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drcranessweetestdoe · 3 months

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heyyyyy

could you do a Tommy shelby fic?

in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!

hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx

Finally mine

warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader

summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18

(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.

It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.

One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.

For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.

That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.

“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.

(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”

———-

Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.

It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.

Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.

“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.

He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.

Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”

—----

From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.

Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.

He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.

—-----

Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.

When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.

She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.

Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.

~T.S

She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.

——-

By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.

She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.

She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.

A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”

He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.

He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.

While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.

When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.

“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.

“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.

“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.

“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.

“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.

“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.

“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”

He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.

He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.

Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—

“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.

“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.

He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”

“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.

“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.

Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.

“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.

“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.

When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.

He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.

After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.

“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”

taglist: @your-nanas-house

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coffeecatcraze · 3 months

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The fact that Vaggie knew it was a HORRIBLE idea for her to go to Heaven because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many bad memories there, but her girlfriend needed her and she couldn't say no to her cute face; the fact that the headstrong, optimistic, determined, powerful Princess of Hell knew she couldn't handle taking this huge step alone and the only one person she could imagine being by her side in that critical moment was Vaggie.

The fact that even when she felt so hurt, heartbroken, and betrayed and tried for a second to deny it, Charlie never stopped loving Vaggie, still referred to her as her girlfriend, and had full faith that she was completely succeeding in her task (getting detailed sensitive information from a weapons-dealing Overlord) while Charlie herself was struggling and failing with her own.

The fact that even with Charlie so upset that she intentionally threw a painful commentbat her (a comment with a subtle double meaning, though Charlie herself was definitely NOT thinking clearly enough to realize that implication and only meant to make a jab at the secret-keeping), Vaggie still wanted so desperately to protect Charlie out of love that she regrew angelic wings despite having been in Hell for years.

The fact that one gesture from Charlie told Vaggie everything she wanted to say to her, and that mutual understanding was so complete that she didn't hesitate to run to her knowing she would be accepted because her girlfriend still loved her and forgave her.

The support, love, and intimate understanding these two share even when things are hard and painful is so beautiful. They've been together for years; they've been through so much; and it's wonderful to have that respected and portrayed canonically instead of dipping into that easy, fan-craved trope of dramatically heavy relationship angst. I'm glad they left that angst itch to be scratched by fanworks instead, because these ladies aren't that type.

They are powerful; they are determined; they balance and complete each other; and most importantly, they are so head-over-heels and experienced in their love for each other that it took one day for Charlie to deeply consider everything and fully reconcile with Vaggie, who never doubted her even for a second. Their relationship isn't just established; it's stable, and I love to see that for a wlw couple. <3

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #vaggie #charlie morningstar #i usually caption my gifs but i am Tired and wanted to post chaggie appreciation on valentine's day #so have this before i fall asleep! <3 #not all queer couples need long dramatic relationship angst arcs!#we need more queer ships like this <3 #and don't get me wrong i love a good angst fic!#there are some really good post-s1e6 canon divergent ones on ao3!!!#but honestly this is their canon dynamic and i love that the show stayed true <3

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totaly-obsessed · 7 months

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Any Craic?

Katie McCabe x reader blurb

-> Katie comes home to her girlfriend with a new little party trick that she has learned -> Based on this TikTok by Katie herself

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Katie coming home from National Camp was always exciting. The Irishwoman always has new stories to tell you about her teammates. And you would listen to every single one of them, even if she had already told you some of them on the phone.

The brunette stormed into your London apartment, dropping her bag at the door as she kicked her shoes off, in a hurry to find you.

And find you she did.

Stood in the kitchen, baking a cake to take to class tomorrow. It was exam day, and as a little treat for your students, you tended to bake treats for them.

Your girlfriend could consider herself lucky that you were not currently holding said cake that you had taken out of the oven – otherwise, her chest would have been burned. Katie swept you up in her arms, and you could not help but laugh with your face pressed into her shoulder.

“Missed ya’. Mwa!” Every single patch of skin that your face could give is getting covered in kisses.

“Give me a real one?” You did not need to ask the brunette twice, as she dived in for a heated kiss after setting your feet back down on the floor. You only pulled away once your oxygen started to run low, your head feeling even fuzzier than usual when your girlfriend kissed you.

“Oooo! A cake? Baby, ya’ didn’t need to!” She knew that it was not for her, the Irishwoman just wanted to tease you. And she succeeded when you tried to defend your baked goods, cheeks still flaming hot.

After you both had eaten dinner, you went over your student’s homework while Katie watched a football match – a nice relaxing evening until Katie remembered a new skill she learned.

“Baby I learned something!” The love of your life suddenly jumped up, your legs that were resting on her lap as she massaged your feet, falling limply to the floor.

“Up ya’ come!” She pulled you up, after setting your laptop on the coffee table. Holding your hands, she led you back into the kitchen where there was more ground space.

“Right, get on ya knees.” Her voice was direct as she threw a pillow on the ground for you to kneel on.

“Katie, what in the world is your plan?”

“Don’t call me that – it’s baby to you!” She pushed you down a little, adamant that you knelt on the pillow

“Thought ya’ liked it when I ordered ya’ round” And just like that, the heat crept back up to your face.

“Katiee!” The use of her government name earned you a very light tap on the bum with her foot.

“Go like this –“ She raised her arms and touched the back of her head with her palms as if the police were asking her to put her hands behind her head.

Still very much confused you copied your girlfriend, who was now standing behind your back. She looped her arms through yours, bending her knees, “When I say ‘breathe in’ breathe in and then breathe out.”

You still had no idea what was coming.

“Breathe in.” You did as you were told, taking a deep breath.

“Breath out.” As your breath was leaving your body, Katie brought her arms slightly to her front, pulling you with her.

You do not know what you were expecting, nothing much that is certain – but your back cracking that loud?

Definitely not.

Katie relished in your facial expression, eyes wide open, just like your mouth. You were stunned. “Felt good baby?”

The Irishwoman helped you back on your feet, picking up the pillow as she rubbed the back of your neck with warm hands. “Where did you learn that?” She tugged you back to the couch and on top of her, hugging you close while keeping up her massage of your neck and shoulders.

“Physio showed me. Told ya’ to stop hunching over your desk.” She really did tell you to stop that, at least ten times in the last month – but you could not help it.

Knowing your girlfriend could free you of your pain certainly did nothing to stop you from doing it.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #katie mc cabe x reader #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #woso

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paranorahjones · 2 months

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okay so my theory about How To Train Your Dragon is that Astrid loved Hiccup WAYYYYY before the events of Romantic Flight but due to how the vikings lived in near constant combat with the dragons and young children/teens being forced to learn how to defend themselves and their families from an early age, she closed herself off to those feelings because by all accounts Hiccup was doomed to die. she resented how useless he was in combat, and she resented how much she cared. she was mean and dismissive to him out of fear that she would inevitably have to mourn him soon, and the colder she was the easier it would be.

then, miraculously, Hiccup begins to show some kind of competency in dealing with the dragons. but he's still not defending himself. he's finding strange ways of controlling them, but he's still as physically weak as he was before and Astrid can't see how whatever he's doing will help him outside of the training ring. great, you found out that Deadly Nadders like chin scratches. what about the Monstrous Nightmare burning down your house?

all this just makes Astrid angrier. how is Hiccup succeeding without violence? how will he survive without violence? violence is what she was born into. what does he know that she can't comprehend?

it's only later, when she sees that this scrawny beanpole of a boy has found a companion in a Night Fury, the embodiment of Death, that the miracle of him starts to make sense. he knows so much more than what any of their people can comprehend. and he wants so badly to show her. and for the first time ever, Astrid has hope.

i believe that this explains Astrid's comfortability and affection for Hiccup that she shows during and after the events of Romantic Flight, why she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek after everything. considering her personality, i don't think Romantic Flight shows her falling in love with Hiccup for the first time. i think she has loved him for a long time, and was too trapped in self-protection to allow herself to feel it (similar to Katniss regarding Peeta). but now she has hope that maybe he won't be ripped away from her. now she sees how much more there is to him, sees that he embodies Mercy stronger than Death.

#just some sick morning thoughts #had this running around in my head last night but i needed to sleep on it to try to make it coherent #how to train your dragon #httyd #hiccup httyd #astrid httyd #hiccup x astrid

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bethanydelleman · 9 months

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Both Pride & Prejudice and Much Ado About Nothing work so well as enemies to lovers because despite surface animosity, it's clear that both end couples really respect each other and for good reasons. I think you could even argue that with Beatrice, she spars with Benedick because she considers him a worthy opponent.

When Hero and Ursuala plot to make Beatrice fall in love, Hero instructs her to speak of Benedick and "praise him more than ever man did merit" and yet when Beatrice finally speaks, she doesn't disagree with their high praise, she says of Benedick:

For others say thou dost deserve, and I Believe it better than reportingly.

Benedick likewise after his eavesdropping on Don Pedro, Leonato, and Claudio's praise Beatrice says:

They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.

Similarly in Pride & Prejudice, once the misunderstanding about Wickham is cleared away, Elizabeth is able to acknowledge to herself how much she respects and likes Darcy:

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both: by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance.

Darcy also finds that he admires Elizabeth, after initially dismissing her:

But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness.

All of these characters also hear and accept criticism of themselves. Both Benedick and Beatrice hear they are too proud to accept love, which they both overcome. Elizabeth learns that she judged Darcy without sufficient information and Darcy that his behaviour was not that of a gentleman. Their mutual acceptance of this criticism and their growth as people leads to their ultimate happiness.

Unfortunately, those who reproduce this trope often forget to build this foundation of respect and the acknowledgement, either personally or publically, that the characters have been wrong. Instead we get characters who mid argument begin ripping each other's clothes off. No growth, no understanding how they have been wrong, it just becomes "thin line between hatred and love" instead of "we grew towards each other".

#enemies to lovers done right #enemies to lovers trope #trope analysis #pride and prejudice #much ado about nothing #much ado about nothing day #growing towards each other #obviously the character growth is almost instant in Much Ado #but that's just a time factor #a lot more room in a novel #shakespeare #benedick #beatrice #elizabeth bennet #mr. darcy #fitzwilliam darcy

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seyaryminamoto · 2 months

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Azula's most overlooked characterization element

Why, hello there.

It is I.

And I'm back on my bullshit.

I didn't WANT to be. But a bunch of factors pulled me back in.

For the record: I'm not here to start any fights or light the fuse of arguments that I most likely won't have time or interest in responding to. What I AM here for... is to prove that there's something out there a bunch of people are delighted to sleep on because acknowledging it would render maaaany simplistic interpretations entirely invalid...

That group of people includes the fandom, of course. And the original show's staff. And the liveaction's staff, to a fault. Surely the TTRPG ones too. And absolutely, the comic book writers.

Hell, I'll even include MYSELF in that group, even though I'm making this post right now.

I found it really curious that I very recently saw this element mentioned in a pretty neat blog I follow, @atla-lore-archive, I absolutely advise anyone who hasn't checked out said archive to do it if you wish to understand a lot of the "extra lore" the fandom had access to, back in the old days when the turbonick ATLA site still existed and used to be the only source of deeper knowledge about the fandom besides the occasional interview that most people didn't even know where to track down.

But the funny thing is that the post I'm talking about proved that even Turbonick forgot about the people this post is about :')

And that would beeeeeeee...

*cue drumroll*

Lo and Li!

What makes Lo and Li an important subject to discuss?

Why, a lot of things. Among them, the fact that almost nobody brings them into the core focus of any analysis made about Azula's character. I've personally mentioned them once or twice I believe, mostly as negatives, there's but ONE positive aspect I've ever found of them: them being non-benders MIGHT be a reason why Azula isn't shown as being quite so obsessive with firebending supremacy as Zuko was supposed to be.

But that's very much the sole good thing I can think to say about them and it's completely subjective, as good as a headcanon, because we don't even KNOW if they influenced Azula in that sense!

Why do they seem to get overlooked quite as much? Why... let's start thinking about it, shall we?

Lo and Li are Azula's firebending teachers. As far as anyone can tell, they're also her advisors. These two people should be an essential part of Azula's life... but ironically, we seldom see them with her. Most times, Azula isn't around these two. Whenever she is? It doesn't usually look like she's having a good time.

And that's no surprise, considering her first scene with those two very much puts forward a dynamic of cold distance between Azula and her mentors: Azula is bending LIGHTNING. We have not heard of other lightningbenders until that point, and once the full show wraps up, there's only THREE (Azula, Ozai, Iroh). Out of those three? Only one is a fourteen-year-old girl. It's very easy to assume Azula's lightning is actually a skill she mastered unusually early in life, perhaps relatively recently, hence the practicing... but she's pulling it off. She's succeeding. She's doing something that genuinely catches a first-time viewer off-guard!

And Lo and Li's entire opinion of what she did is: "Almost perfect. One hair out of place."

This tells you the Fire Nation's idea of "imperfection" is... insane. Strict. Imposing. Unyielding. Unforgiving. Azula's reaction isn't to get angry at Lo and Li for saying what they did: it's to get angry at herself and try again.

But... that's not the only instance where we see Azula getting angry around Lo and Li.

The next few times Azula is around them, she doesn't seem to have much of an emotional reaction (one is when they tell her to find other allies, the other when they herald her as a great hero who returned home from Ba Sing Se). In the second of these scenes, Lo and Li are praising Azula as incredible, beautiful, all sorts of grand things...! And Azula smiles. She smiles at the crowd. She's not smiling at the old ladies who are praising her... she's mostly just happy to know her people are welcoming her as a hero indeed! Most the fandom would go "true! what an ungrateful bitch! She should've been happy that Lo and Li complimented her that way!!" Me? I wouldn't say that at all. Not just because I love Azula to pieces? But because the only information we have of Azula's dynamics with these two... doesn't seem compatible with the idea that what Lo and Li are saying here is for AZULA'S benefit.

Anyone who's had a hypocritical parent/caretaker/teacher must have endured awkward, horrible, unpleasant moments where this adult figure treats you like shit in private but in public holds you as this grand example, and a perfect child, and they never seem to stop saying they're soooo proud of you even though you NEVER felt that what they're saying is true. Maybe the first few times, you're naive enough to believe it. By the tenth time of incongruent messages? You start to realize they're talking you up as a way to make themselves look better. They're trying to show they're doing their job at raising you/training you, be it whatever it may. The praises are not FOR you... they're for a third person to hear and think "Oh, this adult's so cool, saying nice things about this kid they're responsible for! Nice!"

... You're starting to get the picture now, I'm sure.

Lo and Li reappear in the Beach. Azula is notably chill, enjoying the ride, talking casually with Ty Lee, telling Zuko to lighten up and to stop taking Ozai's choices personally, right? She seems... content. Relaxed.

Then, everything changed when Lo and Li attacked.

We don't even see why Azula is making this face at first. But she does it AT ONCE when their ship reaches the dock.

Who is there indeed...?

The stars of our post! :') if it isn't our elderly twin ladies... who brought Azula to a very disappoting beach house. And when Azula sees the house in question, she makes THIS face.

Judge however you may... even Ty Lee is weirded out by the beach house, going by that expression. Zuko and Mai aren't impressed either. But Azula? The look on her face isn't merely disappointment if you ask me... part of it looks a bit like embarrassment too? This isn't at all what she was expecting when she arrived (she has her old beach house for standards, which makes this extra underwhelming, I'm sure). She counts on Lo and Li to provide them with a place to stay, it goes implicit... and then this is what they do. It most likely isn't what she promised the other three in terms of where they'd stay, hence, I'd dare say there's a component of embarrassment here.

Shortly afterwards, we have our well known scene with Azula being utterly unconcerned with Lo and Li's apparent wisdom to the point of yawning over it. This, too, tells you she's just not interested in whatever those two have to say or bring to the table. Then, they show up again at mealtime and I think Azula just ignores them the whole scene.

After this? Lo and Li vanish until the finale. And what do they do in the finale? Why... it's the first time anyone expresses a verbal concern over Azula's wellbeing! Ah! A sign that Lo and Li have SOME affection for Azula! This time, you pesky Azula fans, you CAN'T twist this into a bad thing! For sure!

... Can't we, tho? :')

What IS Azula's reaction to: "We are concerned for your wellbeing"?

"My father asked you to come here and talk to me, didn't he‌? He thinks I can't handle the responsibility of being Fire Lord. But I will be the greatest leader in Fire Nation history."

And here, my friends, is when we have finally hit the jackpot.

Lo and Li could have been Azula's Irohs. She could've had TWO of him! Then you'd say: "hey! Ozai is such a dick he let Azula have two elderly wise ladies guiding her but only gave one old wise dude to Zuko! Rude!" and it would be further proof of Ozai's favoritism of Azula, right?

... But actually?

Lo and Li are no such thing. Lo and Li aren't moral compasses for Azula in the least. Lo and Li are not beacons of wisdom that genuinely help her sort her way through life. Worth noting: THEY COULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN THAT WAY. They're not. They're not part of mysterious secret societies, they don't help Azula in any objective, significant, tangible way... there's very much nothing to say they EVER fulfilled the role Iroh did for Zuko. What role, then, were they fulfilling instead?

Why... I think we ought to listen to Azula, shouldn't we?

My take: Lo and Li are OZAI'S STAND-INS.

Someone's going to say "hey why would you assume that when Azula said this in the middle of a breakdown?? Surely she was just DELUSIONAL and PARANOID and ashdgkadhsgkjgh...!"

... Let me counter that one with a fun little analysis excercise:

WHY are Lo and Li Azula's firebending teachers and advisors?

The finale very directly tells us these two are not benders. We could've assumed they were! They're not: Azula's teachers are non-benders.

Has a single person out there ever asked themselves WHY this is the case?

How the hell is Azula, prodigy of the blue fire, epic lightning, cruel and powerful and precise and deadly bending... training under two elderly nonbenders?

Bringing this to a real-life example: do you remember what it was like when you were in P.E. classes and your teacher told you to spend 20 minutes jogging, and if you ever stopped you had to do 20 crunches and then get back to the jogging, and every time you stopped he'd tell you the same thing and you'd want that guy to vanish from the face of the planet? I don't know if that was only my experience, but I rather doubt it.

What did kids typically think/say when that happened?

"I wanna see that old fart doing the same shit he's making us do..."

It's a headcanon indeed to say that this is how Azula must have felt over Lo and Li, but it's VERY likely to be the case. But I'd dare say, in Azula's case, it's even worse because, to put it in another way? It's like taking programming lessons from someone who's never learned a programming language. They'll tell you you're getting things wrong without knowing how to help you get them right because they just DON'T KNOW what you're doing, and are outright INCAPABLE of what you're trying to achieve. They can't offer good guidance based on experience because they have ZERO experience on that subject! And yet they want PERFECTION from you! They expect it!

Lo and Li are these teachers for Azula. We only see them in one scene? And yet everything in the rest of the show suggests that they bring nothing important to the table for Azula, be it professionally, be it personally, be it emotionally... not in any aspect of life.

And this, if you ask me, is why the OG show barely ever brings them into scenes. Why the comics flat-out forgot they existed and even featured people like Sozin and Azulon in Azula's beach hallucinations but NOT the two ladies who looked after her and trained her. Why the live-action didn't even FEATURE them.

And us? The fandom? The fic writers?

I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I READ A FIC THAT HAD LO AND LI INVOLVED IN IT.

I'm not even saying as main characters, I don't even know if that exists, frankly: I mean as minor, or background characters. I have NOT seen those two be used in basically ANY fics I've read. I've scarcely used them in mine! In fact, I PURPOSEFULLY got rid of them early on in Gladiator because I didn't want them to sabotage and get in the way of Azula's progress as a character and I believed they'd do exactly that. They were an obstacle rather than anything useful, so I did away with them and then realized they could still occasionally serve some purpose in certain situations: I even had Azula visit them once and they were actually helpful! Fancy that! But... that's it. That's as far as I could go with them. I can't do MORE with those two because they're not characters one particularly feels compelled to work with.

And from what I've seen? That's the case for everyone.

So, I ask again:

WHY ARE THEY THERE?

WHAT IS THEIR ROLE?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF AZULA HAVING NON-BENDING TEACHERS?

Let's go further and further into logical thinking here, shall we?

Azula is a child. Fourteen years of age at the time she's introduced in the OG show.

Azula has no power over many things around her, particularly, her upbringing. That's in the hands of the adults around her. Her mother, up until she vanished, had some hand in it, then, it all falls to Ozai.

Ozai has been Azula's sole parental figure since Ursa left.

Ozai is the one who would reasonably call the shots regarding Azula's education, as all parents are wont to do... ESPECIALLY when he's a king with absolute power over his children.

... so, Lo and Li? Ozai either gave them the position as Azula's teachers personally, or someone else (Ursa) did, and Ozai either didn't WANT to remove them from the role (cue "Ozai being sentimental over Ursa" theories), or Ozai didn't give a flying fuck about who was training his daughter (cue "Ozai is an abusive dick without a heart or a brain" theories).

Anyone, of course, would likely interject here to say surely Ozai ALSO trained Azula himself because that's what he'd do with his favorite kid, right? See. I don't even disagree with that notion.

BUT IT'S A HEADCANON.

We have zero evidence that Ozai trained her! None! I totally will write that into Azula's backstory in many of my stories, but there's NOTHING in canon to suggest this actually happened and that Ozai was genuinely, actively, frequently involved in her progress as a firebender. Assuming he HAD to be is, still, a headcanon. You can't say that with any more certainty than mine when I say I believe Azula loves spicy foods. Does it seem to be something that would fit with her character? I think so! But if eventually canon goes "AZULA CAN'T STAND SPICY FOODS LOL JOKE'S ON YOU!" I... can't even say a thing about it. People's food tastes aren't reflective of their personalities. They really could do whatever they want in that respect. And that's the case for ANYTHING that isn't part of the show's storytelling or the character backgrounds or any texts we consider canon!

POINT BEING: Ozai, regardless of what you want to headcanon, had Lo and Li as Azula's teachers. HIS FAVORITE CHILD... and her only official instructors are two non-benders. Yang added Kunyo as an old instructor of Azula's when she was young, sure! But Kunyo was sooooo qualified that baby Azula was already kicking his ass. So, for that matter? He doesn't really seem to have been a cornerstone of her firebending development and the only other known teachers for Azula are Lo and Li.

For the last time: Azula's teachers are NON-BENDERS. AS CHOSEN, SANCTIONED, APPROVED AND ACCEPTED BY OZAI.

And with those two remarking on absolutely STUPID stuff like "one hair out of place"? Azula still became the incredible firebender she was.

Cue, now, the irony where Zuko was stuck in the basics 3 years after setting out of the Fire Nation... WITH IROH ACTIVELY SERVING AS HIS MENTOR.

You're not gonna tell me that Lo and Li would EVER be better instructors than Iroh, or are you? Because that makes no sense. Full-stop. Iroh is supposed to be the most profound and complete firebender thorughout the show because he's spiritually enlightened even though I admit I think that's bullshit and he doesn't just teach Zuko how to set things on fire, he actually makes him learn theory and spirituality and his teachings are more profound than just "ONE HAIR OUT OF PLACE".

So.

Banished as he is, disgraced and seen as trash by Ozai, Zuko STILL has a better teacher than Azula does.

... Is this LOGICAL? Is this NORMAL? Does this make SENSE?

If you think Ozai's favoritism of Azula takes the shape of "I'll give you every little thing you ask for, sweetheart, I love you very much, here, have ten million doll houses so you can set them on fire, and all the ponies you ask for and on your next birthday I'll buy you a baby dragon and you'll get your own region of the Fire Nation to govern and a fancy title..."?

Then Lo and Li, unfortunately, are right here to be a HUGE contradiction with your interpretation of Ozai and Azula's relationship.

Azula should have THE BEST teachers. Azula does not. Azula doesn't even LIKE them. Azula is openly shown to dislike them! To be annoyed around them, ANGRY when they're teaching her, she feels they're here to keep tabs on her for her father! In a sense, they're Ozai's SPIES on her! :')

Hence? Ozai's favoritism of Azula MIGHT not be what everyone keeps pretending it is. Maybe Ozai didn't do everything to make Azula get things EASILY... and to be fair? That's not what Zuko said anyway. People interpreted it that way... but that's not REALLY what he says:

"Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. "

Every line in this statement is absolutely questionable and all of it sounds like buuuuullshit to me. This is ZUKO'S perspective. And sorry not sorry, but it's tell-don't-show. People swear by his opinion of Azula and pretend he's absolutely objective about it. He's not.

But "Everything always came easy to her," does not mean "EVERYTHING WAS ALWAYS HANDED OVER TO HER ON A SILVER PLATTER." And yet this is what the fandom has constantly interpreted it as.

Azula might just be a prodigy. Maybe she started out ten steps ahead of her brother: this does not mean she needs no guidance, no training, no help. She's seen training herself over perfectionism in her very second scene of Book 2. And the guidance she gets in order to achieve perfection is actually, objectively, stupid.

This is what Ozai chose for her. This is an OBSTACLE for her growth, just as much as Lo and Li were obstacles for me when I was starting with Gladiator! Azula doesn't have it EASY: she just works herself so damn hard that even shit that should HINDER her does NOT do that. And even when her brother objectively has spent THREE YEARS with an advantage in the shape of being trained by one of the VERY BEST firebenders out there? Azula is still beating Zuko at it. With two non-benders as her teachers.

Where am I going with all this?

To the fact that Lo and Li are overlooked in just about every instance of the fandom.

To the fact that nobody includes them, and their influence on Azula, in their analyses of who Azula is.

I've seen a shitstorm rising over the Netflix characterization of Azula: SHE'S TOO ANGRY, they say. Non-stop. She's sooooo hysterical, all the time! She's just pissed perpetually!

Well. I haven't finished the show yet. But the scenes I've seen Azula in so far? They don't fit the fandom's view of Azula because...

... they're not taking Lo and Li into account.

As usual.

:')

Azula's reactions around Lo and Li being frustration, anger, irritation EVEN in scenes like The Beach, where Azula was FINE until she sees them? That shit is storytelling that went over sooooooo many heads, EVEN MINE! When I saw people going on about how canon Azula is... not insecure? Not angry? Has no frustrations and was only ever smirking 24/7? I... didn't feel that was right. I knew it wasn't right. And when I thought about it hard enough? I realized that one reason why this interpretation of Azula is IMMEDIATELY dismissable is because of Lo and Li: those two constantly made Azula angry. Even if that wasn't their intent, it's nonetheless the effect they'd have on her. And Azula didn't like having them around. She CLEARLY didn't appreciate them the way Zuko does Iroh, for instance! And this could be taken as a flaw on Azula's part... if we EVER saw evidence that these two ladies actually love Azula as a grandchild, or so. If we had any evidence that they actually have cared for her in ways nobody else ever did. If maybe the ones Zuko talks about, upon saying "EVERYONE LOVES AZULA" were these two! And maybe he was jealous of them! Maybe he wanted two old ladies to watch his every move and tell him his every flaw!

... Clearly I'm joking about that last thing, but anyway...

There's nothing to tell us Lo and Li were anything but Ozai's assigned watchdogs to keep control and tabs over Azula. That Azula's immediate reaction upon hearing that someone cares about her is "Oh fuck off, my dad sent you here because he doesn't trust me!" is... telling. It's not just paranoia speaking, even if it sure can be read that way! It's actually Azula's perception of those two, which is 100% supported by what we saw of the twins throughout the show, WHENEVER we did see them: their roles in Azula's life are indeed to keep tabs on her, to keep her under control, to pressure her into perfection, AS OZAI'S AGENTS! Seen this way, it MAKES SENSE for Azula to disregard their concern and immediately assume it's FAKE. She isn't even shown to doubt it, never questions that MAYBE they did care about her! She assumes they don't...

... And considering that, as far as I know, the official concept is that they BOTH LEFT when Azula banished one of them only? That they didn't contest her command, staying to look after her even if she only wanted one? I mean, clearly Azula can't tell them apart, so they could've taken turns: one watches over Azula for 12 hours and the other for the next 12 hours, I don't goddamn know! But they didn't do that. They LEFT. And if they left? It means they don't care remotely as much as they say they do. Not to the point where they'd challenge Azula's orders and help her when they KNOW she's not okay.

And all of this further supports my point.

When we see Azula in the liveaction being angry, bitter, irritable at Ozai's choices?

I see a reflection of the same dynamics that the OG too subtly weaved into Azula's relationship with Lo and Li. I see Azula reacting against Ozai's control over her because she feels it's DISTRUST. She feels it means her father STILL needs to be convinced that she's competent, powerful, ready to do his bidding. It isn't a case where Azula's irritation comes from wanting to rebel against her father... it's Azula wanting her father to UNDERSTAND that she's 100% his supporter and will put everything on the line to serve him and the Fire Nation.

And it's very damn easy to read that exact same thing into Azula's dynamics with Lo and Li as it is to see it EXPLICITLY STATED in the liveaction.

My point?

What the liveaction did is not nearly as much of a distant characterization choice as people think it is.

Ozai is Azula's Achilles' Heel. Everything she became, everything she grew up to be, was for his sake. He molded her to become those things and simply didn't give a shit about raising a daughter, he treated her as a weapon, and absolutely pitted his children against each other, just as much as OTHER adults in their lives did. But the impact of Ozai on Azula in the OG is easy to ignore. Why? Because we SELDOM see them interacting. Because we don't get that side of Azula's character fully explored. Because they didn't want to explore Ozai's character either! They were as cheap as they could be with all these aspects and so, only the people who really got into analyzing things on a deeper level would be able to say, without a doubt, that Ozai abused Azula emotionally with all the expectations and demands he put on his own child. Through the golden child-scapegoat dynamic that people have been bringing up non-stop in the past years.

So, proving herself to her father is what Azula wants to do, more than anything. Proving worthy of his favor, of his approval, is the closest thing she can get to feeling loved. Which is depressing as fuck. Azula gets zero affection: it's not even conditional affection, there's NOTHING for her besides approving words if she gets anything right. And this show's work with Azula's character? It was meant to make these things less invisible to all the fans who like to pretend none of it exists. And yes, I've seen them, crawling all over Twitter shitting themselves in fits of rage because how dare that show pretend Azula EVER had a bad time in her perfect flawless life!!

Well, the irony is that the OG gives you a smidge of evidence -- and yet that's enough -- to show that Ozai was doing very similar things to Azula in ATLA, and her reactions to it?

Huh. No smirks for Lo and Li.

No smirks for the symbols of Ozai's control over her life.

It's almost like the confidence, the smirks, the apparent ease with which she handles everything? Is a front that crumbles easily whenever it concerns the ONE PERSON with power over her life.

I don't believe, worth noting, that Azula's power comes from rage. I've seen people say that in fandom in the past and I find it a completely absurd take when Iroh himself spells out that her bending is about control, about precision, and it's Azula's FURY that makes her a sloppy mess in the finale. It's even INTENTIONAL that when she shoots lightning a second time, in her second establishing scene, THAT SAME HAIR FALLS OUT OF PLACE. She's still angry. She didn't get it "right" this time either. She's imperfect and she's trying NOT to be, but she cannot succeed. And upon bending lightning with emotions (rage/frustration)? That hair falls YET AGAIN out of place. Proof that she's not going to achieve the perfection she's being FORCED (indeed, by her father and the people who are here to represent him, Lo and Li) to strive for.

The liveaction had Ozai pushing Azula for a perfection she couldn't attain either. She's perfectly content in her cruelty at Ozai's side, right until she hears the Avatar was found and that Zuko has a shot at taking away the privileges she's been basking in so far. That she WASN'T nervous about this in canon is pretty damn obvious: OZAI SENT HER TO HUNT ZUKO DOWN FOR BEING A FAILURE. We never saw her reaction to learning that the Avatar was out and about. We have noooo idea what was canonically going on with her back then. The first time we see her besides the flashback is Azula receiving a mission that tells her she's STILL #1 and Zuko is no threat to her because Ozai thinks he's a failure. Thus? She had nothing to fear. Here? Ozai is actively using Zuko as bait to pressure Azula further. And if you're so confident in Ozai's good parenting skills as to believe he somehow WOULDN'T do that? Sounds like you don't understand the very basic and simplistic Fire Lod Ozai from ATLA, and that's not something to be proud of. So probably stop screaming your bad takes at the top of your lungs, because being incapable of understanding Ozai in canon is not a badge of pride, just saying...

FINAL POINT...

This post is not written expressly in the defense of the liveaction and its characterization of Azula. To this point, what I've seen of it doesn't feel WRONG or OFF unless you're the kind of person who thinks Azula is only capable of smirking and if she stops doing that she stops existing or something. Only people who cannot understand the depth, nuance, subtleties in Azula's story would ever be claiming that Azula's relationship with Ozai COUDLN'T be like this, or that Azula couldn't possibly be frustrated with her father or his choices when it's soooo clear what Ozai is going for, and why it's working. But in order to read Azula as a character capable of this range of emotion, frustration and ambition, all at once? You have to be able to treat this character, be it in the liveaction or the OG show, as a human being.

And that's what most the people criticizing this specific change are determined not to do. It's what makes them uncomfy. It's what rustles their jimmies.

Yes. I'm saying it in this very demeaning way because I actually find it quite ridiculous to be this insecure over the portrayal of a fictional 14yo in two TV shows. Whether the liveaction sticks the landing or fails catastrophically, I do not know... but I do know that if it's forcing a bunch of people to rethink Azula's character, and making them panic at the idea that she could EVER have human emotions, even if they're AWFUL human emotions?

Then I'm afraid you're only convincing me that, as bad as that show could ever get? It's getting SOMETHING right. I do love to see misinterpretations of Azula getting slammed in the face by the reality that all those beliefs, headcanons and takes in bad faith are actively, categorically untrue: none of which makes Azula a fundamentally good person, worth noting! But it makes it very clear that reading her as a one-dimensional basic villain, which is what the anti-Azula-redemption crowd actively does, is literally only possible if you overlook, ignore and fail to understand her character and her complexities, be it in the liveaction or in the original show.

There. I said my piece.

Another post, regarding the rest of the liveaction, is bound to come later. I'd say stay tuned but it might take me a while to write it at all. So... wait around and maybe you'll see it someday!

#azula #atla #natla #yep :')#I'm doing it #because I know the bad takes are everywhere so #let's see if mine actually gets any visibility this way #can of worms here we goooooooooo #(this is a bad idea I know it is I'm having a leave of my senses)#(but sometimes you just gotta watch the world burn and this has been... a complicated sad day)#also sorry if anyone saw it without the read more oops I thought I'd put it there #so either tumblr ate it or I forgot yikes #but now it's theeeere #sorryyyyyyyy

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updownlately · 1 year

Text

i promise that i'll love you (for the rest of my life)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff | 1.8k | inspo: black & white by niall horan | a/n: it's my first fic ever so let's see how this goes. it's almost 1.9k words of pure fluff and im not the most happy with it, but if i edit it anymore, im going to lose my mind. anyways, feedback is much appreciated please and thank you!

~~~

It's only a little over a year into this whole dating your teammate thing that it really clicks. That everything actually sets in. You’re halfway across the earth from where you grew up, playing soccer at one of the highest levels, and you managed to somehow get a girlfriend. Little you would have never guessed that this would be your life now. You’d always been meticulous in planning your future and decided that dreaming to professionally play football wouldn’t do you any harm. The understanding that you succeeded in making your dreams come true while somehow also being happy was still appalling to you. The fact that you were also breaking one of the few non-negotiable rules you’d set for yourself by dating a teammate, but not only that, you were doing so for Leah was only just a drop of water in the ocean.

Leah Williamson. Captain of England. A gunner through and through. A fighter. Someone who’s made London home not only for herself but for you too.

You really don’t know how it happened. Well you do, yet it creeped up on you so slowly, so timidly, that you didn’t know you were falling until you were metres from the ground, praying to be caught.

You had really only moved overseas to follow Tobin's footsteps. Being able to play a year with one of your best friends and that too for a club like Arsenal was an offer too good to pass, much less to hesitate on. So when it came through that not only were they signing her, but they wanted you to join too, all it took was a quick conversation with Christen and the rest of your friends before you were packing a bag and hopping across the pond.

So how'd you end up here? In a shared bed with Leah, spending more nights at her apartment than you had in your own since you moved here? Even better question, how the hell did you get Leah of all people to want to date you? You’d say you have no idea, yet the rest of your teammates, Tobin included, would just smack you upside the head and remind you of how smitten Leah was with your shy demeanour the first day you showed up to practice, Arsenal gear adoring you perfectly according to her.

It was clear as day to your teammates that from the start there was something between you two. The way Leah would go out of her way to talk to you before practice, complimenting you each time without fail, and how her seriousness on the pitch had lessened just a tiny bit when you were around. And you. Your painstakingly obvious shyness that heightened incredulously whenever Leah was around. Sure you were quiet in general, only often speaking when spoken to, content to just observe the world around you and people watch. Yet, whenever Leah came into view, your otherwise confident and upright figure would slowly hide behind whoever was nearest to you, which was typically Tobin.

“You do realize if you never talk to her outside of the pitch you won’t be able to make a move on her? Heart eyes and a tomato-d face is only going to get you so far," Tobin would tease.

In the end, it had taken Tobin damn near holding you in a death grip beside her for you to actually talk with Leah outside of training as both she and Wälti watched amusedly. That coupled with your team putting you and Leah in the most comically unfortunate, and not at all slick like they thought, situations over the course of a few months, and before you knew it, Leah had asked you to come around for dinner.

What started off as you both taking things slow quickly developed into something more before you guys had a chance to even consider any other option. Practices spent quietly murmuring jokes, possible plays, giving each other feedback on technique paved the way for post practice coffees and lunches. Shared car rides and playlists blasting, windows down on even the rainiest London days set the tone for movie marathons late into the night, popcorn long forgotten. Eyes drooping and barely focused on the dim lights illuminating the room one too many times and you eventually had a spare set of clothes in Leah's dresser, and hers in yours. Eventually it came as no surprise to your teammates when you both would consistently show up to and leave from practice together. You both in your car, you at the wheel and the blonde in the passenger where she’d without fail connect to aux became a common sight to players, trainers, and even staff.

Yet, you weren’t officially dating, neither of you willing to make the first move. The team had decided to let you two be, long given up on both of you, knowing how anxious you got with making decisions, and Leah being too stubborn to admit the possibility of you like liking her to ask. It was only when some of the English women’s team was over at Leah’s that your and her bubble was broken. Add both you and Leah cuddled up on the couch talking with the girls and a confused Keira walking in late, with a side of a follow up question of ‘So are you guys dating or is Leah still too chickenshit to ask?’ and the results were you choking on your spit with Leah stiff as a statue, eyes as wide as saucers right beside you.

Regardless of her brashness, you’d have Keira to thank when that same night Leah had quietly asked if you’d like to go on an official date with her in the coming days.

(Over half a year later you would find out that the instagram post Leah had made commemorating that night was not in fact reminiscent like you had originally thought, but instead for revenge from Keira, it featuring multiple unflattering photos of the other girl).

So where did that leave you now? If you were asked, your answer would be nothing short of heaven. Waking up to your girlfriend sleeping peacefully beside you, the first morning rays streaming in, and a late practice scheduled for midday with the team, all easily fitting the criteria for your ideal morning.

Rolling over to face your love, you snake a hand underneath her shirt from where it had lifted slightly. Continuing on its path, you let your arm wrap around her waist before gently tugging her towards you, pulling her back flush against your front. You leave a trail of soft kisses at her neck in apology when Leah lets out a small whine at the disturbance to her sleep.

It's a few minutes later that she turns to face you, the sleepy smile on her face igniting one on your own.

“Morning love,” you tease as Leah tries to burrow her head into your neck, trying to go back to sleep. Typically you’d pull away by now and the lack of your body heat would cause the blonde to follow your footsteps and get her day started as well, but who said you couldn’t indulge in your favourite treat once in a while.

So you pull Leah closer to you, letting her get comfortable, your hands finding their way under her shirt to gently scratch her back. It's when she hums contentedly and lets out a gentle sigh that you know you’ve made the right decision.

You lay like that for a while. The girl of your dreams in your arms, golden light bathing her in an ethereal glow that you think is an accurate representation of the angel she is to you. All that she’s really missing is a halo. And wings. Though maybe that’s not a good idea with how clumsy she could be sometimes. Maybe she’d even end up being like one of those birds that were caught flying straight into a glass pane head first. The thought that causes you to gently shake with laughter. The mental image of a Leah sprawled out on the floor while her wings lay mangled and her halo knocked on its side metres away causing you to evaluate whether you had lost your marbles somewhere between last night’s late night chat with your girlfriend and this morning.

Apparently and unfortunately, your musings were enough to wake up said girlfriend again as well. Her long arms stretched near your head and a groggy voice quietly asked what had gotten you in such a good mood so early in the morning.

“I get to wake up with a pretty girl in my arms, what’s there not to be in a good mood about?” The flirty reply earned you a smack to the chest as Leah adjusted to pull away from your grasp. She didn’t get quite far however, before you’re pulling her back in with your hand on her forearm.

“Okay, okay, damn, sorry for trying to love you up. What does it take for a girl to appease her girlfriend these days?”

“Some breakfast would do the trick? Plus maybe a ride to practice? And a few kisses? Oh and since we’re already on the topic, a few gifts, maybe a new pair of dunks would really seal the deal.” she cheekily responds, laying her head back on your chest.

“Oh snap, okay hmm lets see here. The best I can do is kisses and breakfast. The ride could possibly be arranged but the rest is quite hard to arrange you know? It’ll take resources I don't have.”

“Oh really? Please enlighten me on these resources you speak of.”

“Well for one, it would require me leaving the presence of my girlfriend, something I don’t think she’ll enjoy since she’s been really really really cling- OKAY OW IM SORRY.”

It’s on the third playful slap on the arm that you’re able to catch her hand in yours. using the surprise to your advantage you roll her onto her back and position yourself over her.

“How about this, we can knock the kisses off the list right now, breakfast can be arranged, and we can go adventure through the city in search of some dunks today after practice?”

And when Leah responds by pulling you closer and kissing you, you can’t help but smile into it, getting more excited for the day with each second that passes. Excited for each day together with every kiss shared. Excited for your future.

You seriously don’t know how you got here, Leah in your arms, a career you love, miles away from where you grew up, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. You’d spent your younger years daydreaming of the perfect future, one that you now had in your grasp, and you couldn’t wait for what still awaited you. Ever since she had caught you, you knew that as long as you had the blonde in your arms, you need not fret about life too much.

All that was really left was to ensure that the both of you would one day stand in black and white under a clear sky, surrounded by your friends and family, celebrating a life you’d never thought you’d have.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso fanfics #black & white #fluff #my writing #fic #iptily

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emypony · 5 months

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New off the press!! Emy flavored Sentihua!! Come get it while it's hot!!

Summary:

A certain Valkyrie grows restless day by day, wondering why her heart still feels heavy despite succeeding in her lifelong mission of saving humanity. You would think someone like Fu Hua would have figured it all out by now, but there's still some leftover feelings the former celestial was never able to make sense of- crushes. Faced with the impending realization that this particular affection isn't going to go away anytime soon, Hua is forced to deal with this unknown territory all by herself. Her job isn't made any easier considering the fact that the subject of her feelings was none other than the Herrscher of Sentience, and so she is left at the mercy of fate to deal with conveying her feelings to Senti, potentially without making a fool of herself in the process.

#sentihua #honkai impact #herrscher of sentience #fu hua #hi3 #hi3rd #fanfic #ao3 #senti #emymart #heheee #the scrunklies the...#i stayed up like. 15+ hours for these two okay YOU BETTER BE THANKFUL--#received wonderful reviews from my discord buddies tho thank you ily you keep me going #honkaimpact3rd #honkai #honkai impact 3rd

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lexical-lushes · 8 months

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A Lesson Learned

“Sit still, dear, this is delicate work.”

I do my best to obey, trying to shut out the tickle of my Maker’s tools like I would any other sensation. It doesn’t do me much good – my phylactery is sensitive in a way my vessel isn’t, and no matter how hard I try to ignore it the work of sealing the little cracks in that vibrant purple gemstone buzzes inside me like an electric arc.

Despite myself, I fidget restlessly, and my Maker’s patience grows thin.

“If you can’t sit still on your own, I’ll need to disconnect your phylactery entirely. Now behave, dear.”

The threat of being pulled into that absent blackness does its job – I find it in me to ignore the buzzing, jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other. My Maker gives an approving little noise, then continues on with her work, tone softening once more.

“There’s a good doll. You know what would have happened if you’d succeeded.”

I give the slightest nod, still focused on keeping still, on not flinching away from the sizzle her iron makes as it carefully and precisely seals the cracks in my phylactery, whispering the artifact whole again. If I’d succeeded, I’d be dead.

“I’m nearly done, now, dear. Just a moment longer to make sure the mounting is still set correctly.”

I close my eyes, let the ticking of my metronome provide me some meager stability. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the buzzing in my soul fades and I can feel my Maker pull away, feel her satisfaction with her work.

“There. You can relax now, dear.”

With a gentle sigh, I open my eyes again, let my jaw relax, let my breathing resume. I take a moment to reaffirm my surroundings – sat on the edge of a workbench in my Maker’s studio, stripped of my clothes, one arm wrapped in a brace to prevent the spiderweb of fractures that reach all the way up to my chest from worsening. My Maker is sat turned away from me on a tall stool, carefully replacing the iron in the appropriate drawer.

Turning back towards me, she slips one of many tuning forks out of her work apron, twirling it between her fingers. I say nothing, but I feel a blush creep across my face, warmth tinging my cool porcelain skin at the thought of what must be coming next.

“Yes, dear,” she says, catching my reaction. “I’m going to need to tune you.”

“Just stay relaxed and let yourself sink into it... there’s a good doll...”

She taps one talon against the tip of the fork, sets it singing, and leans in to gently press it into one of my aetheric hooks – I can’t help but do as she says, sinking, sinking, feeling my consciousness pulled inwards towards my phylactery, leaving my vessel a hazy afterthought.

I can feel her winding one of my threads, feel the tune of her fork vibrate into me, her intent a hypnotic, drowning tide that pours in along the thread, filling me up until at last I can take no more, resist no more, and I fall inward, into the comforting warmth of a trance.

...and then I’m wide awake again.

“Such a good doll...” my Maker reassures me, gently stroking one hand through my silver hair, cupping my cheek. I realize I must have been crying – my face is wet against her hand.

“W-what...” I stammer, trying to gauge how long I was entranced. It can’t have been too long – the beam of sunlight that enters the studio through it’s tall, narrow window has only inched across the floor.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright dear. I just had to make a few changes to you. I can’t have one of my dolls hurting herself, now, can I?”

I frown. Hurting myself? Had I...? No, no, that would be silly. Even the thought of it made me recoil instinctively, the fear of a rebuke sharp in my mind for considering the mere possibility.

...Wait.

Oh. Of course. I realize immediately what my Maker meant by her words – I’d had a new rule implanted in me.

Something must have shown in my expression, because my Maker nods softly, tipping her talons beneath my chin and raising my violet eyes to meet her brilliant amber ones.

“Most of my dolls know better than to damage themselves all on their own,” she explains, “but sometimes these things happen. Do you remember why I needed to repair you, dear?”

I start to shake my head, then stop, pausing to examine myself. My right arm is fractured, kept safe in a brace. I experimentally test my fingers, and find them stiff, barely responsive. The mechanisms must be quite damaged. I close my eyes and trace my self-image up from the near-paralyzed arm, up and up, across my chest where the cracks spread and blossom...

I try to imagine what might have caused this sort of damage, but nothing comes.

“...I don’t remember,” I finally admit uncertainly.

My Maker smiles softly, nods. “Good. I’ll tell you, but I didn’t feel it appropriate to leave you with the memory itself. You beat yourself to breaking against a wall, dear. You wailed and wailed and smashed yourself, and then you tried to smash your phylactery. I found you, afterwards, all pulled into yourself, and I took you home to fix you.”

I can hardly believe what she’s saying. I... I tried to destroy myself? Why would I... how could I? A doll should never harm herself.

(Dimly, I remember that that last part is a recent command, a compulsion implanted deep into my soul. It doesn’t matter – I feel it strongly all the same.)

Finally, I find the words to ask my Maker why I had tried to... to kill myself.

She answers with a question of her own, and once again I’m frozen as I realize I don’t know the answer.

“Dear, do you remember why you sold yourself to me? Why you had me make you into a doll?”

How... how could I forget something like that? How could I forget when it had only been a few months? I can vividly recall my life as a human, recall the process of being made into a doll, the blissful feeling of my soul being gently pried from my body and nestled snugly into my phylactery, of my vessel being transfigured from flesh and blood into ceramic and glass and brass, given life by my Maker’s magic...

But when I tried to recall what had driven me to such a permanent decision, I found only a dull ache of longing surrounding a hazy nothingness.

My Maker waits patiently, and under her gaze I feel compelled to try harder to provide a satisfying answer to her question.

Biting my lip, I try to feel out the space around the haze. I remember being... dissatisfied with my life, with who I was, and at how little my attempts to change it seemed to matter. I remember a feeling of elated certainty that this was the way, this was what I had been looking for. I remember... remember...

She must have been very careful in excising the memories she’d asked me to locate, because when I finally find an answer, it’s only in the outline of what’s missing.

The look of pained realization in my eyes proves all the response my Maker requires of me; gently, tenderly, she pulls me to her chest, lets me cry and whimper against her, whispers gentle reassurances. It would be too painful, she tells me, to make you bear those memories. You know everything you need to know about what happened.

I fight it at first, recoil at the idea of being left with a hole in my memory like this. But as she cradles me close and kisses my perfect silver hair and fusses at my broken arm, promises to make me good as new, I realize that she’s right.

Her talons stroke me gently, trailing up and down my spine in a lazy circuit as she hugs me close. Her voice is like a lullaby at this point, drawing out the ache and tension until I feel my springs start to unwind, feel a comfortable weight creep into my vessel as all my strings go limp.

“You’re a good doll, dear... such a good doll. You have a purpose now, alright? Dolls all have a purpose. And you’ll never forget that.”

I nod tiredly, sniffling, aware I’m leaking all over her apron.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

Before long, I’m at peace.

#lushposting #empty spaces

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alpaca-clouds · 6 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 and the Grooming Theme

I am on my second playthrough by now (the Astarion origin) and it really becomes even more apparent how grooming is kind of a central theme with all six of the origin characters. And funnily enough, I am not entirely sure whether it is intentional or more accidental. Mostly because I am not entirely certain whether the creators have realized how much the Gale-Mystra relationship reads as grooming and how much the entire Gith culture is basically about grooming their young into those perfect warriors.

The abuse aspect is fairly clear with Astarion and Shadowheart. If I am not entire mistaken, there is even dialogue in game that calls out Shadowheart's experience as grooming explicitly.

Let me go through all the Origin Six one by one.

Astarion gets basically groomed by Cazador, which kinda partly gets clearer if you consider that while under humans he would have been considered as an adult, among elves he would not have been. With him it is a clearer abuse situation, due to all the torture and violence we know he was subjected to. But Cazador in general tried to turn his spawn into what he imagined them to be. (There is a lot of speculation going on that he focused so much on Astarion, because Astarion reminded him of himself.) We also learn from Astarion that he tried to be what Cazador wanted him to be - though he clearly never succeeded.

Shadowheart embodies one of the most classical grooming scenarios. Often these day we use grooming to refer explicitly to sexual grooming - but the word is also often used in religious contexts, especially when it comes to cults. And yes, basically Shadowheart got kidnapped as a child and quite literally brainwashed to be a follower of Shar. We do not have that many details, but those we have actually do fit rather well with grooming inside of cults. And in her case this happened very clearly with the implicit knowledge of the people doing the grooming of what they were doing.

With Karlach we do not quite know how old she was, when she started to work for Gortash. But from all we learn she was probably in her teens. We have not many dialogues of her referring explicitly to what exactly happened between her and Gortash, outside of him selling her off to Zariel. But we have bits and pieces that sound a terrible lot like lovebombing. Of Gortash always knowing how to praise her that she would feel good about herself. Which, too, is a very typical grooming tactic. And what we know sounds like he kinda groomed her into the perfect bodyguard - before he sold her off.

With Wyll it is the clearest in so many ways, because we see him and Mizora interact with each other quite a bit. And make no mistake, Mizora very much groomed him. He was fucking 19 when he made that contract - and all we learn sounds like tons and tons of gaslighting happening between them, denying him to have any sense of reality. And I mean, just look at the official artwork with the two of them. While canonical there is nothing sexual happening between them (unless you do a Wyll playthrough and do the one night stand with Mizora)... It definitely feels at least somewhat sexually charged and she is quite touchy with him.

There has been a lot of discussion about Gale in this regard. Most of all because we do not get to know that much about how his relationship with Mystra went on. With Gale we do not know how old he is now, we know even less how old he was when Mystra took him in. But it for sure feels a lot like grooming, especially once you consider the inescapable power imbalance between a god and a mortal human. Given that Gale is still very enarmored with Mystra as we meet him - despite her abandoning him - we mostly hear rosy memories from him. But just his entire interaction when she fucking commands him to kill himself... Yeah that sounds a lot like grooming.

Finally there is Lae'zel. With her it is also more the cultish kind of grooming. Because the entire Gith culture under Vlaakith is basically a cult. We kinda see it when we interact with the Gith kids in the Monestary, who very much have absorbed this idea of the culture, going so far as killing and torturing each other. We also see that in Lae'zel if we talk with her about it and she looks at this and is like "Yeah, nothing wrong with that." Personally I found Lae'zel hardest to deal with because of this. Because she has absorbed all this stuff from her culture and when she follows those ideals she still thinks she is doing good/right. Like, Shadowheart can be a shitty person and Astarion definitely is. But they both kinda get that their behavior at times is shitty - while Lae'zel goes "this is right and good!"

Technically speaking we even see this partly in the villains. Orin definitely was groomed into the murder hobo she is. That makes her not the least bit less evil - but it was not as if she ever had a choice to become anything other than a murder hobo. And while I would argue that technically speaking Gortash was not exactly groomed (or maybe he was groomed by Bane?), he definitely also has been turned into a shitty person through childhood trauma.

To be honest, it is all this trauma that comes from all those experiences, though, that makes me just wanna write for this fandom so much. Because... Well, there is so much healing to do for those characters. And all those healing stuff is kinda the stuff I am all here for, when it comes to writing.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #karlach #wyll #shadowheart #astarion #mizora #cazador szarr #gale dekarios #lae'zel #enver gortash #bg3 orin

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kaurwreck · 2 months

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It's not entirely fair of me, but I hate the fanon that Kouyou operates brothels for the Port Mafia. She's canonically the Port Mafia's torture czar; that she's oiran-coded more likely references irl!Kyouka Izumi's preferred archetype, Kyouka and Kouyou's relationship, and Kouyou's Edo-era literary aesthetics.

It grates on me that she's so often plucked from her actual role in the Port Mafia, which aligns with her ethos as a flower who blooms in darkness and which reflects that she is beholden to herself and doesn't share Mori's obsession with self sacrifice, so that she can be shoved ill-fittingly into a woman-coded role of archetypal brothel madam. She's a torturer!

That's also why she isn't considered a likely successor to Mori— she's still a leader within the organization, but the nature of her role requires and engenders some degree of distance from the rank and file, and certainly from the public-facing, corporate facet that's bathed in the light she detests.

(Never mind that she's never expressed an interest in succeeding Mori, and that she will always prioritize her favorites over the organization as a whole— why should she be made slave to the organization when that would preclude her from spending substantive amounts of the annual budget to rob the special division's armored vehicles for her best girl? She didn't hesitate to cooperate with Dazai for Kyouka's benefit even though it disadvantaged the organization— she does not want to be, nor is she suited to be, the Port Mafia boss.)

Also, brothels in early Yokohama were state-run. That's the Special Division's purview, which makes sense, given their utility for espionage and information gathering and dissemination.

Anyway; well-wrought female characters are substantive, not descriptive. Kouyou is a fleshy character whose contrasting tenderness and viciousness are contoured by her tendency to act on her whims and her unerring devotion to the individuals she adores.

Thrusting her in roles that would force her to act outside of her motivations and desires when the sum of her arc isn't her victimhood isn't compelling to me; it strips her of her dynamism. Contriving roles that don't exist based entirely on her aesthetic without any consideration of her characterization isn't better.

idk why do women have to be archetypes to be well written, why can't they be messy 26 year old torturers who embezzle organizational funds and brat tame their bosses.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd kouyou

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anonymooseforever007 · 1 year

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Romantic Escape

(Tommy Shelby x female reader)

Summary- After being confined to Arrow House for a week because of a small concussion, Y/N is determined to get out. But considering how overprotective Tommy's been recently she'll have to be smart if she'd to make it. To trick Thomas Shelby is a feat many enemies have tried but few have succeeded. But then again, not many of his enemies have the advantage of knowing him the way his wife does...

Or at least they're scared to get that close....

A/N: Hi y'all! No specific TW's for this one other than usual Peaky Violence, Language, and implications of smut (but non actually happens). There is one mention of a past attack but nothing's graphic. Also this was going to be one part, but then I didn't like how the breakup between scenes flowed, so there is a second part going to be posted in a few days probably! Anyways I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️ WC- 3.0k

Romantic Capture (Part 2)

Main Masterlist

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It had been a week and a half since the bad accident occurred.

Well, your husband called it a bad accident.

You called it "being a imbecile who'd gotten so distracted trying nicely draw a baby chipmunk out of the house she didn't realize the stairs ended two steps ago."

But in fairness, every other idea for the poor thing your beloved family suggested involved guns or stew. Besides, Thomas Shelby wasn't about to let even his wife herself, label his darling love as a common 'imbecile'....so 'bad accident' it was.

Truth be told you didn't even think it should be labeled as such. Sure you were dizzy for the first two days, but you only almost passed out when you stood up once. AND there wasn't any blood so you didn't even need to go to a hospital. Polly was insistent it was a mild concussion and a couple days rest would be all you needed. But your husband thought otherwise, and here you were days later, still confined to the premises.

You'd laughed at the irony of it. Your husband, who once decided to medicate a cracked skull with cocaine, practically ordering you to stay in bed. The hypocrite. Thomas Shelby was an undoubtedly smart man, but when it came to medicinal advice, he should probably have been the last one giving suggestions.

In the beginning, you could understand why he was worried. Yes, technically you had been "shot" a few months ago, by a rather rude man trying to prove he was more dangerous than your husband. Truthfully, you'd had sewing accidents that bled more. One time when you were 15, you had accidentally sliced the side tip of your left pointer finger off using a pair of scissors. But luckily you father had been a doctor and was able to fix it up at the house with ease. If held up straight though, it did still look like the tip of that finger was slightly crooked, but that's another story. But the man who'd shot you must have been drunk, because even your blind uncle had better aim than him, and all you were left with was a small nick on your shoulder and a small tear in your dress. Yes, it was still terrifying, and both you and you husband still woke up some nights, hearts beating fast with the thoughts of what would have happened if he had better aim. But in the end you were, for lack of better term, just fine.

That didn't stop your husband from worrying more though. It seemed the incident had flipped a switch in him, often shared by new mothers or teachers, who tended to be hyperaware of everything that could go wrong for their young steeds. For weeks after, Tommy had been on high alert, not even letting you go out with Polly alone, and everyone knew she could handle anyone just fine. Though maybe there were some good points to his overprotectiveness.

For about a month after, Tommy had decided to work from his home office so he could be closer to you just incase. This meant he didn't have to drive over half an hour to the office every day and could spend more time in bed with you in the mornings, something neither of you complained about. Then you spent many of those days in his office with him, working on your own projects or trying to convince him to let you play boss for the day. That idea was a quick no, but it didn't stop you from stealing his coat, sitting in his chair and, pretending to bark out orders to invisible blinders while he went to the bathroom. Nor did it stop Alfred Solomons from laughing like an hyena the time he had called right as you picked up the phone. You still weren't over knowing he heard you (as Tom) threaten to "make a pie out of the testicles out of whatever coward dared feed the horses Scottish hay instead of Irish!".... Luckily it hadn't been the time when him and "Tommy" were planning how to hide their secret affair.

In the end, Tommy had eventually gone back to working at the office and only the maids were left to witness your "brilliant" impressions. Soon life went back to its usual order... atleast until you'd gotten hurt again.

At first you thought it would be fun like before, and that you could spend time trying to convince Tommy he'd had better things to do than sign papers all day. Namely you. But unfortunately, it seemed your husband decided that your injuries weren't serious enough to warrant the both of you a bed rest this time. And truthfully, you also didn't mind that too much either. You adored your husband and loved spending time with him, but that didn't mean you didn't have plans that not involving him. Most days were spend either helping the maids around the house, planning the next gala with Lizzie, or going out with your own small friend group. You had plenty of things to do without him.

That was until you realized for some reason, the things you wanted to do weren't able to be done. For starters, you had a suspicion all the maids and been ordered to politely decline your offers to help with anything, even laundry. They'd simply smile at you and let you know you didn't have to worry about it, before offering to make some tea so you could rest your head. Then it appeared that both of you and Tommy's spare cars were in the shop for "repairs" meaning you'd have no way to out to meet your friends. Yes, they could come over, but still not all your friends were lucky enough to have cars and you were often the one driving everyone around. Not even Esme or Polly were able to come over, as Polly had gone to take care of a sick Ada in London, and half of Esme's lot had their own mini cases of colds. Even Finn who lived with you and Tommy, had gone with Isaiah, Curly, and Uncle Charlie to Wales for the week to bring home the new horse Tommy bought last month. After a week stuck at home it was getting old, and you wanted out.

So you decided to hatch a plan. And because you had a sneaking suspicion he started it, you had a good idea who your unwitting accomplice was going to be....

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

It was now 6:34 and you had made plans to meet Lizzie at a silent film at 8:15. Though some may not have expected it, you got on quite well with your husband's secretary, and the pair of you could often be found going out to lunch on days when Tommy was particularly stubborn, or having tea with the other Shelby women on the weekends, laughing over whatever foolish thing you'd seen that week. It also didn't hurt that your sweet older brother had shown an undeniable interest in Lizzie, which seemed to be reciprocated anytime they'd meet at a Shelby party. You smiled remembering how many questions he'd asked about her after she'd left the night they'd met, or the grin on her face when he'd "run into" the pair of you on the way back from lunch one day and offered her a flower from a bouquet for your mother. What a wonderful coincidence of course, that your mother and Lizzie had the same favorite flower. So it wasn't an unusually occurrence for you to be seeing her, though you had a feeling if you tried to tell your husband, the last car might just happen to be out of gas. Eventually, you simply decided not to tell him and now all you needed was a way to get there...

And at 6:46 that way came rolling up the gravel as your husband finally returned in the only "working" car left. Standing on the front steps with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a blanket over your shoulders, you waited until your husband had stepped out of the car.

"TOMMY!"

Running up to the man, you smiled wide, quickly embraced him, greeting him with a passionate kiss leaving you both warm. Then you handed him the whiskey, letting him hold his briefcase in the other hand.

"Now, I'm not complaining Love, but can I ask what new trinket I bought today, that deserves this kind of welcome?" Tommy inquired cheekily, bending his ear closer to yours as you lead him inside by his tie.

He knew very well you loved him, and he absolutely loved you, but usually when he came home you were waiting in the living room or helping in the house somewhere. It had become a small game of y'all's too. If he managed to find you before dinner he'd get some kisses and some praises about how fast he'd found you, "your smart love" he was. If he didn't see you until dinner he'd still get kisses but it just wasn't the same.

You'd never tell him your dogs played the same game when learning to play fetch. He didn't need to know that.

Besides, it was all in good fun, and an easy way to try and get him home earlier. He could always work after dinner, but one thing you'd practically demanded the night you'd gotten married was that he was always home in time for the last meal of the day. And for the last two years he'd actually kept his promise, except for the days he was out of town on business. Even then you'd convinced him to have what you called "telly dinners". You'd sit by the telephone with your dinner plate on your lap and tell him about your day. While miles away he'd be listening, happy to hear your voice after being with Alfie all day. Hell, one time you'd even gotten impatient waiting for the call and inadvertently interrupted a meeting. You'd ended up having a lovely conversation with the other gangster himself about how his dog was doing, while your husband mumbled about "fucking betrayal on both ends." He didn't really mean it, but he'd always find something just plain odd about the friendship between you and the gruff man. If was as if the two most opposite ends of his world would come together sometimes and try to take a few more years off his life. But if being friends with Alfie made you happy then he'd likely have to deal with him forever. Or at least until he found a way to make the murder look like an accident....

"Can't a wife just be happy her husband's returned home? I missed you."

"And I missed you every second I was away." One thing about Tommy was that he could be quite romantic when he wanted to. And even if he did bottle up his feelings too often, he still had a sweet talk like no other. "But I seem to remember my lovely wife being slightly irritated with me this morning. Something about keeping her in a cage," Tommy rebutted thinking about the small argument you'd both had this morning.

Yes, he did know that he probably should let up a little on the overprotective precautions he's set up these last few days under the guise of letting you rest. But what he'd not yet told you, is the same day you'd gotten hurt, another enemy had made a threat on your life. And then getting a call, not even an hour later, from Frances about your concussion had thrown him in to a small panic, remembering the last time he'd almost lost you. So he'd taken his chances and used your minor injury as a way to keep you at the house for a few days while he had the man delt with. He knew he should have just told you from the start, but then coming home and seeing you curled up in the master bed, asleep in one of his shirts with a melted ice pack by your pillow, he'd decided to wait. It wasn't until today he'd finally had confirmation the danger was over and he could be sure you were safe. Maybe if your head really was better, he could take you out to dinner to celebrate.... Hopefully that would also soften the inevitable lecture he'd receive upon you learning the truth.

"Well yes I did say that, but I've had time to think, and as long as you promise to make it up to me later tonight, I'll forgive you," you replied coyly, lips brushing his as your words left no room for confusion on exactly how he'd have to make it up to you. "And besides," you said stepping back from him in the front hall, nudging his arm slightly so he'd drink the whiskey, "My head really is feeling better now, so maybe tomorrow we can go out to dinner too. I've been at the house all week you know?"

Tommy drank the whiskey and smirked, spreading his arms open wide as playful show, "With an offer like that how can I refuse, eh love? You want a real romantic escape from this place huh?"

You laughed, before pulling him close again wrapping your arms around him tightly, not giving him the chance to set down his briefcase or the empty glass. After all, if his hands were full, how could he stop you from digging your hands into his coat pockets during the embrace. Loving kisses on his face and neck helped distract him from your less than honest intentions. Well, partially less than honest... you still did fully intend for him to make it all up to you, especially with the small noises beginning to come from his throat as you kissed the small spot beneath his neck he loved. BUT that would happen only late tonight after the movie and maybe a few drinks with Lizzie.

Quickly but efficiently, you moved a hand under the blanket you'd wrapped yourself in outside, to muffle the noise and pulled back from him again. But this time, Tommy has plans of his own.

"In fact," he said slowly backing you up to the nearest wall, finally putting his case and glass on a nearby table and taking the blanket from your hands. You hopped he hadn't noticed the slight jingle it made when he threw it to a nearby chair. "Why don't we start now," he whispered, beginning to leave light kisses on your neck, "I do have a lot to make up for after all. Telling the maids not to let you help at all, and then I had the cars brought to the shop so you couldn't leave incase you almost passed out again." If he hadn't been kissing your own sweet spot right now you might have pinched his ear and began to lecture him on just that. Letting out one soft moan, you ducked your head to press his lips against yours once again. You pulled him closer and grabbed his tie, taking control of the kiss again.

"Nope Tommy Love, I'm sorry but that can't happen just yet."

Hearing those words your husband frowned as he was the one to pull back lightly this time.

"Why? Does your head hurt? I can get something if you need it," he asked concerned. Maybe the fall was more serious than Polly said if it was still bad a week and a half later.

"No love, my head's just fine Tommy, but I got a call from Polly earlier, saying there were some papers you needed to get done by 11:00 tonight. They were the ones you neglected when I surprised you for lunch last week and got knocked off the desk," you cooed at him, running your finger down his chest slowly to remind him exactly what kind of lunch it was. Plus, if he got too worried about your head again he may not let you out of his sight, and your plans would be ruined. It was 7:00 now and you'd need to leave soon. "She said they were very important and you really need to finish them. Therefore, I insist that you immediately go to your office and get them finished. And finished properly too, don't just rush it to make time for me."

"Love you know I'd never rush with you," and you have a small snort at the truth in those words. "Besides, I guess you do make a point and we wouldn't want to anger my aunt would we," Tommy chucked, knowing at least six things he'd said today to piss his aunt off.

"Exactly, so why don't you go to your office and close the door. I don't want to see you until at least 10:30 Mr. and don't forget to double check spelling. Those papers better be fit for a queen because that's exactly what your aunt deserves," you commented, lightly pushing Tommy towards his office. You had him now. So close!

Tommy smiled lightly and leaned over to grab the blanket from the chair, intending to bring it back in his office where it came from. Shit.

"Eh eh eh," you scolded lightly, stepping in front of the chair and grabbing Tom's wrist lightly right before he could pull it up. "I'm not done with that," you took the blanket from the chair yourself and bundled it to your chest, "You. Office. Now. And remember," you pulled close to Tommy one final time, "after 10:30 when you're done with your work, come and find me. And Tommy?" you teased, teeth lightly biting his ear lobe drawing a small groan from him as his eyes closed, "Tommy I did do some gardening today. Why don't you start by looking places where one can get a little less," you lightly kissed his other earlobe, "dirty? Maybe the bath will still be warm..."

Tommy cursed lightly as you placed one final, deep kiss to his lips before pushing back and sending him on his way. You were still in the front hall when he looked back over his shoulder, waving happily to him. And he was none the wiser that underneath the blanket was your other hand....gripping tightly to his car keys.

Romantic Capture (Part 2)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders

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asongofstarkandtargaryen · 1 month

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Her mother used to say she would be pretty if she wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did

ADWD, THE BLIND GIRL

This is exactly the backhanded compliment that parents should never use with their children. Parents should consider their kids beautiful and tell them so unconditionally, not only when they meet some specific criteria of theirs.

In context it makes sense that Arya has a low self esteem and doesn't consider herself beautiful since her own mother never told her so. Right before this quote she mentions that the only people who called her pretty were her father ( the other parent who also should unconditionally consider beautiful - and thankfully Ned did so) and ometimes Jon,too (her brother, not obligated to act as a parent should but he did a better job than her mother on this matter).

Also, parents shouldn't compare children to their siblings. Especially not when they try to teach their kids how to improve on something. It only creates more hostility between siblings and develops antagonism between them. On this aspect Catelyn isn't only failing Arya (who is the person mostly affected by that comment) but Sansa, too.

In Arya's case, after that comment she can only feel lesser than her "perfect" sister. There is no child who is perfect. Sansa and Arya, like any other kid, have both stregths and weaknesses. However, when Catelyn is highlighting the things Sansa is succeeding to make Arya improve this only serves to reinforce to Arya that Sansa has achieved perfection to her mother's eyes and since she's not like her sister (because different people, different skills) she will always be a failure. It makes her self worth to drop and makes her jealous of her sister who get their mother's approval.

In Sansa's case, if she is also present when those backhanded compliments are given to Arya then it reinforces to her that she's superior to her sister(because she's successful where her sister fails). This isn't a good lesson for a kid because instead of learning about acceptance of people who have different skills, she is taught that only her own skills matter and that she's superior to others (and not just any other, her own sister). It doesn't help their sibling bond if she starts considering her sister inferior to her.

Even in case she's not present when Catelyn gives these comments to Arya and she's spared the above ( wrong ) lesson, she's still affected by it. Because her sister will be jealous of her supposed superiority ( according to their mother) and be hostile towards her. Her mother's comments isn't something she can control but still will affect her relationship with her sister, in any case.

#Arya stark #Catelyn stark #sansa stark #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #a post of ice and fire

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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Text

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 3;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them tbh, it's Harshest Winters we're talking about;

Word Count: 10k+

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I'm honestly overwhelmed by the love this fic got in the span of so little time 😭 I hope you guys enjoy this part as well! Thank you so much for being so patient with me <3

Also, this chapter is FILTHY. I'm talking actual smut for the first time in my life, which makes me both nervous and embarrassed to be posting this lol

I know that the people who read this particular series are already used to the graphic content ahead, but consider this your fair warning :"))

PART 4 IS OUT NOW <3

As night swallows the world of Westeros, four beating hearts must get through the challenges that arise in the absence of sunlight.

Desire is the death of duty - fear pushes against the voice of reason.

Dreams really are the window to the soul sometimes.

One… Two… Three… Four.

Aemond’s breathing came and went in slow and labored pants. Whatever the man was dreaming about must have had quite the effect on him, and the lady scoffed to herself, while pushing down a disdainful huff.

Slowly, yet surely, her head rolled to the side. She could still see him in her periphery - the deep creases that adorned his forehead, a permanent reminder of his relentless character; the way his chest heaved each exhale, as if constantly pained by an unknown affliction.

Good, she thought to herself, At least his dreams should torment him, if his psyche won't allow it.

In… And out. In… Out.

Three weeks had passed since her brazen attempt to escape with Cain. Three weeks, since she left the wounded knight in the cave: to rot or to crawl back by himself.

Back.

Back to where?

Back home? That much was impossible.

Back to the Saltpans? And from there on… what?

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed to account for her life back in Harrenhal. Three weeks of sleeping in the same bed as him, three weeks in which her only waking thought was to grab a pillow and smother him with it as he slept soundly by her side.

Goosebumps crawled over her skin, leaving the lady restless and aggravated. She’d twist and turn more times than she could count - she’d curse herself and her current situation: her weakness, her inability to kill Aemond then and there.

She had to live. She had promised Jace that much, and she would honor her word.

There would be a time for Aemond to meet his end. And it would be by her hand.

Jace.

If he were here, he’d know what to do.

Her thoughts turned sporadic. For a few moments, the girl clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white - squeezing harder as her anger built up. Each of her fingernails bit into the softness of her palm, and she could feel herself draw harsher breaths, in and out: all in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

Her heart beat loudly, and her body trembled in unquenched rage.

She could still kill him now; Gods, how she wished nothing more adherently than that. And why not kill him - for his death would avenge Jacaerys, Luke… Cain.

Indeed, here she was, laying down next to the Kinslayer, one step away from wrapping her small fingers against his throat and pushing down with an unrivaled force and fury.

Before she could fully process her own actions, (Y/N) slowly rose from her resting place. The wide bed made a deep creaking sound, which echoed throughout the room for a couple of moments.

One, two, three seconds she allowed herself to wait.

The girl remained unmoving, as she took in a sharp breath, and held it in the back of her throat.

Her weary eyes skimmed over Aemond’s sleeping form, and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. When she noticed his lack of a reaction, a soft sigh parted from her rosy lips, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

Reason fought with ire and, eventually, the former succeeded in its quiet assertion.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, and the lady of Riverrun shut them tightly; it was Jacaerys’ voice that then rang in her ears.

‘You know what your only fault is?’ He let out a roaring laugh while engulfing her back with his stronger arms. She turned around to face him, abruptly so, and her hands came to rest over his broad and shaking chest. 'I remember a boy who once said I had no faults.' The lady laughed with him, whilst rubbing small circles in the cuff of his sparring vest.

He kissed the top of her head with a wistful smile, and glanced at her with a boyish glimmer in his hawk-like eyes. 'Please accept my humblest apologies, my darling love. I merely meant: do you know what the only thing that’s too good about you is?’

(Y/N) let out a soft giggle, mirroring Jace’s look of full, unadulterated love. She furrowed her brows comically, before tracing his jaw with her free hand. ‘Enlighten me, then, My Prince…’

Upon hearing his title cascade from her plump lips, the Prince of Dragonstone dived in to press his forehead onto hers. He took in a shaky breath, and gently cupped her cheek to kiss her. ‘You are far too loyal for your own good. You care too much for the people you let in. It makes you angry and brash - it makes you take too many risks.’

The threat of a sob was forming on her wobbly lip. (Y/N) bit it harshly, and sucked in another breath. Her tight hold replaced the tender meat of her inner palm, with the silky sheets of their shared bedding. A lone tear parted from her shut eye, rolling over her face, and staining her cotton nightdress.

‘It makes me quite jealous - your fearlessness and devotion.’ Jacaerys muttered against her ear, whilst pampering her with chaste, soft kisses. ‘When I make you my Queen, I might just make it so that you can only see and take care of me.’ He jested lightly, eliciting a chuckle from the laying girl.

Her hand reached for his soft, curly locks, and she twirled each strand against her slim fingers. ‘Should you make me your wife, Jace, I don’t think I’d ever part from you again.’

His eyes held a fire in them; the Velaryon prince reached for her tangled hand, and took it in his own, pressing it against his waiting mouth. ‘You will be my wife. My Princess.’ His voice was laced with naught but determination and love. ‘One day, we’ll both be crowned before the masses: and you will be the most beloved Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘When we marry, you will be mine, as I already am yours.’ He pledged with a final, delicate caress.

With each palpable reminder of him, her jaw clenched tighter and tighter. The suffering that erupted from deep within her chest both fueled and exhausted the lady and, soon enough, the girl found herself laying down again, wetting her pillow with endless rivers of tears.

The chastising fires of sleep licked at her conscious mind, and, although strained by her lover’s swift reminder, the woman fell into a deep sleep.

Oh, and how beautiful the dream was.

Although it wasn’t an exact replica of the way they first met, it more than made up for it with its stilling beauty.

***

He held his hand out to her, a polite smile plastered across his face. Her older brothers gave her a knowing look - there would be no higher honor for a Tully than to be singled out during the banquet of the Crown Prince's sixteenth name day.

Together, they danced not one, not two, not three… but seven dances during that blessed evening.

Her feet were aching and, with the redness of his cheeks and the lightness on his handsome face, the girl guessed she had at least had the same effect on the Prince, as he had on her.

They talked all throughout the night, sharing fond stares and quiet giggles that echoed and bounced off the hard stone walls.

“Why haven’t we met before, My Lady?” Jacaerys questioned with an upward quirk of his brow and a charming smile upon his lips.

“I’m afraid such questions will have to be taken up with my Grandfather, Your Grace.” As she mirrored his contagious grin, the young girl carried on, “I’ve… been at court while I was younger, and remained in the Red Keep for a couple of years, but the quiet of the Riverlands always suited me better.”

“We’re very similar, you and I, Lady Tully.” Jace let out in a long huff, straightening his back against the cold patio of the Royal Gardens. “I… I know that it is my duty, to confer with the other Lords and Ladies and make idle talk, but… I must admit that it can be quite…”

“Straining?” (Y/N) suggested with a quizzical quirk of her brow.

Jacaerys’ face broke into a beaming smile, and the Heir to the Iron Throne nodded affirmatively. “Exactly that, My Lady. I’m afraid, sometimes, that it shows on my face.” He joked half heartedly as he scrunched up his nose - though his posture remained upright and fair.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and the girl shook her head definitively. “I assure you, Your Grace, it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Jace.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“Friends and family just call me Jace.”

A knowing look was shared between them, and (Y/N) allowed her eyes to trail downwards, resting on the velvet flowers that adorned the well-kept garden. Her cheeks felt as though they caught on fire, and the lady was sure that her face held a comical rouge to it, thanks to Jacaerys’ insistent staring.

She knew well what came after that - she remembered how she hurried to allow Jace the same courtesy, of calling her by her given name, and how they both laughed at the other’s awkwardness.

And yet…

The Velaryon’s laughter turned into a painful cry. As if possessed, he started shaking his head. Then his limbs. Then his body.

“But dead men do not need names, do they, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up - blood began pumping in her ears, and her heartbeat hammered against her chest.

“W-What?”

“I am dead, I am dead, I am dead,” He wailed continuously, “Can’t you see it, my love? Can you not see?”

Strong arms came to hold her from behind - wrapped up in algae, with flesh half eaten by the haunting sea.

The air in her lungs filled with a putrid smell.

“Do you see me? Do you? Do you see me, (Y/N)? My face, my eyes, how do they look? Oh, (Y/N), I cannot see down here! It’s so dark!”

Wet and cold rivers of liquid ran down her spine, coming from his parted mouth - water or blood, she couldn’t distinguish. And she was far too scared to turn her head to look.

“I cannot breathe - help me! Why did you let me die?”

A violent shriek escaped her lips. The girl tried to spin and turn - escape his hold, and take him in her arms all the same.

Jacaerys was faster in his attempts; he took her face with his pruney fingers, and twisted her head around.

But instead of brown eyes, she was met with greying hues.

“Why did you let me die?” Cain’s voice echoed Jace’s sentence. “Why did you let me die, My Lady? How could you let me die?”

Blood was raining down on them: it filled her lungs, and painted her blue dress in a sickly purple. It stuck on her eyes and closed shut. It made her limbs impossible to move.

"No… no, no… this is not how it's supposed to go…!"

“(Y/N)! It's all your fault, all your fault…!”

***

A blood-curdling scream regurgitated from her dry throat.

Neither her drenched nightgown, nor the clogged air of the wide chambers managed to calm her down. While still in the limbo between dream and reality, (Y/N) brought a hand to her souring throat, and clawed at her collar for more stability.

Almost immediately after her first shaky sob, Aemond’s body bolted upright, and the One-Eyed Prince brushed off any remaining fragments of his torturous sleep.

With his right arm, he reached for her in an outstretched caress, eyes wide with wonder over her violent reaction - whilst his left instantly grabbed the dagger on the drawer closest to him.

One look about the room confirmed his pending suspicion: she had gone through a nightmare, and a very unpleasant one at that.

Not all our dreams get to turn into nightmares - The dead of night can provide solace for some, as well as great agony for others.

Scattered desires, idle wants, and needs: all met under the velvety silence and gratifying darkness that eats one whole, and mends his subconscious to the most profane of fantasies.

In his dream, Aemond was engaging in a much kinder resolve than the lady next to him.

***

The echo of swift, hurried footsteps allowed a comforting sigh to wash over his parted lips.

The tedious company of his brother and father was long forgotten, the moment her familiar silhouette caught his eye, urging him to turn his head around.

There she stood, ever the vile temptress, wearing an emerald green dress that draped lowly over her shoulders, trailing over her tender bosom, and barely covering the perky mounds of flesh.

She was smiling at him, despite being attached to Jace's arm, and a soft bite over her lower lip was all it took for the young Prince to feel that familiar tightness form in his leather braies.

He couldn't tell who strutted towards who, or how they got to that point. But a tentative hand rose to his face, taking off his eye patch.

A hitch of pleasure escaped from her crimson lips. She took both his hands in hers and, before the masses, placed them right above her clothed, throbbing clit.

"Please…" She pleaded with him, writhing into his reluctant touch, "Kostilus. Kostilus, Aemond."

His hesitation and lack of movement caused a loud whimper to contort from deep within her throat. She gave him a sly smirk, and brought her own hands under her skirts, to lift them and show him her glistening cunt. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, what with his cock brushing against her thigh as they kissed. He took her by the neck with one hand, while resting the other on her cheek.

He let out a low groan, and pushed her hand away to cup her dripping sex. His calloused thumb flicked over her reddened pearl, and a long, slim finger went inside her tight hole.

Aemond clenched his jaw - almost painfully so - and his hips rutted into the air so desperately, that the man was sure her wanton gasps held some amused glimmer in them.

His lilac orb watched her face contort in pleasure. They were all alone now, hidden in the shadows of the Great Hall, belonging to the Red Keep.

… And there he was, seated on the Iron Throne, moving his hips lazily as his intended was bouncing up and down his clothed shaft, rubbing their bodies together with a renowned fever.

His name fell from her lips in a sickeningly sweet way - Aemond could feel his hardness twitch into the hot material, and the Targaryen Prince bit back a guttural moan.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, that's it. Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos." He hissed through gritted teeth.

She was finally his.

His to love, his to cherish, his to fuck and to make love to.

The thought of possessing her fully, unapologetically, wildly, sent a deep shiver down to his unyielding loins.

Aemond was close. Oh so close to reaching his high. But he wanted to make her feel good.

Wordlessly, the One-Eyed Prince stopped her desperate bucking with one hand over her hip and the other, holding down onto the nape of her neck.

The girl was sobbing and shaking. Her voice came out as a meek whisper, and her glassy eyes met with his dilated pupil.

"No, no… please… kostilus, Aemond, don't stop…" She writhed inside his arms, bringing her hand out to caress his scarred cheek.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his bemused lips. Aemond hummed at her admission, and tenderly licked her lips.

"Shh," He soothed her gently, "Be still, byka hontes. Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon."

While speaking, the Targaryen Prince pushed her dress to the side, sliding off her small clothes with an able hand and placing her flush onto the Iron Throne.

He bit the inside of her thigh, and rubbed small circles on the back of her hands.

Like the perfect lover, he entwined her palms with his, entangling their fingers together as he hushed her sweetly.

"Spread your legs for me, issa jorrāelagon. Let me see how wet you are."

The echo of a "Please" got caught in his throat. It was taking everything inside of him not to kneel before his lady and beg her to let him touch her.

Her wild blush and plush, swollen lips made Aemond let out a low curse. He gripped her fingers tighter, and took them in his mouth, to coat them with adorning kisses, one by one.

"You can do it for me, my sweet, pretty girl." He encouraged her through a shallow pant. "Don't you want me to make you feel good?"

A shy 'yes' bounced off the cold walls of the secluded Keep. Aemond hummed in approval, and lowered his head over her sensitive mound, sucking lightly.

With each new whimper, his strokes became more and more sporadic. The Prince aligned his nose over her throbbing clit, and eased his tongue into her sacred depths.

His eye shut tightly at the feeling of her sweet nectar - one of his hands came free from her tight grasp, and he parted her thighs even further apart.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl…" He chanted while latched onto her scorching heat, and, with one final push of his tongue inside her, he took the girl over the edge.

Her cries of bliss shook the very building to the core. Her wild pants brought Aemond close to orgasm, and the male had to bring down a hand to his aching bulge, and clench it tightly, in order to stop himself from spilling in his pants.

It wouldn't take long for his love to wiggle her hips again.

His mouth and chin gleamed with the evidence of her spilled arousal. Aemond let out a rumbled laugh and licked himself clean with the help of two nimble fingers.

"I won't waste a single drop. Not one, single drop of you."

His words made her eyes roll back, and her throat inch with a loud moan. His Lady kneeled before him, and rubbed her cheek over his clothed cock, kissing at its outlines faintly.

Insatiable little mynx.

His eye fluttered shut, groaning in agony at her sensual touch. Aemond swallowed thickly, and he let out a hurting whimper, as the kneeling woman dipped her hand in the tightness of his pants.

Slowly, teasingly, she tested the waters.

The woman brought her hand up to her lover, and parted his swollen lips with the slow stroke of her thumb. Silently, she urged him to coat her skin with the wet of his saliva. Aemond smirked, and licked one long stripe over her spreading palm.

Humming in approval, and never once breaking eye contact, she eased her way down his leather trousers, and freed his cock from the tightness of its cage.

Several beads of sweat streamed down his pleasured face. Droplets of precum rolled down his reddened tip, and Aemond hissed at the contact they made with the base of his shaft.

His lady looked at him with soft, doe-like eyes;

"Syz taoba." She praised him with a mischievous smile. Before he could register the whole of her movements, the woman's tongue darted out, and she licked a slow strip over his twitching manhood.

She laughed at his dazed expression, and began touching him with her silky palm.

"Yes…" He moaned into her hold, bucking his hips to meet her hand halfway. "Tighter. Grip it tighter…" He instructed her through labored breaths, and a harsh groan etched its way from his bitten lips. "Ah, ābrazyrys!"

With each palpable thrust, Aemond moaned louder and louder, until the licks of relief washed over him in a sudden wave of pleasure.

At once, his hips stilled their violent bucking, and he felt the first streaks of cum shoot over his heaving abdomen.

Aemond gasped at her unwavering touch, and a single tear of pure delight rolled down his pale cheek.

She smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, as if what she'd just done did naught to shake her untouched innocence.

(Y/N) moaned at the sight of him, so ravished and spent by her hand - she licked her lips tentatively, and trailed her fingers over his lower stomach, coating each digit with his warm release.

The cum pooled on the base of her tongue, and she showed him the fullness in her mouth, before swallowing him whole.

Thinking him fully drained, the girl made haste to get up on her feet and press her forehead against his. She giggled excitedly, and kissed over his jaw and neck.

A primal glint swirled deep within him, and Aemond's eye darkened.

He wasn't done with her just yet.

His arms flipped her over, and the pair found themselves in the peace and quiet of his old Quarters. Her body was pushed against the silk bedding, laid in below Aemond's insistent licks and kisses.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, until the only thing you can think of is me."

His voice was shaking with lust and need, and the curve of her waist and breasts did nothing to help his aggravated heart.

His love let out a stimulated groan. Her lips churned into a small pout, and she brought his hand out to her scorching heat, pressing down on it insistently.

His mouth lulled open - he could feel the heat emanating from her maidenhood, and the very scent that made his head swirl with need.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his body to press against hers. He could feel himself grow harder and harder by the second, twitching against her exposed thigh.

The girl let out a burst of snorting laughter, and her legs came to grip him over the bulk of his waist.

Effortlessly, she pushed him into the wide goose pillows, towering over him as she snapped her hips into his.

"I always wanted to mount a dragon. Tonight, I'm going to ride you as you ride Vhagar."

***

The intensity of her scream made the man bolt up in an instant. His thoughts surged with a singular instinct: to protect her.

A hand reached for his dagger. The other, for her shaking form.

"What happened?" His throaty groan echoed through the silent room.

At the sound of his smothering voice, the girl let out a startled scream. She would have fallen from the unmade bed, were it not for Aemond's hands, which caught her beforehand. … His face contorted in pain at her recoiling, at her lack of trust in him. His very presence was unnerving her.

Her numerous shrieks alerted the new guards, who, warned in advance of their master's disposition to anger, hastily opened the door to his chambers - swords unsheathed and shoulders tense.

But, upon glancing at the erratic woman, and the way her hands were pushing Aemond's chest away from her flush form, they assumed this was just another way of coupling, and the oldest of the two bowed his head in embarrassment, before grabbing his brethren by the cape and exiting the room.

Fucking assholes…! The Lady thought to herself. Upkeeping the realm and instigating order only when they see fit.

The pang of embarrassment took a hold of her jaded face. It didn't matter what they thought. But all the same, Cain's words echoed into her ears, slithering into her heart.

' - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories about how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night.'

Disgust painted its way over her distressed expression. A deep frown creased her forehead, and she clicked her tongue in irritation at Aemond's attempt to soothe her.

"N-Nothing happened." She strained herself to answer. "It doesn't matter. Now let me go."

But his hold didn't falter. His iron grip reigned over her, and (Y/N) could feel how her wrist started to ache from numbness.

Her eyes shot up in pure horror.

"Please, Prince Aemond." She tried once more, though this time sweeter. Her eyes trailed from his face to his clenched fists, and she tried to relax in his hold - at least slightly. Dread settled into the pits of her stomach, as she awaited his answer.

The One-Eyed Prince felt his heart hammer against his chest. A stinging pain ruled over any other voice of reason, and he felt lethal, succumbed to the endless lust and frenzy that he felt for the shaking girl.

And, although he didn’t let go of her bruising arm, he sat down the dagger in his left hand, in favor of touching her lax cheek with his rough fingertips.

Gods, he was still so painfully hard.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as his grip over her body relaxed with each passing minute. The taste of abhorance was getting harder and harder to ignore - as did his raging hard-on, so adamantly pressed against her covered leg.

The woman darted her tongue out to wet her chapped lips; an action that wasn’t easily ignored by Aemond. His brows furrowed in lust and anger, and the coil in his lower stomach grew tighter by the second.

His hand ghosted over her twisted features, and he held his hand against her, with a fear akin to getting burnt. She scrunched her nose up as he scooted closer: her eye trailed downwards to his huge erection. Fear mixed with the knowledge of her situation, and her free hand came to grip the edge of the mirkwood bed.

“Hey,” She began to say, but took a pause to clench and unclench her jaw. “I think we should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes closed, if only for a second. Aemond’s deep breaths echoed through the quiet room, over her face, and the girl chastised herself for being so idiotic.

Some reply she gave him.

… But there is still a way to get a hold of that damned dagger.

Thoughts laced with uncertainty whirled inside her head. This wasn’t the first time Aemond had stared with hunger at her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was simply the way their 'relationship' worked. Simply the way he did.

Before she could muster up to add anything else, the Kinslayer broke the silence. His voice was soft and hitched; His broad arms snaked around her again, and his single eye loomed over her, adorning an emotion that menged perfectly with caution and lust.

“Why do you have this effect on me?” He questioned no one but himself. “You have ruined me.” He uttered, as if her presence and innocence were the strongest of poisons.

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…”

The last of his words came out strained and angry, the desire to possess her coming out in the roughness of his sentence in High Valyrian.

(Y/N) squinted at him, unsure of what to do and say, except to stay awfully quiet. His cock twitched in his pants at her confused expression, and the woman sat her eyes on the dagger before her.

May his Gods so help him if he tries to do anything to me, she dryly thought to herself.

“I never tried to hurt you in any way.” She spoke decidedly, trying her best to keep a level of strength in her hoarse voice. Her body tensed under his aggravating touch, and the Lady quietly cursed herself for her inability to move further away from him.

Aemond’s face broke into a tight smile, and the Targaryen Prince huffed out in a low breath.

“Quit playing your game with me. You know exactly what you did. Women like you have quite the breeding for it.”

At that moment, anger blinded her. Swift as an arrow, she rose her head up high, and attempted to slap him - hard. But the older man caught her hand within his skilled fingers, and lowered it to his aching heart, keeping it there.

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Hmm? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?”

He could see the tears in her eyes. He could feel the flesh of her skin burn with the roughness of his touch. He could feel her anger and building disdain, and all of it pushed him over the edge all the same.

Aemond grabbed her face with his free hand, and clasped her jaw tightly. He breathed in her warmth, and he cursed himself for it - for the weakness that she caused him, for how easy it was for her to calm him down. “Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” He hissed desperately, lowering himself closer and closer to her face. “I treat you with kindness, and this is how you think to repay me? Vile, spoiled cunt. Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene.”

To his mind, he was but an animal, caught helplessly in a siren’s grasp - she had lured him in with her beauty, her heart, and he was drowning in her, in her essence, in her being.

All of the things he felt towards her welled up inside of him: the love, the longing, the obsession, the lust, the need, the want. It was all too much.

He breathed heavily into her ear, while stroking at her bottom lip, “Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki."

His raining assault in High Valyrian aggravated her to no end. Although Jacaerys' knowledge on the language wasn't perfect, either, he had taught the girl enough to get by.

And enough it was, at the very least, to make out the hissed out "beautiful"s, "love"s, and "heart"s that Aemond spewed at her.

The Tully girl spat in his face, biting on the index finger, that was trying to pry open her mouth. “You promised me,” She asserted as she pried herself free of his sickly embrace, “You promised me you wouldn’t touch me until I expressively asked you to.”

Her (y/e/c) eyes clashed with his lone, lilac orb. The woman swallowed thickly, and a droplet of sweat fell over her pounding temple. “So back. Off.”

Half a second goes by - half a heartbeat and half a breath -, until Aemond finally lets go of her, and settles back down onto the cold side of his bed.

For a while, (Y/N) is stuck. She sees how the man she loathes turns his back around, how his shoulders fall back as he’s trying to relax. She focuses on his breathing, and how his erratic breaths quiet down.

“Go to sleep.” He commands her bitterly, “Before I give you a reason to be tired out.”

The ferocity of a thousand curses almost falls from her tightened lips. The woman takes in a deep breath, and lowers herself back onto the drenched sheets.

He had donned the dagger to his fucking waist.

For almost two weeks, Cain had been falling in and out of consciousness.

His clash with Aemond left him weak and crippled - most of all, it left him ashamed.

Ashamed of his lack of diligence. Ashamed for having been unable to protect his Lady.

Finally, ashamed of his weakness and lack of thought, of reason.

If he were awake right now, he'd curse the Old Gods and the New for making him so - for giving him the wound that would incapacitate him forever. He'd have to fight the shivers that came with the rotting of his flesh, he'd have to clench his remaining fist in agony at the notion of the pools of blood he lost: the notion of his wound still going through the process healing, and all that came with it.

His once handsome face was still stained with his blood - dirt and sweat clung to it, like flies on dead meat.

His golden locks looked almost black, covered by the mold and mud that he'd crawled through once he reached outside the cave.

***

"You need to be swifter on your foot, lass!" Ser Allyn Swann instructed him, hitting the boy over the legs once, in taciturn aggression. "You're to be our Lady's sworn protector, are you not? You'll need to do better than that."

"I already am her sworn protector!" Cain yelled after the knight, rubbing a hand over his sweaty forehead. He took in a sharp breath, exhaustion seeping in his bones. Without waiting for an answer, he retook his wide stance and bowed down to his professor. "Again." He urged Ser Swann with a determined look.

The rains of spring had softened the ground, and both the knight and aspiring shield had to be mindful of their footsteps, so as to not land on their tired backs.

Allyn smiled, and shook his head. "Are you now, boy?" He obliged with a reply, "I think you're a seventeen-year-old blighter, who's bitten off more than he can chew."

His able taunting seemed to have worked.

No longer was Cain swinging his sword in circles, measuring his adversary with an aware look. Exactly like a dire wolf would after getting a whiff of fresh prey, the Waters bastard jumped into the leveling field, slashing his wooden blade directly at his opponent's head.

Allyn hummed in disapproval, and back-tracked to the right, faking a swing to his left side, before wiping Cain's feet off the ground with a wonky, but effective swipe.

"Again, Waters?" The knight asked with a click of his tongue. "This is the fifth time you fell for this exact same move. You may be as simple-minded as the Gods allow - but even a fool would learn from his mistakes once he swallowed mud once or twice."

As the boy lowered his gaze in undoubted guilt, his teacher offered him his hand, hoisting him off the field with a low grunt.

"Your mind is elsewhere, Cain. What is it that's bothering you?"

Eyes of the colour of steel clashed with Allyn's brilliant blues. A hoarse sigh left his parted lips, and Cain looked to the sky above them.

"I… I'm not ready." He admitted through gritted teeth. "Lady (Y/N) believes in me, but I'm not ready."

His simple sentence, his raw honesty, moved the greying knight.

He smiled tightly at the boy, resting a hand atop his heaving shoulder, and squeezed strongly.

"You are ready. You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it."

"Aye, I can fall straight on my ass. Maybe that'll distract my real opponents!"

"Cain." His professor interrupted him, "Long has it been since I last faced that eight-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than to prove himself."

Ser Swann's words brought a twisted smile to his lips, and (Y/N)'s protector mirrored his tired expression, as he huffed out a breath in disdain.

"I'm afraid I'll fail her." He muttered under his breath, looking in the general direction of his Lady's Quarters. "She believes in me, yes. But what if she's wrong?" A deep frown splits his forehead in three, wide creases. "Sometimes it feels like she must be."

"Only a real knight would ever admit to his weaknesses and less than stellar moments." Allyn encouraged him shortly. His eyes never once left Cain's, and the old Lord nodded his head briskly. "Lady Tully is not the only one who believes in you. Before her, Lord Hunter Redwyne believed in you."

A small chuckle broke Cain's reserved silence.

"If I remember correctly, he made you his steward exactly because he believed in you. After him, of course, went his sons and daughters. When the siege over Arbourtown took place, who was it that fought 100 men all by himself?"

"Hardly 100. It was 66 at best."

"Honesty. Another rare quality to find in a knight."

Cain's frustration welled in his eyes. "It's not honesty - it's a well-known truth!"

"Let me tell you something, Cain. It could have been a hundred men. Or it could have been thirty, or it could have been just one. The unrivaled truth remains: when everyone abandoned their post, you were the only one left standing in the West Wing of that castle."

A hefty silence settled off between the two.

"Plenty of people believed in you: plenty still do. And all of them were right to do so."

Cain's aching fists turned lax once Ser Allyn put an end to his trail of thought. "I…" He bit his cheek in an attempt to talk.

'Thank you.'

"I still have a lot to learn."

"That you do, boy. That you do." Allyn confirmed with a convinced jerk of his head. His eyes glimmered with pride, however, and, as he picked his sword back up, the man smiled at his driven apprentice.

"But I believe in you, and in the fact that you will make her proud."

"... It's nice to talk again like this."

Allyn's expression saddened for a moment, before it regained its familiar vigor.

"As I told you, lass. No matter how far you are, I'll always be somewhere with you. I'll be right here, at the tip of your sword, in your armor."

Ser Cain felt a tear run down his cheek, and the knight rose a hand to wipe it away from his face.

"I don't think I'll ever hold a sword again." He hummed painfully, but the older knight only shook his head.

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it." He repeated his words again. "Trust me, son. You will hold Faithkeeper again. … But now it's time for you to wake up."

Wake up.

***

"-- Are you waking up?!" The worried voice of a woman rang through the open field.

Cain felt his head jolting with pain - his limbs of a calming numbness, and his lips dried up.

He swallowed thickly, before opening his mouth to say, "Water… I need… water."

"Right on it, soldier." She amusedly said, bringing down her own flask to his waiting mouth.

He drank to his heart’s content, and only when the last droplets of the blessed liquid touched his throat, did Cain Waters stop to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing he said, as the unknown woman checked her poach for any remains of the water. “I didn’t think about the practicality of leaving some for later. … Or about you needing a sip.”

The last of his words greatly perplexed the brown-haired woman - she let out a mirthled laugh, and gently shook her head to the side. “At ease, Commander. We have more where that came from. Drink as much as you need to.”

Her amber eyes trailed over his bandaged hand, and, as he followed her stare with his own, Cain sighed in wallowing dread. His gaze turned curious, however, as he glanced at his shoulder, and wasn’t immediately greeted with the ghastly sight of a chopped-off arm.

A shocked look adorned his features, and the knight brought his left hand to feel the borders of his forming scar.

A painful sting stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d be careful with touching that arm so soon,” She tutted over his brash enthusiasm, “Your stitches are far from being healed. … And it’s not all that good and grand.”

Her sharp eyes softened slightly, and she let out a hardened breath.

“I’m very sorry. But we still had to cut off some of the infected fingers. With time, though, I’m sure you’ll hold your sword again.”

‘You will hold Faithkeeper again.’

Cain hummed in a lowly tone, as his eyes traveled back to the strange woman before him. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, until he finally settled on the least invasive sentence.

“I’m very grateful for your help,” He began carefully, while nibbling at his lower lip. “But who are you? And why would you save me?”

The girl’s eyebrows raised in beguilement, and she jokingly brought her hand to her chest, bowing deeply.

“My name is Mira Florent, of Brightwater Keep. I was a ward not long ago, under the esteemed tutelage of Lady Caswell. For eleven years, I served in Bitterbridge.” Taking in his every reaction with a curious look, Mira quirked her head to the side, and offered the knight a half-earnest smile. “And who might you be?”

“You didn’t answer my other question.” Cain tensed visibly, and the woman raised her hands out in false surrender.

“Indeed, I have not. I’d like to know who it is I’m talking to, as well, before I should waste all my breath away.”

The knight’s deep gaze settled on her downturned nose and inviting smile. He took in a deep breath, and propped his body on his healthy elbow. “I asked my questions first, my Lady.”

“And I demanded for answers, second.” Her voice rang out with a beaming laugh, and the older woman showed him her portrait-perfect grin. “No one here is in any position to make demands. … But please. I am not a Lady. There’s no need for you to address me as such”

Her easy-going attitude and fun behavior were almost enough reason for Cain to return her gracious smiles - still, the royal knight remained impassive, while nodding his head in quiet agreement.

“My name is Cain Waters, m’lady.” A short pause ensued, during which both healer and patient exchanged a diverted look, “Until recently, I served in Riverrun; I answer to the Tullies, the lords of the Riverlands.”

“I knew it!” Mira’s gleeful exclamation set Ser Cain back on his back. “It was fairly obvious by the crest in your armor. The trout lost its head, but the house colors are still as clear as day.”

“Is that why you decided to save me?” The man asked her tentatively.

“Well, that’s why we kept carrying you with us after patching you up, I suppose. But we would have tried to heal you either way.”

“We?” The Waters bastard questioned once again. “There’s more than just you around?”

“You don’t think I carried you all the way here by myself, right?” Her sarcastic question jabbed at his intellect, but her placid smile told the knight to relax, and put an end to his sporadic trail of thought. “It’s just me and my travel partner - he’s the one that wanted us to leave you at a crossroads end, by the way.”

A bemused smirk tugged at the corners of Cain’s chapped lips. “Then you have my full gratitude, m’lady - I have to say, I appreciate you not letting me die. Pray tell, does your companion have a name?”

An arch of her bushy eyebrows was the only telltale sign of Mira’s pending curiosity over Cain's meddlesome nature. She jerked her head to point at a silhouette near the fireplace, and she leaned over on a tree’s bark end.

“He does.” The woman said simply, and her expression turned somber for just a moment. “You take your profiling seriously, Cain Waters - his name is Albar. Albar of nothing, who serves under no one. Albar Stone.”

Cain’s face brightened slowly, as if he’d just been reminded of an old joke.

‘Us bastards always find a way to help one another.’

A rumbling laughter shook him in his laying spot, and the man gingerly shook his head after a passing while. “Another brother. I’ve a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Mira’s only reply was to shrug her shoulders, keeping quiet for the first time since they’d met. Her auburn eyes went over Cain’s shoulder, and she took in a deep breath. “You fought the Kinslayer, haven’t you?” She asked whilst playing with a silver pendant.

“You’re wearing the Tully crest - a house that openly pledged for the Blacks. Despite your heavy armor, your wound was of a clean cut. Too clean for a normal blade.” The Florent Lady awaited no confirmation from the laying man, as she went on, “I’ve been well acquainted with the deadly swords forged from Valyrian Steel. And there are only two people who wield such feats of war. Of course, only one of them who terrorizes our home.”

“Aye, that is true.” Cain let out after a low curse. “I regret not being swifter on my foot that day. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble to slay him then and there.”

“Opportunities arise. And I’ve a feeling there will be another time for you to face him again.”

Cain’s forehead puckered at the last of her words, and his able hand pointed at the empty flask that now rested on her lower hip. “Oh, I would drink to that.” He bitterly laughed in earnest.

Mira’s posture ambled away, and she edged closer to the man’s plodded body. Silently, she got a hold of the bridles of the nearest horse, and offered Cain a lackluster smile. “I’ll hoist you up this saddle and we’ll keep walking towards the Vale.”

The muscles in Cain’s face tightened. His immediate thought went to (Y/N), his Lady, no doubt still stuck with Aemond in Harrenhal - that Gods' forsaken place.

His fist brandished in a tight hold, his head aligned to Mira’s working hands, and the knight tried to stop her musings with a firm palm over her waist.

“Wait -” He tried to reason, “I cannot go there. My Lady is still waiting for me, I cannot just abandon her.”

"Abandon your Lady?" Mira's eyes widened once more. She jumped up from the ground, and straightened her back in disbelief. "You're Lady Tully's personal knight? Is that why you fought the Kinslayer? You're telling me she's still alive?!"

Through an exhale, the male nodded. He cleared his throat with a loud cough, and scrunched his nose up in frustration.

"Indeed, m'lady. So you must understand me - I cannot forsake her. Not when she's still in the jaws of that one-eyed fucker."

Mira wiped the dust off her cotton pants, and grunted in agreement. She let out a tired breath, and clicked her tongue at his persistence.

"Well… you could have returned to Harrenhall, limping on your feet and all, if only you awoken a week ago. But we're less than an hour away from the Eyrie, Ser Cain." His crushed expression and gritted teeth softened the lady's resolve. "I warmly recommend you stick with us. Our road leads to the Arryns: we can drop you off to your Lord and you can take a while to recover."

"You slept for a very long time, Ser Cain. Everything you knew has changed in these last couple of weeks. Getting acquainted to your new situation will do you well."

Alys never dreamt. At least, she never once recalled what her dreams were about.

Such was the way of things for her, and she didn’t mind it - that was, until tonight.

Stilling images of her in his arms, of his soft lips upon the Tully's face made her shake with anger and betrayal well into the first callings of dawn.

Morning came and went, and the afternoon spent itself with her clasping her hands together, in the comfort of her room, thinking on what to do.

Her rattling worry wasn’t as much about her love for him, as it was for the frightening thought that if the Crown Prince didn’t want her anymore, she'd find her death by the sharp end of his sword.

The Rivers witch gulped thickly, and brought her hands over her neck and bump.

Aemond was capable of many things. But he wouldn't risk killing his child. Right?

The Tully girl had to go. The conclusion was a natural reach, and an expected one, at that: it was the only solution to her ticking problem.

A slight arch of her brow sent her thoughts adrift. How would she take care of it all? She gave the haughty Lady the chance to escape, and she failed - miserably. Now, she had no more allies left in Harrenhal, and no access to any amount of privacy.

The memory of Aemond's rage sent a cold shiver down her spine. Not once during her long life, did she witness a sight more fearful to behold, than the one of the One-Eyed Prince when angered. Hundreds died the day of her escape, and thousands more would keep on suffering, if ever she should break free again.

The Tully girl had to go. And then Aemond would be hers again.

Her prayers were answered when, sometime along the laid-in dusk, his footsteps echoed through the long hallway of her keep.

She waited for him in her small framed bed, eagerly aligning her hips to the side, to strike a more seductive pose.

… But when Aemond reached her doorstep, his eye carried a solemn, and resigned expression.

"The maids tell me she won't eat." He told her worriedly, opting for that instead of his usual greeting. He reached her bedside with two wide steps, and wordlessly took a seat while rubbing his temples. "She's punishing me."

Alys staggered a frustrated breath, and tried to calm herself back down. Her left leg moved to tease Aemond's crotch, and she chuckled appealingly.

"Must we worry about her all the time…? She'll eat when she gets really hungry." Alys dismissed his inquiry with a small caress, "In the meantime, I'm sure I could take your mind off things…"

Within a second, Aemond's hand was wrapped softly on her neck. "Stop that." He chastised her cruelly, "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are, as of late." She muttered dryly, but regretted her words instantly, when she felt his long fingers squeeze over her larynx tentatively. "I-I only meant to say that I missed you." She quickly intervened, while entangling her hand with his in a forlorn attempt to redeem herself.

Aemond hummed tiredly, and, as if he finally registered what he was doing, the man let go of her dainty neck.

Quietness washed over them, and Alys' eyes welled with the threat of tears, until Aemond spoke up.

"I want you to keep an eye on her. Become her friend, if you must."

The detachment with which he spoke wounded Alys' pride, but, as she massaged her neck, the woman only sighed. "Befriend her, Aemond?"

"Do whatever you think is right." He uttered once again. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be her maid - you'll make sure she eats when I'm not here; you'll make sure she doesn't think of a way to escape."

Her ears reddened from the deep wound laid upon her enlarged ego. Alys huffed in disbelief, and promptly shook her head. "What…?" She asked her lover. "So you want me to feed her and empty her chamber pot?"

"Don't act as if this work would be beneath you, love." Aemond tutted as he raised up from his taken seat. "I've already made up my mind: you will take care of her while I'm not around. And you will make her like it here."

The urgency in his words muffled out any other attempted protest. Alys' fists were clenched at her sides, and the older woman was biting down on her lower lip. "As you wish, Your Grace." She hissed past her tightened lips, while looking at him desperately.

As she noticed him turn around to leave, the Rivers witch shot up straight. "You won't stay?" She asked Aemond in a strangled tone.

"I have some business to attend to."

Aemond prayed before his dinners. As if that would make them any better.

As if that would help him swallow his guilt, or scatter it over the ghosts that he himself created.

As if that would deter the Gods to forgive him for his sins.

The pair stood quietly at the polished oak table, surrounded by naught but fermented wine and copious amounts of meat. For a while, all seemed well.

The cutlery broke a sound every once in a while, and Aemond's deep breaths turned the room's atmosphere heavy.

Eventually, it all built up to be too much.

"Is the food not to your liking?" His velvety smooth voice asked the girl before his eye.

With her hands still in her lap, now gripping her fingers painfully, Lady Tully replied, "... It's nothing of the sort. I'm just not hungry right now."

Aemond stared blankly into her eyes, until his scorching orb settled on her lips instead. Lustful thoughts of what he dreamt the night before plagued his mind, but the Prince merely shook his head, whilst taking a sip of the wine.

"You haven't eaten anything today." He muttered through a raised eyebrow, and a ghost of a forced smile. "Surely you must be famished."

The muscles on (Y/N)'s face twitched in annoyance. She jerked her foot from under the table, and turned her eyes back to her untouched plate.

"... As I said, I'm not feeling very hungry." She leaned further away, and the firelight of the wide, lit room, danced across her face with glorious shades of red and amber.

"Very well." Aemond asserted quietly, after letting out a hoarse curse in High Valyrian. Soon, the Prince turned his attention back to the illuminated room, without sparing the girl another glance.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and coughed in the back of his hand a couple of times.

Each time she heard his attempts to clear his throat, the girl clenched her jaw tighter and tighter.

Neither spoke anymore, until Aemond sighed deeply.

"Does…" He began, but closed his mouth once again. His face turned into a sour scowl, his pale cheeks reddened, and the man forced himself to keep going, despite the hardness with which such a question came to him. "Does your wrist hurt you at all?"

A quick reminder to the other night.

The lady's eyes snapped forward, unsure of whether or not she'd heard him correctly. Were she not in this unpleasant situation herself, the woman would have laughed at the Prince's awkwardness; no less his stupid question.

Instead of laughing, she took in a shaky breath, which she exhaled almost immediately, before replying curtly. "It doesn't hurt." Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed in concentration.

Distaste for him, for what she was about to say, filled her weary heart and mouth.

"... Thank you for the inquiry, My Prince, that was very kind of you."

She wanted to scream and shout the moment his daft fingers gripped her own, and the Kinslayer tried to caress her, despite his hand's deep callouses. Still, she remained poised.

She was all alone now, and she had to play it smart.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, and her shoulders tensed visibly from under her green dress. Slowly, yet surely, she wiggled her hand free from under his palm, and placed it above her thigh once more.

If her movement displeased Aemond, then the Prince didn’t show it. His hand twitched atop the table, and he clenched it momentarily. But just as soon as his action was executed, it was covered by the Targaryen's mellow voice.

"Try to eat something tonight. And whatever it is that you'd like on the morrow, you can tell your maid to bring you."

Maid…?

Confusion made its way across her face. And, not even waiting for her to ask that eager question, Aemond dipped his head lowly and replied.

"The days are hard and long - prisoner or not, My Lady. While in Harrenhal, you are still a royal, and will be treated as such."

(Y/N) felt as if she could do nothing else but laugh. She envisioned her life in Harrenhal drift in a lot of different ways - though no thought of hers deterred her to believe she'd be taken care of by Aemond's older lover.

Of course, she jested lightly to herself. In the end, I am but a prisoner. And Aemond only has one eye.

Her hands were tied. And so were Alys Rivers', who looked none the happier to be rooted at her bedside table, judging by her tight expression.

"We don't have to play his game, you know." The girl hushed in her direction, as she kneeled down to help her change the ruined bed sheets.

Green eyes washed over her smaller form, holding an icy glimmer in them. But, despite her obvious discontent at her words, Alys remained quiet.

"You've known Aemond for longer than I," She kept going in the afternoon. "But we can both agree he has a dangerous character." Her lack of cooperation irked the lady to no end.

She dreaded the silence she was greeted with.

Hopelessly, she watched Alys wipe the last corner of the room - the girl observed how she turned on her heel, bowing at her without sparing her a second glance, and made her way toward the doors of her chambers.

"What do you think will happen once I tell Aemond that you helped Cain plan my escape?" She asked in a neutral tone.

For the first time that day, the Rivers bastard whipped her head around, and kneeled to the floor to gather up the dropped cloth. Despite her neutral smile, her voice was shaking. "You're trying to blackmail me?"

"I'm trying to help myself. ... And help you."

The woman let out a roaring laugh. "I am carrying the child of the dragon, girl. He wouldn't dare hurt me."

"Are you that sure?" The hardened look on (Y/N)'s face let no emotion stand out. Still, her eyes remained honest, truthful in her questions, and the wood witch let out an ample sigh.

"I know you don't want me here." The Lady raised her head in bold admission, "Believe me, I am the last person to be happy with this arrangement. This is your home. This is supposed to be your room and your rightful bed. On that, you'll hear no argument from me."

As her speech came to an abrupt end, Alys furrowed her brows in unexpected shock. She was quick to collect herself, and shield her shaking body by crossing her arms.

"We're more similar than we'd allow ourselves to think, Alys. We both want me gone and far, far away from here."

With a tentative look in her eyes, the Lady of Riverrun approached Alys' heaving body. She took her hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly.

A strained chuckle parted from the elder's lips. She jerked her hands away and shot her an unfeeling look. "What would you have me do?" She interfered with a cutting voice. "You forget yourself - and I. I'm just a woman in this Keep, the same as you. If you think I hold any power over anyone here, you'd be sorely mistaken."

(Y/N) shook her head, and allowed a crooked smile to grace her tired features. She quirked her eyebrow at the woman's words, and only hummed disprovingly.

"I may not know you, Alys Rivers. But I know you are a smart and conniving woman. You lived all your life in Harrenhal, or so I heard."

Her harsh tone cut through the deadly silence of the room.

"I'm sure you kept at least a secret passage to yourself, and away from Aemond. It's not like us to keep all our eggs in the same basket... So, I want you to teach me all you know about this castle.”

A jocund expression seeped into Alys' pores. She clicked her tongue at (Y/N)'s words, and huffed out a wired breath. “Foolish girl. If anything should go wrong, Aemond will kill us both.”

A small pause, followed by a muttered curse ensued after Alys’ warning. Once her eyes locked on the Lady again, she frowned as she nodded her head.

"You have yourself a deal."

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Translations:

"Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos" = That's my good little girl;

"Byka hontes" = Little dove;

"Issa jorrāelagon" = My love;

“Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon” = My sweet, little love;

"Ābrazyrys" = Wife;

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…” = I was a man of duty and honor before I set eyes on you. And you… You… You make me feel as if I am no longer…;

“Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” = You are a common woman who enslaved a prince of the blood;

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?” = You tempted me. Your voice, your eyes, your lips, your soul - your very presence is seducing me. Are you happy? Are you happy with what you did to me?

"Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki." = Do you see just how powerful you are, my love? Aemond One-Eye, the Rider of Vhagar and the Prince Protector of the Realm… yours. In heart, body, and soul.

"Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene" = Beautiful witchling, my sweet little slut;

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