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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

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Chapter 22 - This Was Not the Spa I was Looking For

Uuuhhh, I don't even know what this was. I had an idea and then this other idea fought the first one and won? so, it's completely different than what I had in mind, but ya know what? its written and done.

There is slight SLIGHT angst, but everything is good in the end :)

so sorry for the delay - will be updating a lot this weekend!

like always comments, questions, concerns, messages in my inbox, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

Budapest Not Included

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 227 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 112 points

Oscar Piastri – 91 points

Lewis Hamilton – 83 points

Alex Albon – 44 points

Fernando Alonso – 41 points

George Russell – 40 points

Logan Sargeant – 30 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 339 points

McLaren – 280 points

Mercedes – 123 points

Williams – 74 points

Aston Martin – 56 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo – 1 point

HAAS – 0 points

f1 has posted

f1 Y/n L/n and Max Verstappen are out of the Belgium Grand Prix after the Red Bull of Verstappen hit the back of L/n. The latter skidded across the track before rolling over. L/n will be looked over at the medical site, especially after her last DNF back in Japan.

liked by y/n.nation, maxverSTOPpen, orange_army, and 802,394 others

max_and_rookie nah man, I like max but that was seriously his fault

y/n_on_top y/n had the priority to make way for him to win. he just ruined both of their races

max_all_the_way y/n should have just let him keep going tho?

redbullcan no she shouldn't cause Red Bull gave the 2-1 strategy, putting priority for the second car

maxiel333 I fear this is Azerbaijan 2018 all over again

f1fan well there goes that amazing teammate bond. great job max, what is this, 7 teammates? bout to be 8

Once again, you were hanging upside down, in the rain. But thankfully, this time you were conscious and talking.

You pressed the button that immediately went to your panicking race engineer.

“I’m fine Mitch. Stupid rain. This was definitely not the Spa I was looking forward to. You tell my asshole of a teammate that he owes me.”

You switched your radio off before Mitch could reply. You were fuming as the marshals were trying to get you out once again. Your race suit was becoming wetter and wetter by the minute. Your back ached as you tried to move.

So, how did this all happen?

You had been able to get around Max, per team request to make way on the track that was a little less rainy. Apparently, Max thought that you were trying to get the jump on him and completely rammed the back of your RB20, sending you flying. It was definitely a mirror reflection of Azerbaijan 2018.

How you ended up rolled over once again, you didn’t know. Maybe your car just didn’t have great balance when it came to kerbs and getting rear-ended.

In a few minutes, the marshals were able to get you out. As you stretched when you got out, your eyes landed on Max’s RB20 with its nose crumpled and wheel hanging off. You smirked under your helmet.

“Serves him right.”

You two were doing amazing that weekend. Max had gotten pole once again, and you were right behind him. Except that Charles was so close behind Max most of the race. Mitch had given you the 2-1 and had told you that GP had also given the Dutchman the same order.

There was still time for you to have given the position back, but you were quicker on the slicks. You could have easily brought home another 1-2 race.

But now Charles would probably get his third win of the season because Max was too selfish.

You watched as he climbed out of his own cockpit and your blood began to boil. He not only ruined his race, but yours as well. Your arms were crossed as you stood in the rain. Replays of the wreck were playing on the big screens, just for your enjoyment.

The longer you watched, the angrier you got.

A push to your arm brought your eyes from the big screen to the Dutch driver.

“The fuck was that?” he angrily questioned.

Your eyebrow raised under your helmet. Although you were shorter, you knew how to throw your weight around. So, you shoved his shoulder back.

“Me? The fuck was that with you Max. I was given priority! This was your fault!” you shouted, earning looks from the marshals around the two of you.

Max just glared. “My fault? That was clearly a rookie mistake.”

He pushed you again.

You let out a dark chuckle. “Rookie mistake? No Max. That was a you mistake.”

Your pointer finger dug into his chest, earning you another shove. One that sent you to the ground. You were now down, looking up at Max as he glared down at you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him stalk away.

A marshal was quick to help you to your feet. Max didn’t ride back with you to the paddock and walked the entire way. You, however, took advantage of the ride back and immediately tried to hide inside your drivers room when you got back. You kept your helmet on the entire time and wanted to refuse to go to the medical room. Mitch was adamant about you going since the last time you were bruised pretty badly.

She made sure it was quick: just a check over. After, your race engineer left you to yourself. While you undressed and peeled off your wet race suit, your mind started swimming.

Feelings of guilt and anxiety were building in your core. Soon, you were beginning to sob as you sat on your little bed. Really, all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep, preferably with your boyfriend, who was all the way in the Ferrari garage.

Your sobs quieted down as your eyes began to droop. Taking a nap right now seemed to be a good choice as you lied down on the small bed, curling up in a ball. A nap would keep you safe from whatever was going on. You didn’t have to deal with anything if you were asleep.

Right as you were falling asleep, Max had just gotten back to the garage. His helmet was in his hands and his eyes were to the floor, missing the disapproving looks from everyone. On the way back, he had time to think about what he had done.

Yes, he knew that you were given priority, but didn’t know exactly why. You didn’t seem faster on the slicks or were gaining. He didn’t expect you to go around him like that. And now looking back, he could see that you were making a way for him by getting rid of some water on the track so he could get more grip.

What he didn’t expect was a shove to the back and a punch to the face. He barely had time to turn around before he landed on his ass on the concrete of the garage. He was so taken back that he really couldn’t understand what was going on.

All he knew was that his face hurt, his ass hurt, and his pride hurt.

How could he have done that to you?

When he got his bearings, he finally saw a certain Monegasque be held back from jumping on him. Spits of French and English were thrown at him, and he deserved it. Once he was back on his feet, Arthur took two handfuls of his race suit and pulled him down.

There was hardly a height difference, but right now Arthur looked a lot bigger than Max did.

Arthur leaned close to Max’s face.

“How dare you? You know that she would do anything for you and what do you do to thank her? You push her down. You break her down. You blame her for your mistake.”

Silence was all that Max could offer.

Arthur scoffed as he let go.

“You’re no better than her parents.”

With that, he left and walked toward your room. He harshly pushed the door open, only to find you sound asleep, oblivious to the world outside. Arthur turned off the lights before gently climbing into your bed. He didn’t know how the two of you had fit, but you did.

He guessed that you must have sensed him as you turned over and dug your head into his neck almost immediately. Arthur pulled out his phone before googling flights back to Monaco, back to home. He’d keep you in his pocket if he had anything to do it.

Race Results:

Charles Leclerc – 25 points

Carlos Sainz – 18 points

Oscar Piastri – 16 points (fastest lap)

Valtteri Bottas – 12 points

Lewis Hamilton – 10 points

George Russell – 8 points

Fernando Alonso – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

Logan Sargeant – 2 point

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point (highest placing this season)

Lando Norris (spun out on last lap and barely missed the points)

Daniel Ricciardo

Yuki Tsunoda

Kevin Magnussen (highest placing this season)

Nico Hulkenberg (highest placing this season)

Pierre Gasly

Esteban Ocon

Lance Stroll

Y/n L/n – DNF

Max Verstappen – DNF

Champions Standings:

Max Verstappen – 284 points

Charles Leclerc – 252 points

Lando Norris – 189 points

Y/n L/n – 163 points

Carlos Sainz – 130 points

Oscar Piastri – 107 points

Lewis Hamilton – 93 points

George Russell – 48 points

Alex Albon – 48 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points

Logan Sargeant – 32 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly - 12 points

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 447 points

Ferrari – 382 points

McLaren – 270 points

Mercedes – 141 points

Williams – 80 points

Aston Martin – 60 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpha Romeo – 14 points

Alpine – 12 points

Haas – 0 points

Max had gotten a long talking to after everything was over. Christian probably screamed at him for over an hour, plus what GP and then what Mitch had to say after. He had wanted to apologize beforehand, but it seemed as though Arthur didn’t wat Max near you within a 25 foot radius.

And when the Dutchman thought he could speak to you at the hotel, he had to find out the hard way that you had left that afternoon to go back to Monaco before the second Italian Grand Prix. Max huffed as he thought over what he should do.

Just as you had anxiety and guilt about the incident, Max dubbed his as 10 times worse. This was it. In the past, everyone told him that he always messed up teammates for other drivers. That’s why Daniil didn’t work out, or Carlos, or Daniel, or Pierre, or Alex, or Checo. One way or another, Max always fucked it up.

Well, that’s what his mind was telling him.

And he didn’t want you to just be another name to the list.

So with phone in hand, and pilot on call, he made the executive decision to fly back to Monaco. He knew exactly where your apartment was, since you gave me the address when you first moved in and a key for emergencies.

When he landed, he went straight to the grocery store. Knowing that you had the cooking skills of Arthur and Charles combined and the pickiness of Lando amplified, he guessed that you and Arthur probably haven’t had dinner yet. So, he grabbed ingredients to make pizza. Simple enough.

He drove to your flat and was suddenly enveloped with fear. He hit his head on the steering wheel once he parked.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispered to himself as he gazed at the lights on in the windows. His head was still on the wheel as he turned to look down. What he failed to notice was you looking through the window.

“Cheri? Is everything alright?” you heard Arthur call out from the kitchen. You two had just burnt some pasta while trying to make dinner. You gazed down at the familiar car parked in front.

“Cheri?”

Now Arthur was close, also looking out the window.

“It’s Max.”

The Monegasque scoffed. “What’s he doing here?”

You hummed. “He’s probably wanting to apologize. I know what he’s like. Thur, he didn’t mean it.”

Arthur’s eyes changed from cold to understanding. He had heard enough stories from his own brother along with gossip in the paddock about Max’s childhood (or lack thereof).

He huffed once before saying, “Go to him and then invite him up.”

He watched as your eyes lit up, before you placed a kiss on his lips. A smile formed on his lips as he watched you slide shoes on and go out the door. Arthur turned back to the kitchen. He guessed he needed to clean up before you invited thee Max Verstappen into the house.

Max was so caught in his head that he missed you peering in. Only when you slightly knocked on the door, did he jump. He accidentally pressed the horn, making it echo down the empty road. He quickly unlocked the door, which let you slip in.

His blue eyes gazed into yours before he started to cry. You looked at him with a frown on your face as he tried to desperately wipe his tears. He took many harsh inhales, trying to get his emotions under control.

Max expected you to yell, scream, and hit at him. Yet, you gently placed a hand on his back and started to comfort him, like he’s done many times before.

You let him cry and cry until he was ready to talk.

“I’m such an asshole,” was the first thing that escaped his lips after his sobs started to break.

You chuckled. “I could have told you that.”

Max’s lips curved upwards in a small smile before going straight once again. He took another shuddering breath before continuing.

“I don’t want to repeat the past. I am so sorry for what I did to you, that was unfair of me. I wanted to apologize before you left, but I was too late. And I didn’t want to end today without apologizing to you. Because I don’t want you to be another teammate that I failed.”

He turned to you, eyes still glossy with leftover tears.

You leaned to give him a hug across the dash, one that he was thankful for.

He was the first one to part, still wiping at his eyes. You only gazed at him with compassion. When he was done sniffling, you started to talk.

“Max, look at me please?”

He turned his head so his bloodshot blue eyes could look at you. He looked utterly exhausted and your heart broke. If he was anything like you, you knew how much guilt he was carrying.

“You’re not, we’re not, going to repeat the past. I just need you to understand that I am your team player. And when I’m given a team order, I will follow it every time.”

Max’s head nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you before I left the paddock. I heard Christian yelling at you.”

A snort left his nose. “It was probably for the best.”

The car was filled with a comfortable silence before Max broke it.

“Did you and Arthur have dinner yet?”

“Max. What do you think?”

“I’m going to take that as a no. Good think I bought groceries. Seriously, I am getting you and the Leclercs cooking lessons for Christmas.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You almost burnt down my entire kitchen.”

“Not on purpose.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 have pizza, teammate, and bestie - will travel

liked by maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, logansargeant, and 90,294 others

y/n&co guys I was super worried but now I'm perfectly fine

rookie+maxie guys I truly believe that y/n is going to stay his teammate for as long as possible

best_duo frfr - no one has been on his level and he finally has a teammate that can keep up with him

y/n.nation generational talent right there

maxverstappen1 glad I could feed you two

y/n.89 we would have been fine on our own maxverstappen1 sure, after you burnt your food and almost set your apartment on fire y/n.89 hey, Arthur was there too? arthur_leclerc what is with this slander?????

f1_fan guys guys guys, it's the Dutch Grand Prix and then MONZA hello?????

true_tifosi I know I want to see Charles win again, but y/n deserves something

dutch_anthem_on_repeat time for MAX MAX MAX SUPER MAX

orange_army we are ready with flags and capes, bring it on Netherlands!!

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asumofwords · 8 months

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Smut, P in V intercourse, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, creampie, angst, fighting.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello my babies, sorry for the like 2 hour delay, I've been crying after watching Atonement for the first time. I am unwell. I don't think I will ever be okay again lmao, I had to go watch Pride and Prejudice to make me feel better. Anyway, Enjoy ;) <3

Chapter 8: Boiling Point

Cregan ended up staying the night. Nothing sexually happened, but instead the man had held you against him the entire evening and whispered words of praise to you, assuring you that you were okay, and that things would be fine.

When you woke the next morning, you had felt the need to apologise to Aemond, Cregan’s chat to you the night before still running laps in your mind. Aemond was not used to kindness, perhaps he didn’t know what to do with it, and if he wasn’t going to initiate the first steps, you might as well try.

You didn’t want to have to spend the rest of your month in an awkward tension with the man you were living with. It was up to Aemond if he wanted to respond to the olive branch you would extend.

You snuck out of bed to leave the Stark man, still sleeping, hair half over his face, chest rising and falling heavily, behind you. You shut the door quietly with a click, eyes flitting up to find Aemond’s door still closed.

Usually he was up by now.

You moved to the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea, and a black coffee for Aemond. You weren’t sure how he took it, if he liked sugar or not, but decided that at least the attempt was worth something. Perhaps even speaking his own language, the tea he made you in the mornings your own interpretation of his civility. You hoped that the gesture portrayed the same meaning to him as it did to you.

But it was better than nothing.

You trudged to his door, tea and coffee in hand, steam winding its way off the two of them as you kicked softly at the wood in a knocking manner with your toes.

Knock Knock.

Silence was the only thing that you could hear from the other side of the door.

You knocked again, knock knock knock, shifting on your feet as you felt awkward and uncertain of what to do. You craned your head to look down the hall; His keys were still in the bowl.

Aemond was definitely in his room.

You tried to knock again, knock knock knock, watching the door knob expectantly, hoping to see it be turned and opened, but it didn’t. Taking it as a sign that he did not wish to be disturbed, you placed the mug of coffee on the floor in front of his door. You sighed in disappointment, but ultimately retreated into your room with your tail tucked between your legs.

If he wanted to speak with you, he would.

Cregan stirred in your bed, looking comically large in your sheets as he watched you enter, smiling at you sleepily. You put your tea on the bedside table, and crawled in beside him, his large palms pulling you against him almost immediately, tucking your head beneath his chin in habit. He yawned quietly and rubbed smoothing gestures up and down your back.

Your soft knocking must have woken him up. And yet, he did not exit his room.

You laid together in bed, drinking your tea as you strained your ears to hear if Aemond had exited his room, desperate to speak to him. You knew that he was in the wrong, that what he had said was inexcusable, but you had said some nasty things too, and after what Cregan told you the night before, it all made sense to you.

All his nastiness, bitterness, and sudden bouts of hot and cold all made sense, and with the added mystery of Alys, that was becoming less of a mystery to you now, you began to somewhat understand the man that was Aemond Targaryen.

It was hard to not sympathise with him. Hard to not try and understand the way that he was. The way he acted in the ways he did. How he was cold and aloof, not daring to let anyone close to him, and biting at anyone he deemed a threat; getting too close for comfort.

When you finally exited your room, Cregan sleepily following after you, you had given up waiting for anything to happen, for the sight of silver white hair to appear at your open bedroom door, or noises from within alert you to his movements. You walked past Aemond’s closed door, the now cold cup of coffee still sitting in front of it, steam long gone from the top, and a brown film having settled at the surface. You frowned at it, but opted to leave it.

You had tried, and it was proof of your effort.

Aemond could come to you when he was ready.

But after three days had passed, it seemed that Aemond was in fact not ready to talk to you, and had become more illusive than the Lochness Monster. You hadn’t seen his silver hair and mismatched eyes since that night, and a web of anxiety began to tug at your stomach again.

When you got home from work that day, you ran straight to the shower, frustration from Larys’ leering caused your shoulders to have tensed so terribly, that you felt an oncoming knot as you rode the train home. You stood under the shower for what could have been an hour, not caring if the hot water ran out, having it on the highest setting possibly, digging your knuckles into your trapezius to try and work out the stress.

By the time you had felt marginally calmer, your skin had wrinkled and pruned, and you had exited, spending extra time moisturising your body and fixing your hair, dressing into some pyjamas before you steadying yourself to face the music, making a promise to yourself that you would talk to him, and stay up all night if you had to.

Aemond would be better than Larys.

You hoped.

You cooked your dinner slowly, ears pricking to listen for the door and his return home, shifting occasionally to look over your shoulder in the hopes that he would appear silently in the lounge room as he sometimes did.

Anxiety and apprehension ate away at you, the ball of nervousness growing larger and larger the longer you waited. That nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave it, to just bask in the awkwardness of it all, but the other part of you longed for a connection with him, and to at least try to get through to him.

By the time you finished cooking, and ate your dinner in silence, keeping the TV on mute so that you could hear him approaching or if he tried to sneak back into the apartment, you had begun to grow rapidly tired, fingers digging into the sore muscle of your shoulder to try keep you awake.

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft scraping of keys in the front door. You sat up straighter, turning your attention to the hallway as you listened to Aemond drop his keys into the bowl quietly and make his way down the hall.

His violet eye met yours and you watched breathlessly as he stilled, looking at you sitting straight and tall on the couch as you waited for him. And as you gazed at him, you felt your mouth go dry.

Aemond was in his black running shorts and running shoes, hair in a low and messy bun, the front of his hair slicked to his forehead from sweat. His silver chain was around his neck as it always was, glinting it the light of the room.

But that was it.

That’s all Aemond wore.

Aemond was shirtless.

His stomach rippled as it tensed, porcelain skin glistening with sweat, a soft pink blush spreading across his chest and up his neck. A heat settled in your gut as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion.

The man blinked, abruptly turning his head away from you as he went straight to the kitchen, pulling down a glass of water quietly from the cupboard, filling it in the sink. The sound of the tap was loud in your ears.

You stood shakily, nervous and unsure of how to approach the conversation. Or even approach him. You didn’t know how he was going to react. What he was going to say or do.

Would he reject you entirely? Turn nasty again?

Or would he stare at you impassively and boredly?

You cleared your throat, stupid lump of anxiety stuck in the back of it as you stepped around the small coffee table and into the kitchen. Aemond’s back was still to you, shoulder blades moving as he drank, the bones of his ribs wrapped tightly with lean muscles, chest expanding with a deep inhale.

“Hey, um. Can we talk?” You held your hands in front of your legs, turning your fingers against one another nervously.

Gods, why did he make you so nervous?

Aemond swallowed the water that was in his mouth, turning his head slightly to the side to indicate that he had heard you, though not audibly responding back, nor even moving to look at you, his back still to you as he moved to refill his glass again.

You opened your mouth to try again, to garner a reaction, a show that he was listening other than the slight tilt of his head like a parent who was disapproving of their child. But by the time you worked up the courage again to speak, the glass about half full, Aemond spoke.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Came his low response, almost drowned out by the sound of the running water.

Oh for fucks sake.

“I think there’s plenty to talk about, actually.” You argued softly.

You took a sighing breath and continued, Here goes nothing, “I think that we both owe each other an apology.”

Aemond turned off the tap with more force than what was needed, “What?”

You sighed, watching as he turned around to face you, brows narrowed as he looked down his nose at you.

Was he surprised? Offended?

Why was he looking at you as though he didn’t understand your intentions?

You swallowed, “About the other night. I think we both said some things that we didn’t mean.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, but he did not respond.

Why was he being like this?

You brushed your hair away from your face roughly, feeling small and vulnerable in front of him.

Desperate, His words rang in your ear.

“I think,” You licked your lips, not sure how to go forward, “I think that what happened was not okay. And what you said to me was not okay. But what I said to you, was definitely not right either.” Another deep breath, trying to stem the rambling confession.

Why was this so hard?

“And I wanted to apologise for that. I shouldn’t have brought her up, and I definitely shouldn’t have implied that you were at fault in your relationship with her. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, it’s none of my business, and I regret saying what I did.” You nibbled at your lip anxiously, watching as the Targaryen’s mouth twitched.

Silence curled around the two of you, and the longer you waited, the more you realised perhaps he thought you wished to continue. That perhaps he was waiting for you to say moe, or those two words that you felt suddenly begrudged to do.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I was disrespectful and rude, but I was hurting. That’s not an excuse, but I think it's a bit of an explanation. Or at least, I hope it is.” You parroted Cregan’s words.

Not an excuse, an explanation.

You stared at him for what felt like forever, watching as he breathed shallowly, leant back against the bench, fingers twitching over his glass of water. He took a sip, and then another, and you watched as you thought he was finding the words to say, as though he was thinking of different ways to apologise to you, but by the time the glass became half full it became more and more apparent that Aemond had no intentions to say anything.

No apology.

No rebuttal.

No thanks.

Nothing.

Anger began to simmer inside of you.

“Are you going to say anything?”

Silence.

You shook your head sadly, pushing down the heat that rose in your chest, now was not the time to become angry, “I’m trying, Aemond. I’m really trying to be understanding, but you hurt me. You made me feel so used after what we did.” But the heat pushed its way through you; Shame, embarrassment, anger, “I don’t understand what I have done to warrant your anger. Please just tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can apologise and set things right. I don’t like this animosity between us, I don’t like feeling like I’m nothing in your eyes, that I’m lesser than or a nuisance.” You felt tears begin to build, “I don’t like feeling like I have to walk on eggshells in my own home, or that I have to worry about my roommates brother hating me. I don’t want Helaena to come home and have to deal with this mess.”

Aemond frowned deeply, setting down his glass on the kitchen bench, “I don’t hate you.”

Your brows cinched together in confusion, “Then why are you so cruel? You have been nothing but cold to me since you moved in. I’ve tried so hard to be nice, to-to include you in things I didn’t need to, but you give me nothing in return!”

Damn your anger. But you were wounded, and lashing out.

The silver haired man sucked his tongue loudly, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Want from you?” You were confused, “Aemond, I want you to treat me with some basic human decency, and maybe, if I’m really lucky, have you apologise for calling me desperate after we- what we did.”

Aemond’s eye dragged over your face, sliding down your chest to watch the way you heaved worked up breaths. And yet he still stayed silent, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as he looked down at you.

A wave of hurt crashed over your head, and you scoffed, “Unbelievable. I don’t know why I even bothered.” You spun on your heel, moving to make your way back to your room. To go hide. To not let him see the hurt or the shame that you felt. To curl into your sheets and just disappear.

You don’t know why you thought things could change, that he could be kinder.

You felt like a fool.

Aemond’s arm shot out and grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him. You turned, other hand trying to pry his fingers off of your wrist, the long digits not budging.

“If you would just wait a second, instead of storming off again.” He growled in annoyance.

You recoiled in his grip, “How much longer do you want me to embarrass myself as I wait for you to say two fucking words? It’s not that hard, Aemond.”

His eye narrowed, “This stuff doesn’t come easy to me, if you-“

“-Spoken like a true asshole. ‘Apologising isn’t something I ever do.’” You mocked his tone, “Let go of me, Aemond, I’m done. I’m not playing your little games anymore. You can fuck off for all I care.”

Aemond did not let go, “You think this is a game?”

“What else would it be?”

The Targaryen’s eye flicked back and forth on your face. Yet he said nothing.

Digging your fingers into his hand you tried to tug yourself from his grip angrily, “Let go of me.” You tried to pull your wrist away again, Aemond’s grip getting tighter, “I said-“

“-I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke quietly.

You stared at him angrily, hand dropping from his own that gripped your wrist.

“For?”

Aemond’s lip twitched, “For being a dick.”

“All together now.” You encouraged him, staring up at him in anger.

A brow lifted on his face as he looked down at you, “Now look who’s being the dick. I’m trying to apologise to you.”

“Shit fucking apology.” You snapped.

Aemond ran a hand through the front of his hair, messed and slick tresses sticking up in different ways, and yet he still looked ruggish- NO, “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/n. I’m sorry, okay? You didn’t deserve that. I was a dick, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“You were. You were- sorry- are a fucking asshole who treats everyone around him like they’re beneath his designer shoe.”

“I don-“

“-‘I don’t’. You don’t know much do you?”

Aemond’s jaw ticked, “Look,” He all but growled, “I’m trying-“

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

You don’t know why you kept at it. You don’t know why you were provoking him, pushing him, not taking his shitty little apology and calling it a day, but it was just that. A shitty little apology, and it felt like there was no meaning behind the words nor promise of change. Like a chore he had been tasked to do.

He just made you so angry, all the damn time. His arrogance, his cock sure smirk, the way he even held himself. It was infuriating. Intoxicating. It-

No. Stop it.

The hand around your wrist tightened, and you watched as Aemond’s chest rose and fell sharply, cheek twitching. His face hardened as he looked down at you, and the tiny voice in the back of your brain screamed ‘Predator! Run!’

But you didn’t.

“What else do you want me to do?” He said lowly, pushing himself off of the kitchen bench, his chest bumping into yours, “You want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

You don’t know why you said it, you don’t know why your brain even reacted the way it did, but there was something about Aemond that made you want to push him. Made you want to see him react.

And so you goaded him.

“Yes.”

The tall silver haired man pressed a tongue in his cheek, “You want me to react, don’t you? Such a brat.”

You blinked.

Fuck.

Aemond’s lip twitched as he watched you blanch, his head tilting to look down at you with his lone seeing eye. It sent shivers down your spine, and your core clenched instinctually around nothing.

“You just keep being a bratty little bitch so that I be a dick to you, huh? Did you even want an apology? Or did you want me to put you in your place? Finish what we started?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to make a point that you did want that apology, but Aemond pulled you forward with his grip on your wrist, the other hand gripping the back of your neck, crashing his lips against yours.

It was all teeth and desperation, nipping at each other, pulling at each others hair, hands gripping each other roughly. It was a culmination of the tension, the elastic band that had been stretched out, pulled so taut that it finally snapped back.

Aemond tasted like smoke and water, tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you, holding his mouth against yours, groaning into your lips as he held you, the both of you fighting for dominance. You pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth sharply, pressing your body up against him.

Long fingers dipped under your sleep shirt, pulling it up and over your head, the top forgotten on the tiled kitchen floor, a chill spreading across your chest as you leant into him for warmth. Aemond’s hands skated up your sides, coming to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking teasingly over your nipples. You moaned into his mouth, nipples stiffening into peaks.

Aemond’s hands were so large you noted as he held you, and you mewled quietly into his mouth as his hands skated sideways, covering your ribs entirely as he spun you around, lifting you with little effort to sit you on the kitchen bench.

The kiss was broken as you were lifted, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, pressing a teasing kiss to your sternum before moving to lap at a nipple with his tongue. Your hands flew to the back of his head, pressing him against you as you hissed, feeling his teeth graze over the stiffened peak.

“Fuck.” You whined.

Aemond slotted himself between your thighs, your legs instinctually wrapping around him to bring him closer. You could feel his hard length against your inner thigh as he rolled his hips, swapping to the other breast to pay it the same attention as the other, whilst a hand slid down your body to cup your core softly. Your hips rolled into his hand, desperate for more, desperate to get the friction you so desperately needed.

And yet he kept his hand still, just cupping you.

Teasing you.

“Please.” You begged, rolling your hips again into his palm, grasping his wrist to try and move his hand to dip beneath your pyjama shorts.

Aemond chuckled against your chest, moving away from the sensitive nipple with a flick of his tongue which sent your back arching into him, “So needy.”

You growled in annoyance, hands moving to the front of his pants, hoping that it would speed him along. As soon as your hand grazed his length, your eyes widened, looking down.

He was big.

Really big.

“Oh.” You said quietly, blush erupting on your cheeks, looking down at the long and thick outline in his pants, “Fuck.”

Those sweatpants had done him a disservice.

Aemond looked down at you hungrily, pupil blown wide with lust and lips reddened from your kiss. His eye dropped down to where your gaze had fallen, one finger tracing up and down his length, a shiver running over his body.

He grabbed your chin, crashing his lips to yours again as he ground into your palm, his hands coming to shimmy his pants down his hips, kicking them off, his cock slapping against his stomach, heavy with want. He toed his shoes and socks of next in a rush, pants falling from his mouth. Your palm gripped him tightly, moving from base to tip as he sighed into you. He was hot in your pam, long and girthy, with the tip wet with his arousal.

As you gripped him you realised just how large the man was. It was always the skinny white boys that were equipped with cocks like this, you thought. So unsuspecting in their lean stature, but their missing body mass had to go somewhere you supposed.

Aemond was no exception to the rule.

Your hand could barely wrap around it.

You wondered briefly if it would even fit.

Aemond pulled backwards as you whined desperately at the loss of him, but the disappointment was short lived as his hands gripped your hips and ripped your shorts off in one swift movement before slotting himself back between your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bench. His length lined up with your soaked core, rubbing his tip through your folds to gather the slick at your entrance.

Aemond wasted no time, too impatient and pent up to wait or even prepare you, and so he pushed inside of you with one swift thrust.

You had never felt so full in your life.

You moaned loudly, head thrown back as you felt the stretch of him, his length splitting you apart and filling you entirely. Each inch of him pressed deliciously against your walls as you breathed heavily, eyes dropping back to his face.

Aemond stilled for one moment, a moment of mercy, to give you time to accommodate to his size, but that second of kindness was short lived, and the man gripped your hips bruisingly, pulling out slowly, so that you could feel every ridge and vein, before diving back into your centre with long and harsh rut.

You cried out loudly, hands gripping his shoulders as Aemond began to fuck into you at a brutal pace, not once slowing as his length bullied every inch of your walls. The kitchen was filled with the sound of his hips clapping against yours, the lewd slick wet of your folds and the moans and whines that dripped from your lips like honey.

It was nothing like you had ever felt before.

Where Cregan was large, Aemond was larger, longer in length that reached deeper and further than the other man, each thrust caused blooming pleasure to shoot up into your gut, warmth winding down your limbs.

You gripped the back of Aemond’s head and pulled him down, biting at his lips and kissing him angrily, still all teeth and spite, pouring your frustration into him with every nip or press of your lips against his despite the pleasure he was bringing you.

One hand left your hip and gripped the back of your neck, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, before squeezing the sides of your neck, little bits of pain sprinkling down your spine as he held you forcefully.

Aemond broke away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he looked down to watch where you were joined. The entire length of his cock was slick with your arousal, pooling between your cheeks and the kitchen bench below, dripping down to his sack.

You had never been so wet in your life.

Oh Gods.

“Fuck, fuck.” You keened, hands gripping his shoulders so tightly you were sure it would bruise, nails digging into his skin, leaving tiny half moons in his flesh, as you felt the coil within wind embarrassingly quick.

Aemond grunted, “You gonna cum?”

You nodded your head shakily, motion stunted with his grip at the back of your neck.

“Good. Want to feel you cumming on my cock. Fuck.”

Your knuckles ached from how you were holding onto him, and with each sharp and fast thrust, Aemond’s tip bullied your g-spot, sparks of pleasure exploding behind your eyes, your release barrelling towards you so quickly it was just within reach.

“So fucking tight.” Aemond panted, “Such a perfect little pussy. Fuck, such a good girl.”

You sighed dreamily at the praise, walls gripping him tightly.

Aemond hissed, “You like that, huh? You like being my good girl? Being such a good girl for daddy, taking his cock so well.” Aemond sucked in another hiss, “Look at you.”

Your bit your lip and hummed, eyes half hooded in lust as you tilted your hips forward towards him, your peak beginning to take over.

“There you go, good girl. Good girl, cum on my cock, come on. Fuck. So pretty.” He praised you, thrusts becoming more brutal, “You’re so fucking pretty, little pussy stretched out on my cock. Looking so fucking pretty like that.”

You moaned needle, whimpering as his length buried into you unforgivingly, “You like daddy’s cock, baby? Huh? Yeah you do.”

His words crashed over you, core fluttering around him as you dumbly nodded your head at him, small mewls and ‘yes’’ falling from your lips with ease.

“Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.” Fingers began to swirl on your bud, dragging you dangerously close to the edge, “Come on baby, I know you can do it, can feel you getting so tight.”

Your moans grew loudly, pants and sobs falling from your lips as Aemond continued to thrust into your soaked core, finger swirling roughly on you to drag you closer to climax, “Such a pretty dumb little baby, aren’t you? Want you to fucking soak me.”

Pleasure exploded within you, winding up your body powerfully as you shook in his grip, Aemond’s hips stuttering slightly as he fucked you through your release, a long and high pitched moan being ripped from your chest.

“Fuck, good girl. Cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck you feel so good, fuck.” Your walls clenched around him, feeling each drag of his length against your sensitive walls, “There you are, such a good baby, such a pretty little girl aren’t you?”

Aemond rutted into your heat furiously, chasing his own peak, pace becoming sloppier as his stomach tensed, muscles rippling up his chest and down his back, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Aemond’s thrusts stuttered, “Where- Where-“

You blinked up at him, eyelids heavy, “Inside me. Please daddy.”

Aemond’s hips stuttered, “Fuck, gonna fill this pretty little pussy.” He thrust inside rapidly, prolonging your pleasure as breathless mewls were ripped out of you.

Aemond bent over you, brows furrowing as his lips parted, panting as he reached his peak, a ragged moan falling from his lips as he pushed to his limit inside of you, warmth filling you as his thick ropes of his seed coated your walls.

You breathed heavily beneath him, core clenching around his length in aftershocks as you felt him fill you up. Tingles spread through you as you both came down from your highs, your body feeling like it was floating.

You gazed up at him through your lashes. Aemond’s head was tilted down, plump reddened lips slightly parted with his seeing eye shut. His long white lashes fluttering against his cheek as he breathed.

Your chest clenched as you looked at him.

Fuck.

He is so pretty.

The pink of his tongue came out to wet is lips as he looked back up at you, a small smile winding on his face, “You ok?”

You nodded sluggishly, feeling the hand at the back of your neck loosen its grip, smoothing the muscle in soft circles that made your eyes slip shut. Aemond continued for a moment longer before moving his hand to the side of your face, brushing the hair that had fallen across your cheeks and forehead away from your face soothingly.

You hummed quietly and leant your face in his palm, calloused fingers cupping your cheek as he moved to press a soft kiss against your lips. You squirmed under his touch, heat blooming inside of you again as your walls clamped down on him. Aemond chuckled into your mouth, pulling away to press another kiss on your cheek.

“You did good, baby. So good.” He praised you, and you felt heat flood your cheeks as you looked at him, warmth spreading across your chest and want coursing through you. You smiled up at him shyly, keening, pressing a kiss into his palm.

Large hands skated down your arms as you felt the buzz of your release, Aemond cock still twitching inside of you as your mind felt hazy. Aemond kneaded your ass in his hands as he pulled you closer to him, his length pressing snugly against your cervix.

In one swift movement he lifted you up into his arms, a small squeak breaking from your lips as he turned your around and carried you to your bedroom, cock still nestled inside of you. Each step caused his tip to press into you, pleasure simmering through you. You shifted and wriggled in his hold the entire time.

Aemond hissed as he opened your bedroom door, dragging his hips back to pull out of you. You immediately felt empty and whined at the loss, feeling a trickle of warmth escape your core and into the crux of your thighs. Aemond hushed you as he bent down, lowering you to the bed.

A feeling of anxiety prickled in your chest as he stood to his full height.

He was going to leave again.

And then he was going to be an asshole to you once more.

How could you be so stupid, how could-

“I'll be right back.” Aemond reassured you, bending down to press a kiss atop your head, leaving your room.

You heard the linen closet open and close, and then the soft hum of water in the bathroom running. You waited anxiously, shifting on the bed as you felt a trickle of his cum and the warmth of your own release begin to leak from you.

Aemond returned to your room in no time, face cloth in hand. He made his way over to you slowly, looking down at you on the bed. “Lay back.” He said quietly, air of dominance still around him though softer this time.

You obeyed, and laid down against the plush of the pillows on your bed, feeling exhaustion begin to wind its way up inside of you. Limbs feeling like lead and body buzzing with the warmth fo your peak.

Aemond pressed the warm wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning you of your combined releases that lay sticky and slick to your inner thighs. He was careful to not press too hard, wary of your sensitivity, and once he was done, he chucked the cloth into your laundry basket, tucking you beneath the sheets.

He stood to leave the room, but your hand reached out to grab his wrist. You caught him just barely, fingers gathering the grip to hold him to you. His skin was warm, and he looked down at you slowly, the softness of his face gone, and the cool mask you had grown to know slipping in place.

“Stay.” You whispered into the dark of the room.

Aemond shifted, your thumb rubbing against his inner wrist softly, soothingly, trying to tempt him to hold you.

“I can’t.” Came his quiet response, so very quiet in the already still room, the sounds of the city having faded away.

“Why?”

His head ducked down, pressing a kiss against your hair line, “Shh. Rest.”

“But-“

“-Rest. You need to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, the pit in your gut sinking further, but the way he was looking at you was uncertain. Like a skittish animal ready to take flight, as though he was reserving something within, and it all showed in his violet eye.

“You’ve been good, so good. Now get some sleep, you have work in the morning.”

You didn’t have it within you to fight him, to battle it or argue, and so with a nod of your head, you slid further beneath the sheets, releasing the grip on his hand. You watched as he turned to walk out of the room, hand from the wrist you had grabbed flexing outwardly before he shut the door quietly behind him.

When you woke that morning you had expected to see him, having woken up earlier than usual in the hopes of catching him before he moved to his instinctual and habitual run. But Aemond had woken far earlier that morning, and you had to tell yourself to not let your heart skip the way it did when you noticed his absence.

As you dressed and readied for work, and moved to the kitchen as you always did, there it was.

Your steaming mug of tea.

Ready to be drunk by you, and made by the man you still did not quite understand perfectly.

It was as if every time he even let a brick of his walls down, he would put them back up, and install reinforcements. As though he struggled to let anyone in, or feared to. You had chalked it up to his upbringing with the strange dynamic that was the Hightower/Targaryen family, or perhaps there was more to what had happened with him and Alys.

The day went slowly as you had expected it to do, and by the time you had gotten home, Aemond was there, loose shirt and baggy pants, bent over the stove as he cooked dinner. His music, as usual, played loudly in the kitchen, what had surprised you however was the familiar tune of Lana Del Rey’s - Shades Of Cool playing through your speaker.

Huh.

You didn’t take him as a Lana fan.

You greeted him from behind cautiously, careful to not startle the man from running away from you again. He had turned slowly, as though he had anticipated your arrival, no doubt by the time you finished work and got home as per usual, creature of weekly habit you were, and had given you a small but kind smile.

You sidled up beside him as he cooked, and told him about your day, and he had told you bare footnotes about his. Aemond had apparently discovered a new bookstore that day, and you had made him promise to take you soon.

It was odd.

The air around you was charged but neither of you acted upon it, or pointed out, the both of you all too eager to let it extend for the time that it was there. Aemond did not push you away, and you did not push him to anger.

You ate dinner together, watching television, the tension ripe with the elephant in the room, but neither one of you broached on the topic of what had happened the night before, or how the dynamic between the two of you had clearly shifted.

When dinner was over, you had helped him to pack the dishwasher and insisted on him sitting on the couch and to wait for you. You dug into the back of the freezer where your favourite ice cream tub sat, and pulled two large spoons from the drawer.

“Here.” You handed him a spoon, sitting beside him on the couch, closer than usual, hips and thighs connected and a smile on your face.

Aemond took the spoon and looked at the tub, watching as you took the lid off and chucked it on the coffee table in front of you, curling your legs up beneath you and offering him the first scoop. He scooped a generous spoon and dipped it into his mouth, humming as his tongue curled to lick the remainder of the icecream off of the spoon. You licked your lips subtly, shifting in your seat.

Gods damn him.

“It's good.” He mused, dipping another spoon in, “Probably one of my favourites.”

“Really?” Your heart raced in your chest, “Mine too. I have to hide it in the back of the fridge when Helaena gets high. She will demolish the whole tub in seconds if you blink.” You giggled at the memory of smoking with your best friend, going to shower, and coming back to her on the couch with an empty tub of ice cream.

“Sounds like Hel.” Aemond chuckled.

You leant against him for the remainder of the night, watching tv, tub of ice cream finished between the two of you, sticky spoons stuck against the coffee tables surface, forgotten. At one point his arm had lifted and tucked over your shoulder, pulling you further into his side.

Your heart raced at first, stomach doing flips, but soon you settled into it, head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his scent curling around you warmly. It was nice to not be bickering, to see him let one of his many walls down for however long it would last.

But as usual, nothing lasts forever.

Because as you were tucked to his side, the softness of his fingers skating over your skin, you could not help but think of what this meant.

What this was.

What it would be.

With Cregan it was cut dry, there was no lingering feelings there anymore on either side, and it felt normal, comfortable, but your heart didn’t race if he held your hand, or kissed the side of your face, and it certainly didn’t race when he would cuddle up to watch a movie with you and Hel.

With Cregan it was simple. But Aemond? That was something else. Your heart did race when he touched you, and right now, you prayed to the Gods that he couldn’t hear it beating like a drum in your chest.

But it wasn’t just the small touches, it was his proximity too. When he would reach over your head in the kitchen to grab something from the cupboard. When he would sit just that smidge closer to you on the couch. How he had been so near to you in the kitchen as you fought.

Because no matter what he did, whether he was being quiet, or brooding, or snarky, or his rarer and more fleeting moments of kindness, your heart would race. Your cheeks would heat and this warmth in your gut would settle heavily. And it was then that you knew you were fucked.

You didn’t know what to do, his hand on your arm, stroking up and down softly making your mind run a million miles an hour.

Did you ask what this was?

What you were?

Surely he felt what you felt. It was different. It was more. There was more to this than something casual, more to this than some convenient fuck of your best friends brother. Because there was danger to this, a risk that you had both taken. There was things that you could both loose from this. Losses that mounted higher with each moment you sat together in silence.

You had only fucked once, almost twice if you counted the first time in the kitchen. So why did it already feel like something more?

Sitting in your questions, you felt Aemond shift, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“It’s getting late. I’m going to go to bed.” He told you, removing his arm from you as he stood up. You watched him give you a controlled and small smile, clipped at the corners of his mouth, before he moved to walk away, disappearing down the hall and into his room with a click of his door.

But it was the way that he smiled at you that settled an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. It felt like he was separating himself from you again. And so you went after him, jumping up from your seat to follow him down the hall, opening his door to see him already sitting on the edge of his bed head in his hands.

His face lifted, looking straight at you as you stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. His head cocked to the side, brows slightly furrowing as you looked at him, gnawing at your lip as you fought for the words to say.

“Last night-“ You began, twisting your hands together at your front.

“-Was a mistake, I know.”

You blinked, swallowing dryly.

What?

“A mistake?” You furrowed your brows.

Aemond’s mask slid back into place, cold gaze looking up are you as he spoke, “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re Helaena’s best friend. It was wrong of me.”

It felt as though he had slid a dagger between your ribs, “Why?”

“Because it’s not going to work out the way you think.”

He was pushing you away again.

“And what way do I think it will work out?”

“That this will be more than what it was.”

You blanched, “What?” Irritation began to spoil in your gut.

Why did he always do this? Why did he always get these reactions from you?

“I can’t give you what you want.”

“Do you think I expect flowers and declarations of love after that?” The words felt bitter on your tongue, heart aching in your chest, battling the tears in your eyes, “I was under no illusion that it would be more.”

Aemond’s brows raised in a mocking way, lips pulled down into a frown, “Are you sure?”

Anger soared through you, “Fuck you, you arrogant prick.”

“See,” A long hand lazily flicked up at you, “You’re already hurt. I didn’t want this.”

Didn’t want this.

You sniffed, “It’s because you’re being a complete fucking asshole.”

The silver haired man pushed an irritated tongue into his cheek as he shifted on the bed, turning his entire body towards you and sneered, “And what do you want me to do? You knew who I was when you fucked me. Did you think you could get my cock wet and I would change? Be a better man? Be the man who Cregan can’t be for you?”

Your mouth gaped, shock spreading across your chest, “Don’t bring him into this. He has nothing to do with this.”

Aemond scoffed loudly, rolling his eye up to the ceiling, “You don’t think that your boy toy loves you? Have you seen the way he looks at you? You’re dragging him along for a ride whilst you fuck me on the side.”

“What me and Cregan do is none of your fucking business. And you’re the one to talk, what about Alys? Are you not dragging me along on the side?”

“Don’t.”

The air in the room went icy.

But the heat and anger inside pushed you forward, “So, what? You can bring up Cregan but I can’t bring up her? Tit for tat, Aemond.” You spat.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Anger exploded within, “And neither do you! You have been so incredibly rude to Cregan, who has given you nothing but the benefit of the doubt and kindness that you certainly don’t deserve. You know he even told me to be nicer to you. You?!” You watched as Aemond frowned, “You are the most judgemental man I have ever fucking met. You sulk in your room all day or on runs, take cheap shots at everyone around you when they even try to be nice to you, and make it almost impossible for anyone to like you.”

The sneer fell from Aemond’s lips, “I don’t need anyone to like me.”

You sighed, “That's your problem, Aemond! You’re isolating yourself for no other reason than that you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

You took a step towards him, watching as he looked you over warily, “Yes you are. You’re afraid to let anyone get close to you. What happened to you as a kid-“

“-What do you know about what happened to me?” The sneer was back.

Fuck.

“Nothing! That’s the point. You don’t let anyone in, but I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends.”

A pang of sadness spread across your chest, “Everyone needs friends.” You shook your head sadly, “Aemond, I’m not doing this with you again. I can’t keep doing this when all you do is push me away. It’s like fighting with a brick wall and it’s hurting me more than its being productive. I’m trying to be nice to you, I want to be your friend, Aemond. But if you don’t want to accept that people can be nice to you, that I can be nice to you, then that’s something you need to work through alone.”

Aemond’s back straightened on the bed, as though he was about to stand, but shook his head instead, pushing his hands into the mattress as though to keep him there, “You don’t really like me. You just want to fuck me to make Cregan jealous.”

You frowned, “Is that all you think this is?”

Silence.

Your chest clenched sadly.

You sighed, “Goodnight, Aemond. I really hope that you think about this before you go to sleep, because I can’t keep doing this with you.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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back2bluesidex · 8 months

Text

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes”

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago.

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements.

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin.

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you.

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous.

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself.

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear.

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin.

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback.

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-”

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not.

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless.

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing.

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity.

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?”

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?”

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well.

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring.

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you.

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth.

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?”

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already.

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly.

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak.

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down.

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all.

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you.

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear.

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name.

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight.

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination.

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water.

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way.

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him.

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably.

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.”

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night.

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case.

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm.

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you.

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of.

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside.

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone.

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world.

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line.

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess."

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you.

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more."

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.”

“Yeah. see you.”

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it.

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process.

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure.

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit.

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants.

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit.

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock.

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you.

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend.

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure.

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second.

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out.

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly.

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away.

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours.

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower.

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another.

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more.

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes.

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot.

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets.

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more.

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee Reasons behind seeking help: 1. Changes in behavior 2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares 4. Mild panic attacks

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table.

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.”

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight.

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.”

You nod understanding his point of view.

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks.

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe?

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers.

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair.

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin.

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything.

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door.

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend.

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests.

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll.

You almost coo at the sight.

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one.

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby.

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend.

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight.

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside.

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly.

Her cuteness makes you giggle.

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind.

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians.

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.”

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features.

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.”

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat.

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair.

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head.

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?”

Sua stays silent.

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones.

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth.

The change is welcomed anyway.

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it.

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet.

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question.

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer.

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing.

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies.

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds.

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well.

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung.

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung.

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?”

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad.

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes.

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods.

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?”

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.”

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly.

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.”

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him.

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk.

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months.

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

#bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #hoseok scenarios #jhope angst #jhope smut

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vandnana · 1 year

Text

In Love With The Enemy [I]

Chapter 1: Why So Blue?

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst ~ slow burn, pining on lo’ak’s part

highlights: [lo’ak already having a crush on the reader after LITERALLY almost trying to kill her, jake and reader have their tearful reunion!, quaritch still in his toxic dad era, and lo’ak admiring reader in the bioluminescence of the forest]

word count: 9,332

note: hello! thank you all again for waiting for this part! a couple things...when i was writing, i got soo carried away, but i couldn’t help writing in moments of reader with lo’ak in their first encounters cause shes totally intrigued and he has an effect on her, but both of them are in that awkward staring phase??? with that being said, i hope you enjoy!!

[Prologue] [chapter 2]

Light infiltrated your senses, invading your shut eyes as you heard voices around you, the sounds distant at first, but slowly heightening as you came to. Opening them, the fluorescent lights stunned you, your hand instinctively finding its way to the front of your face. You pulled it away, the sight so shocking that you figured you were in hell, punished to be what you had failed to protect.

You were blue, a Na’vi, adorned in hospital gowns with wires attached all over your body.

You felt sharp pains in your head and pangs in your heart, endless memories flooding your mind in swarms, the happiness, the pain, the loss...you remembered it all as you took in your surroundings.

You got up instantly, pulling off the wires as you searched around, your vision becoming less blurry as you continued to blink.

You looked for Grace first before you realized she was gone, murdered by your father, the agony once cauterized now festering into an open wound as the memory sunk stones in your heart. You were looking around for Jake, Norm and, Trudy, but they were nowhere to be found. You were alone, heartbroken, and confused.

“Whoo! Looks like the baby’s awake!” You heard from behind the door, other blue figures walking in wearing full camo, all of them strutting over to you.

In your newly awakened shock, you had a delayed reaction to your body just waking up, your muscles suddenly feeling like jelly as you kept yourself steady on the bed with your hands. As everyone filed in, you hoped that at least one of them would be Jake, but you sunk your shoulders as you realized who they were.

Wainfleet, Warren, Zdinarsk, and Fike. They were the soldiers you grew up training with, all cut from the same obnoxious and arrogant rock.

Wainfleet shook your shoulders, laughing loudly as he looked at your expression, your teeth gritted as you did your best to hide how much you despised all of them, “Hey y/n, why so blue?”

The rest of them laughed aloud with him, and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you aggressively, which only made him erupt with more laughter, “Still as feisty as ever.” Wainfleet sighed.

Lagging behind, one last person walked through the door, and unlike the rest of the regiment, he was wearing hospital gowns like you were. When he turned toward you, you recognized him right away.

It was Quaritch, your father, the man you owed your life to when you were human.

But it wasn’t really him.

He had become his worst nightmare and in seeing him, you were convinced that you really had been damned to hell. He was Na’vi too and a real sight for sore eyes, his movements awkward and almost repulsed as he approached, like he wanted to jump out of his own skin. The only comfort that he seemed to take refuge in was seeing you, his daughter, his prodigy.

He hugged you and for the first time, he smiled. “My little girl, real nice to see you.”

You hardly shared the same sentiment, the comfort you should have felt replaced by torment and pain. Your memories with your father were consumed by both, and in that moment, that was all you could feel. It was rare for him to ever hug you like this. You never felt any warmth from his embraces, just a temporary sense of relief that you had done something right, that you didn’t disappoint him. You had endured it all your life, desperately clinging to the good things he did, your gratefulness to him for saving you from a worthless life overwhelming any rational thought.

Your father seemed to be the one savoring the feeling of holding you, the roles unexpectedly reversed as he, for the first time in his life, clung to you, like you were the only tether to who he once was.

Before, you would have considered yourself lucky, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and savoring that feeling. But as you sat on the bed, you kept your arms at your sides and your eyes glued to the ceiling, biting your cheek as you fought every urge to give into your anger, to push him off you and make him pay for what he did to Grace.

You took a deep breath in, relaxing as you faced forward again, “I’d be stupid to believe that we were brought back for a simple reunion. Why are we here? And how are we avatars?” You had a firm tone, almost emotionless besides your lifted syllable at the end to indicate your question.

Quaritch let go of you, a proud, satisfied grin on his face as he pulled back, “Perceptive as always.”

He crossed his arms, “All of us got our ticket punched the last time we were on Pandora, and for the sins of our past we have been brought back to life in the form of our enemy to complete one simple task.”

“What’s the mission?” You remained stoic, mirroring your father as you crossed your arms.

He chuckled lightly, his tone suddenly confident as his eyes reflected his renewed sense of purpose, “We’ve been ordered to eliminate the leader of the Na’vi insurgency known as Toruk Makto.”

The emotion you held in burst out in the surprise you showed in your widened eyes. Unfolding your arms, you felt a flit of relief settle in your heart, “Jake’s alive?”

He turned his head, the rest of your regiment whooping with excitement, their smirks irradiating a sinister aura as they gathered around your father.

“That’s right, y/n. Sully’s alive.” Your father gloated, his eyes ferocious with vengeance, “And we’re gonna kill him.”

He gave you no chance to protest, walking out with the rest of the regiment as he pointed to the clothes beside you, “Now, go on and get dressed. We got an hour before Pandora insertion.”

You grabbed the clothes from the table, your hands tightening around them and your breathing ragged as you could feel your frustrations finally spill out.

You had been born again, but at what cost?

The same people that sent you to Pandora were the same people that made an unholy decision, reaching into the past and plucking you out of the comfort of death just to reclaim the glory they still believed was theirs.

When you had awoken, you had figured you had damned yourself for all eternity, and in learning about your new mission, you were right. You were thrust back into your own nightmare, a horrible repeat of the life you had once known, your orders betraying what you had in your heart, just like it did before.

You wanted no part in reclaiming glory and rewriting your father’s failure, but it was the only reason why your heart was even beating. Your mind was only just catching up on your grief, the loss so fresh and so vivid that you felt guilty to have that heartbeat.

You were the Colonel’s daughter.

Why did you deserve to live when Grace was dead? Why did you get a second chance at life when your only reason for breathing was to destroy Jake?

Everything about your life now was born from selfishness, the selfishness of Sky People that had no respect for philosophies regarding life and wholly disregarded the notions that dead things should stay dead.

You didn’t know what happened to Trudy or Norm, but you naturally thought the worst, and that made your mere existence even more unbearable. You weren’t sure how long it had been since you died, but for you, you never felt that time pass, never felt the pain of being gone from those you love. It felt cruel to be alive, the torment of it aching you as you thought of how Jake must have felt when you died and how much it must have hurt.

You looked up, your eyes catching a glimpse of your reflection in the metal lining of the walls. You touched your face lightly as you stared, so bewildered by how you looked. You weren’t the old you anymore, only the shell of your humanity in the semblance of your features.

And for the first time since you woke, you smiled, “If only Grace could see me now.” You mumbled to yourself, the sadness of losing her still lingering behind the calm that settled over you at having thought about her.

You got up, finally deciding to change out of your gowns, and you could have sworn you heard Grace’s voice in the back of your mind, telling you what she always loved to tell you, how you were smarter than you let yourself believe and how you had a heart bigger than the soldiers you were surrounded by.

You took a look at yourself again, those words that felt as if they were just spoken yesterday shrouded over you. It felt unfair to be alive, and that guilt was deep inside of you, but you pushed that feeling aside as your own sense of purpose triumphed over it.

Whatever it took, whatever you needed to do, you were going to save what was left of your family.

You were going to save Jake.

It was two minutes until Pandora insertion, your breather on as you waited for your descent onto the planet. You were quiet, keeping to yourself as you rode along with everyone else, absorbing every detail of the plans until you could figure out the best way to help Jake.

When you had finally reached the ground, the hatch opened and getting up, you walked out, expecting to find yourself surrounded by the forest you loved so much.

Pulling your breather off though, your smile dropped, your eyes unwilling to process the inconceivable truth. In front of you was the reckoning of humanity in full form, its destructive touch creating an unhallowed grave of the once-rich earth below it. Flashbacks filled your mind as you remembered your early life on earth, the desecration of the forest mirroring the desolation that you had escaped when you left for Pandora. Sky People had killed their Mother, holding onto the little that she could provide before finally destroying Her integrity.

Back then, Selfridge was all about the money, and while greed was still very much a part of the new frontier you had found yourself in, humanity’s motives had suddenly become desperate for something else--a new home.

The air no longer held a healthy vigor, a gray density taking its place and expelling a putrid, metallic smell that filled your nose. You were in horrid disbelief, the sight in front of you giving reason to the smell as you rubbed your eyes, still not wanting to believe that the damnation in front of you was real. You were witnessing an entire infestation, complete with insect-shaped machina, their hardware programmed to build the towers and towers of future buildings that would make up what would be known as Bridgehead City.

Behind you, you felt slight relief to see that forest still remained in the distance, but with how quickly the machina bugs were building, it was only inevitable that their work would continue southward and beyond. The General in charge, General Ardmore, although satisfied with the progress that they had made in a year, was still taking losses thanks to Jake’s raids, his forces the only reason that the land had not been fully conquered.

You were looking at the footage from his recent raid, Ardmore’s hands on her hips as she explained the situation, “Jake’s raids are becoming bolder and more frequent.”

Putting a hand on your chin, you let out a weak chuckle, “Looks like Sully’s giving you a run for your money.”

Wainfleet nudged you in the ribs with a disapproving look, but you shoved him away, crossing your arms, “I’m only speaking the truth. He was a Marine, guys. I’m not surprised. He knows exactly how you all think.” Your tone was condescending as you glared at General Ardmore, who seemed to only tolerate your consistent interruptions.

She glared back at you, “Are you questioning my methods, Lieutenant?”

Quaritch was taken aback, putting a hand up to your chest, to stop you from continuing. You looked at your father and defiantly you spoke again. “I am questioning your methods, General. You may have been able to tame this frontier in a year with your bionic bugs, but these...savages with their bows and arrows still have you all by the balls.”

She scoffed, “I’d watch that tone, Lieutenant,” She paused as you kept your glare on her, and she turned, another holographic projection of the Hallelujah Mountains emerged, “Although, what you said does hold some truth. We’ve come to believe that he’s holed up somewhere in these mountains within one of its cave systems, but every time we go up there, we take losses. Can’t be more than ten minutes in enemy airspace without stirring up the hornets’ nest.”

You watched as helicopters were swarmed with hoards of ikran, and you were instantly fascinated, your mind querying the possibility of such a hive mind response by animals, “How odd. They never used to do that before.”

“Our only hope of finding Jake’s base is you guys. We think that you will be perceived as indigenous and won’t trigger the immune response, but that’s only our theory.” General Ardmore

“And how might we test that theory?” You asked, crossing your arms.

Tight-lipped, she sucked a breath in, “The hard way.”

Quaritch snickered, a cocky smirk on his face, “Outstanding.”

“Good. No time to waste. Let’s fly.” She replied with a pleased grin.

Ardmore ordered for a helicopter to be prepped and escorted you toward the hangar. When you entered it, the pilot was just getting into the helicopter and you instantly thought of Trudy, your best friend who loved to raid the caf late at night with you and begged you to fly with her all those years ago.

Quaritch interrupted your thoughts as he pulled you back, “What’s wrong with you? You don’t talk to your superiors like that again, you understand me?”

Reluctantly you nodded, “Yes sir. I understand.”

“You better. Now get in.” He let go of your arm, motioning for you to enter the helicopter.

Wainfleet had a dumb smile on his face, asking curiously, “Where we headed first, Colonel?”

“Where it all started.” He replied, his eyes lighting up with his inspired rage, “W

Touching down on one of the mountains, a stream of nostalgia flowed through you as your mind replayed the first day you had ever landed there with Trudy. Site 26 was only a couple meters away, but each step was like a remnant of the past, scenes flashing in front of you as if you were only there yesterday.

You suddenly felt like you were home once again.

The forest had grown so much, the plant life around you like a warm blanket as the trees enveloped your figure everywhere you went. The soft earth squished down as you took a step while the intertwining branches and brambles gave you a hearty challenge as you maneuvered. Your ears twitched at the range of sounds, some delicate and others obvious, those ones keeping the rest of your crew on edge, their guns readied pointedly in every direction.

You were merely keeping protocol, not planning on shooting anything as you trudged carefully through the forest. Even with all that you had learned about Jake, you still had no plan. Any hope you had of going out to find him alone was futile, knowing that Quaritch would notice your absence instantly.

Approaching Site 26, Wainfleet took his place beside your father, joining him as they both stepped into the clearing. You hesitated, yet to brush past the infiltrating brush as the gaps in the leaves gave you a skewed view of the shack, which had clearly been abandoned, any sign of life nonexistent.

You could hear slight rustling in the trees, the movement calculated and quick. Craning your neck, you looked upward, catching an unmistakable shimmer of blue as you watched the figure of a young man maneuver behind a thicket of green foliage above.

There was no use in hiding, you had already seen him and in his boldness, he brushed the leaves away, staring down at you with his bow already drawn back in his hand, and behind him was a younger girl, the side of her face only visible to you.

As he continued to look at you, you put your gun down, your figure still as you squinted up at him, his face holding so much familiarity to you that you fell silent.

He was unusually hesitant to kill you, convincing himself that he was only being strategic, but truthfully, he just thought you were pretty, unable to contain a flush in his face. The younger girl he was with, looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched his odd behavior. He looked hardly older than you, but you still couldn’t figure out who he was, and you knew that the longer they were there, the more danger they were in.

You put your hands up, whispering as you spoke to them in Na’vi, “You both shouldn’t be here. Go back. They’ll kill you if they see you.”

He kept his bowstring taut, conflicted as he faced you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Why not let them kill my ass then?”

“I’m not your enemy.” You replied simply.

Quaritch looked over, seeing your figure behind the brush, calling you through his telecom device, “You got eyes on something, y/n?”

Placing your fingers on your own device, the young man drew his bow back again upon instinct, “No sir.” You shook your head, “There’s nothing but trees here.”

Giving them both one last glance, you made your way into the clearing, the young man’s eyes following you as you left, glued to you as you made your way to your father.

“Why are you just staring, Lo’ak? You heard her. We should go.” She pulled at him, trying to get him to budge.

“Not yet Tuk. I have to see what they’re up to.” He warned, glancing at her from the side and shushing her.

Carefully, he advanced forward, climbing to a higher branch with Tuk following behind him quietly. From a higher spot, Lo’ak watched as you, Quaritch, and Wainfleet gathered near your father’s AMP suit.

You were towering over it, your father frowning as his eyes were glued to his own battered skeleton staring back at him like an undead taunt. He put his hand on the arrows sticking out of his body, the two of them embedded into his chest mocking him scornfully too.

You looked down at the AMP suit, a relic of your father’s failure and you noticed his dogtags, pulling them off his skeleton. Your father always wore his, but he always had a copy of yours too. Handing them to him, he took them, his fingers gently brushing the metal and reading the engravings before he put them around his neck.

He looked up at you, “Check the old shack. Wainfleet and I are gonna look around some more.”

You nodded, obeying the order. Pushing away the vines, you hopped in through the broken window. You were too big to stand tall, crouching as your eyes settled on everything, no longer seeing the reality of the wreckage in front of you, but rather the scenes of your memories.

You felt as if you had traveled in time, back to the best days of your old life as you trailed your hands along the pods and going further toward the west-end you stopped, seeing your old bunk. You had decorated the frame with a few pictures and removing them, you wiped the dust away.

You held them up to the peeking light in the shack as you traced your hands over the pictures. One of them was just of you and Jake flipping off the camera, making you laugh to yourself. The other was your whole family, you squished between Jake and Grace, Norm and Trudy standing behind you, all of you grinning widely, your happiness caught in the stillness of one shot.

That was the thing about happiness, it could vanish in an instant, the once pristine shack you had always remembered disappearing as you were faced with the reality of what it actually was. You were in a wreckage, your despair sinking into the broken glass that littered the floor. You hugged the pictures to your chest, savoring the memories before putting them in your pocket.

“Roll out, roll out! We got movement!” An urgent shout rang from outside.

Hopping back out, you followed after Wainfleet and the Colonel, both of them charging toward the forest.

Multiple shots were fired as you navigated through the forest floor and above, you saw the two Na’vi that you had seen earlier, frantically running through the branches and dodging bullets.

Climbing up the tree, you chased after them, hoping to put enough distance between them and the rest of the regiment, “Ardmore was clear about what she wanted. If they know where Sully is, these two are no good to us dead.”

You were pleading on the side of reason and logic, lying through your teeth as you pretended to be on board with a mission that you only saw as immoral insanity.

Quaritch rattled off commands, “Secure the girl! We only need one of them to draw Sully out. Kill the other one if you have to.”

You were catching up to the both of them, impossibly fast as you navigated through the branches, keeping your balance as you hopped from one to another. The younger one looked behind her, her foot suddenly catching on one of the branches and and sending her plummeting to the ground below with a hard thump.

Watching her fall felt like everything was happening in slow motion, your mind teetering on what to do as you continued to run after the young man, watching as Zdinarsk and Warren took her by the arms, dragging her off toward the shack per your father’s orders.

“In pursuit of the Na’vi male. No need for back up.” You quickly let out in your telecom, sprinting toward the young man as he was about to jump off the branch.

You tackled him, his back landing harshly on the bark as he yelled for his sister, “Tuk!”

His eyes immediately went to you, enraged as he hissed at you first, maneuvering himself from under you and pushing you into the bark, his hands pinning your arms down.

“I’m trying to save you both.” You retorted, kicking from underneath him, inflicting a sharp pain in his legs that loosened his grip.

“Like hell you are. I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He wrestled you down again, but you punched him hard, catching him off guard as he placed his finger to his lips, now bloodied.

“Then you’d be dead and so would she.” You spat, grabbing his arm and securing him onto his back once more, your grip on him strong as he fought you off with all his might.

You brought your knife to his neck, forceful as you pushed it against his skin, “I’m not your enemy.” His eyes were fearless, challenging you as you stared into his eyes.

You huffed, lifting your knife from him and striking the bark so close to his ears that you nicked him slightly, blood drawing from where you had caught him.

You put a firm hand on his chest, catching your breath as you calmly talked to him, “I don’t want to fight you, okay?”

He placed his hands on your waist, swiping his leg from underneath yours to press you back into the bark, his eyes narrowed at you, his face smug, “Then what do you want to do? Dance?”

You scoffed at his arrogance, “I want to help you.” You put a finger on his forehead, your teeth gritted, “You need to get it through your thick skull that if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

“I need to save my sister.” He was panting, still stubbornly persistent, but in his desperation, reluctantly loosened his aggressive grip on you.

You lifted yourself up too, your face so dangerously close to his as you glared at him. “You have no fear. I see it in your eyes. But that won’t save you or your sister. Even with all that courage, you have no chance against my regiment. Not alone at least.”

Your voice sent goosebumps down his whole body, his cheeks reddening as he tightened his jaw. He scoffed listening to you, his pride too great to acknowledge that truth. You stood up, putting a hand out. He hesitated to take it, and you rolled your eyes, leaning down to pull him up. He blinked at you, the feeling of your hands in his warm and kind, a sudden stark difference to how they felt when you were fighting.

You had a determined expression on your face, your speech hurried as you cautiously looked around you, “I’ll keep your sister safe. You have my word, but I can only think of one person who’ll know how to deal with my regiment.”

He sighed, your hands still intertwined, “Who?”

“Your Olo’eyktan, Jake Sully. My father, Colonel Quaritch, has orders to kill him, and your sister is his best bet at drawing him out.”

The young man’s face paling in shock, his mouth parted in utter disbelief, “Why does your father want to kill mine?”

You withdrew your hand, blinking as your brain could hardly process what he had just said, his reason for feeling so familiar slowly being committed to truth. In your shock, your mouth spewed your thoughts in an almost inaudible whisper, your face paling as you stared at him, “Had I really been dead that long?”

You couldn’t help but stare at him and looking down, you scolded yourself for not noticing his hands before, too encapsulated by that initial familiarity you felt about him.

He tilted his head, squinting at you, “How do you know him?”

“Look I-” You began, but your father’s voice in your ear interrupted you, startling you out of your deep thought, “Y/n, what’s your traffic?”

Putting your hands to your telecom you answered, “Returning to the rally point.”

You grabbed your knife that was stuck in the branch frantically, giving the young man one last look, soft and reassuring even amidst your seriousness, “Don’t worry about your sister. You have to go now! Hurry!”

Without another word, you jumped off the branch, your pocket snagging on it and sending the photos you had put in them flying into the air. The young man caught them in his hands, and seeing you, he was taken aback. He had seen your face before, but as he searched his mind, he found nothing to satisfy your mystery. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his head, pocketing the photos as he ran in the opposite direction of the shack, calling his ikran and darting away back to base.

When you had arrived at the shack, Tuk was bound to a nearby tree branch while Fike held her by her hair, ignoring her squirms as she tried to keep her cries silent.

Quaritch walked over to you with a satisfied grin, patting you on the shoulder, “We got a prisoner thanks to you, but you were gone a while. That savage didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“No, sir. I let him go.” You responded simply.

“You what?” Quaritch yelled at you, furious.

“What good would he be dead? Eclipse is almost nearing and we’re in enemy airspace. We don’t have time for a full night-op. If I had let killed him, then who would be the one to tell Jake?” You argued back, your voice poised as you spoke.

“And how can you be so sure they won’t just leave this brat to die?” Wainfleet interjected, the question marking curiosity in everyone.

You glared at Wainfleet, biting your cheek as you hesitated for a moment. You didn’t want to reveal their identities, but with how bloodthirsty they looked, you knew that they were practically begging for any excuse to kill her.

You sighed, “They’re his children.”

Quaritch’s expression turned sinister, his eyes lowering toward Tuk, whose face was scrunched up in fear, “Is that right? This is Sully’s kid?”

You nodded, your father awed by his own dumb luck as he looked up at the sky, laughing, “It must be my lucky day.”

Looking back at you, he put a hand on your shoulder, “I’m calling for extraction. We take her on board if Sully’s late.”

Calling the general through the telecom, he confirmed the helicopter’s arrival and turning toward the clearing, he called out, “Lyle!”

Wainfleet, rushed over to him, your father pointing to the suit, “See if you can pull some data off that suit, and y/n, keep an eye on our prisoner.”

You nodded, walking over to her as your father and Wainfleet disappeared into the clearing once more.

Fike who was snickering as he watched Tuk squirm stopped once you cleared your throat, “Piss off. I’m sure you’re tired of daycare duty.”

Fike let go willingly, “My arm was getting kind of tired. Thanks.” He replied jokingly.

He walked over to the others, talking amongst themselves loudly. You crouched beside the girl, who hissed at you, her pain manifesting itself in her eyes.

You remembered her name as you tried to comfort her, “Tuk, your brother is safe. You don’t need to be scared.”

Hearing her hiss, Zdinarsk was about to stomp over, but you stopped her, covering Tuk’s mouth with your hand. She turned around again, slinging her arm around Fike’s shoulders as she continued the conversation.

When she finally looked away, you took your knife out, tampering with the binds on her hands and loosening the seal, “I sent your brother to find your dad. He was once of the Sky People, but now he is Na’vi. Only he can stop them. Do you understand?”

She couldn’t believe what you were doing, her gaze darting from you to her wrists, you continued to talk soothingly, “When the time is right, you’ll be able to get out of those no problem.”

“Is my dad really coming?” She sniffled, her expression begging for you to be telling the truth.

You met her eyes kindly, “Yes. He is. I made sure that he would. And as long as you’re here with me, you’re safe.”

She relaxed, her expression relieved, a smile adorning her face finally, “Thank you for helping me and Lo’ak.”

You smiled at her warmly, “Ah, so that’s your brother’s name.” She nodded and you couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering your fight on the branches, “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n. That’s pretty. How did you know my name?” Tuk asked innocently.

“I heard Lo’ak call you. Your name is pretty too.”

She blushed, “Thank you.”

She looked at her wrists, “How will I know when the time is right?”

Returning your knife to where it was, you put a hand on her shoulder, “You’ll know, Tuk.” You smiled, “Your dad knows how to make an entrance.”

As you looked at her, you saw more of her parents in her. You had been so focused on the thought of being brought back to life, that you didn’t even bother to notice how long you really had been dead. You felt it first looking at Lo’ak, but it had finally sunk into you.

It felt surreal, and as you sat on the soft, rich soil, you realized that you had probably died somewhere in the forest, your body a relic of the past just like your father’s was.

Quaritch walked out of the brush with a disgruntled expression, his eyes irradiating with an unkempt rage. When you saw him, you stood up, placing yourself between him and Tuk.

"What happened? Why are you-” You stopped as your father pushed past you, kneeling as he put a knife to Tuk’s throat.

He pulled her head back, seething, “Listen here little girl, the only reason why you’re breathing now is because I wanna see your father’s face when I kill you.”

Tuk froze, petrified as fear overtook her body, so stunned that she couldn’t even utter a whimper.

“What the hell are you doing? She’s just a child!” You yelled at your father, something you had never done before, the height of your voice making him lift his grip on her.

Slowly he ascended, his eyes squinted at you in disbelief, “I don’t care if she’s a child. She’s his. Sully’s gonna pay for what he did to us. To our family. Nothing’s over. Not while we’re breathing.”

The hatefulness in his words trapped you as you felt his manic desperation suck the fresh air around you, the world feeling as if it was sinking into abysmal darkness as you couldn’t shield the horror in your eyes.

He took the dogtags you had given him earlier and put them around your neck, “This Na’vi blood’s making you soft. You wear this as a reminder, y/n, a reminder of who you are and where you came from.”

Quaritch stomped off, barking orders to Fike as he left the perimeter, leaving you with those dogtags on your neck, mocking you. You clasped your hands around the dogtags wanting to rip them off your neck and cast them far from you, but you stopped yourself, your shoulders sinking as you sat beside Tuk again.

Your expression matched the darkening sky, the light that cascaded through the trees slowly succumbing to eclipse, and unsure of how to comfort you, Tuk put her hands over yours, your hearts anxious for what was ahead.

“Where’s your sister, Lo’ak? Where’s Tuk?” Jake yelled, his tone abrasive as he aggressively took his son by the shoulders, Neytiri behind him, her eyes filled with worry.

His brother Neteyam went to his side while his other sister Kiri took the other, both of them teeming with worry.

Lo’ak brushed them both off as he made eye-contact with his father, the urgency in his voice showing in his hurriedness, “Colonel Quaritch. He took her, but this girl, she’s keeping her safe and she told me to find you.”

Jake squinted at his son, enraged by such nonsense. He raised his voice in anger, “What the hell are you talking about? Quaritch? A-a girl? That’s impossible. Answer the goddamn question, Lo’ak! Where is your sister?”

"Where is Tuk?” Neytiri repeated, the slowness in her voice giving intense warning as she glared at him.

“Tuk is at the shack, but you have to listen to me, dad. They’re all avatars. They were wearing camo and they had guns.”

Jake and Neytiri looked at one another, unwilling to believe such a nightmarish thing. Still, they were sure of one thing. Tuk was gone, and whether they believed what Lo’ak had said, it didn’t matter. They’re daughter’s life was on the line.

“Let’s go get our daughter.” Jake said to his mate, who nodded, calling her ikran, Jake doing the same.

Lo’ak reached the edge of the camp, mounting his ikran and almost darting off before Kiri and Neteyam showed up at his side.

Kiri groaned in annoyance, “What are you doing? You’re gonna get in trouble!”

Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak’s arm, glaring, “Don’t, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak shoved him off, mounting his ikran, “Just come with me and stop being such a wuss.”

Lo’ak flew off, Neteyam grunting as he followed his brother, cursing at him under his breath.

Eclipse had finally taken over the sky and with it came a steady rainfall, giving Jake and Neytiri an advantage. Neteyam and Lo’ak followed not long after, and in his fury, commanded them to both stay by the ikrans, Neteyam reluctantly obeying, while Lo’ak agreed halfheartedly.

Jake and Neytiri moved in silence, calculating every move with precision. Neytiri took to the trees and Jake covered the ground, his tomahawk firmly ready in his hand. Carefully and silently, Jake disarmed the soldiers guarding the perimeter while Neytiri waited for the opportune moment to strike.

Everyone else took their positions when dusk fell, the usual calm of the forest becoming eerie, the slight movements of the nature surrounding you making the crew jumpy, their guns at the ready, expectant of any attack. Earlier, when no one was looking, you loosened the binds around her wrists, telling her that when the time was right, she would be able to escape easily.

Tuk kept that in mind, her eyes glued to her wrists as she waited that perfect time. The noises around you had been constant, the rain, the occasional rustling of the leaves, certain animal calls. But, a new sound broke in the wind, making your ears twitch. Tuk heard it loud and clear, looking up at you, and you understood what the sound was. It was a call, a signal that Jake had finally come.

After the wake of that new sound, the unmistakeable twang of an arrow burst through the thick air, sending Fike backwards and killing him instantly. Bullets rang through the air from another direction, sending the other soldiers flying to the ground. Tuk, who had figured this was the perfect time to set herself free, squeezed her hands through the binds and ran in the opposite direction of the fire, screaming when she ran into someone, but sinking with relief when she realized it was Lo’ak and Neteyam.

Neteyam took Tuk into his arms, holding her as Lo’ak grabbed her by the shoulder, “Where’s the girl, the girl that helped us?” He asked her.

Tuk pointed opposite his direction, “Y/n! She’s over there!”

Lo’ak, without any hesitation ran toward where Tuk had pointed, carefully maneuvering as he approached.

You and the rest of the soldiers took cover as bullets continued to sweep the forest floor, bullets that you knew could only be coming from Jake.

Quaritch, who had taken cover behind a log, saw the arrow, his voice sinister as he attempted to draw her out. “Is that you Mrs. Sully?”

She instantly recognized the voice, but she kept a poised anger, despite the ghostly chill she felt down her spine, “I will kill you as many times as I have to, demon.”

Quaritch huffed out cockily, reloading his weapon, “Looks like you’ve been busy while I’ve been gone, but don’t worry Mrs. Sully. Pretty soon, you won’t have a family to protect.”

Looking at Warren and Wainfleet, Quaritch gave his signal, the two of them putting their eyes in their scopes to search for Neytiri as he continued to talk, taunting her with unbearable arrogance.

She was stuck where she was, any movement marking her for death as guns in all directions were targeting her. You used your scope to watch your crew intently from the opposite side. Warren’s eyes were fixed on the trees, and you knew he caught sight of her when he stopped, aiming as he pointed his gun at her. You aimed at Warren ready to pull the trigger, but an arrow came flying through the sky behind you, shooting through Warren’s chest and sending his body instantly to the ground.

Wainfleet immediately turned toward the arrow’s origin and you followed his line of sight to find Lo’ak behind you. You stepped in front of the line of fire, attempting to stop Wainfleet, but he had already pulled the trigger. The bullet had landed above your clavicle, a seemingly fatal wound as your body dropped, Lo��ak catching you as you fell.

Wainfleet’s eyes widened, turning his head to the Colonel, who hadn’t seen what had happened, and in his flustered state, Wainfleet backed away slowly, running to your father’s side.

At that same instant, Quaritch took his shot, gauging where Neytiri was and releasing a detonation of bullets that bursted with deadly fire, the area engulfing in a massive explosion that ruptured the area, pieces of bark flying all throughout the forest like shrapnel. Taking her chance, Neytiri ran, and seeing her movement, Quaritch ordered the crew to follow. Jake followed too, disarming soldiers from where he had taken cover and using the last of his bullets to secure Neytiri’s safety.

You were lying on the ground, Lo’ak breaking your fall as you both tumbled to the grassy floor, “Shit!” He yelled out once he noticed the blood dripping from the wound.

Shifting to your side, he put pressure on it, talking to you gently, “Hey! Stay with me, okay?”

When your mind finally caught up with your body, you let a deep breath in, sitting up abruptly, the boy retracting his hands as your own touched where your wound was, the blood smeared on your fingertips as more poured down your chest.

Quickly, you ripped pieces of your shirt as he watched, eyes blinking in confusion as his face flushed, “What are you doing?”

You almost laughed, a smirk on your face, “Relax, I’m not getting naked.”

Looking around, you took your knife out, slicing off a piece of the bark from a nearby tree, pressing the blade into its flesh as it seeped out sap. You wiped the sap on your wound, feeling the slight sting as Lo’ak watching in confused awe.

Lo’ak let out another question, “Where did you learn how to-”

“I had a great teacher.” You replied, “Yanna bark sap has great healing properties.”

You gave him the pieces of cloth that you tore, “Just wrap the pieces around.”

He took the cloth from you, covering the wound, “Wrap it tightly.” You ordered.

“Ow!” You yelped as he pulled the cloth taut.

“You said to do it tightly.” He mumbled, continuing to wrap your wound.

You took his face in your other hand, brushing his lip with your finger, the bottom of it cracked and the blood crusted from when you punched him, “Sorry about that.”

He could feel his heart beat faster, your fingers still on his lips as he placed his gaze on you. The way he bore his eyes into you made you feel shy, and having never been looked at like that before, you pulled your hand away, but he grabbed it, “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

Blues, greens, and purples illuminating your shimmering skin as the plants around regained their bioluminescence. Anyone from the outside looking in would have thought you two were sharing affections, the plants livening around you, sanctifying the air you shared, that small, fleeting moment between the two of you peaceful amidst what had just happened. You cast your eyes away from him quickly though, unable to let yourself slip too deep into that peace, the horrible truth of reality striking at it like vipers.

Your ears twitched, voices coming through your telecom, immediately you turned around, craning your neck as you saw the bright, white lights of the extraction helicopter in the distance, snuffing out the glow of the plants. You could hear the general’s urgency as everyone was ordered to return to the helicopter.

“Get down. They might shoot if they see you.” You pulled him into the nearby brush, the tall, hanging leaves giving cover for you and Lo’ak.

As the helicopter neared and neared, its rotors whirred loudly, silencing the rest of the noises and filling your ears. Through the leaves, you saw the helicopter descend just above the tree line, multiple ropes dropping to the ground for extraction. Immediately, Quaritch stopped his crusade, falling back to the rally point, everyone else following after him. Grabbing onto the rope, he counted who he was with, but let go when he realized you weren’t there.

“Y/n? Do you read me? Get back to the rally point.” He commanded in his telecom, his voice desperate.

You were about to put your hands on your telecom but you stopped, your fingers hovering over the buttons. You didn’t expect to hesitate. From the moment you woke up, you felt scorned by the presence of your father. But as you heard his voice calling to you so desperately, what was left of that old you, who loved him so much, found its hold on your heart somehow.

“Y/n? Do you hear me? Get back to the rally point, now!” He yelled out. You could see him in front of you, frantically looking around.

General Ardmore was barking orders too, emotionless, “If she doesn’t come up Colonel. We’ll have to leave and come back tomorrow.”

Despite the whirring of the helicopter, your father’s voice was all you could hear in your head as he continued to scream out your name, the voice that taught you your every move and molded your every thought.

Still, you did nothing, eyes glued to your father in the distance, uncharacteristically panicky as he turned to the rest of his regiment, throwing his hands up, “Where’s my little girl?”

Lo’ak put a hand on your arm, his voice low, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna go back. That guy over there shot you, then left you.”

You looked at him, feeling the guilt within you rise, “Am I not so different from him? From all of them? I don’t belong here on Pandora and I don’t deserve to. If I stay here, I’d still be endangering you all.”

He kept his eyes planted on you, the sadness in your voice reinforcing him to be strong, “And if you go back, then what will happen to you? Will you just obey orders and watch your dad kill mine?” You looked at Lo’ak, your expression still conflicted and too aghast by his boldness to offer any protest. Yet, Lo’ak knew he got through to you, your expression softening as you let him lower your hands gently to the grass.

“Look, you chose to save me and my sister when you could have killed us.” He lifted his hand up, his palm grazing it as he took the earpiece out of your ear, his fingers traveling to your neck as he unclipped your telecom.

You froze, your senses wholly attuned to him as your mind could only focus on his voice, calm and slow as he spoke to you, “You told me yourself. You’re not the enemy.” He smirked at you, pressing a finger into your forehead, “Get that through your thick skull, won’t you?”

You couldn’t help a light laugh as your lips upturned, “I got through yours, so it’s only fair right?”

About to lift your gaze back on the helicopter, you stopped, rolling onto your back instead, relinquishing the ties of who you no longer wanted to be, unwilling even to grant them your eyes as they left you. You felt as if the tether to your father was being severed as the helicopter flew away, its whirring becoming distant and distant until finally, the tranquility of the forest returned as the bioluminescence reawakened around you. The feel of the grass and the air immersed you into that bliss, and no longer focused on the anger and hurt, you only wondered how you endured it for so long, how that tether was able to mark trauma into your skin and bones.

Lo’ak, although confused by your actions held no qualms about joining you, lying down, his eyes only on you the whole time. You turned your head slightly to look at him, and you felt that peace from before, no longer skewed but welcomed by you as you smiled at him, your gratefulness emanating from it.

Under your gaze, Lo’ak felt himself get shy, getting up quickly to hide the blush that would surely make itself known among the illumination of the flora around you.

“W-we should uh...look for my dad.” In his awkwardness, he was seemingly unsure, his tone expelling his words like a question.

Lo’ak put a hand out and you took it, “Yeah, Jake and I have a lot to catch up on.”

Once you stood up, you heard bellowing rustles in the distance, and immediately you took your defensive position, taking your knife out. Lo’ak also had his knife out, his back against yours as you both searched your perimeter. The rustling became footsteps, the sound approaching closer and closer until you saw a flash of blue rushing toward you, the lifting of a tomahawk making you dodge immediately.

“Jake I-!” He swung again, your knife barely blocking the weight of his tomahawk as you staggered backward.

“Dad! Stop!” Lo’ak yelled out, and hearing the rest of his family come, Neytiri already drawing her bow, he ran to her, pleading for her to put it down.

You ducked again as Jake continued to swing, backing away as you put your hands up, “Jake! It’s me! Y/n!” You yelled.

The adrenaline pumping in his veins was too prominent, not allowing him to recognize you as he continued to swing at you, each one more forceful than the last. Neteyam had also drawn his bow, but Tuk clung to his arms, disrupting his attempt at shooting you.

You fought back vigorously and when you had finally knocked the tomahawk out of his hands, you let go of your grip on him, kneeling on the dirt with your hands up as you spoke again, out of breath, “Jake. It’s me, y/n. You have to believe me.”

Blinking, he could finally hear you, your unmistakeable voice warping Jake’s mind, unwilling to accept the possibility, your appearance betraying the very memory of you, splicing who he remembered you to be from the mystery of who was kneeling in front of him.

He put a knife to your neck, his eyes pained as he tried to ignore the memories coming back to him in response to your voice, “You’re not! Y/n’s dead. She’s dead, okay? So, who are you?”

What proof did you have? Even if you showed him those photos, they wouldn’t be enough. All you had were your memories, and as you looked at Jake, so happy to see him again, you reached into your past in hopes that he would remember too.

“You know me, Jake Sully, and you know my father. He’ll stop at nothing to kill you and your family.” Jake gritted his teeth, his knife dipping into your neck more. You became teary-eyed as you continued to speak, but you were fierce in your tone, “Do you remember what I told you before the bulldozers came?” You asked.

“A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.” You looked over at his family, their stares burning into you, “You have a family now, Jake. Let me help you protect them from my father.”

Jake dropped his knife, his mouth parting, the words he had lived by in all the time you were gone breathing life back into you, his eyes no longer looking, but Seeing. Every doubt he had in his mind disappeared into the night air as he said your name, the breath he expelled so soft in the wake of what he felt was another reality. You were alive, and when he had finally accepted that fact, he lifted you up from the ground, pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you before.” He said softly, “Blue never really was your color.”

You buried your face in his shoulder as you hugged him back, “Yeah well, it was always yours.”

You felt tears brim in your eyes as you lifted your head up and you could feel your whole body relax for the first time since you woke up. In the midst of your comfortable silence you suddenly heard him sniffle. You became moon-eyed, pulling back to see that he had tears falling from his eyes too.

You smiled at him, your old joking self returning as you laughed, “I see fatherhood’s turned you into a sap.” You put your hands up to his forehead, “And look at all the wrinkles on your forehead. You’re ancient.”

Scoffing, Jake pushed your hand away, tousling your hair, “You come back from the dead, and you’re still a little shit.”

“Whatever old man. I know you missed me.” You snarkily replied, weakly punching him in the arm.

He scoffed at you, winding his arm to punch you back when his face dropped, noticing your bound wound, “What happened? Did I shoot you?”

Lo’ak piped in, “It was one of the other soldiers. He was trying to kill me, but she took the bullet instead.”

He looked between you and Lo’ak. If there was still any doubt in his mind about who you were, it was easily erased. What you had done for his son directly mirrored what you had done for him all those years ago, every detail so ingrained in him that goosebumps adorned his body as he thought of it. Neytiri, who took her place beside Jake softened her eyes, having felt grateful to you for saving Jake’s life before, and once again for saving her son.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ve already put yanna bark on it. It’ll be better in no time.” You put your hands up, attempting to ease Jake.

He glared at you, “We’re going.” Jake turned to his eldest son, “Neteyam, take y/n back to camp.”

“No! I’ll take her back.” Lo’ak instantly protested, earning a knowing look from Neteyam, “It’s the least I can do after she took the bullet for me.”

“Fine Lo’ak,” His eyes were ensnared with warning, “You fly straight and slow, alright? Don’t be reckless in the air.”

“Yes sir.” Lo’ak answered, although he hardly meant it.

Everyone called their ikrans, all of them coming in like a swarm and gracefully descending to the forest floor. Jake flew off first, Neytiri, who was holding Tuk, followed after, then Neteyam ascended as well.

Making sure you were secure before taking off, Lo’ak looked over his shoulder at you, “Have you ever been on an ikran before?”

“Never.” You said, suddenly excited, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly, your chest hugging his back, “I don’t care what Jake says, I don’t want to go slow.”

Lo’ak couldn’t control himself as a satisfied grin took over his lips, “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t planning to.”

The minute he kicked off, you felt the exhilaration of being in the air hit you as you flew through the mist of the night, Lo’ak taking extra detours around the mountain, commanding the wind as you felt it underneath you. You had merely felt free before, but as you embraced the touch of the swirling air, infinite and timeless in its beauty, you knew you really were.

The day had felt excruciatingly long, and you felt so burdened by just being alive, the guilt, the hurt, and the pain encompassing you. But, being in the air with Lo’ak made those burdens feel like mere trivialities, and while you knew in the back of your mind that you would have to face them again, you let yourself feel that freedom you always longed to have and in its simplest form, you understood what it was you were really feeling.

You were happy.

But the thing about happiness is that it can vanish in an instant.

Your father was still out there, and having already been motivated to complete this mission by his own disposition, a new rage had sunk into his soul, catalyzing the torment he so desperately had to inflict.

Wainfleet finally admitted to your father what had happened to you, but in his deceitful cowardice, he left out one large truth.

“What did you say Lyle?” Quaritch asked impatiently.

“Sully. He shot her. She’s dead, Colonel.”

—

Author’s Note:

My lovers,

LYLE WAINFLEET IS A BITCHHH ISN’T HE???

let me know how you felt about chapter 1!! i’d love to hear your thoughts :)

endless thanks for all of you who have waited and continue to wait for the next parts!

for all those that wanted to be tagged for this next part, i’ve listed you all below! thank you so much!!

love,

nana <3

taglist [tumblr wouldn’t let me tag some of the blogs, but i didn’t want to leave anyone out!] :

@fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30 @itsemy01 @23victoria @soobinsrose @starjane312 @valentineoxox @justlillythinking @mae-is-crazy @scarletrosesposts@paniniii @bloodyziggy @mister-police @mrs-sullys-blog @niiight-dreamerrrr @promiseofeywa @wilmalovegood @sssspencerrr @mochi-yu @d4rno @lovekeeho @dreama-little-dreamof-me @strawberryclouds22@tsunchani @sully-stick-together @scarletrosesposts @local-mr-frog @pirana10 @usernumder67 @im-kai-scotty @mae-is-crazy @ghoulbli @devil-on-acid @neteyamoa @iamparou @nightfalldia @a-queen-blr @aeclark041-blog1@justpassinbxx @mochi-yu @persondoingstuff @melatonindaydreamz @ducks118 @macncheese69420666 @rotten-toenails @rikidaily @extreamlycutecuban @iizx7y @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @lovekeeho @spicycloudsalad @perfectprofessorloverapricot @kind45 @skyri-revia22@blueblushedflwr @neteyamslovr @coldlamaspersonspy @jayinthecloset @lunamochii @littlethingsinlife @ok-boke @donaldsmac @slut4sluttybooks @zatarias-pandora @bol0-de-morang0 @dakotali @bajadotcom @bitchyzombienacho @siriusblackwh0re @wadiyatalkinabeetmate @eggyongies @galaxyfruits @kiricomics @fireflystoughts @reallysparklychaos @bwormie @glitter-in-my-heroin @kirikuki @katkat1918 @0-0h-0 @imthefunniestpersonalive @my-name-duh @mayabritjohn @annoyingstrawberryballoon @sometimesminsan @pearlrosegardener @aestheticcraze @animetrash12 @sbfandom @hrlzy @vhobuu @urforevermore @larkkyoris @usersjs-world @vampsclassiffied @razor-blayde @doromoni @lizzyloo22 @jimfiqs @hunylew @dreamergirljen

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar loak #loak #loak sully #loak x reader #loak x you #loak x y/n #nanasavatarfics #nanasilwefic!

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margotw10bis · 1 month

Text

Pretty Baby. KNJ [m]

sugardaddy!namjoon x sugarbaby!reader

Genre: smut; short-story

Words: 2.2k

Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"… But when did it all begin?

Warnings: rough sex; unprotected sex; oral sex (f. receiving); Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"

1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)

This part takes place before chapter 1.

Namjoon has always thought your first encounter was that night at a bar when he asked you to be his sugar baby. Little did he know there was, in fact, an unofficial encounter, several months before that.

It was at Incheon Airport, while you were waiting to pick Jimin up after a trip with his childhood friend Jungkook. You were actually grumpy when you saw that his plane had 20 minutes delay. But all of that went forgotten when you heard some sobbing nearby. You looked all around you and noticed a little boy, maybe three or four years old. He was crying but he was all alone. You frowned and was ready to walk to him when a tall, brawny and blond hair man kneeled down in front of the boy.

You stepped closer, ready to jump in if the man had bad intentions. However, you heard him talking with the sweetest tone possible despite his deep voice.

"Are you lost?" The man asked

The boy nodded, crying louder. Your heart broke a little to witness him this sad and scared.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna help you. I promise I gonna find your parents" His savior said, putting a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder

His palm was so big on the small child's body that you wondered if the man has ever been a child before. His aura was nothing but goodness and the way the little boy stopped crying proved you right. The stranger, of whom you could see the face now, was the most handsome man you've ever seen. His eyes, which you surely thought could be very intimidating in other situations, were so pretty in their brown shade. His lips were pulp and the cute dimples on his cheeks when he smiled were like a Cupid's arrow entering your heart. Was that love at first sight?

The man asked the boy for his name.

"Seo-joon" He answered with a hiccup

"Let me see your bag, maybe there is your parents number"

You could totally see that the man was trying to be as delicate as possible and it made you giggle by the sweetness. He was definitely daddy material — only if you knew how much...

The backpack of the little child had, indeed, a tag with his parents' information. The man dialed the number and a panicked voice answered the call.

"Hello, I'm with your son. Don't worry, he is okay. We are in the arrival hall, near the information panels"

Seo-joon's parents arrived quickly after that, running to their son. They were crying and thanking the stranger at the same time. An embarrassed smile grew on the man's face. You wanted to talk to him but he walked away before you could do it.

You had been thinking about him for months but what could you do? You knew nothing about him, not even his name. But luck was on your side since Jimin, without knowing it, gave you the opportunity to see the man again when he literally dragged your ass to a luxurious bar. At first, you didn't want to go but your best friend insisted so much that you gave up.

You were sitting at the bar, waiting for your drinks when a man sat down next to you. When you turned your head and saw the stranger from the airport, your heart stopped and your throat went dry. He was even more handsome than from your memories.

He introduced himself and you did the same. Namjoon started to flirt with and you flirted back. But you surely didn't imagine what he would say next:

"Look, I'm going to be honest. You're very pretty but I'm not looking for a girlfriend" You remember that your heart broke a little when he said that "But, if you're okay if it, we can have a different kind of relationship"

"What kind?" You asked, completely dumbfounded

"A sugar daddy/baby one" Namjoon answered, looking straight into your eyes

What?! You had never, in your entire life, thought about having a sugar daddy. You didn't even need the money, your current job was paying you enough. And Namjoon wasn't so much older, even though he was 35 and you were 24.

You just asked him why and he was honest enough to tell you that he didn't have time for more and that you wouldn't be the only one. You thought about it for a few minutes and then you realized that seeing him again was fate and that you couldn't miss the chance. You wanted to be with him the very first minute you saw him. If you had to be his sugar baby for that, then a sugar baby you would be. You accepted, not caring about the ridiculous amount of money he offered you. You didn't need the money but you wanted the man.

After that, you spent the night — a very hot night during which you realized how much of a beast Namjoon was in bed — with him in a hotel room. A few days later, he texted you an address. He didn't say what you would do there and you didn't question. You just went to the rendezvous.

You were quite surprised to stand in front of a luxurious block apartment in one of the most expensive districts of Seoul. At first, you thought it was Namjoon's place and you were very curious to see how his flat was, to see if he had photos of him, his family and his friends. But when Namjoon joined you and opened the door of one of the apartments, you were more than surprised to meet an empty one.

The place was huge and the windows provided an amazing view on Seoul, but there was no furniture at all.

"Do you like it?" Namjoon asked you

"The view is beautiful" You managed to say, not knowing where he wanted to go with his question

"Good. It's yours, baby"

You gasped and looked at Namjoon with wide open eyes. In the other hand, Namjoon was pleased by your reaction and he walked closer to kiss you deeply. His hands quickly found your ass and he pressed your body against his. You were small in his arms. You knew Namjoon was very strong and he could break you very easily but instead of being scared of it, you just felt good in his embrace. You felt protected and you wished you could never leave it.

It didn't take long for Namjoon to lead to the kitchen island. He grabbed your thighs to make you sit on it and started kissing your neck. Your fingers were in his soft hair and your legs circled his waist, trying to pull him deeper into your skin. You felt his hand slowly going down to capture your tit in order to massage it. Your head rolled back at the pleasure of it. He took off your top and bra in no time to finally get to see your pretty boobs. He smirked when he noticed your already hard nipples.

He dived into it, sucking and rolling his tongue around it. Soft moans left your mouth and your pussy became wetter and wetter. Fuck, he was good. You whimpered when he bit on one of your nipples but an instant pleasure chased the pain. You loved how rough he was. You kind of got the clue that the rougher he was, the more he cared. So you did want him to be harsh with you.

Namjoon pushed your chest down so you could lie on your back. The material of the kitchen island was so cold against your burning skin that it made your shiver. Namjoon took some seconds to admire how beautiful you were and then made sure to completely undress you. Your naked body entirely at his disposal was the best thing ever for him.

"My pretty baby" He whispered before taking a big licking of your wet pussy

You jolted and moaned of how good it was to feel his tongue on you. He was eating your pussy so good that you couldn't think straight. Namjoon loved to see how your body reacted when he was touching you and he made it as his mission to make you cum as much as he could. He entered you with one of his long digits. He knew your tight pussy wasn't used enough to his big cock for penetrating you directly. He was pumping you, covering his finger with your juices. When the sliding was smooth enough, he added another finger.

"It feels good, daddy" You moaned with red cheeks — calling him daddy was very new to you at the time

"Your pussy is so tight, I love it. Let's find out if you can take another one" He teased before entering you with a third digit

Fuck, he was stretching you so good that you gasped. Namjoon curled his fingers inside your pussy to hit your g-spot, making you lose your sanity. His tongue was keeping its devilish pattern on your clit and you could feel your orgasm slowly building inside your stomach. Namjoon smirked when your walls got tighter around his fingers. He sped up his pace, just to push you closer to the edge.

"Cum on my fingers. Come on, baby"

His raspy voice against your pussy was a real sin and it was enough for you to go to the other side. You cummed hard on his fingers, screaming his name despite your heavy breathe.

Namjoon stood up to kiss you, your arousal still tasted on his tongue. You were slowly coming back to Earth while Namjoon used the hand that was in your pussy to lube his big cock. You didn't even notice him taking off his clothes. You opened your eyes to awe his buff body. His biceps and abs were flexing as he was pumping himself. He was so damn hot that you had to bite your lower lip to prevent a moan at his sight.

"Open your legs for daddy" Namjoon orders and fuck, you could feel your pussy dripping

You hold your thighs to give as much room for Namjoon as you could and he guided his fat dick to your entrance. The tip was teasing you and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you. You shuddered when the teasing was longer than you thought it would be.

"Beg for it"

Namjoon loved hearing how desperate you were for his cock. It boosted his already huge ego and you didn't mind making it bigger. Namjoon was, in fact, the man you loved and you could do whatever he wanted to make him happy.

"Please, daddy, I need your cock" You begged, making Namjoon satisfied

"Good girl" He praises as he gently entered you

Fuck, he was so big, it was almost painful. When he was fully in you, Namjoon pushed your knees against your chest to open you wider. It made your cunt clench and Namjoon growl. He started pounding you hard and deep. That was no doubt he knew what he was doing. Never a man had fucked you this good and the pleasure was enhanced by this huge size.

Sounds of skins clapping were echoing in the empty apartment like the sweetest melody ever. Your boobs, bouncing in rhythm with Namjoon's dick strokes, appealed him and he bent over to suck on your nipples. You groaned, feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations on your body.

"Fucking big" You choked up, making Namjoon giggle

"Fucking tight" He replied playfully

Your pretty face was torn by pleasure which spurred him to fuck rougher, if it was even possible. You looked so precious like that. His pretty baby.

You felt your second orgasm near so you grabbed Namjoon's hair to kiss him messily. Moans from both sides were mixing between your lips.

"Faster, daddy" You begged, completely delirious

Namjoon did it and you reached your high — again — in no time. You thought that he would slow down but it surely wasn't his intention. He, instead, put one of his warm palms around your neck and the other one on your clit. It was like Namjoon wanted to never end your orgasm but it was too much for you. Your eyes filled with tears and your mouth opened, no sound able to come from your shaking body.

"Look at you" He smirked "So fucked up. Tell daddy how much you love his cock"

"I fucking love your cock!" You screamed

"You're so fucking pretty"

Namjoon pounded a couple of times more before pulling abruptly out of your pussy and jerk him off to paint your stomach with his hot and thick white seed. He took a few seconds to admire his art piece but he didn't wait long before picking it up with his index and middle finger. He brought them up to your mouth.

"Open" He ordered and pushed his digits inside your mouth

You could taste his salty cum on your tongue as you rolled it around his fingers to clean them up.

"Good fucking girl" He praised

He kissed you so gently after that that it surprised you. You didn't think Namjoon could be so caring after fucking you so roughly. But it'd soon be your favourite thing about him. He hugged you tight despite your sticky tummy and his sweaty body — you both didn't care at all about it.

"How about a hot bath?" He offered you with a very sweet voice

You were definitely in love with the man.

Memories → Next

Taglist @gimeow @whoreseok723 @wecanpretendit @missbangtangirl @dprmoon @baechugff @parkinglot-nights @nikkinik485 @hoseokteardrop

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #fanfic #knj smut #knj #knj x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjun #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #sugar daddy fanfic #sugar daddy namjoon #bts rm #rm #rm bts #bangtan rm

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fabulouslyflamboyant5 · 2 months

Text

The Unrighteous Knight Part 2

pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader

summary: After the events that occurred between Azriel and you, nothingness seems rather appealing. (Also some insight into readers past, and how becoming fae has affected them)

warning: su**ci*al thoughts, canon typical violence, nesta slander…inner circle slander?

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Sorry for delay, my drafts got deleted! This chapter is a little slow, but necessary for character development. Turns out, reader isn’t such a meek character after all…

Part One Part Two Part Three

To be, or not to be.

That is the question. The simple question, as mortals would insist. But what hold do the claws of mortality have upon an immortal being? How far must a cauldron made fae go to completely rid themselves of their humanity, with no guarantee that they will find solace in immortality?

Nowhere.

That is the answer, the simple answer your youngest sister and her dashing mate insist upon.

You must go nowhere, because simply put, the act of searching for serenity is sure to attract confusion.

But the answer is surely not so simple. Is nowhere not anywhere when you have been dragged to a land different from the one you’d grown to love?

The soil of Prythian feels foreign beneath your feet. Then again, your own skin feels foreign against your blood, which feels volatile within your soul.

Prythian, the continent home to Feyre Cursbreaker, Lady Death, and the most beautiful of the three sisters, Elain, cannot possibly be home to you, (y/n) Archeron, the sister who stands out for no reason other than her own lack of brilliance.

While the cauldron may have lent your younger sister the power of a seer, you were left with nothing.

Not brave enough to take it for yourself, you have come to terms with the fact that you are once again, left behind.

The forgotten sister. Perhaps that is what you are. What you always have been.

They insist that this is your home, that Velaris will bathe you in its light and rid you of your struggles. But you have found that you quite hate the light. It is darkness that you seek. It is nothingness you yearn for, the absence of everything in its entirety.

You try not to let these thoughts fester for too long.

Writing, for all you know, is the only way to remedy the situation. After all, it is considerably easier to distract yourself when you have something to look forward to.

Something that you enjoy.

Perhaps it is the nothingness within your leather bound notebook that brings you peace. The unfilled pages are not lonely, but instead, freeing.

The cruelty of your reality leaves no mark on the pages of your worn book. Nothingness, or in this case, fiction, is all that lines its pages.

Stories of the past, present, and future are maimed into something foreign. You are the narrator, you are the creator, you are in control.

Control.

That is your answer. Supplied by none other than yourself, of course.

It is control you seek. The ability to lead a life you choose, without ever having to bow down to forces external to your own psyche.

Forces beyond the harsh stare of Azriel, the Night Court's Shadowsinger, and the bane of your eternal existence.

In the many years you’ve known him, he has never failed to remind you just how deep his hate for you went. Like a raft sailing down an empty river, your efforts to mend your relationship are continuously shut down.

Not that any of it matters, not anymore.

The second his blade made contact with your abdomen you knew, just knew that the two of you would never make peace.

Even now, days since the incident, a phantom pain remains, pulsing within the thin scar below your left rib.

It’s frustrating really, how do you move on from something you never want to forget?

Staring down at the tea stained pages of your journal, you let the question linger.

A whole bunch of nothing.

That is the answer you arrive at.

It should be familiar now, this nothingness within you. This nothingness you embody.

Your sisters, bless them, will never grasp the emptiness that resides within you. But how could they, for all they know you appreciate solitude, find serenity in the freedom this world has provided you.

But it is not freedom you embody, it is loneliness; nothingness in its purest form.

“What is it exactly you are working on?” Nesta’s cool voice asks you. Had you not known her better, you’d surely mistaken her inquiry for judgment. But you do know her, so you send her a hum too weak to be mistaken for one of contentment and forbid your eyes from leaving the shadow filled paper below you.

“Nothing,” you are working on absolutely nothing.

Had you looked up, you would have seen the two cups of tea in her hands.

Had you looked up, you would have seen the sheer weight of determination resting on her shoulders.

Had you looked up, perhaps the shadows moving slowly across your hands would have stopped their movements and removed themselves from your proximity.

But alas, your eyes remain on the dark creatures, hoping, praying, that they leave the library and take your loneliness with them.

“I know what you're doing,” she spoke once more, clearly set on making her presence felt.

“And what may that be?”

“You’re overthinking,” she moves across the shelves, elegantly placing herself onto one of the cushioned chairs in front of you.

“I can assure you, that is not the case.” Nothing, that is what you are doing, and have been doing since you were forced upon this planet.

“Come back to the training ground tomorrow, I’d like for you to be there,” her voice is sincere but it is dissatisfaction that overtakes you. Of course that is what this is about. You’re foolish for assuming she had come here with the answers to the questions you seek.

“I’ll consider it,” you say dryly, reverting back to the page below you, noticing the shadows have seemingly disappeared.

Whether or not Nesta is satisfied with your response means nothing to you.

It means nothing, really.

Nothing does.

“I don’t think he meant it.” And so Lady Death strikes again. As is if her words tore open your jugular, you find yourself recoiling into the chair. Of course she would think that, it’s not as though she were present to witness the hatred in his eyes, the malice within him as he raised his sword, the eagerness of his actions against the vulnerability of your torso.

“Oh?” The paper crinkles under your tight fist, its sound serving as a reminder of your demeanor.

“He was wrong to do what he did. He hurt you and I hate him for that,” she halts, carefully thinking of what to say, “That said, I don’t believe he meant to hurt you. Had he known your skills in combat, I think the situation would have been avoided.”

It’s your fault really, you should have guessed as much. The path of wrongness will always lead back to you. You shouldn’t have expected Nesta, of all people, to see through the situation.

“I’ll see you on the training grounds before sunrise tomorrow, because from what I am gathering, I cannot trust anyone here to not kill me if I don’t refine my skills.”

For a moment, guilt can be found on the face of your sister, though it is quickly replaced by something akin to anger.

Looking as though she intends to say more, Nesta rises from her chair and makes her way towards you. You find comfort in this, it reminds you of home, or something that once was home.

“If you despise your life that much then perhaps it is best you leave.” Too far, she’d gone too far. In typical Nesta fashion, she expresses her guilt through absence. The two filled tea cups serve as the only indicator she had even been present.

This is on you, completely your fault. You dared to welcome presence into nothingness and allowed for tension to fester. How foolish you were.

So with that, you begin to write.

tags: @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl

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currentlylivingonaprayer · 3 months

Text

my top favorite kimchay fanfics

In no particular order

(Even though nobody asked)

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40707996

dancing with our hands tied by MajorinMonster

After Chay gets jumped by a rival mafia gang he decides he needs a reputation so people won't touch him again. Kim is just there, trying to get back into chays good books.

9/10 recommend

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3061830

The idiots & idioms series by snickerdoodlles

Chay steals kims official wik account and post absolute unhinged things. Kim does nothing to stop him.

A must read for giggles

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45252880

Five Minutes by littlemisslawyer

Chays is a doctor and has been sent out of Thailand for many years. The day he comes back and wants nothing more than to take a break from work Kim has the audacity to get shot right in front of him.

Lots of cussing and chay calling kim 'pretty boy' and 'asshole/bastard'. Perfect

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43953225

Idolistic by ditchlilly

Wik centric fic. Kim likes to post false information of himself from a side account and chay somehow know what of the things he says are true or false. Kim gets suspicious and tries to find out who this boy is.

Lots of TENSION. And kittens. I absolutely love this one. Stayed awake till 3 am giggling so much I thought I would wake my family up. A must read. Definitely in my top 2.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830555

Progression by Azile (WitnessMarks)

Porchay trains to becomes stronger after their break up, kim, meanwhile, doesn't handel it well and then gets kidnapped. Chay is one of the people to come to his rescue. Kim comes back quite damaged and chay is one of the only people he feels really comfortable being around. Both of them are confronted with their still existing feelings for the other.

absolute masterpiece. Read in one sitting, even though it's still updating. Can only recommend. This story is batteling with Idolistic for first place.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3489094

The KIM IS SO LOVED series by wayupthere

No comment. Read the tags, you'll know what it's about.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45749062

Idle Talk by Iamabudgie

After someone posts a blind item on a gossip site, Kim is forced to confront something he has been delaying for months.

Absolutely amazing. Much deeper plot than you think when you first start it. Updates are months apart, but they deliver every time. Definitely in my top 3.

Edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52988125

I Fell for You by @liesineyes

Kims family treats him like absolute shit. Chay and Porsche just want to find out out why, while also planning to show Kim real family love.

Love this story. Not many chapters yet, but beautiful and makes me sad and happy at the same time.

Edit edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52593382

BREAKING NEWS by Pens

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48575617

Back on the Beat by Pens

It's kimchay works, with the most beautiful fanart I've ever seen and it makes my cheeks ache form smiling.

Also check out their tumbler account @shou-jpeg for more kimchay content.

and of course the overall classics like an elegant mechanism by Laughsalot3412, or meet me where the light greets the dark by froginthesun.

I know some of these authors are here on tumbler, but I habe no idea how to tag them in a post, so I will tag them in the comments. Please tell me if I forgot someone. Check out their accounts too.

Also, if you have a recommendation, I'm open for them.

#kimchay #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #kinnporche the series #kinnporsche the series #Kimchay fanfic #Kimchay fanfic recommendations #fanfic rec #ao3

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wordstome · 7 months

Text

Shrike pt. 3 - who we are

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, she/her pronouns, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander, absolute tooth rotting fluff, corny as hell towards the end

2.8k words

tw: physical and emotional abuse, violence (chokehold, stabbing, throat slitting)

Hello to everyone reading this from my main blog! In case you haven't seen the pinned post on bucca2, this is my new writing blog. Everything I publish will be here on wordstome now. Please feel free to unfollow bucca2 and follow me here!

also PARIS PALOMA TEASED HER NEW SONG "DRYWALL" JUST FOR SHRIKE CHAPTER 3 SPREAD THE WORD

[PART 1] [PART 2 (PREV)] [MASTERLIST]

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

When you’re in total darkness, your eyes adjust. You can see everything around you, but it’s all devoid of color. Then when the light turns on, it blinds you, but it’s better to be blinded momentarily than to live in the dark forever.

That’s how it feels as you prepare to travel home. To escape. You’re antsy, excited and petrified at the same time. Before, it felt like the days flew past in a murky haze. Now, even the seconds crawl.

It feels like moving in a dream, like you’ll wake up any day now and it will all be taken away from you. Your hope, your new dreams for the future, your König.

A shiver runs through you. Where did “your König” come from?

When you’re not occupied with the anxiety of keeping such a huge secret from your husband, all you think about is König. You’ve spent the past few weeks in a haze, like he’s put some sort of spell on you. You do get a kick out of imagining him as a witch with a hat and cauldron.

But you know it’s something simpler than that. All the feelings you used to have for him have returned. It’s different than the heady rush you used to get with your husband. It feels sweeter, like you really are a teenage girl with a crush all over again.

It feels naïve, but you also don’t care. You feel safe despite the situation you’re still in, for the first time in a long time. You never would have expected to see König again—even less so for him to become your saving grace.

It seems silly in hindsight that you had been so frightened of him. Sure, the mask was a lot. But it had been something about his energy. It was different than you had ever felt from him, before or after your reunion. If he was that way on the battlefield, then no wonder he had earned the nickname König. You’re not sure if it scares or awes you.

You’re about to find out.

An anxiety attack is the worst feeling in the world.

You dry heave. Your chest feels like a roiling ball of angry carrion birds hollowing you out. You shake like a leaf in the wind. You fall down a long, dark pit of despair as your stomach seizes with nausea.

The train’s delayed. There’s been an issue with the tracks leading out of the city. No trains will be leaving for 12 hours.

You should have just sat in the terminal and waited, or tried to contact König, but you’re not thinking straight. All of your thoughts are focused on your husband, and what he’ll do if he comes home and finds you gone. You decide, somehow, that it would be wiser to throw yourself back into the lion’s den and pretend everything’s alright instead of waiting for him to come raging into the train station and pull you out by the hair. The thought of that is the only thing that gets you up off the wall you were hyperventilating against and back towards home.

The plan is to get home before he does and hide your suitcases. He’s usually not home by this time, anyway. You chalk the rising sense of dread in the pit of your stomach up to your anxiety and turn the handle to go in.

Fuck.

He’s standing in the kitchen.

The years have not been kind to him. He’s far from the charming young man you married. He’s wretched, unkempt, angry. It’s clear he’s been drinking, maybe even before he left work. The shadows etch themselves into the lines of his face as his expression twists into something awful, inhuman. You stand, frozen, as he approaches you.

“Planning a trip without me?” he asks with an awful grin.

You can still salvage this. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I just received word. My mother’s not doing well. I have to go see her.”

“You lie like a whore,” he snarls. “Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention. You’re different nowadays. Not the nice obedient woman I married.”

Your fear turns to anger in an instant. Years and years of this horseshit, waiting on him hand and foot, placing his smallest whims before your own needs and wants—it rushes up through you like hot steam. His nice obedient woman. And the worst thing is, you hate that he’s not wrong. That is what you’ve become.

“Yesterday I came home and you hadn’t even started dinner. Where were you, huh? Running around on me behind my back?” It’s difficult to describe, but his smile is oily: sleazy, untrustworthy, dangerous. “With that big fuck in a hood that came here with the mercenaries, perhaps?”

Your blood runs cold at that. Has he seen you with König? When? Why hasn’t he said anything? It feels like you’re stepping into a trap, but you must move forward if you want to get out.

“He’s going to get what’s coming to him, alright. My manager has a direct line to his boss. One word from him will get that fucker deployed to the middle of nowhere on a suicide mission.”

It’s an absurd threat, and you know it. This drunken idiot has no idea what he’s talking about—as if some middle-management bureaucrat could persuade a PMC to dispose of a soldier like König. But it’s the audacity that irks you. You’ve lived your life serving this man for too long, and now he thinks the world will bend to his whims. There’s absolutely no way he can touch König, but an old and familiar anger rises in you.

A long overdue revelation dawns on you now. He’s a bully. The same as Andreas: little boys with petty insults and empty threats. Pushing people around because their own lives are empty and unsatisfying.

An eerie calm breaks through you like the sky cutting through a storm. The man before you is just a feral animal, snarling and snapping in desperation. You’re not afraid of him anymore.

You reach behind you and slowly roll open the knife drawer, grabbing the first one your fingers land on.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this house, this country, and this marriage,” you say, gripping the knife in a defensive position. Your father taught you how to hold a knife like this: backwards, with the blade along your arm, sharp edge facing outwards.

“This way, it’s much more difficult for someone to turn the blade against you,” he had told you, demonstrating the motion by moving your arm towards your chest. The memory makes you smile. At the time, you’d been indulging your old man—he had always said that violence was a last resort, but that the world was unkind and one day you may have to defend yourself. He was right, just as he was when he told you he had reservations about your marriage.

You’re going home. You’re going to see your father again. And you’ll never have to tolerate the loathsome toad before you again.

The beast laughs. “What do you think you’re going to do with that? Stab me?” He’s up against you before you can react, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasp as he pins you against a wall by the throat.

“You. Are. Mine. You will never raise a hand against me because I own you,” he hisses, his alcohol-laced breath foul against your face. “And it’s high time you remembered that.” His grip tightens like an iron vice around your throat, but you’re not afraid. Even as your vision begins to blur and blacken, you stare directly into his eyes. They’re like red-hot coals of fury, but you see what’s behind them now. The fear. The cowardice of a desperate man who has no recourse but to lay his hands on someone who can’t fight back.

“You’re pathetic,” you rasp, lips tugging into a smile. The coals burn brighter. The hand squeezes tighter. The adrenaline surges through you like a tide—and your body acts to protect itself, in a way that you haven’t allowed it to in a long time. A feeling as sweet and familiar as an old friend.

The knife makes its home right between his ribs.

He staggers away from you, as if you had slightly winded him instead of stabbed him in the heart. Your hands instantly go to your throat as you cough and sputter, lightheaded and dizzy but alive, so alive. You’ve never felt so alive as you do right now, watching the demon of your own personal hell look down at the blade sticking out of him.

“You stupid little bitch—” He makes as if to lunge at you, but time slows. Your eyes widen as the shadows behind him melt and solidify into a figure. Tall and hooded. No knight in shining armor, but an assassin of deepest night.

König slashes through your husband’s throat in one deadly, beautiful motion.

Your husband falls to the ground like dead weight, gasping and choking on his own blood. Your eyes are fixed on him, a strange sensation bubbling through you. You’re making some kind of noise, loud and cacophonous, as König steps over the dying animal who has controlled you your whole adult life.

His arms find their way around you as you slowly sink to the ground, howling and wailing. He’s so patient, you think numbly with some corner of your mind that remains untouched by the mania seizing the rest of you. The two of you sit there, his body warm and solid against yours, as your body slowly exits fight or flight mode.

“Alex?” you say hoarsely once you’re in your right mind again.

“I’m here,” he rumbles.

You turn to look at him as he pulls the hood off his head. There he is, your Alexander, all grown up. He’s rugged, with nasty-looking white scars streaked across his face, but so, so handsome. His eyes are still the same as he looks at you with something akin to rapturous adoration. Your green-eyed boy.

“You’re back, rosethorn,” he says with a wide grin. There’s a touch of madness to it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Was I…” Exhaustion sets in, seeping through your whole body. “Was I crying or laughing just now?”

He shifts you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby as you look up at him.

“I think you were laughing.”

The police release you after just over half an hour of questioning.

You aren’t going anywhere, of course. They’re leaving you, exiting your hospital room with murmurs of well-wishes for your health. They’ve hardly left the room when König comes striding in, instantly moving to your bedside and holding your hand in his.

He looks tired too, his eyes soft as he takes in your small smile. You’re sure he was being interrogated for much longer than you, but it looks like he passed muster as well. Not as if you had anything to worry about—what could the local police have done to the commander of the mercenaries taking down their local terrorist cell anyway?

“Are you alright? Did they clear you?” His expression hardens as he glances at your neck. You nod weakly. Your throat is going to be bruised for a while, but your attacker hadn’t done any lasting damage.

Attacker. Husband. Corpse. All of these words describe the same thing now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he says mournfully. “He shouldn’t have had the chance to attack you like that.”

You shake your head at him. He didn’t know that you weren’t on the train heading home, after all. The room is quiet for a few moments, save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Why…” you manage to ask. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“Why was I there?” He glances around to make sure nobody’s listening, and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I was there to kill him, of course.”

You shudder a little. He admits it so casually, that he was in your house because he was there to commit a murder. You should be afraid of him, but you feel around in your brain and come up empty-handed.

Instead, you find yourself worried. For him. “What if you had gotten in trouble?”

He snorts. “You underestimate me, rosethorn. I would have just framed it as a robbery.”

You nod. Oh God…does that mean he had planned this? Why doesn’t that horrify or disgust you? You’re just going to have to dissect that later. Right now, you only feel a warm affection towards the man stroking his thumb along your hand in a soothing motion.

“So…what comes next?”

“You’re asking me? We can do whatever you like. I can take you home.”

Home. Where is that, now? It’s certainly not in the house you’ve left behind, where the ghost of the man you were married to settles in every nook and cranny. It doesn’t feel like your childhood home where your parents are, either.

It’s such a corny saying, “home is where the heart is”. But home feels like it’s already here, sitting next to your hospital bed with the fondest look in his eyes.

“I’d like to travel,” you whisper. The with you goes unspoken.

“I have plenty of leave time saved up.”

You flip your hand so you can hold his. It’s huge next to yours. This is the hand that slit your husband’s throat, a hand that has killed countless people.

You’re not sentimental enough to pretend that’s not an issue. You’re not entirely sure this is happily ever after: that all of your problems are solved because you’ve replaced one violent man with another. But another part of you yearns to be the one who gets protected. You’ll take care of König, and you know he’ll take care of you. In his own way.

You can ask the questions later. Right now, you have lost time to make up for.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that scarf?”

The air is cold, but the wind is soft instead of feeling like tiny blades against your face. You tug said scarf down from your face and take in a lungful of crisp, icy air.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure König as he hauls himself up the last ridge to where you’re standing. “It’s loose enough. And it’s chilly.”

“If you say so.” He tugs his neck gaiter further up his nose. “What a view, hm?”

You’re standing on Mont Blanc, blanketed by serene white snow just as the name promised. Further below you, the skiing slopes are crawling with tourists, but here in this little outcropping, the only sound is the occasional rush of wind and your voices.

“I think I can see Salzburg from here,” you say, pointing off into gorgeous landscape spread out before you.

“That is most certainly still Switzerland,” König says, amused. You turn to look at him instead and are rewarded with his shining green eyes looking right back at you.

“Whatever!” You let out a dissatisfied hmph, which draws a hearty laugh from him.

“You came all the way to Chamonix just so you could look at Austria again?”

“It’s a very tall mountain,” you argue.

“It’s one of many very tall mountains. We could have just gone to Großglockner.”

“That’s boring. I’ve always wanted to visit France.”

“You wanted to visit a very expensive ski chalet.”

“Bite me.”

“I just might!” You giggle and squeal as he grabs you, chasing your face with his as you squirm around.

“It is beautiful,” he concedes as he holds a hand above his eyes to keep off the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I should push you off this peak right now.”

“You couldn’t move me an inch.” He grabs you by the waist and holds you tight to emphasize his point. You can’t even shift his arms off you, no matter how hard you push.

“Ok, fine, you win.” You pout at him, but he doesn’t let you go.

The dynamic the two of you share is so easygoing and relaxed, it’s like you had a rhythm all along that both of you just fell back into. But of course, there are some things you’ve never done together. Like travel together.

Or kiss.

“Are you going to do it this time?” you ask him, smiling.

His nose wrinkles up, uncharacteristically cute for someone like him. “Well, I was going to, but then you had to open your mouth.”

You cackle. “Go on then.”

“Can I?”

“I just said yes!”

“I forgot how much you like to talk,” he complains. Before you can say another word, he captures your lips in his.

The sky is vivid and blue as the whole world stretches out before you.

#RIPBOZO

Here we are! We're at the end of this little story I started writing on a whim. Honestly, this means a lot to me personally: I wrote a lot when I was younger, but high school and university were very difficult times for me, and I stopped writing fanfiction. I tried to get back into it during the pandemic, but I was never able to finish anything beyond a long-ish drabble. I'm quite proud of this.

Even still, I feel like there are a lot of stories that I still want to tell about this couple. There's quite a lot that I decided to cut from these main 3 chapters for the sake of pacing and time. There's a little bit of dissatisfaction at not having crammed in every little detail that I wanted, but if there's one thing that writing university papers has taught me, it's that perfectionism will keep you from getting anything done. So you will be getting more from Alex and Thorn in the future!

I know a lot of you were anticipating what delicious revenge König was going to exact on Thorn's husband, so I hope you weren't too disappointed ;; While I personally would have loved to have König strap him to a chair in the basement and do some morbid things with a knife, I think it was important for Thorn's character that she's involved in it. While of course the main focus of this story is König, Shrike is also about his beloved Thorn. I hope to explore König and the darker (and pervier) aspects of his character more in subsequent stories. But for now, they're getting a well-deserved happy ending.

One last thing before I go: Chamonix is a resort town in central/southeast France, not far from Lyon. (Sorry, I don't know whether Lyon is south enough to be considered southern France lol). Mont Blanc is Chamonix's main peak of the Alps, and is known for how pretty it is and being at the border of France, Switzerland, and Italy. As König said, if you wanted to visit a mountain as an Austrian, there are several of them at home you could visit, but since I visited it a few years ago, Chamonix has a special place in my heart. I just had to cram it in!

As usual, I'm excited to see your comments and feedback. I've read every single thing everybody has commented about this fic, even if I couldn't respond to you all, and I appreciate it so deeply. Whenever I get feedback I literally feel like kicking my feet and giggling. And if you want to ask questions or request specific scenarios with Thorn and Alex, please do send me an ask!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @kneelingshadowsalome @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @fireballoveraltanta

psst. to my tag list people while I have you here: naturally I will continue tagging you in other Shrike stories, but I'll also be using this same tag list for every other König fic I write. If you'd like to opt out of that, let me know. (No hard feelings, of course :3)

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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wood-white-writer · 6 months

Text

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [4.5/...]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Summary: In which Buggy discovers that he’s in over his head while making a deal with Arlong the Saw.

Warnings: LA! One Piece, Canon typical violence, slight canon divergence, Arlong is his own warning

A/N: Unfortunately, part 6 of "DMTMYHB" is a little delayed and won't be out until at least next week. However, I began working on this initially out of boredom, so at least you can read about Buggy's POV after the events of chapter 4 and before the events of chapter 5.

Life sure is a shitshow sometimes, Buggy thinks to himself while spitting out a few grains of sand. For fish people, there’s a certain irony with pulling over a bag propped with sand over his head.

Then again, it could’ve been considerably worse.

They could have decided to water board him, or maybe take a decent chunk off his nose. It’s not too outlandish to assume that these kinds of people prefer the taste of human flesh, and although he considers himself fairly experimental man on occasion, that one is not on his kink list.

He might be big-headed sometimes, he’s man enough to admit as much, but even Buggy knows better than to underestimate the fish people. He’s had his fair share of encounters with them before, and needless to say, mixing a Devil Fruit eater with people who primarily live and breathe in the sea is a bad combination.

A very, very bad combination, especially if you throw Arlong the Saw into the mixture. Buggy’s not a recluse; he’s heard of his reputation as the self-proclaimed ruler of the East Blue. Ask just about anyone who he is, and they’ll whisper his name while pissing their pants like school children.

A misanthrope with a less than discreet disdain for all things human, and a face only a mother could hope to love, the guy does not fuck around with what he considers his, which approximately covers all of the East Blue. And the people in it are merely collateral.

If anything’s a testament, it’s his bounty. Twenty million berries for his head, doesn’t matter if it’s attached to his body or not. The highest bounty on this piece of the ocean.

Well, second highest. The top spot belongs to you, but that’s a thought Buggy has tried desperately to bury in the sand for the past few days. He doesn’t need to think about you, least of all now.

He has bigger fish to deal with, and it blows.

It’s his fucking luck that this is happening specifically to him.

No, it wasn’t enough that he got his ass handed to him by a bunch of scrawny nobodies.

It didn’t suffice that he had to watch you turn your back to him twice in a lifetime.

He’s managed to evade the saw-nosed fucker’s eye up until this point, and so, of course Fate would deal him this final one.

Just as the cherry on top of the shitty sundae that is his life.

So, to conceal or own terrified state when faced with the darkened stage room, Buggy decides to do what Buggy does best:

Fake it ‘til he makes it.

And he sure as fuck hope he does.

“Is this the best way to ask for an autograph?” His echo bounces like a ball through the darkened room. “I mean sheesh! Fans have gotten so toxic!”

The eerie silence is his only companion now, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Not even the two fishy folks standing guard at his side offers him more than rolled eyes. Rude.

This place — his stage — which once served as his sanctuary, might soon become his tomb. If Arlong lives up to his rep, he’ll ask the clown to dig his own hole before chomping on his jugular.

Curtains for him and all fucking that.

“Alright, what do you want?! Tickets to the show? I can get you house seats, they’re pricey!”

A loud thud emerges from the shadows behind him, and a cold breeze brushes against the the exposed skin on his face.

“Oh, I am no fan of yours.”

He knows a beast when he hears one, even better when he sees them. He spent the good portion of his youth alongside one, and witnessed first-hand just how they could be. Beasts are strong, and brutal, and precise. They can tear you apart if they deem it necessary because it’s in their nature, but that’s all it is. Nature.

However, Buggy’s also come to discover that beasts have also the capacity for kindness and love. A beast is someone he can fall in love with.

This thing that emerges from the dark at his side, on the other hand, is no mere beast.

Hell, he can’t even qualify it as such. This creature at his side, one he doesn’t dare to face at first until he notices it’s gradual approach, is a monster.

Ain’t no way in the blue hell he’ll ever consider tapping that the way he would with a beast.

“I run things here in the East Blue,” the fish-man speaks, voice grating Buggy ears as he circles the clown. “I’m here to remind of you of your place in the food chain. You pull a job in my seas, you gotta pay tribute.”

Despite the fact that he’s nervous as shit, there’s a certain taunt crystallising in Buggy’s brain that he’s subconsciously urged to free against his better judgement.

Arlong’s place is second in this so-called food chain. Yours is the first, and if it wasn’t for the fact that voicing this would guarantee his premature death, Buggy would’ve reminded the fishy shithead of this.

Despite whatever grievances you two share, Buggy knows that he won’t mind not being at the top as long as it means it’s not under Shark-boy’s hierarchy.

The East Blue is, per Arlong’s definition, yours, whether you know it or not, and he’d much rather comply with that.

But Buggy keeps his act going. “But Arlong, baby, you don’t gotta worry about me. I’m small potatoes. Pirating’s more of a side gig.”

As much as he tries, and he does try, Buggy knows his words can’t keep the shark’s teeth at bay for much longer. Arlong is not a patient type, and it just about snaps when he reaches for his throat and prepares to chomp.

Buggy doesn’t intend to die now. He can’t. He’s got unfinished business to attend to.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

Maybe fate is actually on his side for fucking once, because the fish man actually does wait.

He has a shot.

“You know who’s out there really disrespecting you? It’s that little Rubber-Prick in the straw hat, goes by the name of Luffy.”

It doesn’t work, because it seems Arlong is more of a recluse than him. Has never heard the boys name. So, he tries a different approach before the teeth settle in again.

“He— He’s not alone.” Fuck, he’s losing air, and he kinda needs that to get the primary point into Arlong's thick, scaly head. A point that he’ll be sure to catch the asshole’s attention. “Cross-Hairs is with him!”

Arlong halts, and his lips don a sneer.

Another thing Buggy has discovered in all of this is that Arlong is an inherently proud guy, and believes himself superior to others not only because of his fishy nature, but due to the fact that he has among the largest bounties on this piece of the map.

Yours is the only obstacle keeping him from completely claiming that title.

“The Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates has been absent for the past decade.” Arlong lets up on the pressure around his neck, enough to let Buggy grasp a few fistfuls of air, but his feet still dangle above the ground.

“Y-Yeah—,” Buggy heaves. “But her— b-bounty hasn’t changed, has it? And the kid, he just knocked over a marine’s base in Shells Town, then he stole a map of the Grand Line and now he’s talking shit about finding the One Piece.”

This seems to be enough reason for Arlong to finally drop him, and Buggy struggles to retrieve all the air he’s lost.

“The One Piece, an excuse for humans to spread their filth across the seas.” Arlong is less than impressed, but what he says next opens a door. “Why should I concern myself with the ambitions of a mere human boy?”

“Because that map is useful,” Buggy regains some semblance of balance on his knees. “The kid is not, but I have unfinished business with him. What’s more, if Cross-Hairs is with him, then that’s your chance to get the highest bounty in all of the East Blue. Think about it! You’ll be at the top of the list if she’s out of the way.”

Arlong doesn’t like the implication laced in Buggy’s words, the possibility that he’s in any way lesser than a human. “I am already at the top of the list, clown. The Cross-Haired Pirates are disbanded, and humans tend to age so quickly compared to fish men. I’m sure she’s grown old and weary in the last couple of years, hardly worth my time.”

Buggy wants to smile. Smile as he thinks about just how fucking wrong this guy can be. The years have not drained you, nor weakened you, nor made you any less hot if he does say so himself.

Oh, if anyone can wipe the floor with Arlong, it’s you. That’s why he’s not afraid of revealing your current whereabouts, because he already knows fishy over there will get his ass whopped big time.

“How about this: you let me live, and I’ll help you find Luffy and Cross-Hairs. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Two birds, one stone, and one fish filet, to be more specific.

Arlong grabs him by the neck. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I've got eyes and ears everywhere.”

The fish takes the bait, and Buggy can't help but laugh.

Laugh, not because Arlong agrees to his plan, but because the guy is going to be struck by lightning so fucking hard that in the end, there'll be nothing left of him save for that ugly-ass tool he calls a nose.

The moron has deliberately put himself up for slaughter, and personally, Buggy can’t wait to watch the show unfold.

The stage is yours.

He’ll watch from the front rows and give you an upstanding applause once the curtains falls.

---

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#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #one piece live action #one piece x reader #buggy x you #one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #arlong

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sugar-grigri · 7 months

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I was wondering what you think the likelihood is of an actual canon Asa/Denji romantic relationship is? I mean obviously they're building that Asa has feelings for csm/Denji (separately) and Denji has shown passing interest as well. I wonder if it's feasible at all or are they going to be pitched against one another now that Asa's getting seen more in the public eye while Denji is forcibly pushed aside.

Love your blog and enjoy reading your analyzes of the chapters/characters/plot!

Denji and Asa will have a romantic relationship

I'm sorry to answer so late (almost 2 months later) and without justifying my delay, I think it's the right time in view of the last chapters to answer !!! I think Asa and Denji will have a romantic relationship. Before explaining my arguments, I would ask that we all put our personal preferences aside. I'm only interested in Denji and Asa's writing and story arcs. Now that that's been cleared up, let's get down to business.

First of all, I'd like to reiterate a few points about Denji's development and objectives.

In part 1, Denji understood what it meant to be loved properly, the different facets of love, how to protect and pamper a family, just as his response to the antagonist was driven by his love for Makima. It's important not to deny that Denji has become attached to Makima, and the paradoxical aspect of this affection is what made the end of Part 1 so brilliant and memorable.

Firstly, it confirmed that CSM's main theme from the outset was love, and secondly, it proved that Denji's response was extremely sensitive and mature. Instead of locking himself into a cycle of revenge and hatred, he forgave.

But above all from a narrative point of view it's interesting because in the first part, Denji grasped his value as a human being, knew what it was like to be considered and loved by Power and Aki. I've always seen Part 2 as a response to Part 1.

After the character has grasped that he can be loved, Part 2 places within it, consecrating it as the pivotal protagonist: Denji's beloved, Asa Mitaka. Instead of simply mystifying the love interest as a deuteragonist, as many works do, and depriving us of her point of view, Fujimoto places her with equal narrative importance. Which makes sense, since love is a central theme, Denji's love couldn't take a back seat.

All this to say that the very fact that Asa is also the protagonist puts us on the right track. But there's nothing to stop it all being a trap? Just as there's nothing to stop the relationship between the two protagonists opening up to a lovely friendship, is there? From a personal point of view, I'd have found it interesting if Denji had struck up another platonic friendship with a girl, with no undertones.

But that's not what Fujimoto has in mind...

Asa and Denji are written to complement each other. And when I say complementarity, I make it clear that the writing doesn't imply that a relationship between the two of them would solve their internal problems. Their flaws are put to the test by the external scenario.

For example, Asa's lack of trust in others is underlined in her development compared to other characters such as Yuko and Yoshida.

Yuko and Asa had a sincere friendship, although this drifted into moral combat as the young girl wanted to be as beneficial and useful as Chainsaw Man. As for Yoshida, he torments Asa, playing the game of promiscuity in order to create distance between the two of them, motivated as he is by Chainsaw Man. But his aim is not to become like him, but to prevent him from acting to the full.

Whether it's to inhibit Chainsaw Man or to become like him, Chainsaw Man has occupied a place in Asa's relationships with the others. But again, this only serves to underline the extent to which the destinies of the two protagonists are intertwined. Instead of hating Chainsaw Man even more for disrupting her relationships, Asa Mitaka unknowingly experienced his profound kindness.

During the aquarium arc, Denji simply occupied a special place regarding this issue. While the young girl mortified herself about being a good-for-nothing, a loser like Denji, it was he who paradoxically helped her. Firstly, because he'd listened to her explanations, boring though they were, about starfish and the fact that they're edible. What's more, Fami can control those she would have starved, so subconsciously the fact that Denji offered her food saved Asa.

But this is implicit writing, as it doesn't make sense until well afterwards, when Fujimoto spells out the conditions of the famine demon's power. When we read the aquarium arc, the one who finds the solution is Asa. Denji was merely a springboard.

This episode is central because Fujimoto, in developing the relationship between Denji and Asa, also clarifies the way in which he will write it: one will not overshadow the other, and he has not placed Asa as the protagonist so that she is not a pivotal point in the scenario.

But before this good experience, Asa only sees Denji's little flaws, the fact that he's a fan of Chainsaw Man, that he rips off homeless people and even goes so far as to dehumanize him, considering him somewhere between a cat and a criminal. Instead of idealizing Asa as Denji's great savior, she is first presented as a threat to the boy. But this chapter only confirms the future romantic (and tragic) aspect of their relationship.

I'm putting my theory back on the cat, because it's this symbol that heralds a perhaps not-so-pretty ending between the two of them. Fujimoto takes on the characteristics of a Greek tragedy, with a game of identities, intertwined secrets and a series of misunderstandings, with two camps, characters also preventing their relationship (Nayuta and Yoshida). But above all, it's tragic: Denji is somewhere between a cat and a criminal, just as Asa lost her mother while trying to save a cat, just as the first being Denji saves in Part 2 is a cat.

The cat is a figure that links Denji and Asa (the fact that they both saved one, that it is linked to their family (Power and Asa's mother), the metaphor of cat and criminal being what characterizes someone as morally gray as the two of them TO SUM UP their relationship will end in sacrifice. The ultimate proof of love. Isn't it wonderful to have a boy as the protagonist who pursues love, only to die for it? The reverse is just as beautiful: a young girl who closes herself off in solitude finds self-fulfillment in dying for the sake of another.

But back to something happier: Asa is the only one who has a healthy love (or rather, attachment) to Denji. Firstly, because she first faced Denji's and Chainsaw Man's flaws before seeing their good sides.

First, she doesn't project anything onto the boy, and sees him exactly as he is. She experienced his obscenities, his interest in sex that repels her. This was something I'd considered a flaw until now, to be honest; I was afraid that if the two protagonists ended up experiencing intimacy together, it would "save" Asa from her rejection of sex. But I was reassured by Fumiko's development, which parallels that. Fumiko has an unhealthy interest in Denji and is constantly contradictory in her dealings with him.

As I said, chapter 142 sets up a fairly simple idea: no one respects Denji's limits, above all, no one sees him as the teenager, the child he is. With Chainsaw Man, the same thing happens: people, faced with their powerlessness against the demons, project their grief and frustrations onto the machine man, to the point of pushing him to live again and again to kill his loved one, his big brother.

No one hears Chainsaw Man's cries for help

Asa stands out from all this: first, she's the one who wants to save Chainsaw Man

Fumiko already had an idealized image of Denji before she met him, has an ascendancy over age, a manipulative strategy, but beyond these problematic issues she respects no limits, thinks Denji's sexual desires, which do exist (let's not deny it), are watchwords.

She, who considers him a child, doesn't act at all in the spirit of protection that she acclaims.

Asa has the opposite reaction, but purely the opposite. When she meets Denji, she's not at all interested, even distressed. She'll have exactly the same reaction to Chainsaw Man. She doesn't like him, so she has nothing to project onto him. And even her first reaction to him was far from idyllic.

Fumiko's presence is also intended to underline the way she and Asa differ in the way they deal with Denji's limitations.

Asa respects Denji's limits, or rather those he has set as rules dictated by his little sister. But Yoru crosses a boundary by kissing him. Without the desire to justify a non-consensual act, what Yoru is doing is crossing a boundary not set by Denji but by Nayuta, who is trapping her older brother in a certain solitude by wanting to protect him. The control devil is obsessed with a happiness that can only be found in the number of two, which is the common trait that links Makima and Nayuta, although they are not exactly the same entity. The first kiss between Yoru and Denji is then an act of rebellion, rather than Fumiko's constant overstepping of boundaries.

(Again, these are two non-consensual acts, and I'm not justifying them, but they don't have the same narrative function).

But above all, the limits set by Nayuta have another meaning - they're there to consolidate the fact that Denji and Asa's relationship is a romantic tragedy inspired by the ancients, as Shakespiere was. The breaking of rules is a major theme in Romeo and Juliet, especially in the case of Juliet, who must choose between morals and her love, her family destining her for another marriage (symbolized by Nayuta).

But we'll come back to the symbolism of Romeo and Juliet in a moment...

Asa has met the purest version of Denji - whether it's Denji revealing his identity, or his profound kindness at the aquarium - and she's also witnessed the flaws of Chainsaw Man, this perverse monster, not good with words, who not only tried to reassure her, but actively protected her.

In other words, when we see her disturbed by her growing feelings for both Denji and Chainsaw Man, they are more than sincere, for she has seen them both as they were. But above all, she is the first character to love both sides of Denji's identity. Whereas Makima was obsessed with Chainsaw Man or Reze focused on Denji's weaknesses, Asa became attached to both the human and the demon.

Denji's dual identity is central, with the public hunters trying to annihilate Denji's demonic identity while the church relies on it, confusing the boy into having to choose one or the other, while the one who intends to help him unknowingly loves both sides. She likes him doubly. Asa is proof that Denji has to claim his two identities.

Not only is the girl also two, harboring a demon within her just as Denji has fused with a demon, but the way their demons are linked to each other and have a history between them only reinforces the destiny that binds them.

Asa is someone who intellectualizes her emotions to the extreme, so her love is more cerebral than Denji's, who thinks primarily through his senses, having a more instinctive love. Yoru occupies half of Asa's brain, while Pochita replaces Denji's heart, totally in line with this symbolism.

Above all, Yoru is disturbed by Asa's budding feelings, which also affect her. We've seen that Yoru hasn't succeeded in transforming Denji. We all stopped to think that she couldn't transform a hybrid, a demon. Yoru is a knight of the apocalypse and has a natural ascendancy over other demons, just as Fami had the falling devil under her control and Makima had controlled many demons. No, the reason why Yoru can't transform Denji is twofold: she's disturbed by Asa's feelings, which are also her own, and doesn't have the will to make him her weapon; but above all, they're not yet together, and the feeling of belonging to each other hasn't yet been established. It's not certain that Denji will ever become Yoru's weapon, since as soon as their relationship is established, he will symbolically offer her his heart.

In the current arc, Fujimoto places Asa in Denji's initial situation, so as to better parallel them: she becomes the church's new flagship image, her popularity competing directly with Chainsaw Man's. But while the current arc shows us the downside of these parasocial relationships, with Denji completely paralyzed by his existential crises, Asa experiences the opposite.

She who has always felt isolated is finally beginning to be appreciated and loved by the majority. In short, one begins to learn something that the other is just experimenting with. Denji and Asa are two very isolated teenagers who project themselves into the recognition their audience has in them.

What's certain is that Denji's existential crisis doesn't just concern him, insofar as his experiences can serve as a lesson to Asa, that to become a hero is above all to be alone. The church intends to sacrifice innocent people to spur Chainsaw Man into action, a church that Asa now represents. Asa hasn't yet seen this side of the church, so Barem mocks her by presenting her as a naive young girl. However, Asa has the intuition that tragedy will strike, since she has a nightmare of it.

Asa's going to have to go beyond her moral limits, to take the brunt of her own popularity, and even if she intends to save Chainsaw Man as he saved her, I think it's he who's going to help her more, not to eclipse her but as a springboard to push the heroine to save herself.

Denji's development isn't slow, flat, in this arc, it just reaches its conclusion. What's left for him to do to end it all is to prove his love.

Even if it means dying for it.

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back2bluesidex · 6 months

Text

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 3 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, implied smut

Warnings: Mentions of school bullying, implied smut, multiple pov changes, we got Hoseok's POV too!! mentions of alcohol consumption, a flashback, palpable tension between Hoseok and reader.

Word count: 4.7k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: The chapter starts with Hoseok's POV. JK's POV is added to the very end of the story. Sorry for the delay. I really struggled with this chapter. But I hope you guys like it. Please share your thoughts, I'd love to talk to you about it. and even if you are only reading the story, I still love you regardless.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“It’s so big, dad! It’s so big” the astonishment in Sua’s voice fills Hoseok’ heart with adoration. How come he has given birth and raised such an adorable human being!

Even if ten years ago somebody had told him that he would be raising a daughter alone with very little to no help, he would have laughed at their faces. But now, he can’t even think of a time when Sua wouldn’t be with him to brighten up his day, his life, his entire existence.

“Sua, let’s get into the queue! Fast!” your voice cuts through the thin chill of the air.

Hoseok’s eyes land on your figure and he finds you as beautiful as ever, if not more. He has come across countless women in his life but there are very few who have left any impact on him.

You are definitely one of them.

He knew you had to be special from the moment he witnessed Namjoon apparently struggling to shut his mouth while praising you and your capabilities. Hoseok knows his childhood friend too well and he knows that the man is not someone to be impressed easily. Hence, you had to be really compatible.

But he definitely didn’t expect you to be so attractive.

The moment his eyes met yours, he knew it was going to be hard for him to maintain this doctor-client relationship with you. And he was right. Things are getting even harder because he has to see you in your casual (and pretty) clothing, smiling and laughing with his daughter, and being equally excited about getting in the giant merry-go-round.

One of the very few things that he learnt about you includes the fact that you don’t need a ton of makeup or extravagant dresses to look bold and beautiful. When he saw you at the clinic for the first time, you were wearing a formal blouse and dress pants and yet you looked effortlessly attractive. During both of the outdoor therapy sessions, you chose to wear jeans and tops. And again Hoseok is finding it hard to divert his eyes from you.

On top of that, seeing you and Sua blending and bonding so well, makes him wish for forbidden things that are both too unethical and early for him to wish.

“Daddy! Are you coming or not?” Sua shouts from a distance and that’s when Hoseok realizes that he has been far too lost in his thoughts, or more like, his thoughts of you.

He walked fast towards the steps where you and Sua are standing, the same steps lead you into the small cabin of the giant merry-go-round.

Sua’s shoes clink against the metal floor of the small cabin making both of you and Hoseok laugh at her excitement. She settles at one side of the cabin and gestures to both of you to come inside.

Just as Hoseok is about to step inside, you hold his arm with your small palm. Something warm floods inside Hoseok and he finds this simple, insignificant act way too intimate. He eyes the place where your hand is touching him and then looks into your eyes.

God! Your eyes are so beautiful, probably the most beautiful pair of eyes he has ever seen. He feels heat creeping up his neck.

“You may hear things that will break your heart or unsettle you but I would appreciate it if you could keep your cool and refrain from reacting much.” your voice is low enough to make sure Sua doesn’t hear you. Hoseok understands and nods as you two finally settle inside the cabin. You sit beside Sua while he sits in the opposite direction.

The cabin is almost midair when Hoseok sees your body going rigid, your face losing colors and your eyes shutting on their own accord. On the other hand, Sua seems to be enjoying the view much more than what is expected from a seven year old.

It doesn’t take anyone a second guess to make out that you are acrophobic.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Hoseok voices out of concern, reaching for your hands in the process. You nod to assure your well-being.

Sua whips her head and turns to take a look at you.

“Y/N! Are you afraid of merry-go-rounds?” Sua grips your fingers with her small hands. Hoseok takes his approaching hands back under his custody.

You laugh a little, even though your face says you are two seconds away from throwing up.

“Not exactly merry-go-round, Sua. But I am afraid of heights.” You reply through your gritted teeth.

“Oh? Is that a thing?” Sua questions. Hoseok sits back and observes the conversation. He realizes you are about to make it about Sua very soon.

“Yes. Fear of heights is called Acrophobia. But it was a secret! Now you know one of my biggest secrets, Sua!” you fake annoyance, all through your nerve-wrecking fear. Hoseok is surely very amazed with you now.

“Oh no!” Sua giggles.

“Don’t laugh. In exchange for my secret, you gotta tell me one of your secrets too. Or better tell me what you are afraid of the most? It’s a rule. You can’t back off.” You seem to ease up quite a lot now.

“What am I afraid of? Do I have to tell you?” Sua questions with a very serious expression.

“Yes. don’t you think it will be unfair to me if you don’t?” You reason.

“That is right. But then daddy has to tell us his secret too. He heard you, just like me!” Sua pouts. Hoseok chuckles at his daughter's cute protests.

“Sure. I don’t have a problem.” he mutters. Eyes drifting to your face, which is focused on Sua. He sighs. You look even more beautiful under the golden hue of the setting sun. You look unreal, almost like a dream.

“Okay then let's start with Hoseok, shall we?” You speak with a trembling voice as the giant wheel starts to move again.

“Yes. yes. Daddy should go first.” Sua chimes in, way too delighted to finally know what scares her father the most.

“Spiders. I am afraid of spiders the most! God, those little creatures are the bane of my existence.'' As soon as Hoseok’s sentence ends, he hears roars of laughter from both of you and his daughter.

“I knew it! Daddy hates bugs so much!” Sua breaks into another fit of laughter, you join her soon after.

Hoseok feels like an achievement, having made you and Sua laugh so loud, it’s certainly an achievement to him.

“Okay okay! It’s your turn now.” you say while winding a hand around Sua’s little body, tugging her close to you.

For the first time in the afternoon, Hoseok finds his heart beating erratically because of you.

“I-” Sua’s face loses the glow in an instant, “I am- I am afraid of dark rooms. Dark rooms are so scary. I hate it! I-I hate it!” She covers her ears with her tiny palms.

Hoseok’s heart breaks at the sight, just like you had warned him earlier. He tries to reach out for Sua but sees you tugging her close to your chest, patting her back and calming her down before her anxiety excelates any further.

“Does Jaemin have anything to do with this, Sua?” you approach carefully, patting her back during the entire time.

Sua doesn’t say anything but she nods in your chest.

Hoseok’s heart breaks even more. He has been raising Sua providing every possible comfort he could offer. He thought he was successful in keeping his daughter away from all the harms of the world, but he was wrong. Somewhere, out of his knowledge, Sua was being terribly treated. The thought ensues a destructive anger in him, both for whoever Jaemin is and for himself. No matter how much he tried to be a great father, he failed to protect his babygirl and he is totally ashamed of himself.

When he looks up at you, he finds you smiling at him as if to assure something, as if to say, “hey, it’s alright”. He returns the smile with a heavy heart.

One thing about Sua is that it’s really easy to divert her mind and cheer her up.

Only an hour ago she was trembling in your chest, engulfed in fear of dark rooms and that bully. But right now she is smiling widely, totally thrilled to be riding the Camelot Carousel.

However, the person you are currently worried about is Hoseok. He is not at all doing well.

“You okay?” Letting your voice sound a little concerned, you ask Hoseok.

“I don’t know. I feel like I failed my duties as a parent. I couldn’t protect her.” Hoseok sighs. His shoulders rise and fall, making them brush with yours. It somewhat pains you to see him like this, especially when you could tell him for hours how good of a father he is despite all the complexities he had faced.

“Are you a magician or something?” you reply a little playfully.

“What?” Hoseok chuckles.

“No, right? Then how can you expect everything to be under your control? You are a human being after all, Hoseok. Being a parent doesn’t give you superpowers. There will always be shortcomings. But considering you have failed because of those, is certainly not justified. You are a good, in fact a great dad, Hoseok. And I need you to believe that yourself.” By the time you finish talking, you find Hoseok facing you.

Both of you are lost in each others’ eyes. All the chatters, clamoring, noise, the music from the carousel have faded in the background. Silence is buzzing in your ears and your eyes are focusing only on him.

Hoseok’s hair is not as styled as the other two times you have seen him. It’s more casual and curly today. Some curls fall on his forehead, almost reaching his eyes. His eyes are as dark and intimidating as ever. And if you are not wrong then you find those dropping on your lips momentarily before he is dragging his eyes back to yours again.

“You are a good psychologist but.. you are a better human being and I hope you know that, Y/N.” Hoseok speaks a little breathlessly.

“Maybe.. Or maybe not.” You add, finally turning your body towards the carousel again. You don’t look at him anymore. You don’t want him to read the vulnerability in your eyes that formed because he called you a good human being.

Your mind instantly goes back to Jungkook. You blame him for everything. He is the reason why you are so sensitive, so miserable that your eyes are blurring just because someone called you a good person.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And pathetically Jungkook doesn’t care about the state he has pushed you in.

“I didn’t get to ask you earlier but are you okay?” Hoseok asks, walking side-by-side with you while carrying Sua piggyback as she is fast asleep.

You get a little nervous at his question. Did hoseok really see the miserable you through your strong girl facade?

“Yes. I'm totally fine. Why are you asking though?” you quiz back.

“You pretty much lost all the color of your face while riding on the giant wheel.” Hoseok chuckles a little.

“Oh. that!” you chuckle too, “I am fine now.”

“Do you always do this? I mean, going out of your comfort zone to help your patients?”

“That’s a part of our job. If we can’t face our fears, we won’t be able to help others.” You sigh a little.

Hoseok only nods and you two fall in a comfortable silence.

“It was a great day, and we made good progress. Hope she will open up more to me by the next session. So, see you next friday?” You say as you approach your car.

“Oh- next friday. Shit! I almost forgot.” Hoseok groans and you find it mindlessly attractive, “I have a very important hearing next Friday. We may have to skip the session.”

“Skipping a session might not be a wise choice as she finally started to talk. Is there a way to reschedule it?” You shift your weight from one foot to another.

“I am so sorry but I will be occupied with all the preparations for this whole week. I don’t think I can make it before saturday.” Hoseok pouts a little.

And good lord! He is so manly yet so cute! You feel like running away again!

“I can work this Saturday if you want.” you propose, knowing exactly what you are doing.

“Really? I will be so grateful if you do but I don’t want to ruin your weekend.”

“I don’t have anything special planned anyway. So..” You just hope you don’t sound desperate.

“Okay. Done! Saturday at the same time? I will text you the venue later on?” Hoseok smiles widely and you feel your heart melting.

You nod.

On your way back home, you feel a little guilty about the way you persuaded Hoseok earlier. You practically just used him as an excuse to refrain from going to Jimin’s party. You know Jungkook will be there and you don’t want to see him. You will briefly see Jimin and give him the gift before meeting Hoseok and Sua.

Work is always one of the most plausible excuses after all.

There are two thoughts plaguing Hoseok’s mind.

One, Sua being bullied at school and him being unaware of it all.

Two, You.

You are doing the unexplainable to him.

He had many people telling him that he is a great dad, he is doing an exceptional job in raising his daughter almost alone, but all of those words felt hollow and more like a courtesy than like an appreciation.

However, for the very first time when he felt those words to be genuine, those were coming out of your mouth.

“Being a parent doesn’t give you superpowers. There will always be shortcomings. But thinking you have failed because of those, is certainly not justified. You are a good, in fact a great dad, Hoseok. And I need you to believe that yourself.” your words replay in his head. He intakes a sharp breath and sips whiskey from his glass.

Staring at the almost deserted road outside his window, he feels sympathetic for them. Because he knows what it is like to be deserted, to be alone.

On nights like these, when he is a little unsettled, a little troubled, a little miserable… he seeks warmth of a shelter, a home, a lover.

Hoseok sighs, closing his eyes he tries to picture a lover and the face he sees throws him off the edge… because it’s you. It’s his daughter’s therapist, somebody he doesn’t even know that well, somebody that is clearly off limits.

He growls in frustration, slams the glass of liquor hardly on the table in the process.

He should not be feeling like this. He is beyond the age of having innocent crushes. It’s only need, want and lust at this point of his life. And there’s no way you can satiate those.

So, he does what he could arrange. He takes his phone and dials the number of the person he knows will keep his bed warm at night.

Saturday rolls around much faster than you would prefer. For once you consider canceling the plan but then you opt for going.

Jungkook and you had a messy breakup, that’s true, but your common set of friends or acquaintances have nothing to do with it. They are more of Jungkook’s friends than yours anyway. So, you have nothing to lose if they suddenly start blaming you even if it’s your ex-boyfriend who ended the relationship.

However, you know Jimin would be different. He knows you better than any other friend of Jungkook. And he is the reason why you two met.

Four years ago, when you were a fresh graduate, broke and desperate. You rented this cheap studio apartment. Jimin was your neighbor living just across the hall. And Jungkook was (and is) his best friend.

There was nothing romantic about yours and Jungkook’s meeting, rather it was a scene to be remembered.

It was summer, burning hot. Jimin, being weirdly himself, decided to dive into his very uncomfortable and shallow bathtub. Without a doubt, his decision resulted in him having a bump on the forehead.

Jimin somehow managed to call Jungkook, who came to his rescue. Who also came knocking on your door in search of ice. That’s the day you met him for the first time, then became friends and in turn, lovers.

The memory of Jungkook asking you out stings like a fresh wound these days.

“So I was thinking…” he’d said, eyes zoning out of focus. He had looked at everything else other than you.

“Hmm?” you had an idea what was this going to be about and you were elated to say the least. You and Jungkook had been flirting with each other for a good time already. A comment here, a touch there, all of it made you feel like you were new. You were in love for the very first time and you realized you have never loved any of your past partners as much as you loved this doe eyed, bunny featured boy.

You knew your feelings were reciprocated as you were able to read Jungkook and the way he would behave around you. You were waiting for him to be the first one to break the ice and if he proved to be way too shy to do anything, you would come up and take the charge.

But you didn’t have to do so. Jungkook broke the tension as soon as he heard you needed a partner to join you to your very first networking party.

“I could be your date to that party you were talking about- I mean- if you want you know?” his mouth latched to the beer can, taking a long sip to avoid your eyes again.

“Are you only suggesting or are asking me out?” You played with him.

Gulping the beer he opened his mouth to reply but he got tensed as soon as he saw you smiling and staring at him intently, “I am- umm- what I want to say is that-'' he gulped again “it would be nice if I could be your date. I would love to be your date.”

“And why is that?” you were enjoying teasing him.

He flushed at your sudden question. You could clearly see the way he was getting more and more nervous with each passing second.

“I-I don’t know how to say it. Uh- It may feel a bit creepy since we don’t know each other for that long and I am already asking to be your date. But I- I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

You shut him up by capturing his lips with yours in a sudden kiss.

It took him a moment to process your actions but when he did, he kissed you back with ten times more intensity. He slid his tongue inside your mouth, his hands found their way inside your tank top, he placed you on the top of his lap, pressing his groin to your core deliciously. A pair of tongues danced for dominance, and soon you found yourself writhing under him as he made you cum again and again.

You come out of your flashback as you absentmindedly touch the heated part of the hair straighter.

Wow. What a great start to a Saturday, you think to yourself.

Gladly, we didn’t cry or have a meltdown this time. You smile to yourself, reaching for a band aid. This seems like healing. You are recovering faster than you thought you would, which makes you happy for sure.

Only if it was an average meeting, you wouldn’t put so much effort on your look. But you gotta meet Jimin first, who is probably already in a party mood, wearing his million dollar worth Dior outfits and Tiffany bracelets. And you don’t want to appear like a homeless kid before him. Moreover, Hoseok decided this week’s venue to be one of the fanciest bakeries of the town. Hence, it’s better if you doll up a bit.

You look at yourself through the rear view mirror, hoping that you are not overdressed for a therapy session and not undressed to meet your super popular friend.

Ok, you look presentable. What could possibly go wrong if you turn up to both of your meetings like this. Nothing.

The signal turns green and you are about to start your car except the fact that it doesn’t.

You spoke too soon. Obviously! Your car had to break down in the middle of the road like this! It is, certainly, one of the finest Saturday mornings you have ever had.

If there’s anything positive then you are just two blocks away from Jimin’s house, hence, you won’t have to walk for long in your heels.

It’s almost 2:45 when you complete calling insurance, handing over your car, and taking care of all the paperworks. There is no way in the world you could meet the Jungs by 3:30, so you decide to shoot Hoseok a quick text while walking towards Jimin’s house. You inform him that you are going to be late by 30 minutes or so as your car broke down earlier.

And you receive a call from him when you are in the elevator.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Hoseok’s smooth voice creates a weird session in your ear, which tickles down directly to your heart, warming it up much more than you would like to admit.

“Ah, yeah. Everything is fine. The car suddenly broke down while I was on the way to a friend’s home. And I am not well-aware of the public transport here. So, it may take some time for me to figure things out and reach the bakery.” keeping your eyes on the elevator door, you speak into your device.

“Uh- if you don’t mind… I can pick you up.” Hoseok suggests, voice a little small.

“It’s so kind of you, Hoseok but I don’t want to trouble you.” you reply. It’s safe to say that you would love to accept his kindness but then again, you don’t wanna appear to be a desperate, broken hearted, naive little girl.

“It won’t be a problem for me, Y/N. Just text me the address? Hm? I am sure Sua would love it too.” This time Hoseok’s voice is even more confident with a hint of authority in it. And you won’t like to turn him down. Agreeing with his proposition you cut the call, and type out the address just then the elevator dings open.

You haven’t been to Jimin’s place more than a couple of times but it is never hard to find his door, even though each of the condo looks just the same from outside.

Because Jimin’s door is always decorated as if it’s christmas. And today he even walked an extra mile and placed a full-size catboard cutout of himself with an edited crown on the top of his head and an animated birthday cake on one elevated hand.

You stifle a laugh while you press on the door bell.

And when the door opens, it’s not Jimin on the other side.

You are one of the main reasons why Jungkook decided to show up during the afternoon, have lunch with Jimin and then quietly leave before the party starts. His privacy is certainly a concern but not more than running into you.

But it seems like Life has different plans.

It’s you, who decided to show up right after 30 minutes of his arrival.

It’s you, who looks absolutely shattered by seeing him on the other side of the door.

It’s you, who is effortlessly sporting a black and red floral sundress with your slender neck and collarbones on display.

He stares at you with blown out pupils as you do the same. And suddenly Jungkook realizes that he misses you… or more like, misses seeing your beautiful face. If that makes sense.

“Y/N..” he murmurs under breath and he knows you can’t hear him.

You gulp and then open your mouth to say something but Jimin cuts you off.

“Y/N! You are here!” Jimin runs towards you, shoving Jungkook out of the doorway and pulls you inside. “But wait. You are here to tell me you can’t make it to the party, don’t you?”

Jungkook obverses you intently, zeroing his eyes on you and only you. You give Jimin one of your beautiful smiles and then hold out his gift.

“Sorry, Jiminie, I have a session today and I am already late for it. But a very very happy birthday to you.” tiptoeing, you reach Jimin's height and place a sweet kiss on his cheek. Jimin hugs you as you hug him back.

The scene irritates Jungkook and he doesn’t understand why. He has always been the jealous type, overprotective and possessive type. He never liked it when guys, even if your common friends, become too cozy with you. But that was in the past. That was when he was yours and you were his. That was when he was still in love with you. So, there is no apparent reason behind his irritation now.

He tries to move his eyes from you but then his eyes fall on your finger wrapped in a band-aid. Even before he knows what he is doing, he walks towards you, grabs your hand and examines the injury.

"Did you cut yourself again?" Jungkook investigates, as if he still has any right over you.

You snatch your hand back from his grip as if his touches burn.

"No. It's nothing." You reply, avoiding his entire presence.

Smiling brightly at Jimin, you murmur "I should go now. I'm running behind schedule."

"But it's Saturday. You don't work on weekends." Jungkook's mouth runs before his mind.

"I'm changing." You finally look at him, your eyes shoot daggers at him.

"But, Y/N-" Jimin starts to speak only to get cut off mid sentence as your phone starts ringing.

Jungkook doesn't want to but he can't control himself from peeking at your phone. But before he could make out the caller id, you receive it, “Hello… Oh you are here. Just a minute I am coming.”

“Jimin, I gotta go. I am sorry and happy birthday.” You rush your parting sentence, as if you don’t want to keep, whoever is here to pick you up, waiting.

“Y/N, you didn’t even rest your butt!” Jimin protests and you laugh.

“It’s a special client, Jimin. I don’t have a choice.” you smile apologetically to him.

The fact that you have smiled so many times already but not a single one was directed towards him. He knows he hasn't done anything to deserve your smiles but he craves for them regardless.

He wants to ask you how are you doing, if you are eating properly or not, if you are sleeping in time or do you still stay up reading books. He wants to ask for forgiveness, to say that he is sorry, to suggest that you move on and stop hurting because of him, but even before he could say a word… you are gone.

Jimin jogs towards the balcony and he joins just to see who this special client of yours is.

Never once during your relationship has he seen you working during the weekends, you also never accepted any gifts or lifts from your clients, and there was no reason for doing so since most of your clients are teenagers.

But earlier you said you were changing, is that why it’s a tall and good looking man who is here to receive you?

You come in the picture a minute or two later and walk towards your special client. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guides you to the passenger seat.

Jungkook can’t make out your facial features from the 5th floor, but he knows you are most definitely smiling. And the knowledge doesn’t sit right with him; rather it sets his senses on fire and that familiar overprotectiveness, possessiveness plague his mind.

“Oooohhh-” Jimin sings song, “a young, handsome client, who might as well be something more.”

“No. She is still in love with me.” Jungkook grits his jaw at the sight of the car leaving, taking away you.

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo @definetlythinkimanalien @lovelgirl22 @agrika

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bedtimegiraffe · 1 month

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I finally figured out why all the party members in Book 2 come out as so frustratingly self-focused to me.

It's not because they're all struggling with their own stuff. It's all about shelving your agenda- that thing in a relationship where you go, 'You need my support right now, so we're going to worry about my thing later.'

And MC does this constantly.

I just barely escaped death and found out a year passed, but is Kade recovered from the Shadow Court?

I just almost drowned, but it's time to comfort this owlbear cub and unpack Valax's trauma!

I just almost died twice to the Ash Empress, but is Nia coping with being corrupted okay?

Which can be okay. Shelving your agenda is part of a healthy relationship of any kind.

The problem is that no one does it back. I think Tyril and Nia kind of sum up the whole group's attitude:

But I don't think MC was ever going to be 'ready.' Someone else was always going to have to 'unshelve' it for them and make an effort to put the focus on MC.

Now, adventurers don't tend to be particularly well adjusted people. The full party has got maybe 1.5 healthy childhoods and 4 living parents between them (judged pretty generously). But it still feels like the others can't get it together enough to ask if MC is okay. Not that MC really makes it easy! I see MC as someone who is so used to pushing their feelings down to focus on whatever work is in front of them, they almost can't access their own emotions.

Which is why we had the brief glimpses of panic and the breakdown moment in Chapter 17. I think the breakdown makes sense mechanically. Kade is the one character your MC is guaranteed to have a strong connection to and this way it's not gated behind any diamond choices (like some really crucial character moments with Aerin and Valax, no I'm not bitter about it). But that makes it feel like the whole party has been neglecting MC while Kade immediately sees MC and goes, "Dude, you are not okay. Talk to me.'

And MC tries to turn it into comforting Kade! Kade has to actively argue with MC to make them actually acknowledge that they're having a hard time.

MC for some reason can't or won't talk about their own trauma and Kade (who's only been around for 5 minutes) is the one who has to actively force the issue for MC's own good. Which is not a great look for the rest of the found family.

Afterward, Mal and Nia both seem to address it without really getting the point. Mal says, "We know things didn't go the way any of us wanted." (Which could mean... anything. But I'm feeling generous.)

Protecting MC from death is not an equivalent exchange to talking about feelings! It is in fact dodging the feelings by focusing on practicalities again! Y'all better get it together in Book 3, I swear.

Overall, MC constantly delays addressing their own vulnerability and issues to focus on everyone else. And the others don't know how to do the same thing for MC, so the pattern just gets more engrained and damaging.

Except for Kade, my perfect boy.

Sources (they're fun, I promise!):

Screenshots from Neckrone Shen's playthroughs of Blades on YouTube, my go-to for whenever I can't remember something or don't have the screenshots myself.

I think @oh-so-youre-a-nerd's incredible piece 'Take Take Take' kept rattling around in my head until I figured out how to articulate why it felt this way: https://www.tumblr.com/oh-so-youre-a-nerd/736449955360899072/take-take-take?source=share

The language of 'shelving your agenda' came from the very good Cinema Therapy video about Kristoff from Frozen:

youtube

#I will choose to try and make things make sense in-universe rather than citing writing choices 100% of the time #I love the team I just think there were some windows of downtime they really could have used to check on MC (all the time on boats...)#choices blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow #choices blades #blades 2 #blades mc #choices bolas 2 #choices bolas #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #kade #kade of riverbend

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sayafics · 8 months

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Dragon of Dorne - Chapter II

Here is the long-awaited Chapter II. Seeing all the love and support for this series has been amazing, I hope you guys love Chapter 2 as much as Chapter 1 <33

Chapter III (3) is going to have some Daemon/OC moments, which we love. I was going to add everything into Chapter 2 but I have placement at the moment and it'd be easier to post it in two halves, just so there isn't a longer delay in waiting.

Dance of Shadows is up next to be updated, so keep an eye out <33

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

There was a baited silence, the air stifled with the pungent smell of betrayal as Rhaenyra simply stared at the girl who had called her father Kepa.

"Father. Who is this?"

Rhaenyra's voice was quiet, but it was drowning in echoes of dread - she knew, of course she did.

It was hard not to find the similarities between the girl and her father. She had the white hair of a Targaryen that was wisped and curled at the ends just as her own father's. The girl, young and bashful, stood with her shoulders straight and head held high despite the worry that poured off her in waves.

It was a feeling Rhaenyra recognised - the feeling that she may have disappointed someone she cared so deeply for.

Rhaenyra's mind then turned to Alicent, thinking of her hazel eyes - the very eyes she felt watching her every step during her days at the Keep. The very eyes Rhaenyra found herself searching for amongst bushels and trees, even from the heights of her dragon and in the depths of the sea. A colour that had brought comfort in memories that existed far too long ago and yet seemingly felt like it occurred only a moon ago.

Alicent's eyes would grow green as she grew in passion, glowing the very colour of her hometown banners when it called to war.

But this girl - her eyes, whether she was worried or happy, it seemed they would flicker with warmth. Her eyes burned golden in the flames of the Keep, but Rhaenyra was sure the shadows of everlasting darkness would rise along with the sun.

If that was not all, where Alicent's skin was pale from her time confined in the Keep or hidden within the walls of the Sept, where her father's hue grew green and grey from overpowering sickness and the looming presence of death pressed up against his throat, this girl stood in front of her was a rich complexion that was rare to see amongst the people of King's Landing.

This girl was not a child of Alicent's, but there was no denying she was her father's.

Had Viserys raised a bastard? An orphan?

Had Alicent accepted her with open arms and a loving heart?

Would she truly do that? Why?

Why, when she could not accept Rhaenyra's own children, would she accept the bastard of her husband who was to be loyal and loving?

It did not make sense.

This did not make sense.

Viserys remained ignorant to Rhaenyra's calling voice, to her silent pleas and growing confusion. He pretended he could not feel the dragon awakening in Daemon's blood nor the hesitation of his grandchildren as they sat straighter in their seats.

Viserys forced himself to spare a glance upon his other children - Helaena was hunched over a quaint object hidden in the palms of her hands, Aemond sat rigidly upon his seat, face bare from emotions and his seeing eye caught on the figure of his sister and Aegon, his eldest son - the child he had been longing for, for decades, the child he had never been able to love - lounged upon his seat, his sister-wife on one side and an empty seat on the other, a drink in hand as he gazed at Alaynha with shining eyes.

His eyes found themselves back to his daughter, who stared at him with guilt and admiration hidden in the depths of her eyes - she would seek his praises and his love wherever she could find them, and this time was no different.

***

"Kepa?"

He was giving Alaynha that look again, the look that brought a tumbling feeling of pity to fall into the pit of her stomach - to churn and grind as she tried to not think of all her father had lost, and all she had never been able to have.

She wondered, for a moment, whether it was her mother he saw or Rhaenyra's. There was a part of her tempted to ask, but under the heated gaze of her uncle and the calculating stare of her half-sister, she found herself growing uncomfortable with the attention. She wished to move towards her seat, to sit next to her brothers, where she knew she would be safe from the prying eyes and interrogative nature of Rhaenyra's family.

But Viserys hadn't answered her yet, and she would hate to learn that she upset her father. So she stayed, remaining stood upright as she called to him - "kepa, I do apologise. I must have gotten quite distracted on my dear Tolīmorghon, I fear I did not pay mind to the time."

Ghost.

Daemon's eyes sharpened at the word - he was the Rogue Prince who conquered his dragon when he had just turned a man, the warrior who searched for the fiercest beast to ride alongside in the skies, the Forgotten Heir who was overlooked just as his beast had been, until Daemon had found him - Daemon knew of the dragon the girl spoke of.

He marvelled in quiet admiration, and it was then Viserys spoke. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, preening up to the young girl as though he was seeing her anew - "Alaynha, my dearest. I am most joyous you could join us, your King forgives your delay."

Daemon watched as the girl who stood so brightly amongst them all grew calm at her father's words, hiding the relief she felt behind a broad smile. Still, she stood, a waiting figure as her eyes fell upon them.

Upon him.

Her eyes glittered as they marvelled upon his presence - of all the stories her father had told her, the ones of his younger brother, Daemon, held a special place. To listen to the bouts of his adventures, to see her father's own excitement as he would recount Daemon's fiercest battles. It was all a sight to behold, all occuring within the rare fractions of time her father could breathe without the milk of the poppy being poured down his throat.

Daemon's head was angled towards the table, feigning disinterest for the sake of his wife, who watched him out of her periphery. But Daemon's eyes, violent and brash, traced over the girl who stood in front of him as she unashamedly did so too.

It did not take Viserys long to notice her wandering gaze, a knowing sigh tearing itself from his throat in the form of a scratchy cough. Still, he kept himself composed. He knew of Daemon's proclivities, but he knew that with Rhaenyra bound to him, he would not try his hand at any other maiden. Let alone his youngest niece.

Alaynha glanced back at her father at the sound of his rough cough, cheeks heating as she realised she must've been caught. But still, she waited for her father to address her, "it has been too long, my child. Too long, that you have been apart from your eldest sister. I hope meeting now can make amends for the mistakes of my past."

Viserys had always been vague in his words, but he was even moreso now. There was an awkward silence echoing through the room, as Viserys' words sounded as an affirmation for Alaynha's heritage.

Rhaenyra did not speak, nor smile, nor blink.

Daemon did not break his predatory gaze, hand limp upon the table as he held Rhaenyra's hand within the palm of his own.

"It is nice to finally meet you... sister."

A hesitant smile drew itself across Alaynha's face, but she did not give in to the festering panic within the confines of her chest. She waited, hoping Rhaenyra would speak.

She did not.

Rhaenyra blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Much like her father, Alyanha's words had caused her to see anew. Yet, this time, it seemed as though she was looking through the girl rather than at her.

Alaynha floundered for a moment, eyes straying from Rhaenyra's passive stare to meet the hard, stern look of Aemond. Her brother had not failed to notice Rhaenyra's feigned ignorance, the action causing rage to burn through his seeing eye.

Before Aemond could make his anger known, it was a voice - quiet and slow, a tone so distinct from the violent warrior who spoke that even Rhaenyra held her breath, eyes twitching as she glanced to her left.

It was Daemon who had spoken, Daemon who had replied. Daemon, who did not stray his eyes from the girl that stood, fingers fumbling and eyes darting to-and-fro from her brothers to her estranged sister. It was Daemon who saw her, whilst her own sister pretended as though she was just another Lady of the Court.

Another shadow hidden in the depths of the Keep.

"Niece. I fear my brother's actions have left you estranged from mine own, but no more. We are of one blood, so we are of one family."

His words helped to dull her thudding heart, though his face had a sarcastic smile pasted upon it - as though his words were tasteless and false - there was a smouldering spark of curiosity that set his violet eyes alight.

Alaynha nodded, a polite smile upon her face - "it is good to finally make your acquaintance, Uncle. Father has spoken most graciously of your time in the Keep."

Daemon raised a brow, his hand leaving Rhaenyra's to trace a finger against his lower lip as he suppressed the smirk that began to grow upon his face, "I am sure he has."

He spared Viserys a glance, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he thought of all his immoral and scandalous acts throughout his time in the Keep, and wondered what it was exactly his niece had been told.

Daemon looked back at Alaynha, admired how, despite the stifling sense of discomfort that filled the hall, she still stood - waiting.

But waiting for what?

Daemon instead looked towards his daughters, eyes falling upon Baela and Rhaena as a proud smile stretched across his face - "these are my daughters, Baela and Rhaena - your cousins," his eyes then moved to the boys who sat next to his children. His eyes traced over the dark brown hair of the heirs of Ser Harwin Strong, skimmed over the muddy eyes that sung whispers of their heritage, and continued, "these are their betrotheds, Rhaenyra's sons."

Daemon paused for a second, turning his head towards Rhaenyra. He waited, seeing if she would speak and acknowledge her sister who waited with eager eyes and a pleasant smile, but Rhaenyra's eyes now lay upon her empty plate and the hand he had previously held sat fisted in her lap as she ignored her sister once more.

Daemon cleared his throat, turning towards the boys to nod at each one in turn - "this is Jacaerys. And this is Lucerys, his younger brother."

Lucerys.

The pleasing smile upon her face melted as her expression soured into a look of apprehension, and Daemon tried his best to ignore the nagging feeling that clouded his mind at the sight of such a smile disappearing much too soon.

Her eyes now began to move in earnest, darting between the boy named Lucerys and her brother, Aemond.

She had known Lucerys would be in King's Landing, that she may cross him in the Keep. But she had not thought she would see him now - sat timidly across from her brother, who only seemed to sit straighter as he noticed her horrified glances.

This was Lucerys. The boy who had stolen her brother's eye - the boy who had taken so much from Aemond and not paid a drop of blood in return.

Sure, Aemond had gotten a dragon in return. But to lose a part of yourself such as half your sight, it could not be compensated for, even with a dragon like Vhagar.

Alaynha knew. She knew of how her brother grew somber when he would escort her on walks past rivers and lakes and catch a glimpse of his ghastly reflection. She knew of how her brother would grow short-tempered when he heard the snide remarks of the Ladies and Lords of the Courts, about his scar and patch. She knew of how his tongue grew sharper when he would be reminded of what he had lost, despite what he had gained.

It was Alaynha, with child-like glee, who offered her older brother a sapphire gem. Alaynha who promised if he wore it in place of his unseeing eye, then women would fawn for him from all the Seven Kingdoms. Alaynha who helped him build the courage to remove the blood-stained cloth from the broken and shattered mirror within his chambers, to replace it with one ten times its size, to find love in what he had lost and to embrace it too. It was Alaynha, who had held her brother tearfully as he reassured her in a tone that sounded too much like defeat, who had built her brother back up from the scattered pieces Lucerys had laid to waste.

And now, it was Alaynha who stared at Lucerys, the boy who had broken her brother and changed him into a man, when he only ever had to be a child.

Aemond could see her distress, could see how her eyes clouded as memories of seeing her brother's face - bloody and scarred - shrouded her mind. Aemond wanted to move, wanted to help. He wanted to guide back his dear sister, but he was also stuck in such a dark and pale reverie.

His mind sank into the depths of his childhood without consent, his thoughts incoherent as the reality of today began to meld with the echoes of the past.

So it was Aegon who moved first.

He watched his brother, who sat still with a rigid spine and tensed shoulders, stare at Alaynha with a heavy gaze.

It was Aegon who knew of the insecurities that plagued his brother, and how he had made it worse by trying to help - sending him into the arms of whores who showed him lust and affection, despite his marred face and clumsy hands.

But he could do this. He could help this time.

When Aegon stood, his movements were silent, but as he drew to his full height, Daemon and Rhaenyra could not help but watch him.

He rounded the table and his face grew passive, watching the curious stares of a protective Jacaerys and a guilty Lucerys. He paid them no mind, having waited enough to begin dining that he would use his sister as an excuse to hurry the affairs so he may return to his chambers to indulge in his favoured proclivities.

His steps were graceful, despite his stomach which was sated and heavy with the most favourful of wines. And when he stood in front of Alaynha, drawing her eyes to look upon him, he pretended as though he could not feel the burning gaze of his uncle nor half-sister. He pretended he could not feel the belligerent stare of his grand-sire nor the suspicious gaze of his mother. And, well Viserys had simply not spared him a glance - eyes glazed in a haze of pain as he watched the scene unfold and hoped, deep in his heart, the children he held closest to his heart would care for one another, even if it's for his sake, and not their own.

"Come sister," Aegon's voice was soft, a gentle drone that was nothing like that unsavoury tone he took up with his maids and whores.

"Let us dine, you must be hungry."

Aegon did not let her protest, taking her hand in his as he led her to the table and waited for her to take her seat.

Aegon hesitated, if only for a moment. His gaze crossed the table, and found the deviant stare of his uncle. It was as though he took Daemon's glare as a challenge, and whilst keeping his eyes upon his uncle, Aegon pressed a tender kiss upon the crown of Alaynha's head, before taking his seat at her side.

It was now that Daemon could not control himself, and a vicious smile crossed his face at the actions of his nephew. He sat up, leaning closer towards the table as he nodded towards Aegon - a challenge indeed. But Daemon was not one to lose.

***

The tension had slowly begun to dull, even Rhaenyra had sunk into her seat as she waited for Alicent to finish her prayers before they could dine.

Still, Rhaenyra did not so much as glance up at Alaynha, preferring to lay her hand atop Daemon's and fiddle with his rings as his hand laid in a gentle fist atop the table.

Daemon, on the other hand, careful and observant, let his gaze travel over the newcomer and let his mind fester with theories and tribulations. There was a part of Daemon, dark and troubled, that wanted to know more of the girl.

There was a part of Daemon that had a spark sent through him, and it felt as though he was almost set alight.

It was hard for Alaynha not to notice his shameless stares, and she had tried her best not to meet his eyes despite it seeming as though he wished she did. Her heart pattered at a hurried pace whenever she so much as brushed her vision against the outline of his figure, and she knew if she met his gaze her cheeks would heat in defeat, and such a notion would be hard to dismiss in the face of Alicent and her children.

So she took to watching her brothers converse, but her ears remained listening out for the voice of her uncle - a deep rasp, slow and dangerous. Alaynha found that she would not dislike being on the receiving end of such a voice.

As Alicent's prayers come to an end, her next words have Alaynha's eyes flashing towards her - "and to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest."

Alaynha frowns, "has something happened to Ser Vaemond?"

She knows her words sound naive. It was not hard to guess what had happened to Ser Vaemond, but a part of Alaynha was much more concerned with why.

It was Otto, his face sombre, who spoke gently to the girl, "I fear, dear Princess," begins Otto, "the petition had gotten slightly out of hand - it seems Ser Vaemond Valeryon paid the price with his life."

Though his voice sounded sorrowful, there was a tinge of anger in his words as though he was exasperated by the turn of events that had happened in Alaynha's absence. Perhaps if she had been there, she could have helped prevent the bloodshed.

Before Alaynha could ask him for further clarification, Rhaenyra speaks, "his lies and acts of treason are what sent him to his deathbed."

"Oh," there was a tense silence echoing through the room as Rhaenyra waited to see her youngest sister's reaction to the news. A part of Alaynha wanted to know more, wanted to know what was said. But she could not ask, not like this when her family - old and new - had been at each other's throats since Alicent's betrothal to the King.

Alaynha hesitated for a moment before she continued, "well, mother always says it is a terrible act to lie," she concluded, nodding her head as though she agreed with Rhaenyra's stance, "it is most immoral. Isn't that right, Muña?" Mother.

An indulging smile tugged across Alicent's face, "it is, my sweet."

Alaynha shares a beaming smile with her mother, pleased by her praise, before looking towards her father with pleading eyes, "can we eat now, Kepa? I haven't eaten since I mounted Tolīmorghon."

Viserys lets out a boisterous laugh and concedes, it is the first he has let out after weeks of being subdued by the milk of the poppy.

And it is the first laugh, a true and melodic sound, that Daemon had heard escape from his brother since Aemma had passed.

His heart picked up at the sound, his eyes finding the grinning face of his brother as Viserys stared across the table, eyes shining with a jovial sense of joy, towards his youngest daughter and sweetest child.

Daemon chose then to stare at her, too. He found himself tracing over her every feature, as though he was committing her to memory so he could never forget.

Daemon had been the one insistent they return to Dragonstone as soon as the matter of Driftmark has been settled. His wife had wished to remain upon King's Landing for a moon or so, to remain close to her father as she grew closer to her labours.

He now sees Rhaenyra, who darted her gaze between her lively father and beaming half-sister, and believes they may switched positions entirely.

There is an itching shadow in the confines of Daemon's mind, a man starved and raging, that grew stronger as he continued to let the thoughts of his niece wander in his mind.

Daemon fears he would not leave King's Landing as the same man he returned as.

He feared he did not want to leave at all.

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