas. “She has to marry someone, and with her delicate constitution, I cannot in good conscience…”

“Handing her to a stranger is a bad idea.” Daemon agrees, not out of some selfish motivation, but because he knows it’s the truth. You have always been far more delicate than most ladies, with your books and silly ideas about the role women should play. Had you not been so closely tied to Viserys, you may have even supported Rhaenys.

If Viserys was Aegon, you were Rhaenys. The sensitive little sister, loved because of her innocence and kindness. You never tried to push your strange ideas, after all. You just looked like a kicked puppy when contradicted.

Any other man would crush you at the first hint of defiance. Daemon, used to you as he was, knew rage was futile. If you wouldn’t settle in your duties easily, he had to take action and ensure you did through other means.

Gentler means. Daemon still remembered the fits you used to have when little. Viserys did too. Neither wanted a repetition.

“I have thought about it, and you should forgo the bedding.”

“I agree. It might make her sick.” Sick is the euphemism they use for your fits when there are prying ears. Daemon gives a pointed glance at the guards. Viserys drops the topic after that.

Almost against his will, when the embers of the fire they sit in front of die, Daemon goes to your rooms. He isn’t really thinking, when he walks down the hallways that lead to your chambers instead of his. Nor is he thinking when he dismisses your guards, and opens your door.

You are laying on your side, a pillow held to your thighs. Your hands are made into fists over them, as if you had fallen asleep in your rage still. Despite it, your face is peaceful, with only dried tear tracks to disturb your childish expression.

Your body is curled into itself, tightly. You must be cold, Daemon thinks, and takes of his cloak to lay it over your form.

In dreams, you smile. And Daemon understands that he is no Gaelithox. There was a reason Caraxes and Meraxes were only allowed to embrace once a day, after all.

HORROR AND RAGE are not emotions that lend itself to permanence. At least, not in you. Not when it comes to him.

Not when he plays such strange game, and gets you strange prizes. Daemon has not asked for his cloak back. You have taken to sleeping wrapped up underneath it.

How can a man capable of such cruelty be capable of such tenderness? Confusion means ignorance, and ignorance breeds fear. You have known Daemon all your life, but you are still unable to understand him.

The only certainty you have is that when he is near, your rationality flies out of the window. It’s all instinctual. To fight, to fuck, to fucking fight.

The sleep of reason produces monsters. Monsters that take hold of your heart and squeeze it, until it is no more than liquid and pulp. Did he hurt that woman? Will he hurt you? Love you?

Daemon had stolen your first kiss. Daemon had gotten kicked out of a brothel. There was a girl in the Street of Silk with a bite mark on her neck. He had visited you the night of your betrothal and tucked you in.

It might mean nothing. It might mean everything. Whichever it is, you have no time to come to terms with it. Viserys wishes for the two of you to be married by the end of this moon. It makes you feel even more blindsided and betrayed.

None of them had thought to ask you before deciding. They had just done so.

The idea of marrying your brother wasn’t what came as a great shock. As a child, you had often daydreamed of honoring your ancestors and becoming your brother’s wife. It was the way things should be. But you had always thought you would marry Viserys.

When Viserys married Aemma, you thought you would marry someone outside your household. Daemon and you were clearly ill-suited, even before everything that had happened between the two of you.

Betrothing the two of you would be madness. You had never understood each other in the manner Viserys and him did. You were an outsider to their relationship, the other head of the dragon. Rhaenys to her conquerors.

But inexplicably, Viserys had done so. Being betrothed to him without even being asked about it stung. No one had thought to warn you, or ask for your opinion. They had simply announced it to court and hoped you would comply.

The feeling of betrayal had only mellowed out after asking Viserys his reasoning. He hadn’t been trying to blindside you, he had explained. He had thought you would be happy. Both Daemon and you yearned for Valyrian partners. It made sense to betroth the two of you, especially because Daemon had asked to marry soon.

Your brothers were just dumb. But their foolishness was a dangerous one, since they rode the two biggest dragons of your generation and sat on the Iron Throne. Common fools could undo the damage they caused.

But in your case, there was no way out but through. Viserys had begged you to give Daemon a chance, and so, you found yourself preparing for meeting him.

Viserys had chosen the place the two of you would meet. The Godswood was neutral territory, and far away from the castle that if you started shouting insults at each other, only the Kingsguard shadowing you would hear.

It only made you dread the encounter further. You had taken a liking to the Godswood, and were contemplating using it as a hideaway for when things at court got to be too much. If this went wrong, it would forever taint the place for you.

You decide to arrive early, to allow yourself some time to compose yourself. Daemon beats you to it, already waiting near a tree when you get there.

“Hāedus,” Daemon says, when he sees you. In a show of rebellion, you have decided to wear your more modest gown, with a neckline that nearly reaches your ears. Aemma had encouraged you to wear something more revealing, but you wanted to strangle the cow. “You look lovely.”

“Lēkia.” You press a kiss to his cheek, unsure if you should greet him like you always do, or the betrothal has changed the protocol. Kissing his cheek as you always do seems safer, but you regret it when his eyes flutter closed at your touch.

He is acting odder than usual. In an increasingly out-of-character charm offensive, he takes off his cloak and places it on the grass.

“So you may sit.” His tone is too formal. It makes you even more wary, but you sit. Daemon does the same, by your side. So close, you end up frowning more.

He leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Despite my struggles, I have come to admire you.” Daemon noses along the hair right above your ear. “Rationality has left me, and no matter how hard I try, you haunt me at every corner, every hallway, every street of this damned city.”

“What am I supposed to say?” You complain, with a frown. You push him a little, to be able to meet his eyes.“I am well aware of your attempts at forgetting. Valyrian whores, Daemon? Really?”

“It was all in vain.” He pulls you back in, embracing you. His hands are warm around your stomach, his lips chafed against the skin of your neck. “Let me take down your hair.”

Your eyebrows raise. Out of all things he can ask for, this is the weirdest one. His petition is so simple and innocent, you almost think he is not Daemon.

“Let me take down your hair.” Daemon begs. The ardent tone in his voices surprises you. He sounds like a man possessed. As if he cannot survive if you deny him. “Hāedus...”

This devotion, this unexpected fit of love, surprises you. So much, you find yourself nodding.

You feel his chest contract with his sudden inhale. His hands are careful as they unmake your braid. His touch so tender, even the most delicate hairdresser would envy it. But when your hair falls down your back, in mussed tendrils, he shows himself to be Daemon.

His nose presses to your temple, breathing you in. His fingers run through your hair, and he presses feverish kisses to your scalp, your jaw, your ear. Licks the sweat behind it, samples your earlobe with his teeth.

Teeth. It makes you tense. You think of the girl in Flea Bottom, of the bite over her throat.

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You appear before me in the darkest corners, and in the brightest meadows.” Daemon inhales, hands grasping your waist tightly. “When I squired, away from home, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t know it was love then, but I have loved you since before I knew what the word meant. I fucked the tightest cunts of Westeros, sampled the prettiest maidens, and yet it is your face that I imagine when tugging at my cock.”

Something inside you snaps. Among the righteous indignation, a strange satisfaction takes place. You shove him off you.

“Don’t be crass!”

Daemon doesn’t attempt to embrace you again, but remains unbearably close. Your eyes drift to his lips. You would love him even if he were the one who mauled the whore. You would love him even if he did it to you. Because of it, perhaps.

“I want you to be mine. Put me out of my misery.” Daemon begs, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Marry me, and end my suffering.”

“You frighten me.” You whisper, without quite meaning to.

“Do you fear I will hurt you?” Daemon asks you, voice very gentle.

You avert your eyes. It’s not that what you fear. It’s how out of control you are when it comes to him.

“I would never.” He vows, leaning in. His lips brush against yours, before Daemon presses his forehead to yours. He looks into your eyes, and smiles. “Do you remember the last time we kissed?”

“Of course I do, you idiot.” You scowl at the memory. “You stole…”

“No. You were crying because no knight…” He gets up, and begins to tug you to your feet. You remain sitting. “Oh, get up, you stubborn thing.”

“Daemon!” You complain, but get up. He stands a few feet away from you. Curious about the point he intends to make, you cross your arms over your chest and glare.

He offers you his hand, as if to dance. You take it, eyes full of distrust.

“I have been a cunt. But you have to stop running.” Daemon circles you, pulling on your hand slightly. Is he…? Your confusion must show on your face because he gives you a mocking glance. “To dance from afar is not to dance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might as well be in Essos.” Daemon keeps circling you. “Let us dance properly, for once.”

“Here? Dance?” There is no music. And your brother has never been one for bursting into spontaneous song and dance. At least, you don’t think so.

“Together. You wanted knights to ask you to.” Daemon pulls you close, into a hug, and the puzzle pieces finally fit. The day he had kissed you, you had been crying because no one had asked you to dance. That Daemon remembers the reason when you had nearly forgotten it yourself astonishes you. “Now a Prince asks you. Do not make me ask twice, please.”

“Let us try. To dance as if glued by fire. Let me prove I can be good to you. That I listen to you. ”

And it’s stupid. It’s silly, there is not even music. But you let him pull you in, this time, and realize Daemon has always been capable of tenderness. At least, when it comes to you.

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positivelyholland · 9 months

Text

To Our Future Together

pairing: luke castellan x reader

genre: fluff

summary: one night while laying under the stars, you and luke begin to wonder what the stars have fated for your futures together.

warnings: really sappy, not proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seated on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean, you and your long-term boyfriend shared dreams beneath the canvas of a star-studded sky. The night's serenity lent itself to discussions into the realm of shared futures.

“I might be crazy to say this, but do you ever wonder what our lives will be like once this is all over?” As you raised the question, you noticed Luke’s heartbeat deciding on a quicker pace within his chest that your head was resting on.

“What exactly do you mean by that? If you’re talking about any sort of future together then I’ll be the first to admit I’ve thought a little too much about how good Y/n Castellan sounds,” he says with a slight smirk.

“It does have a good ring to it, doesn't it?” you laughed along with him, “but i guess i more meant that once everything changes, or once we have to leave camp half-blood, what happens to us?”

“I need you to know I am being so serious when I say that you’re it for me. I genuinely don’t think a life without you is possible. The only future I see for myself is one with you, me, and four to five miniature versions of us.”

You found comfort in the warmth that flooded Luke's gaze. You could see it in his eyes, how his once-turbulent past seemed to fade away as he embraced the idea of a family with you, one that echoed with echoes of joy and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

“I one hundred percent agree with everything you said, except the only thing is how I thought I heard you use the number five when talking about how many times I’ll have to go through childbirth,” you teased, “but feel free to correct me if I heard wrong.”

“You’re not hearing things, love. I did say five but I actually dream about ten little ones running around, I'll take as many as you’re willing to give me,” he teased with a chuckle. “Realistically, though, I don’t care much about the details as long as I have you.”

Luke's fingers gently entwined with yours as you began to paint a picture of the life you envisioned together. With sincerity in his eyes, he listened to your hopes and aspirations, nodding in agreement as you spoke of a home filled with love and laughter.

You spoke of raising children who would inherit the strength and kindness you saw in Luke, a blend of mortal and demigod virtues. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of anticipation and affection as he imagined teaching them about the world and the lessons he had learned.

Together, you crafted a vision of a life where bedtime stories were spun with tales of adventure and the glory days, and bedtime kisses were accompanied by whispered promises of protection and love.

Luke, once with a lost purpose of life, now saw a future intertwined with the legacy of your shared love. The prospect of a future filled with family became a beacon of hope, a testament to the healing power of love.

And so, beneath the stars, the two of you embarked on a journey of dreams, each whispered promise sealing the foundation of a future built on love, trust, and the belief that together, you could weather any storm.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #positively holland #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell

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aki-shun · 1 year

Text

◈Stained Love◈ [M!Reader x YAN!OB!Malleus Draconia]

This story will change according to the choices, just like in the game. So yes, there will be a special vote for this episode. Which end will we reach first (〜￣▽￣)〜

Part-1 Part-2「here」

TW: somnophilia(?), some unauthorized things, it’s not healthy , masturbation, smut, Using the blot as a lubricant (Don't ask why)

Sorry for bad grammar (English is not my first language)

Your head is on his shoulder. His right hand is wrapped around your waist, barbed vines wrapped around your legs and ankles like a chain. His left hand was roaming your calves. Every now and then, his hand would squeeze your hips, then lightly caress where he squeezed. He tilts his head towards you, inhaling your scent, rubbing his nose against your temples. It made it easier to access by leaning you back a bit. He kept humming his song, rubbing his nose on your neck. He licked a strip from the lower part of your neck to your chin.

Ahh if you knew what you did to me. How you it affects me, how you it triggers me~

His embrace tightened as he continued to fiddle with your neck. The pain between his thighs increased as he dealt with you. These feelings, which he had suppressed for a long time, were no longer suppressed by his will. This defenseless and inviting state of you, this sleeping state of yours, where your face takes on the sinless and innocent expression like an angel, was weakening him. But his will was still standing. He couldn't defile you before he could tell you about his feelings for you. His mind was fighting a great battle between his desires and his will. He was snapped out of his thoughts as a drop of blot dripping from his face fell onto your lips. The stain drains from your lips, dripping down your chin.

┏━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━┓

𓆩•✧◈✧•𓆪

┗━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━┛

He was whimpering against your neck. His hand was stroking his cock hard. He had dreamed of you most of the time. But he's never masturbated thinking about you before. Although the blot in his hands was intense, it facilitated the movements of his hands.

He hums the song while whimpering.

Your collarbones are visible because the top buttons of your shirt are open. He bit your collarbones lightly, leaving a mark or two. The softness of her skin made her want to do more. But he wasn't going to do that by his decision, just yet. He quickened his movements as he inhaled your scent. Who knows what would happen to his reputation if someone saw him doing this right now. But right now there was only him and the others(and you) sleeping. They were all in their happiest dreams right now. He snuggled closer to you and his movements began to become more harsh.

He hadn't done anything like this in years. He spent most of his time learning string instruments and studying royal lessons as the future king. So this feeling of pleasure he was experiencing now caused him to come sooner than usual. At the same time, it was effective in you sleeping on his lap. His semen was dense, and there was also black blotting fluids alongside the white fluid. (Either because it's out of his body or because he's using the blot as a lubricant. The choice is yours. :)

He exhales deeply. He whispers some kind of magic, and the mess he's made is gone. He is looking around with his eyes. Everyone is sleeping. Everyone who is sleeping is in the most beautiful dream right now. Everyone who sleeps… is in the fairy tale where they are the most beautiful - the most desired - heroes of their own. He looked at you again.

What kind of dream are you having, my beautiful thorn?

◸Zelf’s cat was jealous. So you have to wait for more… ᓚᘏᗢ◿

Voting for the next episode is in my blog.

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danaewrites · 9 months

Text

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.”

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?”

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about.

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.”

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?”

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.”

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.”

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile.

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly.

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression.

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.”

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone.

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you.

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently.

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation.

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?”

He thought your eyes were pretty?

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out.

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

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youtellmeman · 7 months

Text

Spoilt

jake sully x Neytiri Sully x Metikayina!Reader

smut

warnings - p in v, vaginal fingering, slight scent kink, oral (f recieving), threesome, lil tiny bit of angst, kinda implied age gap but nothing more than 5 years,

i love jake and neytiri sm

——————

This was your clan. Your clan, your territory, your people, everything that covered this expanse was yours. And maybe you had gotten too comfortable with getting everything in sight being yours, but it wasn’t like you were going around exploiting your power. You were clan princess, the people liked to give you things and you never took more than you gave.

That being said, you were currently in the biggest of moral dilemmas, considering the thing that you currently wanted was a married man and his wife in your bed. A man who had brought his family to your clan in hopes of being spared refuge from the blasted sky people that had returned, and had been oh so grateful when you’d convinced your parents olo-eyktan and tashik of your clan to grant them their wish. You’d taught them your ways, saw to it that your siblings were as kind as possible, you yourself had even taught them how to ride their very own Ilu. And as it seemed developed a certain curiosity for the heads of the family,

A curiosity that left you wondering what other biological differences were hidden away from your prying eyes could see and how the differences you could see would take effect in the mating process. For instance their fingers, while thinner, were longer than those of the Metkayina people and believe you’d spent multiple nights trying to replicate how deep they’d be able to reach inside of you. The way Neytiri's breasts were smaller and firmer looking than yours, which were slightly more full and soft to the touch. It made for countless nights of trite replication of something you’d never experienced and days where you couldn’t look either of them in the eye due the prior night's activities.

Like today for instance, your people gathered around for festivities, celebrating the full moon that had blessed you with high tides and bountiful catches. But instead of being completely enveloped in the festivities of your people as you usually would’ve been, your eyes were glued to the pair of dark blue people sitting next to one of your many fire pits, secluded from the dancing that was happening all around them.

So you paused your dancing and made your way to them, acknowledging their children who had been dragged into the festivities by your little siblings.

“What are you both doing sitting here, so still.” You ask a smile toying on your lips, discreetly checking them you, You’d organized for them to be made traditional Metikayina clothing for the night. “Tonight is a night of celebration, you should be dancing.” Neytiri’s eyes bored into your own and her lips twitched upwards slightly, but she said nothing.

“We hate to be rude but you all dance a bit differently than we’re used to, kid.” Jake recipes looking around at the clusters of people and you couldn’t help but do the same, face wrinkling in confusion before sparking with an idea.

“Then I teach you! Come come it is easy I assure you!” Your face breaks out in a smile and you can see in Jake's face that that wasn’t what he’d hoped would happen in response to his comment, Neytiri on the other hand seems more than amused.

“Yes Ma Jake, go learn. You should learn all you can remember.” You laugh as the words leave her lips, missing the way Neytiri's tale thumps against the ground in response. ‘You should learn all you can.’ were words Jake often used against his own children when they complained of your different ways.

“Yes Jake see, you must learn. Be more like your mate with her eagerness to learn!” You say making Neytirir’s ears shoot up, eyes darting back to your face forming a small frown. Jake shooting her a shit eating grin and before either of them can deny your impromptu lessons you’ve grabbed them both by the arms to drag them towards the music.

Stopping in a less dense area that still thumbs with the vibrations of music you face them once more. The both of them standing a tad awkwardly still amidst the groups of dancing na’vi.

“ Come, Jake I teach you first.” You say ling yourself up with his side so you're both facing the same direction.Giving him the directions of stepping back then sliding forward slightly. “It is easy, see? Watch my feet.” Speaking as you guide him.

“Come Neytiri you do the same with your feet.” You keep at this for a moment letting them get the footwork down. Having to spend a bit of time coaxing Neytiri into trying at all, while Jake seems to be a more focused student. Eyes glued to your every movement in what you take to be an attempt to get down the moves, it really isn’t.

Eventually though Neytirirs stubbornness subsides and she begins to try the foot work, picking it up much quicker than Jake.

“Good, good! You are both doing very well, now it is time to add what truly makes this dancing.” You move to be in front and facing them going over simply the foot work again before speeding up and finally starting to move your hips. Shaking them rapidly, moving them side to side along with alternating the sides you tilt up and down. Even going as far as to spin in a circle while you move. “Your hips! Move with the rhythm, feel it in your bones. Let your body become fluid guided by the beat of your heart and music.” You say immediately realizing that the both of them have stopped dancing.

Without thinking you move towards Neytiri. “Move your feet and I will do the rest, hmm?” You ask and she obliges, aware of your every movement. Maybe that’s why she doesn't seem to move away or flinch in shock when your hands come to settle on her hips from behind.

You both move your feet but instead of working on the movement of your hips you focus on hers. Using your hands to guide their movement, slowly at first then spreading up slightly until you can feel her body beginning to move without your guidance. You let her take the reins, movements spreading up and though a bit clumsy and out of beat she catches on quick, you’ve yet to release her waist. Taking a few seconds to enjoy the way your skin feels below your fingerstips before letting the slide back to your sides.

Then moving onto Jake, his eyes move from the grip you had on his mate's waist to your face, eyes filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t seem to place. Still you surge on, grabbing his waist next and moving it the way you had neytiri’s before.

“The way men dance is very similar to our women. The only difference is the occasional move of hips which the women don't usually replicate. It’sthe rolling of hips. Look at the other men around.” You guide him and your voice has found a softer tone then the previously energy filled one you’d held. Watching as Jake's eyes glide across the crowds around you resting on multiple of the men, before rolling his hips experimentally before falling into the previous moves you taught him. “Good.” You urge him on and he continues as you correct his form here and there before you eventually pull away, letting the tips of your fingers graze the protruding bone of his hip as you pull away.

Maybe they weren’t dancing perfectly, like one of the natives might, but they were dancing. And eywa did look they good doing it. Neytirir had lost all previous restraint she’d had, letting herself fall into the way your people danced. Arms swaying in the air around her. Jake slightly more stiff yet seemingly enjoying the experience of it all, Locking eyes with you before his eyes slide to his mates moving form. Pulling her into dance closer, hips rolling and hand caressing her arm as she preened at the touch.

And all of a sudden you felt as if you were watching something intimate, something you could never be a part of. It left your chest tightening in yearning and a smile on your face faltering. You needed to get away.

“You are both wonderful students. I’ll leave you both to enjoy yourselves and continue to learn without me. It’s getting quite late and I must retire for the night.” You excuse yourself as quickly and politely as possible,missing the way the pair's eyes lock then darting you in concern. Leaving before they can try to convince you to stay.

You make your way through the crowds, smile wiped clean completely and instead replaced with a frown and glassy eyes. Heading towards the direction of your hut, before deciding you didn't want to go there quite yet, instead finding a closed off part of the beach, a place that had always offered your comfort in life. And that was what you needed the most now as your mind was flooded with thoughts on inadequacy and the prospect of living in solitude forever. A few tears slipping down your cheeks before you're able to wipe at your eyes.

“ Ma Tanhi? What is wrong?” For once it’s Neytirir’s voice that breaks the somber silence of your self wallowing, causing your head to snap in her direction. Seeing the mated pair standing a few feet away from where you’re sat on the sand. You promptly shoot up to be standing. Trying to remove any trace of sadness from your face. “What did we do that has made you run from us.”

“Yeah i didnt think our dancing was that bad.” Jake tries to lighten the mood but it does nothing to ease the sadness heavy on your chest. Neytiri smacks his shoulder, clicking her tongue while shooting him a warning glare. “Really though, what's got you so down all of a sudden kid?”

“It is nothing, do not worry yourself with silliness such as my problems.” You try and force a smile on to your face, waving off their concern.

“Hey, if you’ve got a problem it's not silly at all. We’re here to help baby girl, but we can’t do nothin if you don’t tell us what's wrong so why don’t you talk to us.” It’s almost stupid the way your stomach churns at the pet name that falls out his mouth, almost adding the hypocrisy of this all.

“Yes, what Ma Jake says is true. We care for you, let us ease your pains.” Neytiri urges you forth alongside her husband as they take steps closer. Still as kind as they are, what could you possibly say, that you had feelings for mated na’vi who also happened to be them. You shook your head wordlessly denying their help, though you can't help the way your eyes dart between them longingly. This doesn't go unnoticed

“Ah I see.” Your ears perk up at Jake’s comment. “Tiri, do you see what I see?” Your brows furrowed in confusion, watching them communicate wordlessly had become a norm when you’d become their guide, but it had never bothered you not knowing what they were thinking more than it did in this moment. And within a few seconds of wordless communication, Neytiri's body seemed to relax, all worry dissipating as her tale sways slowly behind her, eyes finding yours once more, gaze almost predatory as a smirk slid across her face. You clench involuntarily at the look in her eyes, arousal ill timed according to you

“I certainly do.” Neytiri almost purrs. “Shall we help her understand?” She raises a brow in Jake's direction as she moves around you slowly and you almost move to keep face with her.

“Understand what?” You try to follow her with your eyes, but that thought is thrown away when you find Jake suddenly incredibly close, fingers grazing your jaw before pinching your jaw between his thumb and index. Guiding your gaze to his own.

“Understand the fact that we want you too, baby.” Jake's eyes are hooded with lust, pupils blown wide as one of his canines digs into the meat of his bottom lip.

“what?” The words leave your lips in an airy whisper.

“Your feelings do not go as unreciprocated as you thought.” Neytirir’s voices husky and you’re suddenly very aware of how her lips brush against your shoulder with every word, breath fanning over your skin.

“I-i don’t-”

“You don't what?” Jake’s words are sharp as they leave his lips. “You don’t feel the same? Cause if thats it lets be real cause I can smell ya from here and I'm sure Tiri can too. Or do you not understand, because if that's the case we’d be more than happy to make ourselves crystal clear.” His last few words are intentionally slow yet pointed and they have you pressing your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the need to be touched. “Just say the word and we’d be happy to show you just how bad we want for you.”

“Show me.” The words have barely left your mouth before his lips are slamming into yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a silent demand for access to the inside of your mouth and you oblige without a second to waist. Neytiri on the other hand has found a job in leaving dark purple marks along your shoulders and neck as she caresses the side of your hip and letting a hand wander to the front of your waist moving to cup your barely clothed breast in her hand. Both of their movements have you keening between them.

Soon Neytiri's hand is moving from your breast to the side of your neck dragging your face away from Jake's hungry mouth so she can get a taste for you herself. You welcome the change wholeheartedly. While Jake kisses to consume, Neytiri kisses to savor. Hand on your jaw as she takes her time enjoying your taste. And whiles she's busy exploring your mouth Jake takes the opportunity to explore other things. Kissing down the side of your neck that’s exposed, even sucking a few marks onto the parts of your chest are exposed, that is before seemingly growing fed up with the barrier or needed cloth pulling it down so that it sits right below your tits. Giving him full access to what he wanted he surges forward taking one of them into his mouth while he grips the other in his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he pulls at the other gently with his teeth. The action has you whimpering into Neytir’s mouth and she swallows the sound with a pleased hum, not missing a beat.

After you’ve been deemed sufficiently marked Jake does what he’s been imagining since the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge his attraction to you. Dropping to his knees in front of, nose almost pressing a kiss right on your pelvic area before untying your tweng, bringing himself face to face with your glistening folds and taking a deep breath through his nose. Groaning at the scent of your arousal. It’s only once Jake lets out a groan of anticipation that Neytiri pulls away, hand on your jaw now guiding you to look down at her mate.

“Look at him so eager to taste you Ma Tanhi, will you grant him the pleasure.” She says low in your ear while you gaze down into Jake's hungry eyes.

“You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy baby, hmm?” His hands massage the sides of your thighs and don't doubt that he probably saw the way your walls fluttered at the sound of his voice.

“Please, Jake.” It a quiet whimper of a plea but it seems to be just what he needs to hear, inhaling your scent once more before licking a stripe up your slip, flatting out his tongue as it comes to rub over your clit and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. His large hands brace you by your hips and ass while Neytiri holds you against her by the waist effectively letting you melt at their touch without collapsing to the floor.

Jake's assault on your pussy might start off slow but it certainly doesn't stay that way, not when your hands find roots of his locks tugging and pulling him impossibly closer. No instead he focuses most of his attention to your clit dipping his tongue into you here and there. And soon you feel a finger tip prodding at your entrance, sliding in ever so easy with how wet you've grown plus his own saliva. The intrusion has you gasping and you can't help but think about all those nights you tried to replicate what you thought this would be like.

The job you’d done had nothing on the way it actually felt. Thin but long fingers able to reach that spongy spot within you with ease, messaging it as he sucks and flicks at your clit.

“More Jake, more, more.” Your moans are no longer quiet or meek as you grind against his finger and tongue all at once. He’s quick to grant your request, slowly but surely sliding in another finger which has you throwing your head back onto Neytriri’s shoulder. Neytrir who had been watching oh so silently, free hand come up to pinch and tease at one of your tits now found herself moving so that her lips just barely touched the shell of your ear.

“Look at you taking Ma jake’s fingers so well, tell me how good it feels.” Her lips brush your lobe as she speaks and you can’t help the rapid nods that follow.

“So good, Jake’s tongue feels so good Tiri, so so good!” All comprehensible thought has left your mouth at this point and been replaced with repeated phrases of ‘so good’ ‘more’ ‘please’ . Your climax was growing closer by the second, you could feel it burning below your skin begging to see the light. And soon enough it did, Jake slipping in a third and final finger curling so perfectly inside of you as he pays attention to your swollen clit is what has you shuttering around him. Legs shaking and snapping rigid to hold him between them as you bucked your hips mindlessly against his face. Moans and whines of gibberish leave your lips as you ride out your high before slowly coming down. Releasing Jake’s head from between your thighs, chest heaving, eyes lidded as you watch him look up at you while licking his lips.

“You think you can take another for me babygirl?” The questing has you nodding numbly. There was no way you’d let this encounter over without having had his cock inside you or without having touched Neytiri the way you’d been dreaming of for ages.”Good girl, love. C’mon baby help me lay her back on the sand.” he instructs Neytiri and they do so easily. Once your back is touching the sand, they both remove their respective tewngs, before letting their lips meet and Neytiri hums at the taste of you still on Jake’s tongue.

“You’ve been good so far baby, why don’t you show us how good you can really be, yeah?” You're agreeing dumbly before you can even think to ask what he means, but something inside you registers it wouldn’t matter what either of them asked of you as long as they kept touching you. You don’t have time to think any harder about that, not when there’s a leg crossing over your face and your face to face with Neytiri’s core in seconds.

“Show me then.” It’s a demand the way it leaves her lips and it has you drooling over her. Neytiri’s hands gather your hair in her hands as she leans over you simply holding it in her hands as she braces herself on the sand. In the meantime you can feel Jake lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he lines himself up with your entrance, head sliding between your lips and prodding at your hole a bit.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” You answer his question with total certainty and immediately they're both moving. Neytiri settles herself on your mouth and Jake slowly sliding into your warmth. Your walls quiver at the intrusion, but you don't get much time to focus on that, not when Neytiri is tugging at your hair in anticipation. Leaving no time to lose you lap at her cunt, drinking up everything she has to offer and she gives it all so willingly. Rocking against your head, he clit rubs against the tip or your nose as you consume her so completely, tongue diving as deep as it can into her core and it leaves her panting and groaning above you.

“Ah Ma Tanhi, so good.” Her words only encourage and you, you push on devouring her to the best of you ability. It's when you finally get the hang of pleasure Neytiri that Jake decides you’ve had enough time to adjust. Having slipped in his whole length while you were occupied. Sliding out leaving on the tip inside before slamming back in and the roughness of the move has you gasping into Neytiri’s cunt, that move causing a moan to rip through her.

“Shit, feel so good baby, damnit.” Jake continues drilling into you at an unforgiving pace that has you sucking and moving so unpredictably against Neytiri's pussy she can’t help the way she continues to pull at your braids. “Gonna mold this pussy to my cock, never gonna want anyone but me, fuck.” Jake’s words are rushed and his breathing is ragged and it has you clenching so tightly around him that he’s seeing stars.

Jake knows he won’t be able to hold on for all that long if you keep this up and he wants, needs you to cum first. His thumb finds your clit with ease, rubbing in tight circles that have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and you feel another earth shattering orgasm nearing faster than ever.

Neytiri though, she’s right on the edge and all it takes is a few more dips of your tongue into her hole and ruts of her clit against your nose and she’s unravelling above you, back arching so much it has you raising your hands to her waist to help hold her up as you continue to lick her dry. Letting her ride out her orgasm until she’s lifting herself up and off your face. Straddling your head and moving to sit on her ankles, placing your head in her lap. Giving you just the right amount of elevation to see the way your cunt swallows Jakes dick with every thrust. The sight alone is what has you cumming again.

“Oh eywa, Jake!” Are the only real words you get out before its incoherent rambles and moans. Your orgasm is what begins to set off jakes but he holds for as long as possible. Letting you ride yours out for as long as he can bare before pulling out. Stroking himself once, twice, before he's spilling onto your stomach with a groan of both or your names.

Your orgasms leave you gasping for air, but soon as you all recuperate you aid each other in redressing. Walking to your hut, sweet kisses pressed to your lips with promises of visits come morning.

You always did get what you wanted.

——————

Yuh lmk what you think

Likes and Reblogs appreciated

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girlactionfigure · 5 months

Text

THE HOLOCAUST WAS IN COLOUR

I woke up today in Jerusalem to the sound of a siren marking Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day. The fucking Holocaust. This thing that's there. This thing that every Jewish kid has to learn about far too young. There’s no good age to learn about it. It takes away an innocence whatever age you learn.

It's a lesson of: actually - the worst shit can happen.

Actually - the worst shit did happen.

Actually the worst shit could happen again.

There is no objective proof of God - but Auschwitz did happen. It’s difficult to remain idealistic about human beings after that. If tales of individual acts of heroism that emerged from the Holocaust are supposed to give us solace and an after-taste of hope, the bigger question is what is it that makes these tales such anomalies?? What is it that prevented every person from being a hero? And why did it happen in the first place?

Visiting Auschwitz ruined part of me. It really did. Even before visiting, all that bullshit ruined part of me. I remember seeing images on TV as a kid and that ain't healthy. To see ghouls hanging on barbed wire. Piles of skeleton and flesh. I don't see how it can't ruin anyone if that's you and your kind they were gunning for. The idea that people murdered you because you were born you. The idea that your fellow countrymen turned round and said: actually you're not one of us. Or turned a blind eye, buttoned up their lips, gazed down in silence and left you to deal with it on your own. It's not like this puts joy in your heart. It puts something in your heart that I can't explain. It puts in your heart the sensation that some people don't want your heart to beat. And that's a confusing feeling for any heart: a nexus of emotions. A paralytic, existential moment. The loneliest heart, scarred by barbed wire and frost.

The fact that I can only trace my family tree back a few generations has always gnawed at me. I can only go back so far and then there's nothing. Just a black hole. Part of my connection with planet earth has been blotted out for good. I've been disinherited of my roots - from knowing the specifics of who I am and where I come from.

A few years back I visited Auschwitz - this massive shithole in Poland. And it's not like this death factory could have been a secret. There's no way. People knew. It's huge. It just goes on and on. And there's something weird about it. And you can't quite figure it out. And then you realise - it's all in colour. It's not in black and white. The images we're used to seeing of Auschwitz are black and white. And as horrific as those images are they provide a safe, historical distance. It appears a bygone world far removed from us. But it's here in colour and it's the same world we inhabit. The same air, the same trees, the same rain falling. And the human beings would have been in colour too, with red blood cells and capillaries and hearts beating like ours. They weren’t creatures from yester-year, they were modern human beings with the same body parts and feelings. And they were murdered by modern human beings who also had the same body parts and who probably loved their children and kissed their partners goodnight.

There's more I could write. I could write about mountains of shoes. I could write about piles of hair. I could write about buttons and cutlery and possessions that emerge from the mud in the rain. I remember having a stupid back and forth in my mind over some buttons I found which I put back into the mud. I had this stupid thought that maybe I should have "liberated" the buttons rather than leave them in that shithole - but then thinking that would be stealing? But would it be stealing if they'd been stolen by scum and were now being "taken back" in a spirit of love and solidarity by someone on their side? “Liberating buttons.” Stupid stuff. Ridiculous thoughts that you can somehow do something correct to rectify what happened here and bring some kind of harmony. In the end I left them. The buttons were stolen and they don't belong to Auschwitz - but they belong to the memory of what happened there - so they can at least continue to speak from the mud to anyone who sees them.

If I'm honest, part of me wishes I hadn't visited the place. I came away angry and it killed any absolute faith I have in human beings. As I say, individual tales of heroism and defiance aren’t enough to justify true optimism. They're a plaster to cover up the deeper sickness of who and what we are as a species. There's something worrying about human beings and our capacity for cruelty. A species whose children pick the wings off flies, combined with a propensity to herd mentality, is dangerous. It should trouble all of us. I don't know how we overcome it, keep it restrained, or collectively channel it toward a universally agreed direction that’s aimed at goodness.

If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.

That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?

And the answer might be:

Never. Again.

So. Anyway. It's 5pm. I need a piss. Then I'll probably eat some bread. A siren went off this morning. Just one final thought before I have a wee. I say that any absolute faith I have in human beings is lost. And that's true. Yet every day I experience such joy at existing. I love walking about, talking to people and connecting with souls cut from the same cloth. I like nature and I like looking at things and if I didn't love science so much I'd probably be a new age nut hugging trees and trying to kiss ants. Being alive is the most beautiful thing I've experienced to date.

And as embarrassed as I am to say it would you look at me trying to finish on a positive note?

Maybe there is something stronger than fear?

The persistant impulse to seek blessings in a world full of curses. The sheer chutzpah of life. The defiance. Not to vanquish the darkness, but to live in spite of the darkness. I can handle a world where Auschwitz took place if I also get to live in a world where there are people I love. I can handle a world where there’s horror if I also get to laugh now and then. And the fact that love, laughter and happiness can blossom in a world where the worst can happen - and has - must count for something. Deep down the impulse to go in search of life’s blessings is within all of us. It’s part of who we are. It’s why we get up each morning. We have to have faith that all will be well even when logic, history and common sense says otherwise. Actually it’s not even a question of faith. We have no choice. I think hope is hardwired into all of us. Deeper than fear. We are a creature that hopes. And sometimes, with the right wind behind us, at the right tide, we make those hopes come true. Sometimes, if you will it, it is no dream.

Lee Kern

This was written in Jerusalem in 2015 on Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Memorial Day

#yom hashoah #Auschwitz #Lee Kern

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beiasluv · 2 years

Note

Hello! Do you take request for platonic relationships? May I request for a fic where the reader is Neteyam’s twin and they died instead of Neteyam? Thank you!

neteyam x sister!reader

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

a/n: yesss, i love platonic relationships, hope u like it :)

warnings: curse words, death :( and ye bad grammar bc i am potato 💀

masterlist

enjoy!

the tale of jake sully and neytiri began a long, long time ago. until now, they had a been blessed with a baby or should i say babies

the future child of the toruk makto bear great responsibility since a youngling. even the childbirth was not private, the clan gathered around the suffering neytiri to celebrate their heirs.

neytiri screamed as her voice cracked; she squeezed jake’s hand tightly, as if she wanted him to bore the pain. jake, who was helpless to his wife held her tightly and made an attempt to calm his own beating heart.

“a boy!” the first cry echoed the forest floors and a blue baby wailed.

“neteyam!” jake held his baby high up the ground, as an offering back to eywa. and like she had noticed, the wind blew heavily among the trees.

“neteyam!” the people of omaticaya chanted as they celebrated.

jake held neteyam against his mother, “he is so precious- ma ja-!”

“neytiri!” she held his hand tightly for the second time. “what is wrong? are you injured?” he looked for mo’at and she came hurriedly.

“this can’t be!” mo’at raised her hand high towards eywa. “ewya had blessed them with a twin!” “Tsleng kä! (eywa gives)”

“Tsleng kä!! (eywa gives!)”

…

“y/n!” jake held you up in his embrace.

“y/n!” the people chanted. as if eywa acknowledged her blessing again, the woodsprites surround your body and flew off into the wind.

a twin can only be so different yet so similar at the same time. you both inherited loyalty and obedience from your parents.

however, the eldest daughter can never deny that they are a daddy’s girl. and neteyam is a mommy’s boy. a fair trade

jake will always have a soft spot for you in his heart. the firstborn daughter of a toruk makto carries a great burden all the time. he had to prepare you since young to learn how to hunt, speak intellectually, and the importance of your people.

he will call you his ‘babygirl’ when you are going through tough times and it helps calm you down 👀

you would say you guys are both calm and collected. but if compared with each other, neteyam is still leaning towards his brain, but you leans towards your heart.

you are more emotional than neteyam and for good reasons.

whenever he gets too harsh on lo’ak, you were there to support and push him up. (sorry neteyam, but we know who is lo’ak’s favorite twin here)

however, twins are twins. you guys can fight each other and screw up one another, but you are always there to back him up.

“no, neteyam, can not have my food, but here is my liver if you are going to die.”

neteyam, being the eldest he is, is very protective of his twin sister. your human hand gained a lot of unwanted attention from the other na’vis. he made each and everyone of them to learned their lesson if they decided to judge your precious pinkie.

he is very picky of what you wear and where you go

“no, you can not wear that, cover up,” he whined.

“please, as if you are not showing your whole upper body,” you slapped his abs.

“no, this is different!” he raised his arms. “there are boys drooling over you wherever you go! do not think i didn’t notice.”

“it is normal of our culture! na’vis wear this!” you complained.

“i’ll tell mom you’ve been seeing a boy out,” he raised his eyebrows.

“nete! we are just friends!”

“then cover up.”

“fine!”

whenever the boys are in trouble, you have to go bring them back. dragging them by their ears are your favorite method.

now, they’ve learned when does your footsteps mean trouble from mom and dad.

“shit! she’s coming! run!” lo’ak tapped his brother.

“neteyam! lo’ak! i am not covering for you this time!”

“then, catch us!”

“don’t make me count!”

buttt, you still covered for them because they are your beloved brothers.

patching them up most of the time. kiri is also there to help you patch them up.

kiri and tuk are your angels for lifeee. teas? spilled. you guys have girls night all thetime.

the girls like to roam the forest floor and sometimes the lab. you knew kiri and grace have a special connection, and you were there to support here through the hard times.

kiri is your spiritual sister, Period. she loves to nap in the forest with you and swim in the waterfalls.

tuk is your baby, she is so supportive and lovely to be around. your baby sister who backs you up all the time.

when mom and dad goes too harsh on you, neteyam and tuk is always there to hold you up.

spider tho. no particular comment. you had always smelled stinky feelings towards him since the beginning, but seeing your siblings grow fond of him you didn’t say anything.

he is very friendly, to the point of being weird to you. you remember to keep a distance from him

bantering with neteyam all. of. the. time. who’s older or younger, classic. who’s taller, well, you kinda gave up after puberty hit him like a BUS

you are also protective of him. girls are always surrounding him with gifts and flowers. some even took an extra step to spy him through you.

nope, not happening.

-spoilers!!-

the metkayina welcomed you guys with hospitality and same hostile behavior. which you didn’t mind, considering your dad brought much trouble to them.

you tried to be invisible to most of the people, staying away on the beach, swimming alone, or watching the sunset.

ao’nung took advantage of your solitude to make friendship. easy to say that your brothers are not happy with his attempts.

you agreed to talk with him as long as he stop bothering kiri, which he agreed swiftly. he didn’t agree swiftly to stop bothering neteyam and lo’ak, tho. but he gave in in the end.

“you have to breath in from here,” ao’nung grabbed his abs, sort of what flexing, you noticed.

“okay,” you breathed in deeper than you normally do, earning a chuckle from him seeing your puffed cheeks.

“not your cheeks, here,” his hand claps your area of shown stomach. unknowingly, his hand was burning on your skin.

“are you sick, ao’nung? your hands and face are burning,” you touched his forehead.

“oh! no! definitely not! i am fine!” he flinched his hands back. “so- sorry.”

“hey! great! you are learning to apologize!” you giggled at his words.

“only to you,” he mumbled under his breath.

“what?”

“oh, nothing,” he replied.

“y/n! let’s go! dad’s calling!” neteyam ran over to you. “look who’s here, trying to get my sister?” (giving the eyes)

“you shut up!” ao’nung retorted back.

“hey! he’s not and don’t call my brother that, you guys apologize to each other…nete”

“s..sorry” “sorry”

for someone with ego as big as his, you taught him to become more selfless. the way your father taught you since a youngling. his parents were amazed by your successful attempts and welcomed you heartwarmingly.

his sister, tsireya, welcomed you with love and affection. she is quite the opposite of her brother, which you appreciated it quite a lot.

whenever your mom needs a second hand you will always be there for her. hugging her daily and giving her comfort. neytiri sings you daily to sleep just as it was in the jungle.

…and the war came, that demon you always loathed.

“y/n! y/n! no!” neteyam tried to keep your head above the water as he is fighting against the wave himself. “bro! take her!”

“shit!” lo’ak took your body on his ilu and cradled you in his arms.

“fuck! she took the shot for me, lo’ak! what am i going to do!”

“should’ve left her dead, bro,” spider said emotional-less.

“SHUT UP! TAKE HER TO DAD NOW!” neteyam commanded lo’ak who hurriedly tightened his grip on you.

“couz, do you know what the fuck did you just said!” lo’ak called his ilu to take off while neteyam is holding on to its harness.

“she said she will sacrifice herself for her family, and this is what exactly what it is!” spider shouted back. “she wants to be with eywa! back when we were younger!”

“we’ll get back with you, spider!” neteyam shouted as he fought back the waves. “you are fucking mad! she’s our sister! I’ll never lose her to a fucking bullet! pray for yourself that I’ll not pluck your eyeballs out!”

…

“DAD!” lo’ak called out jake on the rock. “bro watch her head!” lo’ak, neteyam, and tsireya lowered your body softly on the rough surface. everyone can hear their heartbeat as well as the liquid in their teary eyes.

“fuck, pressure! apply pressure on her!” jake took neteyam’s hand and place it on her blood soaked chest. neteyam placed his shaky hands as heavy as he could on your chest to stop your blood.

“it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” your dad muttered to your fading sight.

“d- dad, i want to go home,” you sobbed, as each word hurts to mutter out.

“i know, i know, we’re going home,” he smiled softly at you, trying to keep himself together.

“no, no, no, no, no,” neytiri held your body tightly. she cradled your face in her soft hands. you remember these soft hands, they are the one who brought you to bed every night, the ones who took care of you when you are sick, and the one who held you when you first broke your heart. now you felt as if you are breaking their hearts.

“i- i- mom- dad-“ you can’t help but your body is shaking hardly.

“yes, sweetheart?” “yes, babygirl?” your mom and dad replied softly and everything blacks out.

…

“no! nooo! y/n!” neytiri screamed her heart out, her hands traveled around your head and held it close to her chest. as if she is trying to retrieve her last memory like the first time she was breast-feeding you. “my child! my daughter!”

your brothers held your body close to them as well. neteyam taking your hand and knitting his ring with your pinkie finger, “you promise! you promised!”

“neytiri, neytiri,” jake held her closely. “they have our daughters, i need you to be strong.”

“let’s take our daughters back.” from that moment on, her eyes became as emotional less as a robot, grabbing her bow she took off.

“stay with your sister!” jake commanded.

…

“what are you doing, mad animal! i don’t even care for that child!”

“A CHILD FOR A CHILD”

part 2

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, 🤍

#neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #kiri x reader #jake sully #neytiri #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #lo’ak imagine #avatar

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neptunes-sol-angel · 10 months

Text

Alright guys! I finally got that tingly feeling that I should do this kind of love reading. I still didn't want to make this a future spouse reading because I honestly overthink the concept, like "um divorces happen!" or some people just don't believe in marriage, but I thought I'd do something adorable and Christmas related. I hope that you guys enjoy!

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Pile One🎄

Their letter to Santa

Dear Santa, For so long I've been in the darkness, alone with the glass pieces of my heart, thinking that it's better this way for me to be on own. I don't believe in fairy tales anymore and my ability to imagine a world where I can be in love with someone and in that same way be loved back. My mind is splintered to where I flinch the minute someone to me gets close or when they mention a promise, that I without a doubt know they won't keep. Socially, I feel numb, meeting allegedly new people, seems to be a broken record in different physiques. If you could grant me any present in the world, would you change my definition of what I know to be love? Falling away from the stranger(s) that used to be who I knew from head to toe, has damaged my beliefs that I'm worthy of something more. And should you succeed in bringing my love, may they be my most divine contradiction in my life. My love will be someone new, yet possess familiarty in which I'll take pleasure in spending the rest of my lifetime finding all of the ways that we just understand each other. The sound of their voice and the words that they speak will be the fire that warms instead of scorching me. They'll be my rock that I won't have to tip toe around. Right now, I ask for their forgiveness for the person that I am right now, but for every tear that I currently shed to release the pain of my troubles in romance, builds my strength to be the person that really loves again, and the confidence to give my all despite my mistakes in giving it to the wrong people. Don't let my reserved aura fool you, deep down, I'm a hopeless romantic, that will work hard to find any and every single way to give you the world to prove the depth of my feelings for you. The same way that I'm learning my lessons, you are too, we both share that agony of why this has to hurt so much, but it's the bitter that goes along with the sweet to lead us to each other in the end.

Your Christmas Traditions:

Life with your partner could already be luxurious, meaning they gift you with presents on a regular basis that are both as an expression of love and desire to get the things that you want, so Christmas, traditionally, will feel like a normal day. What makes it stand out to you guys as a couple is how you guys seem to always unlock a new level of intimacy around this time of the year. For you or them, Christmas could make some not so good feelings resurface and put someone in a mood. Whatever that may trigger this, it usually leads to a peaceful resolution that doesn't just prolong the tension for another day. It's like getting to the root of the issue that'll eventually lead you and your partner to a place of comfort, understanding, and confirmation that this relationship isn't based on surface level things.

Pile Two 🎄

Their Letter to Santa:

Dear Santa, There's this ethereal figure in my dreams that I keep seeing. Without a doubt, I know that this is my person. And maybe it's not realistic to ask for you to make the time go faster for us to encounter each other in real life, but I really want answers, I'm craving to know this person. Their face alone, is enough to put me into hypnosis. Not knowing what their voice sounds like, ignites my obsession. I've never been a believer of the supernatural, or even a big fan of religion, but this sensation of the person of my dreams that makes me desire to stay asleep, has to be an indication that we're spiritually connected. I know this person doesn't say a word in both their presence of visions in day and night, but I have this clawing feeling that you're what home feels like. To the lover of my fantasies, I know you spiritually, but emotionally, with you, I'll finally have someone that doesn't think my expression of feeling is a foreign language. I could talk to you for hours without getting bored and your nature in every capacity makes me feel that you're out of this world with a love that I'm determined to study and reciprocate. I'm already amazed by how gorgeous you are but indubitably I know I'll be stunned everytime I'm by your side watching you prove to me that magic on Earth is real. You're the breathing proof of it and I can't help but be adored by you and the way that you perceive making the most out of the challenges that you face and conquer.

Your Christmas Traditions:

You and your life partner BREATHE for Christmas. Valentine's day may be special but Christmas is the time that you guys will be all over each other. You guys could go all out this holiday, by buying and wearing matching pajamas, playing board games with each other, watching marathons of Christmas themed movies, maybe you guys have a specific drink like hot chocolate, egg nog, or cookies that you love to stock up on. You guys could also be the type to take a vacation around this time by renting out a cabin, or taking a trip to Disney World. This is normal for you guys and you aren't aware of this jubilant vibe that you have together but it makes others wanting to share the joy you have. Your public presence as a couple during Christmas is the type that will make a person want to use you guys as their mood board or inspiration to daydream about the love that that they'd kill to have. You guys are the power couple in terms of playfulness, affection, and how unique you guys embody your partnership. You could also experience people asking you for advice for how to liven up their own relationships. You guys are just that cute with each other.

Pile Three 🎄

Their Letter to Santa:

Dear Santa, I have a good feeling that the person that I will view as my everything is currently contemplating if there's something that they should change about themselves, but do me this favor homie and give my sweet firecracker this message. You. Yeah you. You know who you are. You are a boss! Walking royalty in this world that's meant to take up space, of course there are gonna be some jerks that want to dim your light, but the people who can't handle how bona-fide and wealthy your aura is, are people who are uncomfortable with the fact that they don't possess the tools to handle the blessing that you are. You were never asking for too much and don't let the grinch or scrooge convince you that you aren't enough. Believe me, I wish that fate would allow me to show up in your life right now, but you're meant to learn how precious your attributes you are. You're a damsel that can save yourself, who is meant to climb into power and achieve many things. I'm currently healing my tendencies of being codependent so that I don't distract you from your prosperity or project my insecurities onto you and make you think that it's you, it's not. Be patient, but don't get rid of how bold you are love or choose sides in how you're capable of being silly and someone with authority. Your strength isn't in your silence, but in your intelligence and maturity to express to others your feelings and what your needs are. You'll always be on top, even on days where you feel like you're at rock bottom. Keep pushing, things will make sense soon. You won't just find me in your happily ever after, you'll find your soul tribe too. And we will ALL match your energy. Trust me. Everything that you think is complicated about you is why we're grateful for you.

Your Christmas Traditions:

You and your life partner share a common tragedy and belief. You guys may have experienced toxicity in your family that inspires the both of you to do things differently with your own family. Christmas time is pivotal for you as a couple, because it influences you to reflect but also to take action on how well you guys do as a household. Your Christmas Traditions could be about trying your best to make sure that there's peace, openess, but most importantly your presence if guys have children together. You could go all out with making sure that they have the best presents, that they have the best indication that they're safe with you guys as parents, and that you make the most pleasant and fun memories that will symbolize how much that not just you and your life partner love each other but making sure that your children know how much they're loved by you.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #pick a picture #the tarot community #tarot community #love #love reading #love readings #christmas #🎄: 25 days of neptunes sol angel #day eight? i lost track omg

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artist-issues · 8 months

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Wait, hold up. You wanna run that by me again? People are saying he didn’t deserve to be turned into a beast? When he literally was rude for no reason to that “old lady”?

Yup. Like he was just a teenager, he should be cut some slack, she was setting him up.

But it’s like

Yeah

She was setting him up because she knew he had no love in his heart. Do you know how horrible a King with no love in his heart would be when the Prince grows up? Do you know how awful the “little poor provincial town” would have it in the shadow of a Prince who reaches adulthood with the kind of character and heart that shuts old women out in the cold? The Enchantress did. So she cursed him so that he’d develop into a kind, gentle, loving man. There’s a reason the curse lasted until his twenty-first birthday. That’s adulthood. He had till then to learn to love.

And you know what else?

Of course the castle and servants would be cursed too.

That’s the Beast’s first lesson: you’re being cursed because when you have no love for anything but yourself, it’s the people closest to you who suffer for it. His household is a living object lesson for him to be faced with, day after day, for ten years, about how the consequences of your actions affect more than just you—they affect the people who depend on you. Really important lesson for the King of a kingdom to learn.

And even if that weren’t enough, which it is, don’t come griping to me about the servants being cursed for something the Prince did. Riddle me this: why is the Prince answering the door? Why isn’t a footman doing that? Why isn’t Lumiere doing that?

Why is it they’re turned into furniture instead of little beasts? Why is the first scene they’re introduced in an old MAN begging for shelter from the bitter cold, and choosing to welcome him in despite “The Master?”

Why is their big number “Be Our GUEST?”

The answers to those questions aren’t given but it’s strongly implied that, instead of doing their jobs, and instead of standing up to their Master up to and including the incident with the Enchantress, they used to just stand to the side, making no sacrifices, taking no risks.

The theme of the movie is “true love is self-sacrifice.” Hospitality is one of the most self-sacrificial practices you can engage in. You’re literally making yourself vulnerable: you’re inviting someone into your home, you’re putting their comfort before your own, you’re giving them your hard-earned food and heat and drink and time, you’re allowing them to come into your sanctuary, your safe space, and judge it while you make them comfortable. Be Our Guest, indeed! Standing up to the Master, indeed! They’ve learned their lesson by the time Belle and her father are on the scene.

The thing is, we love to try and excuse away the responsibility of the main character because we love to try and excuse away our own character flaws. Blame it on trauma. That’s not the point. The point is, for the story to work, and for the fictional kingdom to have a happy ending with a Prince who’s like that, the Beast has to grow out of his character flaws. He has a problem, and it needs solving—how he got the problem is irrelevant.

And there’s just so little chance that a Prince, who has everything in life that he could ever want and is dependent on nobody, for anything, would ever feel the need for love. Or worse, he’d never feel the need to correct himself, or change, or grow in any way. He needed to have some discipline—some MAJOR discipline, some KINGDOM-SAVING discipline—in order to even be the kind of guy that could notice a peasant girl’s self-sacrificial loving nature, much less value her and fall in love with her.

Thank goodness for the Enchantress and the Curse. Or else this fairy tale could’ve turned into the French Revolution.

#Beauty and the beast #batb #beast #Belle #Disney #RealDisney #real Disney #asked #answered #meta #character analysis #Lumiere #Cogsworth #Mrs. Potts #chip #Maurice #Gaston #lefou

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 2: You Should See Me In A Crown

The rest of your first week with the Dagger Squad is spent working on team building. You spend the week being professional with them, especially Rooster. In your time, you've learned it's better not to make friends. It saves you from getting hurt.

That doesn't mean they don't try, though. Every time they go out, they invite you with them. You turn them down each time, a new excuse fed to them that seems to satisfy them.

It's been a month since you've been working with the Daggers, and you've settled in nicely. This week, you've been working in the classroom with Maverick. It's a nice change of pace and gets you far away from Rooster.

He's been nothing but nice to you this month, and you aren't sure how someone who's faces so much loss in his life can be so kind. You've never seen him be anything but kind to his teammates. Sure, he and Jake shoot the breeze and tease each other relentlessly, but there's no animosity behind it.

When the squad is at the Hard Deck, it seems like he knows everyone. People are just drawn to him. He has a light that shines from with in, just like—

Stop, don't go there

When Friday comes around, you're scheduled for an early morning hop with Hangman and then an afternoon one with Rooster.

As much as you don't want to be, you're excited to fly with Bradley. It scares you, if you're being honest.

It would be so much easier for you to deny the feelings you have for Rooster if he acted like Jake did.

Unfortunately, he was just shy of perfect. You knew that Aphroditie had to be pulling some strings and laughing as she watched you try to resist.

Bradley was kind, smart, and had an infectious personality. He was a ray of sunshine. A golden boy who rivaled Apollo himself, and you—you were darkness, chaos, death. You were a monster. And he needed to be protected from you and the pain you would inevitably cause him.

He's too good for you

You shook the thoughts from your head as you geared up to fly.

You would be working against Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman. Your goal was to take them down, theirs was to take you down.

In theory, they should have been able to do it. Two against one seemed like pretty good odds. However, Jake still had a lot to learn about teamwork. From what you've been told and what you've read, he'd gotten better at it, but when it came down to it, he was still self-centered. Today was going to be a good opportunity to teach him a lesson.

You were cruising along under them when a wicked idea came to mind.

"Hey, Hangman, what do you say we make a little wager?" You purred into your headset. "Oh, you know I'm a betting man, Hades, what do you have in mind?" He asked you.

"You take me down, and I'll let you take my Rover for the weekend. I know you have a giant hard-on for it." You goad him.

"Ohhh, I like that idea. Now if by some chance I don't, what do you get out of this?" He shoots back. "You have to stop hitting on me, because it's never going to happen." You state.

You'd rather swim in the River Styx

"Deal." Jake answers quickly. "Perfect." You reply.

God, he was making this too easy

"Fights on!" You tell him and Phoenix before popping out from under them.

"Hades? In front of us? Really, you're making this too easy!" Jake snickers.

You smirk to yourself. You've got him right where you want him. You quickly change gears in your jet and take off, leaving both of the other planes in the dust.

Jake follows hot on your tale, leaving Phoenix and Bob behind. You can hear both of them swear at Jake. You quickly break right and circle back to them.

Phoenix tries to shake you, but it's no use. "Sorry, Nix and Bob." You tell them before tones ring out.

You can hear the radar warning that Jake is on your tail. He thinks he's got you, but boy is he wrong.

You swoop left and right again and again. Jake can't get a lock on you.

You quickly climb up towards the clear blue sky.

"Phoenix, I can't see her! How close am I?" He asked her. "Phoenix?!"

"I'm dead, dick head." She calls back to him.

You laugh to yourself. This is exactly what you planned. You invert your jet and double back over his head. The glare of the sun provides a cover for you as you level out and drop into the pocket behind him undetected.

Hangman is good. You'll give him that. But you weren't just the queen of the Underworld. You were the queen of the skies, too.

"Hades! Where the fuck are you?" Jake huffs out.

Jake struggles in the sun and levels out. You take the chance to pop back up behind him.

"Right here!" You shout as you pop up and light him up with tones. He lets out a string of curses before banking left and heading into land.

You don't see him, but Bradley is in the rec room listening in on the exercise. He beams with pride when he hears you take out Jake.

"See you in the afterlife, Bagman." Bob chuckles.

"Alright. That's enough for now. Let's bring it in." You say.

As soon as you get out of your jet, everyone starts to high five you for besting Jake. You all break for lunch, groups heading off in different directions to eat.

You grab your lunchbox from the fridge and a book from your locker before heading to the rec room which is thankfully empty right now.

You'd just sat down and cracked the cover of your book and kicked your feet up in a chair when you heard the door open and a set of heavy boots on the floor. You don't look up. You already know who it is.

Sigh

"Can I help you with something, Rooster?" You ask, eyes not leaving your page. "I was hoping I could have lunch with you?" He asks.

You sigh and look up from your book. He's standing there with his lunch box in hand, looking at you with those damn baby-cow eyes and a small smile. You can't help but give in.

Good Gods, why did he have to be so handsome?

You take your feet off the chair and nod that it's okay for him to sit. You bookmark your page and set it to the side. He smiles bigger before sitting down and looking at the cover of your book.

Maybe he won't talk to you

"A Good Girls Guide to Murder?" He asks you, looking at the cover with a quirked eyebrow.

"I love a good murder mystery. I like trying to figure out the ending before the author reveals it." You shrug before taking a bite of the wrap you packed.

"Why do you try to do that?" Bradley asks you as he pulls out what is supposed to be a sandwich, but looks more like a toddler's art project.

"I don't like surprises." You tell him honestly. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to come off harsh, but Rooster, what the fuck is that?" You ask as you point to his pitiful excuse for lunch.

He laughs and rakes a hand over his face. "'It was supposed to be a club sandwich, but I was in a rush this morning, and I may have accidentally set my gym bag on my lunch box during my drive here, and so now it's— I don't even know. If you think this looks bad, you should see pretzels."

You can't help but snort out a laugh at his misfortune. You watch him struggle to separate the layers of his sandwich from the plastic wrap. You give him a few minutes before taking pity on him and snatching it out of his hand and tossing it in the trash can.

"Hey! I was going to eat that!" He jokingly scolds you.

You roll your eyes at him before unzipping your lunch box. You were sure you'd regret this later, but you needed him properly fueled up for flying with you, that's why you were doing this.

Maybe a friendship wouldn't be so bad

"Here," you say as you extend the extra wrap you had packed towards him.

"Thank you, but I can't take your food." Bradley politely declines.

"You can, and you will. That's an order from your superior officer. Can't have you flying with me at anything less than you best." You firmly state.

"Yes, Ma'am, Commander." Bradley relents. There's an edge of something in his voice when he calls you by your rank. It's smoother than how he normally addresses you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that there was a hint of desire in it.

No, don't go there. He's just messing with you

He leans forward and takes the wrap from your hands. His eyes linger on your for just a moment linger than necessary. You can feel a flush creeping up your cheeks. You quickly settle back in your chair and clear your throat.

"It's spicy." You blurt out. Rooster looks at you confused. "The wrap. It's spicy. It's buffalo chicken. Sorry, I should have told you that before." You shake your head.

"No worries. I love spicy things. The hotter, the better." You winks at you. He honest to gods winks at you.

Is he flirting with you right now?

You open your mouth for a witty comeback, but you can't think of one. You're too focused on watching him take a generous bite of the lunch you've offered him. You transfixed as he lets out an appreciative groan.

"'Holy shit, this is fantastic. You make this yourself?" Rooster asks you after he swallowed another bite.

"Yeah, I love cooking." You spit out. His happy little sounds he makes when he his eating has you flustered for the first time in a very long time.

You haven't felt like this since you were a young God, lying in a wildflower field, your head in Persephone's lap as she braided poppies in your hair and hummed under her breath. It makes your heart ache that he's so much like her.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if she knows about Bradley. You wonder if she sits on her flower throne and looks down upon you to see what you're up to. You wonder if she misses you.

But then you think better of it. She has no reason to miss you. Not after—

She doesn't miss you

No one does

"Hades, you ready to go?" Bradley asks as he pulls you from your thoughts.

"What?" You ask him, not sure what he just said.

"Our hop is in forty-five minutes. We might want to suit up." Bradley tells you.

"Oh, yeah." I'll meet you in the hanger." You say before quickly gathering your things.

"Thanks again for lunch!" Bradley calls behind you as you bolt for the locker room. Thankfully, it's empty when you go in there. You shove your belongings away before dashing over to a sink and splashing some cold water on your face. It sizzles and turns to steam in an instant.

"Stop it!" You yell at your reflection in the mirror. "Stop letting a silly mortal throw you off." You say to yourself. "Feelings are for the weak. Love and desire will only hold you back or hurt you." You say before shaking your head. You splash some more cold water on your cheeks. As much as you want to give into the desire that is sparking, you know it's a bad idea. You gave in once, and look where that got you.

But you like the way he makes you feel

You like that he isn't afraid of you

You roll your shoulders back and compose yourself before heading out of the locker room. Your sleek black helmet with neon blue flames and letters bearing your call sign is tucked up under your arm.

Rooster is chatting with Maverick inside the open hanger when you meet up with them.

"You ready for this test run? You and Rooster will be working together to try and take me down." Maverick says.

"I've been told no one has been able to take you out, sir. I hope you're ready for that winning streak to come to an end." You tell Maverick with a serious look. He laughs at your enthusiasm.

Before the three of you head to your planes, you quickly blink three times to make their lifetime counters appear.

Maverick's is unchanged from the last time you saw him, but your heart drops when you look at Bradley's. The nearly fifty years he had this morning had now been replaced with a little over an hour. That meant something was going to happen during your hop.

No. You couldn't let that happen

"Wait!" You screech. Both men turn to look at you. "I haven't done my preflight check. Have you?" You ask them.

"'Lieutenant Myers, from mantanince gave them a once over for us during our lunch. We should be fine." Maverick assures you.

"Still, I think we should go over them again just to be safe." You try to persuade them as you watch Bradley's timer dwindle.

"Hades, Lieutenant Myers knows what he's doing." Rooster tries to convince you.

"I—I just have a gut feeling. Call me crazy. I'll make you a deal. We do a deep check on the aircrafts. If everything is fine, drinks are on me tonight at the Hard Deck. If something is off, we can prevent anything bad from happening." You say.

"Fine. I guess double checking couldn't hurt." Maverick reluctantly agrees.

The three of you spend the next half hour going over your jets. Well—you pretend to be. You're more focused on Rooster's time clock. It still hadn't gone back up. If it didn't before the flight, you'd have to be extra vigilant during the hop to make sure nothing happens to him.

You're checking some gears when you hear Bradley call out. "Oh shit. That's not fucking good."

You and Maverick both cone around to see what he's talking about. You don't really care what it is. You're more concerned with his clock. You turn the corner of your plane and see that his timer has gone back up. You breathe a sigh of relief.

"What's wrong?" You ask him.

"The fuel line is loose. If I had taken this in the air, it probably would have detached, and I would have been screwed. Mav, you need to talk to Lieutenant Myers and make sure he knows what he's doing." Bradley says as he stands there with his hands on his hips.

"Well, Rooster, you're definitely grounded for the rest of the day. It looks like we will have to reschedule the software test because it's a three pilot job." Maverick sighed.

"Damn, I was really looking forward to Hades and I kicking your ass old man." Rooster laughs.

"Well, we still have the range for the rest of the afternoon. Are you two up for something fun?" Maverick says in a low voice with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Define 'fun'." You say as you turn to him. "I was thinking a little ace versus ace action Hades. You and me, first one to get missile lock on the other wins. I've seen you fly. I know you're good, kid. But I want to know if you can beat the best." Maverick smirks at you.

"What's the wager?" You ask him.

"200 push-ups and bragging rights?" Maverick propositions you.

"500, bragging rights, and a joyride in your P-51 I've heard so much about." You counter.

"Deal." You and Maverick shake hands.

"What about me?" Rooster throws up his hands before putting him on his hips and staring the two of you down.

You pause for a moment and look around the hanger before your eyes land on Phoenix and Bob's plane. A devilish grin spreads across your face.

"Rooster, have you ever been a back seater?" You ask him with a Cheshire smile.

"Oh no, Hades, I don't like that look." He shakes his head, knowing exactly what you're thinking.

"Too bad, it's the only one I've got." You shrug before taking off towards the two seater aircraft. Bradley follows hot on your heels.

You climb into the cockpit, and both of you go over your preflight checks. "Hades, you know I'm fucking clueless back her right? My dad was a RIO, and I did not inherit his skill set." Rooster tells you as he fits his oxygen mask to his face.

"Don't worry, Roo. Just buckle up and enjoy the ride." You tell him as you head down the runway.

Wait. Are you flirting with him?

Moments later, the two of you are airborne and on the hunt for Maverick. "As far as I can tell, nothing on radar, and I don't see him." Rooster reports as he scans the sky. You acknowledge him as you do the same.

"Come on, Maverick, where are you?" You mumble. You think back to your training. If he's not on radar, he's either too far away or directly under your or above you. You doubt he is above you, so your best guess is he is flying under you just out of sight.

Trusting your guy, you climb higher. "Holy shit. Hades, what are you doing?" Rooster asks you, startled by your sudden movements.

"Trust me," you say. Once you're high enough, you invernt and, bingo. Just like you thought, Maverick is below you.

"Hang on, Rooster. I've got him, " you say before dropping down straight for Maverick.

The glare of the sun helps hide you, but Maverick is smart and sees you coming. You drop in behind him.

Rooster is shouting directions at you trying to help. He's known Maverick longer and knows his tricks.

Soon, the two of you are locked in a battle of wits. Maverick can't shake you, but you can't get a lock on him.

"I need to get him to a higher altitude. Any ideas?" You ask Rooster. "One, but you aren't going to like it." Bradley chuckles before telling you his plan. He was right, you didn't like it, you loved it.

You rose and hovered over Maverick, inverting and keeping pace with him before forcing him into a climbing cobra spiral. The two jets danced across the sky, higher and higher.

"Alright, Hades, you put us here. What's your plan?" Maverick asks as he matches you, turn for turn.

"A magician never reveals all her secrets." You tell him as you narrow your eyes.

"Now, Rooster?" You ask Bradley for confirmation.

"Now!" He confirms. One his signal, you let up of the thrust and break out of the spiral before dropping into the pocket behind Maverick. He wasn't expecting the sudden change, and it throws him off. Maverick quickly corrects himself and attempts to evade you, but it's no use. You have him right where you want him. For the first time in a year, Maverick hears the missile lock tones ring out in his head set.

"Holy shit! You got him!" Rooster cheers as he celebrates in his seat.

You wish you could turn around and see what he looks like right now. You're sure a bright smile is spread across his face just under his oxygen mask. You bring the plane in for a landing as he continues to cheer. His joyfulness is infectious.

Just like hers was.

When your boots hit the tarmac after landing, you're prepared to head to the locker room. You're making Maverick save his push-ups for Monday so everyone can watch. Rooster is itching to get to the Hard Deck to tell everyone about today, and he's eager to see you outside of your uniform.

What you weren't prepared for, however, was for Rooster to wrap his arms around you in a crushing bear hug and for him to spin you around while praising you.

You face smooshes into his chest, and you inhale his scent. He smells like jet fuel, sunshine, and poppy.

You want to fight the hug, but at the same time, you want to lean into it.

He's so warm

Something about him feels—safe

When his brain finally catches up with him, he quickly puts you down before taking a step back and looking down.

"Sorry, I—I shouldn't have done that." He apologized, scratching the back of his neck.

Do it again

"'It's fine. You were excited. No sweat." You brush him off. He sighs out an agreement, and you see the flash of hurt across his eyes.

"You were really something up there, Hades." Bradley remarks as the two of you walk towards the locker rooms.

"But, I gotta know. How did you know something was wrong with my plane?" Rooster asked you. "I just had a gut feeling. Something felt off." You shrug.

"You basically saved my life. If I'd gone up with that leaking fuel line, who knows what could have happened." Bradley said.

You know what would have happened.

"Maybe we should start calling you Angel instead of Hades." Bradley chuckles. "Seeing how you were watching out for me, it fits." You pause and stare at him.

"You know, because Hades is the God of death, but you were like a guardian angel looking out for me today." He tries to explain to you.

"Trust me, Roo. I'm no angel." You say with a hint of sadness in your voice.

"Too late." Bradley fires back. "I've already decided, that's your new nickname. Now, I will see you at the Hard Deck so we can rub it in Jake's face that you were the first one to take down Mav—Angel." Bradley smirks at you before disappearing into the men's locker room.

You shake your head

If only he knew

You quickly shower and change. You knew you were going out with the team tonight, so you remember to pack something nice to wear. You slip into a black body body suit that has a tasteful amount of cleavage that is accentuated by the lace of the bralette you have on underneath it.

A dark pair of ripped jeans and black ankle boots complete the look. You tie a flannel shirt around your waist just in case it gets chilly this evening.

You pull half of your hair up away from your face before applying some very out of regs make-up. Just because you were going there to keep up appearances didn't mean you had to look like a slob when doing it.

There was something about fashion that made you feel powerful. And if Bradley just so happened to like it and give you a little extra attention, what was the harm in that?

"And Aphroditie thinks she's the pretty one." You chuckle to yourself after you swipe your final coat of lipstick on.

.............

Jake let's out a low wolf-whistle the second he sees you approaching the corner pool table that the Daggers take up residence at every time they are at the Hard Deck.

"What do we have here? If it ain't Hades." He calls out as you approach them. "And here I thought I we were the good-looking ones, Coyote." Jake chuckles as he approaches you. You roll your eyes and grab the pool stick out of his hand.

He goes to protest, but you don't pay him any attention. You line up a shot and look up just in time to lock eyes with Rooster. You hold eye contact with him and give him a crimson smile as the ball drops into the pocket.

"Eat your heart out, Bagman." Jake stands there looking at you bewildered with some shot glasses in his hand. You take one and down the liquid before handing it back to him. "While you're doing that, I think we all could use another round. Why don't you be a dear and grab it for us. "You wink at him as you make your way around the table to Rooster.

"You sure know how to make an entrance." Bradley says as you walk up to him. You don't miss the way his eyes linger on you as he takes in your form. "You look—good." He tells you.

"Maybe if you wore something besides Hawaiian shirts and shaved that dorky mustache, you'd look good too." You tease him. A wide smile spreads over his face.

"You are something else, Angel." He laughs.

"What did I say about calling me that?" You say, putting your hands on your hips.

"And I already told you, I didn't care. What are you going to do? Pull rank on me again to get me to stop?" He states as his voice drops and octave.

You stand up on your tiptoes and whisper in his ear, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Lieutenant Commander?" A teasing smirk tugs at the corner of your lips when you settle back down.

Okay, you were definitely flirting

Rooster cocks his head to the side before settling a hand on your hip and drawing you closer to him. You let out as surprised gasp as you feel the hairs of his mustache prickle against your ear. "Maybe I would. What are you going to do about it?" He breathes out before walking away like nothing happened.

It takes you a minute to reset your brain. You can't believe he just did that.

Oh Gods

You were fucked

...............

Later that night, you stroll down the hallway to your apartment. You fiddle with your key and unlock the door.

"Cerby, Hydra, I'm home!" You call out to your pets. Normally, your dog and cat both rush to greet you at the door, but tonight they don't.

You flick on the hall light and kick off your shoes before calling out to them. They still don't come. Your apartment is quiet—too quiet. You stay still and listen.

You run your right hand over your left forearm and pull out the dagger for your rose and dagger tattoo. The ink materializes into heavy iron and steel in your hand. You hear a commotion in the kitchen.

You stalk silently towards the room, ready to attack whoever is there. You take a deep breath before popping around the corner.

But once you do, you stop in your tracks.

"Minthe?" You ask as you see her standing in your kitchen with Cerby and Hydra.

"Hades, love, I'm so glad you're home! Why don't you take a seat. We need to talk.

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