#v; Still Hidden and Keeping it That Way {True Blood}

[legends-and-savages]

Tag dump

#Quiet and Humble Vampire {Visage} #c;; Alistair Hart #h;; Alistair Hart #Alistair things #Fangs and Bright Blue Eyes {Wardrobe} #v; A Young Noble {Pre Transition} #v; Finding a Place in the World {Main} #v; Just Fine Without a Coven {Underworld} #v; Vampire in the Big Easy {Renfield} #v; Still Hidden and Keeping it That Way {True Blood} #v; Hiding in Plain Sight {Supernatural} #v; A Foot in Two Worlds {Twilight} #v; Not a Threat {Teen Wolf} #v; Just a Chef {Crescent City} #gif tw

[hidden-snow]

❣┈⋆ ⋞ 〈 Ｐｅｅｋａｂｏｏ， Ｉ Ｓｅｅ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆❣

(For everyone tagged to this pic: This isn't a bot or accident. It's me, Hidden Snow. I got a new account. ^^)

Characters:// Adult! Neteyam x Adult! female Na'vi Reader

Warnings // P in V, dirty words

Word count // 1,908

“Peekaboo, I see you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle softly as Neteyam swooped in, pressing a soft peck to your lips, a gentle smirk on his face.

“Oh, my mighty warrior,” you hum softly, allowing the male to pull you into his broad arms, caging you in his embrace. Pressed against his warm chest, you can’t help but draw in his scent, rich with the forest despite years of living at the reef. No amount of salt water and marine life could seem to wash away the scent embedded deep in his very being.

“You always seem to catch me.”

“How would I not? You pick the easiest places to hide.”

It was true. You did pick the easiest places, knowing that he would come upon you in a matter of moments. They were private places, hidden enough so that you could steal a quick kiss here and there from your future mate.

“One more round?” you can’t help but ask, batting your eyes at him and he chuckled softly, pushing you back so that your skin brushed against the tree.

“And if I catch you, what do I get?”

“Catch me and find out!”

You dash off, finding the perfect hiding spot for him to come and find you. Secluded in an area of the beach that not many people wander, it’s a small clearing with plenty of shrubbery to hide in. You don’t care about hiding, though. Not anymore. You just want Neteyam to find you. And find you, he did.

“Found you again.”

You squeak as hands snake around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and he ghosts his lips against yours, smiling at the way you instinctively move closer to deepen the hint into an actual kiss.

“Slow down, y/n. We have all the time in the world.”

“I don’t want all the time in the world,” you whisper as you brush your lips against his once more. “I want you. I want you now.”

His face softened, a smile pulling at his lips, and you can’t help but be reminded of the first time you saw Neteyam, standing beside Lo’ak and behind his father as the Sullys arrived at your village. The way he mimicked his father’s stance, arms raised in a sign of peaceful intentions, as well as how innocent he had been, sweet and gentle, with a backbone made of loyalty to his family.

“I don’t want to waste anymore time, Neteyam,” you murmur, your fingers grazing the scarred pattern on his chest, gained from a bullet wound that had occured when the sky people had come to hunt the tulkun.

You could still remember that day like it was yesterday, gripping his hand tightly and crying softly as his father pressed cloth to his chest to keep him from losing blood. That had been the day that you were both destined to fall in love. As you gripped his hand, you couldn’t help but spill out your feelings to this boy. Just in case. And his large golden gaze had locked with your blue eyes, and, despite the pain that he was suffering from, he had smiled a soft smile, all while promising that once they were home, he would take his time getting to know you better. He promised he would take his time falling in love with everything about you and with you. So that he could always cherish what he had gained from the Metkayina.

His little treasure.

You were impatient. You’d always been impatient, unable to sit still for even the most simplest of tasks, and waiting on him to make the first move was torture. Especially now, when you knew just how dangerous it was to wait for something as special as this.

His hand gently cupped your own still resting on his chest, navy skin against teal, and you look back up at him.

“I know, y/n. I know,” he murmured softly, cupping your cheek with his free hand, his thumb gently brushing against your lips. You kiss his thumb and he smiles again.

“Come here.”

With that one order, he’s sweeping you up into his arms, kissing you gently, but you want more. You want him. You only had eyes for him.

You deepen the kiss, running your hands up and down his back as he picked you up, swinging your legs over his hips so that they could clasp behind him.

Something rough scrapes against your back but you pay it no attention, too focused on Neteyam, too focused on kissing him until your lips were bruised and puffy. That was your favorite part of your little make-out sessions, walking back to the village hand-in-hand with hickies littering your skin and lips red from being ensnared in his abusive attention.

His hand slid down your back to land on your ass, gripping the plush of your cheeks, squeezing and kneading them with his fingers.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips when his thumb ventures further down to press against your tewng, rolling your clit with the pad of his finger, the thin layer of cloth between your bare body and his fingers causing a beautiful friction.

You moan softly against his lips as he grinds his hips forward, his cock straining against the fabric of his own tewng, the covered tip brushing against the growing wet patch below your pussy.

Soft gasps and mewls tumble from your lips with each movement of his hips, and you push your lips back against his, hard, teeth scraping against teeth as the kiss grows rather heated, passionate, and hungry.

You don’t know when he discarded his tewng, nor even how he’d gotten yours off. The feeling of his head brushing against your soaked folds has you whining, falling apart with the desire to have him filling you to the brim with himself.

He chuckles softly as he continues to grind his hips against yours, soft grunts being pulled out as he moved.

“What would your parents say, my love? What would the people say if they saw you like this?” he whispered as he nipped at your ear, drawing a soft moan from your puffy lips. His words send shivers of anticipation up your spine, the idea of being caught giving you a thrill you hadn’t known was possible. 

Years ago, you would’ve blushed at the idea.

Now though?

Neteyam has taught you many things and one of your more favorite of the lessons was that living on the dangerous side of things could sometimes be quite exciting.

His tip teases your entrance, a promise of something that you want desperately, and his movements cease as he looks straight into your eyes, half-lidded with desire.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl. Let me know what you want. Use your words.”

“You,” you whine out, pushing your hips down to try and get that feeling of satisfaction that you so desperately crave.

“I want you, ma ‘teyam.”

He nodded, satisfied, before pushing in slowly, watching your face as you struggle to take him on. It wasn’t that you were too small or he was too big. It was more or less the fact that you had never been breached before, saving yourself for him and only him.

His movements are gentle and slow, making sure that you’re adjusting to his size before he pushes in any further. You can tell he’s struggling, from the sharp hitches in his breath as he slowly sinks into you, as well as the strangled groans, hiding the fact that he was straining hard against his urges just to keep himself under control.

As you take him fully inside of you, you can’t help but moan, the stretch satisfying within you, the feeling of his tip brushing lightly against your g-spot and kissing your cervix as he stood there, waiting.

After a couple seconds, you look up and nod. It’s small and hesitant. But it’s there and he sees it.

He pulls out, leaving only the tip inside of your hole, before he snaps his hips forward, sinking deep within you, drawing out soft sounds of pleasure from your lips. His pace is slow at first, careful not to hurt you, but as you grow used to the stretch inside, he begins to thrust quickly, ramming into your g-spot repeatedly and with such precision that you wonder if he’d ever done this for someone else before. Almost as soon as the thought pops in your head, his rhythm pushes it away.

No, of course he hadn’t. He’d only had eyes for you since that fateful night.

You gasp softly as he lays you down in the grass to change positions, able to push himself even deeper inside of you, to the point you begin to wonder if you have any space left inside for him to reach. The pads of his fingers graze your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, and you can’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you, your breath shared with him as his lips hovered just above you.

You can feel the approaching climax, can feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge by each perfectly-angled snap of his hips, and the noises you make become sloppier, even more lewd, and he smirks at the flushed appearance of your face, your jaw dropped open and eyes lidded with lust.

“I wonder what your parents would say, y/n. What would they say if they knew you could make such a face as this.”

If you’d been more coherent, you’d blush. But you weren’t. So instead, you just moan at his words, your silky walls tightening around his girth. He groaned softly, cussing at the feeling that almost nearly pushed him over the edge as well. His fingers remove themselves from your nipples, sliding down to your clit to play with it again, and you let out a sharp exhalation, your knees tightening against his waist.

“Oh yeah. Bet that feels good.”

He can tell you’re getting so close just by the way your inner walls seemed to flutter and contract around him, and he leans down to whisper dirty words in your ears, testing to see what you did and didn’t like.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

His words, along with his gentle touches and the slamming of his tip against your g-spot, make you gasp, your back arching as that warm coil within your lower belly snaps, tightened to the point that it’d been painful to deny the release. He keeps pounding into you, even as you slump down, still stuck in your high. He’s chasing his own release, movements erratic and sharp, and he’s getting close.

With the powerful fluttering of your walls, clamping down around him, he’s being provided a satisfying friction that helps him quickly hit his own orgasm, filling you up with his sperm. Panting softly, he pulls out of you, a wet “pop” that spoke of just how full and wet you were. He lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms, your tails intwined as you purr softly.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers to you, running his fingers up and down your ribs. “Such a good girl for me. You know something?”

You hum questioningly.

“I’m starting to really like this little game of hide and seek that you’ve made.”

Taglist// @aconstructofamind / @kaistarzs-blog / @truebluehue / @sussybaka10 / @taleiak / @justsomerandompersonintheworld

#avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #avatar fandom #avatar fics #neteyam fic

[warystares]

FULL NAME angel amadis cardona NICKNAME(S) angelbaby GENDER / PRONOUNS genderfluid / any pronouns AGE/ BIRTHDAY thirty-one / october 23rd OCCUPATION dancer + dealer AFFILIATION / ROLE jade tribe / soldier ORIENTATION / STATUS pansexual / single STRENGTHS charismatic + amorous + resourceful WEAKNESSES narcissistic + incendiary + entitled

HISTORY.

tw vaguely implied homophobia + drug use !

let there be no mistake ― angel cardona is a STAR ; fiery, compelling, easily the FIERCEST force of the universe to be reckoned with. ALL-CONSUMING. from the moment they're born, angel craves ― nay, DEMANDS ― the attention & affections of every stranger BLESSED enough to experience them. if their presence alone is not enough to catch at least a DOZEN curious gazes, then they'll ensure their personality COMMANDS it. as a child, angel hungers for PRAISE ; they're s t a r v e d for it, really ! and not for any real LACK, either. the cardona family is LARGE and while angel might be CURSED middle child of SEVEN, it couldn't be said they weren't close growing up. ( being POOR AS FUCK tends to force your hand in that respect ; privacy is a foreign concept when there are four of you to a bedroom. ) she always had someone to whine to, someone to hold a CAPTIVE AUDIENCE for yet another midnight improv performance. it's only that angel is INSATIABLE. she could have all eyes in the room on her and still want MORE.

and to angel's credit, the big happy family FACADE ― that hallmark movie shit, ❛ we may not have a lot but we have e a c h o t h e r and that's ENOUGH ❜ type deal ― it doesn't last forever. NOTHING LASTS FOREVER. trust when angel says he's lived long enough to learn that the HARD way. ( why the fuck can't they get anyone to love them forever, huh ? the way they want to be loved ? TRAGIC. ) he's fifteen when he lands on the STREETS with little more than a duffel bag & A DREAM. if you think that's CORNY, keep it to yourself ― do you know how LONG it took him to be able to romanticize this ? getting KICKED OUT before he can even drive ! losing everything ! and anyway, whether he recalls it as a GORGEOUS CROSSROADS or the CRUEL BETRAYAL OF BLOOD that it is, it's fine. truly, it is. because the cardinal rule of any IT GIRL is the same : beauty is suffering. it's PAIN. and honey, angel know what it is to SUFFER.

no matter how many friends angel might claim in HIGH PLACES, let it be said that there is nothing glamorous about COUCH-SURFING. a few years are lost to a CRISIS OF IDENTITY ― so neatly hidden behind an air of UNWAVERING CONFIDENCE, the same they've always CLUNG to. they'll insist that they're OKAY, that this is little more than an adventure. AN OPPORTUNITY. at first, it proves little more than an opportunity to S P I R A L ; every night a chance for a new SUBSTANCE, a new STRANGER, a new way to reach true, blissful DISTRACTION. from what ? the parents, the siblings that still live on on WITHOUT them ? the countless classes & auditions ― WASTED for not a single callback ? it doesn't take long for such an ERRATIC path to lead angel straight to DANGER ; it's almost as if they have a TASTE for it. they're DRAWN to it.

it's no surprise, then when angel finds herself swiftly lured into the arms of THE JADE TRIBE, is it ? rock bottom is WELL within sight and she's SCARED ; ALONE, even for all the faces she surrounds herself with day & night. ( it seems an IMPOSSIBLE thought ! ) she yearns for the familiar SECURITY ( and attention... and comfort... and... and... !! ) of a FAMILY. and for some reason, she's gotten it into her PRETTY LITTLE HEAD that she can find that in a world of CRIME. ( she thinks she's UNTOUCHABLE is what it is ― MAIN CHARACTER SYNDROME, maybe. but deservedly so ! angel IS the main character, and GOOD LUCK trying to convince her otherwise. ) when she starts DANCING to try and save enough for a place of her OWN, she quickly discovers how incredibly EASY it is to use her a l l u r e at the club to convince guests & strangers to sample the jade tribe's products.

and the best part ? all of these PILLS & POTIONS angel puts on offer keep them a HOT COMMODITY ; they're IN D E M A N D ! sleazes & scoundrels alike ― whether they come for the DRUGS and become m e s m e r i z e d by the undulation of hips under the PULSE of a strobe light, or VICE VERSA ― are drawn to angel like a flurry of moths to a perfectly-manicured FLAME. they use their wiles to line their pockets, maxing out withdrawals on the DEEPEST of wallets with dark d o e eyes and a PROVOCATIVE grin. she does WELL for herself, too, learned over the years what keeps ATTENTION on her. what the people want to see. and no, it may not be BROADWAY or THE SILVER SCREEN, but angel's still got an audience of adoring fans five nights out of the week. and in the grand scheme of things ? that's not the WORST she could do.

( she just knows in her heart, even now : she is destined for BETTER. )

CONNECTIONS.

to be added soon !

#lawlessintro #✘ angel cardona | intro #idk if this makes any sense it's four am but I DID IT #also if i missed any triggers or anything pls let me know i have no brain function remaining tn

[graciousheaven]

THE MOST GLORIOUS AND UNFATHOMABLE GIFT

We live in a sin-filled world, where depravity has established its dominion in the heart of every single man. When sin entered the world through Adam, the entire human race became morally corrupt. As a result of the original sin, all human beings are inherently evil and hostile toward God. Men in their natural state seek not after God, yet think that God is under obligation to bless them. They think they have the right to exist, to be healthy, happy and prosperous. Their hearts long for the blessings and benefits that God alone can grant, rather than for God Himself. Nevertheless, they do not thank the Lord, nor do they honour Him. But instead, they take everything He provides for granted and grumble when suffering and trials hit home.

All these characteristics, which reveal the fallen nature of man, are embittered by man’s high estimate of self and by his tendency to belittle the majesty of the Lord God, because he knows not the Lord. Many people do not have a proper view of God; they do not know who God is. Moreover, they underestimate the sinfulness of sin and have a poor understanding of human depravity. Consequently, they assume that God is obligated to fulfill the desires of their hearts. They think that God exists to keep them happy. Although they despise his laws and commands and are hostile toward Him, they expect the Lord to bless them. They view Him as someone who is just like them or somehow a bit superior to them. In Is. 55 the Lord affirms his uniqueness in kind, his separateness and differentness, the greatness of his ways and his unsearchable wisdom. Thus declares the Lord Almighty in v. 8-9, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways,” says the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

But many people believe that God’s love precludes Him from exercising his justice and pouring out his wrath against those who dishonour Him. They cling to the biblical declaration that 'God is love', and thus disregard his holiness and portray God as someone who overlooks the deeds of man, even when they violate his sovereign will. And so we hear people say things like, ‘God loves you unconditionally; it does not matter what you do, He still loves you.’ This statement does not describe the Holy God, the Great I Am of Scripture, the God who hates sin and sinners, and who rightfully thirsts for justice, for all have sinned against Him. On the other hand, it does not expose the moral corruption of man, nor does it urge him to abandon his evil ways. It must be noted, however, that sin separates man from God his Creator, for God is holy and righteous. This is what declares the psalmist, in praise of the Lord, upholding God’s true nature: “You are not a God who takes pleasure in wickedness, nor shall evil dwell with You. The boastful shall not stand in Your sight; You hate all workers of iniquity” (Ps. 5:4-5).

God is not indifferent to the wickedness of man; He pronounces doom on anyone who rejects Him and disobeys his commands. Those who refuse to turn away from their sins are alienated from God’s glorious presence. For instance, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, in Ch. 59:2-3, Isaiah brings to the attention of his people the cause of their alienation from the Lord their God. He writes, “Your iniquities have separated you from your God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear. For your hands are defiled with blood, and your fingers with iniquity; your lips have spoken lies, your tongue has muttered perversity.” This reality and truth applies to any human being on the face of the earth who practices lawlessness, i.e. God turns his face against all those who refuse to abandon their evil ways, and to put their trust in his Son, the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who is the only righteous, the means by which sins are forgiven.  

What all must know, then, is that God is not a man and He is perfectly holy and righteous. He created us for his own glory and has given us laws and commands by which we are to live and to which we are to submit. A violation of any law or command of the Lord is a sin against Him, and each sin is punishable by death. The reality is that there is no one under the sun who has not sinned against the Lord. This means that what we all deserve is death. In other words, we deserve nothing good from the Lord, “for (we) all have sinned and fall short of his glory” (Rom. 3:23). The Lord is under obligation to none of us; He is not bound to meet our needs, and even less to satisfy our appetency. What we all deserve, as a result of our sinfulness and hostility toward the Lord our God, is death, eternity in hell. Yet He has not banished us, but rather He continuously sustains us in spite of our sinfulness and hostility toward Him.

However, it must be noted that although the Lord always sustains his creation, all that He does is neither a requirement He has to fulfill, nor a reward for our merits or good works. How, then, are we to understand God’s continuous provision and care for us, sinful and rebellious as we may be? It must be understood that all that God does is a manifestation of his intrinsic character. I.e. the only explanation for God’s ongoing care and preservation of men is found in God’s character. God sustains us not because we deserve to be cared for, but instead all that the Lord does is a revelation of who He is, a manifestation of his attributes – He is the LORD, and thus He does what is inherent in his nature. God’s supreme greatness and uniqueness contrast with human depravity.

However, it is critical for us to acknowledge our depravity and to have a proper knowledge of God in order to understand and appreciate what the Lord does for us. Only a proper view of self and a proper knowledge of God can draw man to worship God and to be grateful toward Him. The Lord is a holy and righteous God. He created us for his glory; but we all have sinned against Him. “As it is written: ‘There is none righteous, no, not one; there is none who understands; there is none who seeks after God. They have all turned aside; they have together become unprofitable; there is none who does good, no, not one.’ ‘Their throat is an open tomb; with their tongues they have practiced deceit’; ‘the poison of asps is under their lips’; ‘whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness.’ ‘Their feet are swift to shed blood; destruction and misery are in their ways; and the way of peace they have not known.’ ‘There is no fear of God before their eyes’” (Rom. 3:10-18). So are we by nature – people who have no fear of the Lord.

Ever since the fall, man has been at enmity with God, because our deeds and thoughts are evil. We are all born in sin and in sin we live. Hence we all deserve the same fate – death – which is the reward for sin. Nevertheless, the Lord continues to sustain and bless us. This means that our deeds must not be seen as what give us access to God’s tender care, for none of us is right with God as to deserve a privilege of some sort. We must instead refer to God’s intrinsic character to understand his act of preservation of creation. God is not like us; He is YAHWEH. All He does is inherent in his nature, and his nature is not a mystery to us. In other words, God’s nature is not hidden from us – the works of his hands, i.e. Creation, gives us a general revelation of God, and the Lord personally reveals Himself to us in a special way through the Holy Scripture. For instance, when Moses went up to Mount Sinai with the second set of stone tablets to meet the Lord, the Lord descended in the cloud and proclaimed his holy name. In one declaration, He has revealed to us his nature. Thus declares the Lord in Exo. 34:6-7, “The LORD, the LORD God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abounding in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children and the children’s children to the third and the fourth generation.”  

These two verses sum up the attributes of God while demonstrating his greatness in his dealings with man. The Lord is the Almighty, the Holy One, the Judge, the God of compassion, goodness and tender mercies, the loving and gracious God. The Lord is the righteous One; He is not like us. Although God is love, He does not fail to punish those who commit iniquities. God’s nature sets Him apart from all other beings; it reveals to us who the Lord is and what He does. The Lord is the Supreme Being, the Revealer of all truth, the Source of all life, the Provider, the Sustainer, the Redeemer and the Judge of all.

After the fall, the human race would have normally ceased to exist, were it not for the grace of God. The entire human race was condemned to destruction, because of the disobedience of our first parents. Yet God did not destroy us. Rather, He continues to preserve us graciously, although we all deserve to be damned. By nature we are enemies of God; but day after day He lavishes grace upon us to preserve us. God’s grace toward us knows no end. As the psalmist writes, “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (Ps. 103:8). For instance, for many centuries Israel rebelled against the Lord and He sent prophets to warn them. But they did not abandon their evil ways. The Lord then delivered his people into the hand of their enemies. However, He did not utterly destroy them, “But in your great mercy (reads Neh. 9:31) You did not put an end to them or abandon them, for you are a gracious and merciful God.”

The story of Israel is my story, it is your story too, for we do not spend a day without sinning against God. Yet He continues to sustain us. Alongside of our depravity there is a perpetual feebleness and frailty that defines who we are. We are unable to sustain ourselves; we can do nothing without the Lord God our Creator. But the problem is that instead of expressing their gratitude to the Lord for all his provision for them, many people often think that the Lord is obligated to be there for us. The truth is we deserve nothing good from our God, for we all have broken his commands. If we continue to exist today, it is only by the grace and mercy of our God. However, for us to properly value the abounding grace of God in our lives, we must first grasp the biblical meaning of the word grace.

Grace is an unmerited and unearned favor bestowed freely by God on undeserving sinners. In other words, grace is God’s undeserved gift to us, sinners; it cannot be earned; it is not something that is merited nor are we worthy to receive it. Rather, it is a favor, a free gift from God, not something that is required of Him; for God does not owe us anything. Rather, we owe Him everything “since He gives to all life, breath, and all things” (Acts 17:25), and we can do nothing without Him. God’s abundant grace in our lives reveals who He is and is perceived in what He does to preserve, sustain and to redeem his creation (cf. Rom. 5:15). However, for our finite mind to grasp the concept of God’s grace, a distinction must be made between what is called common grace and what is called special grace or saving grace.

https://www.faithintheoneaboveall.com/post/the-most-glorious-and-unfathomable-gift

#the most glorious gift #unfathomable gift #uncommon gift #God's grace #appreciate grace #sermon on grace #graciousheaven

[ladyartemesia]

The Kiss

◐ PART VIII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐ Part VII ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker, descriptions of violence, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, strong sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, lots of people have, use and are threatened by knives, kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker…

Word Count: 4250

Author’s Note: I said it before but it bears repeating...You have no idea what your support has meant to me. Truly your asks and your messages and comments…they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As many of you know I faced a medical emergency recently and you were all so lovely. The best followers on this site and I MEAN that. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx and  @untaemedqueen​  were (and continue to be) the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. It wouldn’t be here without you.

——◐——

Two Years Ago 

——◐——

Centuries ago the moon goddess stumbled across her human soulmate while he was sleeping. Struck by his beauty, but reluctant to reveal her identity, the goddess began to visit him in his dreams where she could hide her true form and appear before him as a mortal woman. 

In the world of dreams their love flourished and from that blessed union the packs were born…

The wolf nations celebrated this sacred romance every ten years during the Festival of the Lover’s Moon…

The day of the festival was spent eating and drinking and dancing at large parties, but when the sun went down… well—

That’s when things got really interesting. 

On the night of Lover’s Moon the young unmated wolves of the pack were permitted to commemorate this legendary love story in a decidedly scandalous manner. 

The unmated men assumed the role of the goddess’s sleeping lover—they were blindfolded (to represent slumber) and led into a large sectioned off area of the dark forest to ‘wait and dream.’

Unmated she-wolves over the age of maturity (eighteen) took herbal scent suppressors and ventured out into that very same forest in order to anonymously ‘visit’ the young men ‘in their dreams’...

The rules for what exactly that meant were pretty fast and loose which was why Min Yoongi was thanking the goddess and every other deity he could think of that Yunli was still seventeen. 

“But I will be eighteen in two days! Please can’t I just—“

“No. Absolutely not under any circumstances ever.”

“But Yoonji is going!”

“Ji-ah is nearly nineteen and has never been interested in any of the snotty little man-pups of our pack.” He snorted. “She’s probably going out just so she can shove a bunch of them in the lake.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yunli mumbled irritably. 

Kim Taehyung yawned idly and snuggled into the cozy little pallet he prepared at the base of his favorite tree. The blindfold he and all the other unmated ‘lovers’  wore was made from witchcloth and could not be removed while the sun was down—so he had snuck into the forest earlier to set everything up. 

Now all he had to do was wait until—

“H-Hi Taehyung.”

Oh sh—

“Uh. Hello...Miss.”

Taehyung didn’t recognize the owner of that voice, but he knew for sure who it wasn’t. 

“I was hoping to find you tonight.”

This is not good. 

“Well I’m—I’m flattered… naturally but—”

She touched his hand and he squeaked. 

“I was thinking you and I might get to know each other a little bet—eep!”

The sharp point of a custom blade pressed directly into the unfortunate young beta girl’s pulse point. 

“Are you lost, puppy?”

A heavy cloak obscured the newcomer’s features, but there was no mistaking her meaning. 

Taehyung bit his lip to keep from snorting as the poor she-wolf scrambled away. 

“Ji-ah,” he tsked with feigned disapproval, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Min Yoonji grinned as she sheathed her wicked looking dagger and slid languidly into his arms. 

“You don’t like nice girls, Kim Taehyung.”

“I like you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “Nice or not—it doesn't matter to me…” His hands slid greedily over her soft curves—pulling her closer till he felt the beat of her heart against his own. “I’ll like anything as long as it’s you.” 

This was the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. 

Jimin huffed as he struggled to find a comfortable position against the giant boulder he’d chosen as his perch.

Why did I let Taehyung talk me into this?

He could be at home—in bed—comfortably sleeping off the all-day feast he’d indulged in. 

Instead he was out in the middle of the forest sitting blindfolded on a rock in the off chance that one of the she-wolves was out looking for him. 

Not bloody likely. 

Not when prime targets like Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook—and countless others—were scattered throughout the woods. 

“Park Jimin?”

Every hair on Jimin’s body stood on end. 

It was a soft whisper—the speaker clearly didn’t want her voice to be recognized, yet something about the sound sent a curious frisson of interest down his spine. 

He gulped. 

“Yes… that’s me. But if you’re looking for Hoseok he’s just a little deeper in. You probably caught his scent downwind so—”

“I’m not looking for Hoseok.”

Jimin licked his lips and the sight of it sparked a odd curl of heat in the pit of your belly. 

“I don’t know where anyone else is…”

“That’s quite alright.” A muted shuffle of movement reached his ears as you settled down beside him. “I was looking for you.” 

“Oh…” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Are you sure?”

Laughter like fairy bells whispered through the air and Jimin felt his heart clench.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

“Who are you?”

You were silent for a long time and then—

“I am someone who owes you a debt. One I have never been able to repay.”

Jimin’s head tilted curiously as he considered your words. 

“I’m sorry, miss… you must be mistaken. There isn’t—“

“You don’t remember.” 

It was a statement—not a question. Your voice was nearer now. He could feel the warmth of your body close to his—though not quite touching. “It was your wolf that saved me. But you had not gone through the Change yet.”

Familiar shame spiked sharply in his chest.

“I’m seven years past the Change...Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“Circumstances prevented me from doing so.” 

There was a cold finality to your pronouncement—which of course did nothing but further inflame his curiosity. 

“Then why come to me now?”

“I’ve come to repay you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open. 

Were you trying to—?!

“Oh—no please that-that’s not necessary—I could never take advantage of—”

You giggled again.  

“I am not offering my body, Park Jimin.”

Jimin breathed a heavy sigh of relief then shook his head with a wry chuckle. 

“Well considering the circumstances I can hardly be blamed for assuming you might be. And honestly most men would jump at the chance to—”

“You...are not most men.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed beneath his blindfold. 

“Little she-wolf—I may not be wrestling bears for fun or bare knuckle boxing in the town square, but I am still an alpha.”

The weight of his command poured over your body as he spoke the last word. There was no order or intent—he had simply given you a taste of his power. 

Aside from your direct blood relatives, no alpha had ever dared unleash their compel in your presence—therefore you were utterly unprepared for the effect it had on you—

Utterly unprepared for the strange surge of want so potent and profound that it stole the breath from your body. 

It was primal—invigorating—

Sensual.

You and your wolf may not have been entirely connected yet, but she was suddenly quite vocal about her desire to fully bask in Park Jimin’s attention.

A wicked grin played over his lips as he leaned in closer and you could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your cheek. 

“Did you think I would not desire the touch of a beautiful woman in the moonlight?” he whispered. 

Please touch me, Alpha. 

Your eyes widened. 

Dear goddess. Your inner wolf was turning out to be a shameless hussy. 

“You might desire it, but you are far too  honorable to accept it as payment for a debt.”

Jimin drew back warily. 

You were correct of course. After all he had refused you when he believed that was your intent but—

“How could you know that?”

Evade. Evade now. 

“Well... how could you know I was beautiful? You’re blindfolded.”

He shrugged and your wolf took careful note of the way it made all the pretty muscles in his back and shoulders ripple. 

He will give us such strong—

Oh boy. 

He will do no such thing. Please calm down. 

“Not everything must be seen with your eyes.”

Is that how you found me? All those years ago...

Questions churned chaotically beneath your consciousness but you dared not give voice to them. 

Focus.

“I must repay this debt. Ask for what you want and—if it is in my power—I swear it will be yours.”

Jimin smiled again, but this time it was somehow softer. For a moment he looked almost…

Sad. 

“I’m afraid that the only thing I have ever wanted is not within your power to give...and I dare not ask you or anyone else for it.”

For her. 

He sighed and drew even farther away from you—in fact it seemed like he was preparing to leave. 

No. 

Your hand reached out almost of it's its own accord and wrapped tightly around his wrist. The contact sent a shock of searing heat through his veins and he froze. 

“Please alpha. It is not acceptable for someone like me—” a leader, a Luna, “—to owe another my life and offer nothing in return. You must let me pay my debt.”

Omega, his wolf growled, sweet perfect omega. 

Suppressors may have hidden your scent, but the siren song of an omega pleading prettily in his ear was unmistakable—irresistible…

“What if all I want is your name?”

You sighed deeply. 

“I cannot give you that. My name is… not mine to offer.”

Jimin laughed. 

“A woman I cannot remember with a name I cannot know and whose face I cannot see.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination.”

It was hard to explain what happened next...For whatever reason his words cut you deeply and you were overcome with the desire—no need—to refute them somehow. 

“I’m real enough,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek. 

Jimin was genuinely beginning to wonder if you were a witch as well as a she-wolf. Being close to you was intoxicating and the urge to draw you in was steadily overpowering every other thought.

“Could I ask you for a kiss, then?”

“You—...You saved my life and all you want... is a kiss?”

The air grew heavier as the strange magnetic pull between you swelled to a silent inescapable crescendo. 

“In Seoul I often searched for someone who could ease my loneliness, yet each time I walked away emptier than before.” His thumb brushed gently over your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. “I have never had a kiss that meant anything to me.”

But yours might. 

It was unclear who moved first, whether he pulled you to him or you surged forward but when your bodies aligned and your lips met his for the first time it was as if you had never been separate from one another. 

As if you had always been deeply—intimately —together. 

The indescribable feel of him lit over your senses like a struck match. It was an ignition in the purest sense of the word— a fiery visceral awakening fueled by a consuming flood of desire. 

Yes, Alpha. 

He might never see your face or hear your name, but Jimin knew he would remember the taste of you for the rest of his life. It was hot and bright like liquid sunshine— a pure relentless light flowing through him where there was once only darkness. 

A soft needy moan rose up from your chest and he growled in primal satisfaction as you melted against him. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt of their own accord, desperately trying to bring him closer until he wrapped his arms around you in a heated embrace. 

“Please,” he begged breathlessly against your mouth. “Please tell me who you are.”

The words crashed over you like a bucket of ice —dousing the hazy pleasure of his kiss with a cold bite of reality. Suddenly you were wrenching yourself away from him and your wolf whimpered in misery at the loss of his touch. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

And then you were gone. 

“Did someone hurt you?”

You looked up to find Jin taking in your tears with cold fury. 

Twin knives were already gleaming dangerously in his hands and he appeared ready to filet whichever bastard was foolish enough to make you cry. 

“No,” you sniffed—well aware of how pitiful you were at the moment—crying in the corner of your cousin’s kitchen. “I got myself into this mess without any help—as usual.”

Jin sighed and slid down next to you. 

“Tell me.”

“Something happened that I…I didn’t intend.”

“Oh I knew that already. The Luna isn’t supposed to be running around on the night of Lover’s Moon in a forest full of blind horny wolves—“

You snorted and shook your head. 

“You’re absolutely right. I should have stayed away.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if perhaps you had caught Kim Namjoon with another omega. Nothing would be official until after the Change of course, but your bond with him was basically a foregone conclusion at this point. 

“You went looking for someone...didn’t you.”

You nodded miserably—all but confirming his fears. He made a mental note to push Namjoon in the swamp at the next available opportunity. 

“You know... the stories say that a Luna is powerfully drawn to her mate under the Lover’s Moon—that her wolf can sense him even before the Change.”  He reached over and gently began to brush the tears from your eyes. “So it’s not surprising that you sought him out, but it’s not really fair to hold whatever it is you saw against him. There is no relationship between you yet and…” he chuckled, “kisses beneath festival moonlight don’t really mean anything anyways.”

It was clear that Jin had somehow gotten the entirely wrong impression, but perhaps that was for the best. 

No one knew of your connection to Jimin and no one had seen what passed between you. 

Still…

Something about his assessment stung you. 

“You really believe that? ...That a kiss exchanged tonight means nothing?”

“I do.” Jin spoke with conviction. “There’s ancient magic at play in those woods. You can’t always trust what you see—or what you feel.”

“Oh I...I didn’t know…”

After a moment you laid your head against his shoulder and let the last of your tears run silently down your cheek. 

“Jin-ah have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily and pulled you in to snuggle a bit closer. “When I was younger I dreamed of having a mate just like everyone else…”

The words were so softly spoken—almost wistful. Your heart splintered just hearing them. 

“But… she could be out there—your mate.”

Jin shook his head. 

“When is the last time you heard of a female alpha?”

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Jin…”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t waste your crying on me. I’ve long since come to terms with who and what I am.”

“You’re not sad anymore?”

“Well… maybe sometimes I am… but I had to accept that people like us are not like everyone else. Our destinies were written long before we were born.”

“And you believe you’re destined to be alone?”

“Wolves in a pack are never really alone.”

“Yes...but they can be lonely,” you whispered thinking back to Jimin’s words. 

For a moment Jin’s eyes were the saddest you had ever seen them. 

“Well...I suppose they can.”  Then he chuckled and gave your nose an affectionate little tap. “But you don’t need to worry about that. When the time comes Namjoon will take his place at your side and the two of you will build a wonderful life together... Isn’t that what you want?”

Isn’t it?

Your treacherous thoughts drifted back to the boy in the moonlight—to the way your body sang when he touched you and the strange insatiable desire to know him and be known by him in return.

“Please...Tell me who you are.”

A heavy ache settled in your heart. 

You were the Luna of the mountain nations. A true born moon princess. 

You could never be the woman who kissed Park Jimin underneath the stars. 

You were not like everybody else. 

“...Yes. That is what I want.”

——◐——

Now 

——◐——

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tore through the dark paths of the wood with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook close behind. 

He had never led an attack—had never been trained to command wolves in battle. 

It was his first true test of leadership and he hadn’t even been a leader for twenty-four hours. 

Yet the fears and anxieties that might have normally clouded his mind were notably absent. 

There was only you.

Ironically Jimin owed Namjoon yet another debt—this time for explaining what exactly someone like him was capable of. 

The alpha Jin captured had given up their plan and position after being exposed to Jimin’s unique gifting, so he had a concrete target in his mind… He suspected however, that your captors had taken precautions after leaving some of their men behind. They had shifted their camp. 

But it wouldn’t be enough to save them. 

Jimin didn’t need your location to find you. 

He spent years refusing to look at you, and even then he always knew exactly where you were. He could sense you in any crowd—hear your voice in a thousand.

Once it had tormented him cruelly to be so aware of you. 

Now it was the only thing keeping him sane. 

He followed the connection between his heart and yours like a lifeline and it guided him as surely as the stars. 

The alphas followed him without question. 

If any of them harbored lingering doubts before, they were firmly laid to rest after what they saw at the cottage. No ordinary wolf could do what he had done. 

The Alpha would bring back their Luna and retribution would be swift indeed. 

The drugs in your system kept swinging you in and out of lucidity like a nightmarish pendulum. You tried to shift after the initial nausea faded, but whatever they gave you kept your wolf caged beneath your skin. 

Jimin

The longing you felt for your mate was the only thing tethering you to reality. You could almost hear him echoing in the far corners of your mind—  

I’m coming Omega—hold on. 

I’ll find you. 

Part of you recognized that his voice was likely nothing more than the wistful creation of your drug-addled mind, still you clung to it like the last shred of hope while the minutes (or hours) flew past.

Chaos clouded your thoughts even in clearer moments as many unavoidable concerns forced their way through the haze. 

Jin was at the house with you when they broke in. You had no way of knowing if he survived. 

The men who took you were crass and irreverent. Their eyes followed your form with too much interest and too little respect. 

It was starting to get cold and (due to you nearly dismembering a high council member and needing to be compelled unconscious) you were still wearing a thin white ceremonial dress which offered very little protection from the elements. 

You wondered idly if your idiot captors would let you freeze to death before they accomplished whatever it was they took you for. They clearly needed you for something or you would have been long dead by now. 

None of them struck you as particularly brilliant planners so the mastermind must be somewhere else... 

Frankly the entire situation was as puzzling as it was troubling. Iron Claw had always gotten along well with your pack. 

Technically they were (almost) what the human governments called a vassal state. The presence of a Luna determined the dominant pack in a region and the Luna of the mountain nations had been born into Silver Fang—your pack—for the last thousand years or so. 

Why would they challenge us now? 

The birth of a Luna indicated that the goddess had chosen that pack to lead. Their willingness—not only to kidnap you—but to go against the dominant pack by doing so was alarming to say the least. 

A sudden explosion of movement and sound interrupted your contemplation. Motion erupted all around you—boots pounding on the ground, men falling into their wolf forms, knives being drawn… 

You lifted your head—straining forward to see the source of the commotion—and nearly collapsed in relief when you finally did. 

Alpha

Your mate stood at the edge of the camp flanked by two enormous black wolves. 

A deadly looking jingum sword gleamed dangerously in his right hand. You recognized it immediately as your great-grandfather’s combat blade—the thousand year-old weapon of the Silver Fang Alphas. 

Relief flooded your chest all over again at the sight of it. Only Jin could have given him that sword—which meant he was still alive. 

The black wolves—Yoongi and Jungkook—snarled viciously but made no move to attack. 

Your captors were still scrambling into some sort of combat formation when Jimin finally spoke. 

“You have violated our sacred laws, trespassed in sovereign pack lands, kidnapped a Luna under the protection of our goddess, abducted the mate of the Silver Fang Alpha, and risked open war between our peoples.” He took a single step forward. “Surrender now and I will be merciful.”

The biggest of your captors—a man you recognized as the de facto leader—spat viciously on the ground. 

“You are not my Alpha,” he growled.

A cold—almost cruel—smile twisted over Jimin’s lips.

“Very well.”

Then he dropped to one knee and a massive grey wolf—Taehyung—leapt over his head and tore out the defiant leader’s throat before he even hit the ground. 

Your mouth dropped open. 

Bangtan formation.

Yoongi and Jungkook lunged forward in opposite directions, tackling their targets to the forest floor in a bloody clash of teeth and claws. 

One of the larger Iron Claw alphas half-shifted and charged Jimin but his arm shot out lightning fast, catching his attacker by the throat to send him flying through the air into a tree. 

The next several minutes could only be described as terrifyingly beautiful.

It was immediately clear that Jimin had been holding back when he fought Namjoon. 

He dispatched his opponents with such elegant savagery it was almost art.

You were so mesmerized watching Jimin sensually sword dance his way through a dozen alphas nearly twice his size that you almost missed Taehyung’s wolf rushing over with a dagger clenched between his teeth. 

Luna are you okay? 

You grinned and held up your rope-bound wrists. 

“I’ll be better once you pass me that knife.”

Taehyung nodded once and dropped the blade at your feet before tackling another wolf that was tearing towards the two of you. 

You sawed through the ties around your ankle first then twisted your arms to try and slice through the restraints on your wrist. 

The Iron Claw wolves were clearly no match for Jimin and his alphas. 

Jungkook and Yoongi chased after the few who were trying to run while Taehyung half-shifted to subdue the handful of wolves left alive as prisoners. Only Jimin continued to fight as the last three of your captors still standing took turns being slammed into the dirt by his strikes. 

He was clearly capable of dispatching them, but you were fairly convinced that you would die if you had to stay away from him for another second. The ropes, however, were surprisingly thick and the angle you were cutting them at wasn’t the best. If only—

You were almost free when you saw it. 

One of your captors had pulled a hunting javelin from their supply wagon. He must have hid himself at the onset of the fight, but now he was comfortably concealed by the shadows—and taking aim at Jimin. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

The attacker appeared to handle the weapon with familiarity. He was too far back—too well hidden—Jimin would never see him in time—

The last cord around your wrist snapped and you were on your feet, pushing through the combined haze of fury and sedatives to charge the wolf who dared attack your mate. 

By the time he saw you it was far too late. 

Under the effects of the drug your aim was a little skewed but you weren’t Kim Seokjin’s cousin for nothing. 

One clean flick of your wrist and the dagger shot through the air, burying itself between the brute’s shoulder blades—all the way to the hilt. 

His body fell to the ground just as Jimin sent the last of your captors careening into a pile of previously defeated foes. 

For a moment all was quiet. 

Then your eyes locked across the distance and everything around you sharpened to a single whispered word. 

“Jimin.”

He had run non-stop for miles and torn apart a dozen wolves to get to your side—no amount of space between you now was tolerable. 

The sword clattered to the forest floor as he moved toward you—desperate to feel you—to wrap himself around you and know that you were safe. 

What happened next was as natural as breathing.

You opened to him and he lifted you into his arms, taking your lips in a hot unrepentant kiss. 

Fire exploded across your senses, burning away everything but the touch and taste of him. Every part of you was at once fiercely and gloriously alive. Desperate moans passed between you as he licked into your mouth—a dark primal promise of the pleasure he would take between your thighs. 

“Alpha,” you whimpered, too delirious with want to manage anything else. 

Suddenly Jimin’s eyes shot open. His hands flew to cup your face, searching it with a mixture of realization and disbelief.

“You… It was you.”

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[silverstark]

Spy Mission: Double-Cross Pt.5

The Bingge v Bingmei aftermath fic I accidentally MoShang’d

.*.*.*.*.*.

Shang Qinghua sighed in pity. Bing-ge had taken one look at the marriage record in Shang Qinghua’s hand and spun around to turn his back on it. He was just like a child who thought that if he did not see something, then it could not be real. 

Instead of reading the marriage record, he watched Shen Qingqiu through the trees.

Shang Qinghua stared with him. He thought he understood what Luo Binghe saw. Shen Qingqiu was supposed to be cold like the layer of frost over a grave. Beneath the frost there was supposed to be a dank, heartless void. Shen Qingqiu had a compelling brightness to him, but it was supposed to mark him out as a worthy opponent to the protagonist.

Shen Yuan’s Shen Qingqiu was not what he was supposed to be. If he was cold, he was cold like the dawn, like when the sun was still half-hidden. Beneath his cold exterior there was an affectionate, forgiving heart. Shen Yuan made Shen Qingqiu radiant, in a way that only the protagonist himself could match.

Of course Luo Binghe thought that Shen Qingqiu was the only thing worth looking at, in this world Shang Qinghua had written.

“He’s married,” Shang Qinghua confirmed for Bing-ge.

Luo Binghe’s shoulders tensed.

Shang Qinghua winced at himself and unconsciously shifted closer to Mobei-ge for safety. He wasn't sure why he had said anything. Bing-ge already knew. He'd known before he sent them. He did not need Shang Qinghua rubbing salt in the wound.

Shang Qinghua braced himself for a murderous glare, at the very least. But Luo Binghe did not turn to look at him. He did not say a word.

Instead, he left their hiding place in the bamboo forest to go to Shen Qingqiu.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Shen Qinqiu had marched off in vexation over Luo Binghe abandoning him earlier. However, after leading a guqin lesson for a bit, he was in a pretty good mood. Shen Qingqiu had always liked music.

He had gotten pretty good at the piano in his previous life. Piano was the best instrument for awkward family meetings: he could sit quietly by himself, and no one would accuse him of being idle. Guqin gave him the same sense of peace. He found that he did not have to rely entire on Shen Jiu for this one skill. He enjoyed playing guqin. And he enjoyed teaching guqin; watching his disciples grow more and more comfortable with their abilities, until they discovered the same sense of peace that Shen Qingqiu loved.

There was a wide range in skill among the disciples. Some were older disciples who were dutifully practicing to keep their skills sharp. Some were children too unfamiliar with the guqin to display even a trace of  musicality yet.

Shen Qingqiu was walking among his disciples fixing posture and finger placement and giving out praise when he felt an intense gaze at the back of his neck.

Or, rather, a waft of vinegar.

Shen Qingqiu stayed calm and adjusted the disciple's shoulder until he was sure the disciple had gotten a feel for the correct posture. Then he turned to smile at his husband.

...who was a lot closer than Shen Qingqiu had expected. Shen Qingqiu unconsciously took a step back. Then he realized it was improper to let his disciples see how easily Luo Binghe affected him. Shen Qingqiu lifted his fan to his chest and stood his ground.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe reproached in a trembling voice. "You left me."

Shen Qingqiu was speechless.

...technically, it was true; Shen Qingqiu had left after Luo Binghe had asked him to wait for him. But Luo Binghe had left first! His bereft expression was a little too heartbreaking.

"I did not go far. You knew where to find me, didn't you?"

"How could this disciple predict where on Qing Jing Peak the Peak Lord would go?"

Luo Binghe's eyes grew shinier, as if he were near tears.

What is this lost puppy expression for? You can track me using the blood parasites, can't you? Shen Qingqiu demanded silently, but there was no way he was going to mention the blood parasites in front of his other disciples. Highly improper.

Besides, Shen Qingqiu was beginning to think maybe he had overreacted. So Luo Binghe had had work to do. It was very responsible of him to have taken care of it. Shen Qingqiu had urged him many times before to not abandon work for his sake.

"You're here now, aren't you?" Shen Qingqiu asked in a softer tone.

Luo Binghe only nodded with his big shining lost puppy eyes and grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu's sleeve as if for comfort.

Shen Qingqiu started feeling a little guilty over speaking coldly to Luo Binghe before. He looked so very sad now, clutching the edge of Shen Qingqiu's robe with both hands as if he feared Shen Qingqiu would tear it out of his grasp. Shen Qingqiu had done that in the past, after all.

Shen Qingqiu's heart melted all the way. He couldn't stand to see Luo Binghe sad, so he said the words that always cheered Luo Binghe: "Come, help me."

It worked. Luo Binghe paused as if not quite believing that Shen Qingqiu had softened so easily. Then he brightened. All the broken-glass-heart-shard sparkle in his eyes turned into hopeful stars. He released Shen Qingqiu's robe to latch onto Shen Qingqiu's hand.

"How can this disciple help Shizun?"

Shen Qingqiu could not help but smile and reach out to pat Luo Binghe's head. He was such a good, obedient disciple. An exemplary disciple, in fact, and Shen Qingqiu was glad that his young shidi and shimei got to meet him. He was glad that they got to see the real Luou Binghe instead of the rumored demon-monster.

It was this moment of pride that changed Shen Qingqiu’s request for Luo Binghe. Instead of asking him to help teach his younger disciples, he led Luo Binghe to his own guqin at the front of the class.

“Shizun, will you play a song for me?” Luo Binghe asked, briefly squeezing Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his excitement.

Shen Qingqiu blushed. Playing a song for a specific someone was really quite intimate. He gestured at the seat by his guqin.

“Did you not offer to help me? Sit.”

Luo Binghe face fell as he recognized that he would the one playing the guqin. Shen Qingqiu fought the urge to hide his blush behind his fan. He would have to play a song for Luo Binghe. Later. When all his disciples were not watching them.

Luo Binghe obeyed. Then he looked up at Shen Qingqiu.

“Will Shizun teach me?”

“No. Today, you will teach. You are the best guqin player among my disciples, after all,” Shen Qingqiu reminded him.

The sense of pride in his disciple returned. Luo Binghe was not a natural musician. Shen Qingqiu had been surprised to discover that his protagonist halo did not assist him there, until he considered that there were no scenes of Luo Binghe playing guqin in Proud Immortal Demon Way. Shen Qingqiu would certainly not have taught him, and neither would his time in The Abyss. He did not need guqin to seduce women: The only person Luo Binghe could possibly impress by playing guqin was his old Shizun.

And so Luo Binghe had struggled. He required many private lessons just to catch up to his fellow disciples. 

He worked hard. And, In the end, he became the very best among Shen Qingqiu’s disciples. Shen Qingqiu was always secretly proud of this achievement in particular.

“If I am teaching,” Luo Binghe said, “should I play something simple? To help train the ears of my young shidi and shimei?”

“Yes, good, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu assented with a nod.

Luo Binghe’s eyes shone again. Shen Qingqiu patted his head automatically, before remembering they were at the front of the class.

Shen Qingqiu cleared his throat and backed away a respectable distance. “Play the scale song I taught you.”

 Luo Binghe lifted his hands to the strings. Shen Qingqiu listened. At first he was pleased. But, as the starting notes transitioned into the melody, Shen Qingqiu became mildly confused. Then, his hand tightened on his fan.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Shang Qinghua ignored the glare on the side of his head. It was very easy: He had a lot of practice ignoring angry, disappointed people.

Even when 'people' meant a version of Mobei-Jun, his beloved.

Even when he knew the difference between angry Mobei-Jun and hurt Mobei-Jun, and this Mobei-Jun looked more hurt than angry.

In the clearing full of Qing Jing Peak disciples, Shen Qingqiu smiled helplessly and patted Luo Binghe on the head. Bing-ge froze and then turned an openly, pathetically yearning expression on the flustered Shen Qingqiu.

Shang Qinghua lost his patience.

“It’s not about loyalty!”

Mobei-ge’s glare softened. However, he kept glaring instead of feigning disinterest. That meant he was waiting for an explanation before he would deign to forgive Shang Qinghua.

“It’s not! It’s-”

Words failed him. Shang Qinghua gestured at the clearing.

“Look at them! They belong together. Well, not them. I mean Shen-shixiong and the other Luo Binghe. His husband.”

He belatedly realized that Mobei-ge might take issue to that given his loyalty to Bing-ge.

“I know we’re supposed to be helping your Junshang, but that’s...that’s part of my point, actually. He’s not going to end up with Shen-shixiong. Shen-shixiong is married! He made his choice! He decided he’s going to be with Bing-mei forever.”

Mobei-ge had no reaction to that, so Shang Qinghua tried to be clearer.

“When this is all over, Bing-ge's little game will be another battle they fought so they could be together."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"You're kind of proving my point there."

Mobei-ge was baffled. In a cool ice demon king way. Shang Qinghua bit back the urge to talk about protagonists and the golden body effect they granted on their romances. This would all be nonsense to Mobei-ge.

"They're," Shang Qinghua tried again, "They're evenly matched. Luo Binghe is Junshang. Shen Qingqiu is a Peak Lord.”

“You are a Peak Lord.”

Shang Qinghua scoffed.

“Yeah, the logistics peak. Do you know that’s one of the first things My King said to me when we met? He can’t pretend he doesn’t understand. Making me noodles in private is one thing,” Shang Qinghua said, ignoring Mobei-ge’s slight confusion. He had probably never imagined making noodles in his life. “Marrying me? Officially, so that all his subjects know? That's ridiculous.”

"Marrying you is ridiculous," Mobei-ge said with no inflection.

Shang Qinghua thought he recognized hurt-anger again. He was glad this was Mobei-ge. He was not sure what kind of face Mobei-Jun would make if they had this kind of conversation.

"You don't understand," Shang Qinghua insisted, "Demons take the official marriage of their royals very seriously."

Mobei-ge, a royal demon, blinked at him. Shang Qinghua grimaced. Okay, so maybe Mobei-ge understood about royal marriages. That didn't mean he understood the dangers of Mobei-Jun marrying Shang Qinghua.

He turned back to the clearing in a form of retreat. He meant to mutter some final protest, but he was surprised to notice that Shen Qingqiu had dismissed his disciples. He and Bing-ge were alone in the clearing.

Shen Qingqiu was watching Bing-ge play guqin with his fan over the bottom half of his face as if he were acting shy. Bing-ge seemed happy and relaxed. And yet, Shang Qinghua grew a little uneasy.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Author's Note: If you enjoyed this fic, reblogs make me happy. <3

#SVSSS #Bingge #MoShang #BingQiu #myfanfic #Spy Mission: Double-Cross #if you enjoyed it and think it’s worth sharing reblogs make me happy #I think I have one MAYBE two parts left to write. #edit/update: now on ao3 (edited)

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

I know it's been a while. But to our shepherd:

with the love potion thing, did they both drink it or... just our shadow walker? because if only him then... did that boy have actual feelings for him? Or at least did he enjoy the experience of being 'loved by him'?

Because they both seemed happy but when V talked about it it wasn't clear if they gave each other a dose or if he was the only one given one by the other.

(The Dragon Witch grins, deciding to answer this question herself.)

Marissa: Oh, you want some details about our little Love Potion experiment~? It’s quite the story!

Marissa: You see, Aenxiétee always had a spark of compassion in him, unfortunately. I figured out about his secret relationships rather quickly — with his less-than-noble brothers and various flings with males in the city — but I let them be, since it was blackmail material for later... And then there was this one soldier.

(Marissa grins wickedly, thinking back on the incident,)

Marissa: Tazén? Rizas? I don’t remember his name. But, he was much softer than Aenxiétee — or Xiéonz, as Tazén called him. I’m not sure how that nickname came about, but it was a popular one for him. The Drow’s naming conventions escape me still...

Marissa: Regardless, Tazén had grand ideas about leaving the city. Sneaking away under cover of a military patrol, and spending time together hidden in the woods where they could try living like surface couples do! —He never worded it that way, of course, since the mention of surface folk would have made Aenxiétee furious, but the idea of being “trantz avinsin” — real lovers — was tempting. 

Marissa: Of course, Tazén was actually a spy. He was from the surface colony you’re in now, though Aenxiétee never figured that out~ His intention was to lure my little shadow away from me and leave the city with fewer defenses. And my darling ku'nal velve, he resisted the idea each time it was suggested. He would never run away from home, not as long as I had my claws in him~

(Marissa takes a minute to laugh, then hums,)

Marissa: Honestly? I couldn’t tell at the time if he wanted to lure Aenxiétee to assassinate him or genuinely to love him, maybe take him back to the surface. But it didn’t matter; I was perfecting my formula for Amortentia based on the spell materials for Manth'len'ar, and I knew just who to test it on~

Marissa: It was the perfect trap! I tell poor Aenxiétee that I know about his trysts with the fool Tazén, I’ve always known, but I won’t punish him. No, I’ll turn it into a learning opportunity~

(Marissa cackles, eyes wide with manic glee. Then she stands and straitens her spine, reliving the moment like an actor in a play,)

Marissa: You want to know how it feels to be avinsen, do you? Well, you can help your Matron Mother with her potions research, experience the “true love” of the surface world, we can test whether or not he honestly cares for you, and I won’t punish you for being in correspondence with a heretic. The experience itself will be punishment enough~

Marissa: So I instruct Aenxiétee to call his little friend over, pretending they are meeting in secret, and I administer the potion to Aenxiétee. He and Tazén spend some time together undisturbed — I don’t have to meddle at all to make this go my way, so I don’t. 

Marissa: ...Come the next morning, poor Xiéonz stumbles into my room shaking like a leaf, missing one of his precious daggers and the smell of blood on his hands. As I knew he would be, he’s terrified by the sensation of trust induced by the potion; An emotion he has never felt before. A dangerous thing, that made him feel weak, small and fragile.

Marissa: I have him tell me what happened, and I’m surprised to learn that the two really did love each other! Tazén was happy to spend a few days with Aenxiétee and keep him safe while his body worked through this “fear-repressing potion he’d been poisoned with.” Tazén stayed alert of danger, and the two got to spend some very saccharine quality time together... Little did Tazén know, the only danger they would face was the ticking time bomb he was cuddling up to~

Marissa: So in the end I have proven the perfection of my formula, rid myself of a surface spy, and further broken and re-forged my favorite soldier! Aren’t I just brilliant~?

#long post #tw manipulation #tw violence mention #rpgau dragon witch #lets roll #please tell me if i need to tag anything else! #lovelivingmydreams

[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking the King Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing

Lisabet is a high born Lady of Oleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

A bit of a plot heavy chapter, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

Lisabeta had seen no more than a glimpse of Henry’s sun kissed locks as he strode away that morning. Not, of course, that she wanted to see the King. She had seen enough of him last night. More than enough, she added, as the image of him in all his naked splendor slipped its way into her mind.

That vexing image seemed to be branded into her brain, so often did she find herself thinking of it when she let her mind drift. His skin, dotted with freckles and crossed with scars that somehow failed to detract from his masculine beauty. The breadth of his shoulders that tapered slowly, over a long distance, to his narrow hips. How could one so unquestionably awful be so unquestionably awe arousing? It was simply not fair!

She had barely slept last night, so active had been her mind. Her body also seemed more alive than usual. There was a curious heat within her, to the point that she wondered if she was feverish. Her skin tingled, and her stomach felt unsettled. Most distracting of all was the odd ache she felt in her womanly organs. She was not due for her courses for weeks, why was she feeling so out of sorts there? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to blame the English King.

She hated him, more than she had ever hated anyone. He had toyed with her, she knew it! And yet, how could that be when to him she was simply one of his pages. The fact that he had treated her with such disinterest and disregard only meant her disguise was working, for no well born man, even an Englishman, would ever behave so in front of gently bread lady. And yet it maddened her to no end that he had been so with her. She wanted more than ever to find him and run him through with her sword. If she had to wait on him again, no doubt she would do so.

And yet, it was even more insufferable that he did not send for her. Lisabeta was not a woman used to being overlooked, particularly by men. She commanded attention the moment she arrived in a room by virtue of both her looks and her natural spirit. To be forced to sit idly waiting for Henry to call on her was not to be endured.

Around midday of the day following the tent incident she had been sent for, but it was not the King who had called her. She was beginning to wonder what pages were expected to do in a royal camp, and how she was to maintain her anonymity. The night before she had simply found a place on the ground near a fire, using her saddle roll as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. It was a long night, with only restless sleeping on the hard ground, but she had endured it. In the morning she had snuck between a tent and a wagon towards the tree line and relieved herself, frantic lest someone should see her. It could not go on like this for long, and she knew it.

When summons had come, she assumed it was from the King. After all, who else knew she was there? Instead, she had been brought to a smaller tent not far from where the Royal Standard flew. A desk took up most of the space, somehow both neat and cluttered with papers and ink. Sitting behind it was a thin, balding man who looked less like a soldier that Lisabet herself. She guessed him to be her father’s age, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“You are Phillipe Cavot, the King’s new page?” the man asked in a voice as tired as his eyes.

“I am, my Lord, what would you have with me?” Lisabeta struggled to make her voice sound more like an anxious page and less like a confident lady.

“King Henry thought I might make use of you,” the man sounded uncertain as he looked her over.

What! The King was handing her off like so much unwanted baggage to one of his underlings? Lisabeta seethed internally. How dare he be so high handed?

“Did he indeed, how generous of him,” she bit off.

“I thought it so, if what he says is true,” the man’s voice was mild and slightly perplexed at her answer. “Your hand, I take it, is decipherable? If so, you will be better than the last. I am Laurence, Henry’s secretary. I have a stack of documents to write, and time is not a friend to me of late. You will assist me here with all my work. I know it is less exciting task to aid a secretary than knight. But here at least some comfort does exist. There is a cot for you to sleep upon, and there behind the screen a chamber pot. Perhaps it is no luxury for you, but when one reaches my age, one will find such niceties are of a great import.”

Lisabeta was at first inclined to be outraged, if only because outrage seemed to be her reaction to all that Henry said or did. To be stuck in this tent with a reedy man with a reedy voice all day was not the reason why she had come here. On the other hand, it did neatly solve both of her core problems. It was as if providence had given her a way to stay until she figured out the next step in her plan.

In addition to all of this, it occurred to Lisabeta that this could be just the place she needed to be. If this man was King Henry’s secretary, then the documents scattered about his desk took on an entirely new interest to her. It was possible that hidden among the mounds of papers that looked to be mostly correspondences could be maps, perhaps even battle plans, detailing the English forces’ intentions. If she could put her hands on those documents, it could be a turning point in this war.

In her mind, Lisabeta pushed away the picture of Henry mercilessly and in its place forced in what must be seen as a happier view. She would wait until the secretary had left, of perhaps gone to sleep as it looked like he must soon do. Once he was out of the way, she would find the betraying documents, copy them down, and slip from the camp. How easy would it be then to send them via courier, or maybe even bring them herself, to the French King and his constable in Paris? Lisabeta could singlehandedly win this wretched war for France!

It was a plan, and she would see it done. She need never cross paths with the arrogant King Henry again. Let him preen around his camp in the mud for another day or two, she would not be there to wash it from his body. And all the better for that, she insisted to herself, even as she fought back regret.

***

“Your Majesty, what brings you to our tents?” Sir Stephen Boyd asked, beginning to drop to one knee in the mud before Henry waved away the need.

“My restless legs that needed room to stretched,” Henry laughed good naturedly. “How goes it with our enforced visitors?”

“Well, my Lord, when all is said and done. One little lad no more than three years old did give us all some trouble at the start.”

“Precocious lad! How did he manage that?”

“With screaming morn and night, to wake the dead. I tell you Sire, I’ve seen my share of war. I’ve fought in wars whose blood would fill a lake, and thought my life was ended more than once. But never have I known a greater fear than when the cub did last drift off to sleep and any noise did threaten our brief peace.”

Henry could not but laugh at the thought of the bluff old knight fearing a lad of three. The very sight of him proclaimed the battles he spoke of. Still, there lived inside the blustery warrior a soft heart. Henry remembered being found out by Sir Stephen after his first taste of battle. An overwhelmed squire, Henry had been horrified by the carnage he had witnessed. Ashamed of himself, he had hidden behind a wagon to empty his stomach before crouching down trembling from the shock, terrified lest someone should see him so unmanned.

But when Sir Stephen had discovered him, the older knight had not mocked or scolded him. Instead, he had hunched down next to him and handed over a flask of water for Henry to rinse his mouth. After Henry had stopped shaking, Sir Stephen had spoken to him in a matter of fact voice, telling him that all men of intellect were shaken by the reality of war. It was only the dull or the cruel who escaped unscathed. Any man worth following would react as Henry had, he opined, and he was proud that his future lord was such a one. With a nod, he had risen and walked away, leaving behind the water and a more thoughtful Henry.

It was because of this innate compassion that Henry had chosen him to have custody of the hostages. Other, higher ranked men had chafed, wanting the potentially lucrative position where they could extort money from anxiety ridden parents. Henry had thwarted them all, placing in stead an honorable man who would do his best to keep the young hostages safe and well looked after.

“A mighty terror indeed, how solved you it?” he asked now with a shudder.

“I handed off the boy to Mistress Mead,” Sir Stephen replied, face reddening. “She’s wife to Seargent Mead, a doughty man, and raised a brood of children of her own. I know your Grace did put him in my charge, but at his age he needs a woman’s care. I hope you know I meant no harm by it. I’d trust the goodwife my very life.”

“As I trust you with mine, my blustery friend,” Henry assured him. “I should have thought to do so from the start. I thank you, Sir, for seeing to it now.”

They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching a pair of lads in oversized helmets batter at each other. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he had come here. He had been at his desk going over the papers his secretary had left for him, but his mind was not really focused. He needed to walk, to exercise. To get away from his tent where his eyes and mind kept drifting over to the large tub where the Gascoigne lass had bathed him two nights before. He had not been able to stop thinking of her since.

It was only because he had been celibate, he assured himself. That was the reason why he had responded so strongly to the chit. She was completely lacking skill in her ministrations. Her touch had been hesitant, shy, barely skimming over his skin. And yet, that had changed as she proceeded. She had grown bolder, pulling slightly on his hair, rubbing his aching shoulders and back. He had been loud in his appreciation, moaning as he felt the tension and stiffness melt out of him.

Well, it had melted out of his upper body, his lower body had been an entirely different story. As her hands drifted lower, his erection had become painful in its insistence. She was just inches away, all it would take was a small dip down for her soft hand to be wrapped around his length. He had wanted it with an intensity that left him throbbing. If he had not sent her away at that point, he would have dragged her into the tub with him.

It was a thought that kept occurring to him through the night and all the next day.

He thought he had hit on the perfect solution by handing her off to Laurence. The man could use an extra hand, and he could only imagine the girl’s education had included penmanship. He could not have her running about his camp, just waiting for someone to realize she was a woman, for god’s sake. She was a scandal just waiting to happen, in no small part because she seemed incapable of staying unobtrusive.

Laurance, on the other hand, could be trusted implicitly with her. The man was discreet to a fault, as one who preferences were as his had to be in their society. As Henry suspected, he had sussed out her true nature the first day, but rather than confront her with it had quietly brought it to his King’s attention. When Henry indicated that he knew her identity, but wished to do nothing for present, his secretary had sighed but nodded, mumbling that at least she had a passable hand a quick mind, if an even quicker tongue. She would be safe with him until he decided how to proceed.

He just needed to find out more about her, which brought him to his current location.

“Tell me, Sir, how does the young Gascoigne?” he asked, attempting nonchalance.

“Little Phillipe? He does right well, my Lord,” Stephen answered, slight curiosity in his voice. “That be him over there, the one in blue. He’ll make a proper Knight if ‘ere he grows. A bit to clever, like to one I know. But taking to account his lineage and vast side of the force he’ll one day lead, that is no bad thing, as I think you know.”

Henry watched the boy as he traded blows with another a head taller than him. He saw what Sir Stephen alluded to. The larger boy clearly had strength and reach on his side, but Phillipe easily side stepped the attacks launched on him. He had an excellent eye for what his opponent was about to do next. If only he had a better control of his own weapon. Acting on instinct, Henry strode forward, grabbing a practice sword from the wrack as he did.

“Your grip is wrong, if I may intercede?”

He didn’t raise his voice, he seldom did, but the two boys drew back, instantly lowering their blades. Phillipe dropped to one knee, and after a slight pause the other boy did the same, removing their borrowed helms.

“Rise up, Phillipe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he offered, along with his hand to help the boy to rise.

He was a handsome lad, Henry observed. Very much the boyish version of his sister. Henry was continually amused at how everyone else took her for a boy. Her hips were obviously those of a woman, and the combination of padding and binding did not completely hide her other curves. On top of that, the planes of her face were more feminine, if older and sharper than the boy before him.

He spent the next hour happily helping Phillipe improve his grip. The boy had stamina, and after the first few moments lost his stiffness with the King. Henry enjoyed physical activity of all sorts and had been unhappy with the idleness. The lesson was just what he had needed to restore his good humor.

“Well done, my lad, I think you have the trick,” he said at last, setting aside his sword and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I thank you, Sire, for sparing me your time,” Phillipe said shyly, panting a bit. “I father doth despair of my poor skill. Why even my own sister Lisabet can best me when it cometh to the blade.”

“Ah, Lisabet! That is your sister’s name!” Henry said, remembering now that he had heard the lovely moniker before.

“Why yes, my Lord, but know you Lisabet?”

Henry cursed silently, damning his tongue for saying the name out loud. A lovely name, he thought, although perhaps too soft for the sassy brat who had infiltrated his camp.

“By reputation only, to my woe,” he said with an easy smile to, “I hear she is the jewel of all of France.”

“So all do say, though I do see it not,” the boy made a face all brothers of sisters would recognize before continuing to ramble. “A willful fury, with a biting tongue is more the face that she does show to me. But those who know the fashion of the world have dubbed her oft an incomparable. My parents seek to make for her a match with every single gentleman of name.”

“And is there any one she most prefers?” Henry asked, irritated at the idea that the innocent vixen in his tent last night might be promised to another.

“No, not when last I spoke to her, my Lord. Papa would wed her to Lord Constable, I heard him say the match was all but made. But Lisabet just curled her lip at that. I think she fancies more to be a queen, or empress who could manage one and all. She certainly does like to get her way. But do not, please, mistake me good my Lord. Though she can be a right pain in my side, she is at heart a loving sister still. She wept when I did leave to be our pledge.”

“Belike she thought I meant to use you ill. I hope, Phillip, that has not been the case?”

“Why no, my Lord, though I should say it not, the days that I have spent here in your camp seem almost as a holiday to me!”

“Then I am glad to give you such a treat. You must inform your sister of the truth.

“I will when I am back at home with her. She will just roll her eyes and scoff at me and tell me that I do betray our house. She would have had us fight till all were dead, or ere she ever flew the flag of truce.” 

“She sounds a truly formidable foe. How glad I am I had to fight her naught.”

 “As you should be, she wields a blade with skill!”

“Gascoigne, will you talk the good king mad? Come over here and help to clean the blades!”

Chastised by the should from Sir Stephen, the boy ducked his head and bowed to Henry before running over to assist in the work. Henry smiled in reply, but him mind was elsewhere. So, his fiery, would be page was set to marry the Constable of France? And, moreover, she was a fierce opponent of the peace with England. That would not bode well for Henry or for Fance. He hoped to settle the matter of his sovereignty, and the good Constable was a stumbling block in his way. If the man were wed to a woman of passion who stood against Henry’s claim, he would be only more likely to dig in and voice his dissent. No, Henry did not think he could allow such a union to take place.

It had nothing at all, of course, to do with his own attraction to the woman.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston​ @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @justthehiddleswrites @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​

#The Hollow Crown #The Hollow Crown Fic #Henry V #Henry V Fic #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston as Henry V #Romance #Historical AU #Historical Romance #Eventual Smut #Slow Burn #Mutual Pining #Enemies to Lovers #Angst

[queenaryastark]

Elia Martell: Quote Masterlist

In preparation for Elia Week 2021, I compiled all of the times Elia is mentioned in ASOIAF and TWOIAF. It’s not surprising, but it is very troubling how little we get of her actual personality and characterization. There’s clearly an overemphasis on her rape and murder, the quest for vengeance on her brother’s side, and how she compared to other women. We get one flashback/vision of her after Aegon’s birth discussion song and prophecy with Rhaegar which is the only time she actually speaks. Oberyn’s courtship tour story gives hints at her characterization, while Barristan, who wouldn’t have known her well, gives us details like: good, delicate health, kind, clever, and sweet wit. It’s pretty vague, but unfortunately that’s all GRRM gave us. 

Anyway, the quotes are under the cut:

Her Murder

Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. -- Dany I, AGOT ----- The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children.  -- Dany I, AGOT ----- Some said it had been Gregor who'd dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. -- Eddard VII, AGOT ----- Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ----- In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. -- Eddard XV, AGOT ------ The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe. "My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition . . . and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black." "A council seat is not to be despised," Varys admitted, "yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister's murder?" "Why forget?" Tyrion smiled. "I've promised to deliver his sister's killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure." Varys gave him a shrewd look. "My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a . . . certain name . . . when they came for her." -- Tyrion IV, AGOT ----- "Prince Doran comes at my son's invitation," Lord Tywin said calmly, "not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children." -- Tyrion III, ASOS ---- I did not come for some mummer's show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane . . . but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that. -- Tyrion V, ASOS -------- "It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl's body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father's bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ----- "I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing." "Then why did the Mountain kill her?" "Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark's van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do." He closed a fist. "Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape . . . even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of . . . two? Three? He said she'd kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow." His mouth twisted in distaste. "The blood was in him." -- Tyrion VI, ASOS ------ Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. -- Tyrion IX, ASOS -------- "I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names." He leaned forward. "It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon's head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands." -- Tyrion IX, ASOS --------- "The gout I cannot help," she said, "but my father had no use for grief. Vengeance was more to his taste. Is it true that Gregor Clegane admitted slaying Elia and her children?" "He roared out his guilt for all the court to hear," the prince admitted. "Lord Tywin has promised us his head." -- Hotah, AFFC --------- "My sister Elia had a little girl as well. Her name was Rhaenys. She was a princess too." The prince sighed. "Those who would plunge a knife into Princess Myrcella do not bear her any malice, no more than Ser Amory Lorch did when he killed Rhaenys, if indeed he did. They seek only to force my hand. For if Myrcella should be slain in Dorne whilst under my protection, who would believe my denials?" -- Arys, AFFC --------

Oberyn VS Gregor Clegane

The Dornishman slid sideways. "I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne," he said, as the Mountain turned to keep him in sight. "Princess Elia was my sister." "Who?" asked Gregor Clegane. Oberyn's long spear jabbed, but Ser Gregor took the point on his shield, shoved it aside, and bulled back at the prince, his great sword flashing. The Dornishman spun away untouched. The spear darted forward. Clegane slashed at it, Martell snapped it back, then thrust again. Metal screamed on metal as the spearhead slid off the Mountain's chest, slicing through the surcoat and leaving a long bright scratch on the steel beneath. "Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne," the Red Viper hissed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman's head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." ------- But the Red Viper of Dorne was back on his feet, his long spear in hand. "Elia," he called at Ser Gregor. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Now say her name." The Mountain whirled. Helm, shield, sword, surcoat; he was spattered with gore from head to heels. "You talk too much," he grumbled. "You make my head hurt." "I will hear you say it. She was Elia of Dorne." The Mountain snorted contemptuously, and came on . . . and in that moment, the sun broke through the low clouds that had hidden the sky since dawn. -------- Prince Oberyn tilted his dinted metal shield. A shaft of sunlight blazed blindingly off polished gold and copper, into the narrow slit of his foe's helm. Clegane lifted his own shield against the glare. Prince Oberyn's spear flashed like lightning and found the gap in the heavy plate, the joint under the arm. The point punched through mail and boiled leather. Gregor gave a choked grunt as the Dornishman twisted his spear and yanked it free."Elia. Say it! Elia of Dorne!" He was circling, spear poised for another thrust. "Say it!" Tyrion had his own prayer. Fall down and die, was how it went. Damn you, fall down and die! The blood trickling from the Mountain's armpit was his own now, and he must be bleeding even more heavily inside the breastplate. When he tried to take a step, one knee buckled. Tyrion thought he was going down. Prince Oberyn had circled behind him. "ELIA OF DORNE!" he shouted. Ser Gregor started to turn, but too slow and too late. The spearhead went through the back of the knee this time, through the layers of chain and leather between the plates on thigh and calf. The Mountain reeled, swayed, then collapsed face first on the ground. His huge sword went flying from his hand. Slowly, ponderously, he rolled onto his back. The Dornishman flung away his ruined shield, grasped the spear in both hands, and sauntered away. Behind him the Mountain let out a groan, and pushed himself onto an elbow. Oberyn whirled cat-quick, and ran at his fallen foe. "EEEEELLLLLLIIIIIAAAAA!" he screamed, as he drove the spear down with the whole weight of his body behind it. The crack of the ashwood shaft snapping was almost as sweet a sound as Cersei's wail of fury, and for an instant Prince Oberyn had wings. The snake has vaulted over the Mountain. Four feet of broken spear jutted from Clegane's belly as Prince Oberyn rolled, rose, and dusted himself off. He tossed aside the splintered spear and claimed his foe's greatsword. "If you die before you say her name, ser, I will hunt you through all seven hells," he promised. ------ Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. The Red Viper brought down the greatsword in a wild slash, but he was off-balance, and the edge did no more than put another dent in the Mountain's vambrace. Then the sword was forgotten as Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, yanking the Dornishman down on top of him. They wrestled in the dust and blood, the broken spear wobbling back and forth. Tyrion saw with horror that the Mountain had wrapped one huge arm around the prince, drawing him tight against his chest, like a lover. "Elia of Dorne," they all heard Ser Gregor say, when they were close enough to kiss. His deep voice boomed within the helm. "I killed her screaming whelp." He thrust his free hand into Oberyn's unprotected face, pushing steel fingers into his eyes. "Then I raped her." Clegane slammed his fist into the Dornishman's mouth, making splinters of his teeth. "Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this." As he drew back his huge fist, the blood on his gauntlet seemed to smoke in the cold dawn air. There was a sickening crunch. Ellaria Sand wailed in terror, and Tyrion's breakfast came boiling back up. He found himself on his knees retching bacon and sausage and applecakes, and that double helping of fried eggs cooked up with onions and fiery Dornish peppers.-- Tyrion, X

General

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. -- Daenerys IV, ACOK

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She nodded. "There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon."

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall." -- Daenerys V, ACOK

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No doubt he was waiting for Prince Viserys to mature, or perhaps for Rhaegar's wife to die in childbed. Elia of Dorne was never the healthiest of women. -- Jaime II, ASOS

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 The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. -- Jaime V, ASOS

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When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. -- Jaime V, ASOS

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"It was when I visited Casterly Rock with my mother, her consort, and my sister Elia. I was, oh, fourteen, fifteen, thereabouts, Elia a year older. Your brother and sister were eight or nine, as I recall, and you had just been born." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon when you come down to it, as I told Elia at the time. Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland . . . and you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"Cersei promised Elia to show you to us. The day before we were to sail, whilst my mother and your father were closeted together, she and Jaime took us down to your nursery. Your wet nurse tried to send us off, but your sister was having none of that. 'He's mine,' she said, 'and you're just a milk cow, you can't tell me what to do. Be quiet or I'll have my father cut your tongue out. A cow doesn't need a tongue, only udders.'"

"Her Grace learned charm at an early age," said Tyrion, amused by the notion of his sister claiming him as hers. "She's never been in any rush to claim me since, the gods know.

"Cersei even undid your swaddling clothes to give us a better look," the Dornish prince continued. "You did have one evil eye, and some black fuzz on your scalp. Perhaps your head was larger than most . . . but there was no tail, no beard, neither teeth nor claws, and nothing between your legs but a tiny pink cock. After all the wonderful whispers, Lord Tywin's Doom turned out to be just a hideous red infant with stunted legs. Elia even made the noise that young girls make at the sight of infants, I'm sure you've heard it. The same noise they make over cute kittens and playful puppies. I believe she wanted to nurse you herself, ugly as you were. When I commented that you seemed a poor sort of monster, your sister said, 'He killed my mother,' and twisted your little cock so hard I thought she was like to pull it off. You shrieked, but it was only when your brother Jaime said, 'Leave him be, you're hurting him,' that Cersei let go of you. 'It doesn't matter,' she told us. 'Everyone says he's like to die soon. He shouldn't even have lived this long.'" -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"As children Elia and I were inseparable, much like your own brother and sister." -- Tyrion V, ASOS

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"But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!" said Dany. "Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?"

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

"It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother's heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate."

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. "Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late." She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. "If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl." -- Daenerys, ASOS

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"Aye. I will." Ulmer, stooped and grey-bearded and loose of skin and limb, stepped to the mark and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his waist. In his youth he had been an outlaw, a member of the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood. He claimed he'd once put an arrow through the hand of the White Bull of the Kingsguard to steal a kiss from the lips of a Dornish princess. He had stolen her jewels too, and a chest of golden dragons, but it was the kiss he liked to boast of in his cups. -- Samwell II, ASOS

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"Do you recall the tale I told you of our first meeting, Imp?" Prince Oberyn asked, as the Bastard of Godsgrace knelt before him to fasten his greaves. "It was not for your tail alone that my sister and I came to Casterly Rock. We were on a quest of sorts. A quest that took us to Starfall, the Arbor, Oldtown, the Shield Islands, Crakehall, and finally Casterly Rock . . . but our true destination was marriage. Doran was betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos, so he had been left behind as castellan of Sunspear. My sister and I were yet unpromised.

"Elia found it all exciting. She was of that age, and her delicate health had never permitted her much travel. I preferred to amuse myself by mocking my sister's suitors. There was Little Lord Lazyeye, Squire Squishlips, one I named the Whale That Walks, that sort of thing. The only one who was even halfway presentable was young Baelor Hightower. A pretty lad, and my sister was half in love with him until he had the misfortune to fart once in our presence. I promptly named him Baelor Breakwind, and after that Elia couldn't look at him without laughing. I was a monstrous young fellow, someone should have sliced out my vile tongue."

Yes, Tyrion agreed silently. Baelor Hightower was no longer young, but he remained Lord Leyton's heir; wealthy, handsome, and a knight of splendid repute. Baelor Brightsmile, they called him now. Had Elia wed him in place of Rhaegar Targaryen, she might be in Oldtown with her children growing tall around her. He wondered how many lives had been snuffed out by that fart.

"Lannisport was the end of our voyage," Prince Oberyn went on, as Ser Arron Qorgyle helped him into a padded leather tunic and began lacing it up the back. "Were you aware that our mothers knew each other of old?"

"They had been at court together as girls, I seem to recall. Companions to Princess Rhaella?"

"Just so. It was my belief that the mothers had cooked up this plot between them. Squire Squishlips and his ilk and the various pimply young maidens who'd been paraded before me were the almonds before the feast, meant only to whet our appetites. The main course was to be served at Casterly Rock."

"Cersei and Jaime."

"Such a clever dwarf. Elia and I were older, to be sure. Your brother and sister could not have been more than eight or nine. Still, a difference of five or six years is little enough. And there was an empty cabin on our ship, a very nice cabin, such as might be kept for a person of high birth. As if it were intended that we take someone back to Sunspear. A young page, perhaps. Or a companion for Elia. Your lady mother meant to betroth Jaime to my sister, or Cersei to me. Perhaps both."

"Perhaps," said Tyrion, "but my father—"

"—ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but was ruled at home by his lady wife, or so my mother always said." Prince Oberyn raised his arms, so Lord Dagos Manwoody and the Bastard of Godsgrace could slip a chainmail byrnie down over his head. "At Oldtown we learned of your mother's death, and the monstrous child she had borne. We might have turned back there, but my mother chose to sail on. I told you of the welcome we found at Casterly Rock.

"What I did not tell you was that my mother waited as long as was decent, and then broached your father about our purpose. Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you instead."

"Which offer she took for an outrage."

"It was. Even you can see that, surely?"

"Oh, surely." It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. "Well, Prince Rhaegar married Elia of Dorne, not Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock. So it would seem your mother won that tilt."

"She thought so," Prince Oberyn agreed, "but your father is not a man to forget such slights. He taught that lesson to Lord and Lady Tarbeck once, and to the Reynes of Castamere. And at King's Landing, he taught it to my sister. My helm, Dagos." Manwoody handed it to him; a high golden helm with a copper disk mounted on the brow, the sun of Dorne. The visor had been removed, Tyrion saw. "Elia and her children have waited long for justice." Prince Oberyn pulled on soft red leather gloves, and took up his spear again. "But this day they shall have it." -- Tyrion X, ASOS

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"Was she a fair maid?"

"She was," said Meera, hopping over a stone, "but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who'd brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances." -- Bran II, ASOS

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"I was the oldest," the prince said, "and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother's mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone." -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father's funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy. Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin's golden twins, as payment for Elia's children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"He went beyond anything I asked of him. 'Take the measure of this boy king and his council, and make note of their strengths and weaknesses,' I told him, on the terrace. We were eating oranges. 'Find us friends, if there are any to be found. Learn what you can of Elia's end, but see that you do not provoke Lord Tywin unduly,' those were my words to him. Oberyn laughed, and said, 'When have I provoked any man . . . unduly? You would do better to warn the Lannisters against provoking me.' He wanted justice for Elia, but he would not wait—"

"He waited ten-and-seven years," the Lady Nym broke in. "Were it you they'd killed, my father would have led his banners north before your corpse was cold. Were it you, the spears would be falling thick as rain upon the marches now." -- Hotah I, AFFC

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"And what is it I want, ser?"

"The Sand Snakes freed. Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia. Do I know the song? You want a little taste of lion blood."

That, and my birthright. I want Sunspear, and my father's seat. I want Dorne. "I want justice." -- Arianne I, AFFC

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"With me?" That is so like him. "For Lord Tywin and the Lannisters you always had the forbearance of Baelor the Blessed, but for your own blood, none."

"You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children. It was my hope to strip him of all that he held most dear before I killed him, but it would seem his dwarf son has robbed me of that pleasure. I take some small solace in knowing that he died a cruel death at the hands of the monster that he himself begot. Be that as it may. Lord Tywin is howling down in hell . . . where thousands more will soon be joining him, if your folly turns to war." Her father grimaced, as if the very word were painful to him. "Is that what you want?"

The princess refused to be cowed. "I want my cousins freed. I want my uncle avenged. I want my rights." -- Arianne II, AFFC

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Black cats brought ill luck, as Rhaegar's little girl had discovered in this very castle. She would have been my daughter, if the Mad King had not played his cruel jape on Father. It had to have been the madness that led Aerys to refuse Lord Tywin's daughter and take his son instead, whilst marrying his own son to a feeble Dornish princess with black eyes and a flat chest. -- Cersei V, AFFC

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"Her duty." The word felt cold upon her tongue. "You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?"

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her."

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps. -- Daenerys IV, ADWD

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The lad flushed. "That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away." -- Tyrion VI, ADWD

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Seventeen years had come and gone since the Battle of the Bells, yet the sound of bells ringing still tied a knot in his guts. Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept. The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince.

"The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying. -- JonCon I, ADWD

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That time was done, though. "No man could have asked for a worthier son," Griff said, "but the lad is not of my blood, and his name is not Griff. My lords, I give you Aegon Targaryen, firstborn son of Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone, by Princess Elia of Dorne … soon, with your help, to be Aegon, the Sixth of His Name, King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."-- JonCon I, ADWD

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Prince Doran frowned. "That is so, Ser Balon, but the Lady Nym is right. If ever a man deserved to die screaming, it was Gregor Clegane. He butchered my good sister, smashed her babe's head against a wall. I only pray that now he is burning in some hell, and that Elia and her children are at peace. This is the justice that Dorne has hungered for. I am glad that I lived long enough to taste it. At long last the Lannisters have proved the truth of their boast and paid this old blood debt." -- Hotah, ADWD

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"A start?" said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. "Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. Even Joffrey, who was not yet born when Elia died. I saw the boy perish with mine own eyes, clawing at his throat as he tried to draw a breath. Who else is there to kill? Do Myrcella and Tommen need to die so the shades of Rhaenys and Aegon can be at rest? Where does it end?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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"Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?" Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain's head. "I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?"-- Hotah, ADWD

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It was his failures that haunted him at night, though. Jaehaerys, Aerys, Robert. Three dead kings. Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, every one, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them. And now Daenerys, his bright shining child queen. She is not dead. I will not believe it. -- Barristan II, ADWD

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A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar's wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon's birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. -- JonCon II, ADWD

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Griff had heard enough of the captain-general's cowardice. "We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia's son as well as Rhaegar's."-- JonCon II, ADWD

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Rhaegar had chosen Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would have been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia's companions … though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab. -- Barristan III, ADWD

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She will never wash the stain away, no matter how hard she scrubs. Ser Kevan remembered the girl she once had been, so full of life and mischief. And when she'd flowered, ahhhh … had there ever been a maid so sweet to look upon? If Aerys had agreed to marry her to Rhaegar, how many deaths might have been avoided? Cersei could have given the prince the sons he wanted, lions with purple eyes and silver manes … and with such a wife, Rhaegar might never have looked twice at Lyanna Stark. The northern girl had a wild beauty, as he recalled, though however bright a torch might burn it could never match the rising sun.

But it did no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. That was a vice of old done men. Rhaegar had wed Elia of Dorne, Lyanna Stark had died, Robert Baratheon had taken Cersei to bride, and here they were. And tonight his own road would take him to his niece's chambers and face-to-face with Cersei. -- Kevan, ADWD

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Fire and blood was what Jon Connington (if indeed it was him) was offering as well. Or was it? "He comes with sellswords, but no dragons," Prince Doran had told her, the night the raven came. "The Golden Company is the best and largest of the free companies, but ten thousand mercenaries cannot hope to win the Seven Kingdoms. Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon?" His voice broke when he said that. "Where are the dragons?" he asked. "Where is Daenerys?" and Arianne knew that he was really saying, "Where is my son?" -- Arianne I, TWOW

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"Gregor Clegane ripped Aegon out of Elia's arms and smashed his head against a wall," Ser Daemon said. "If Lord Connington's prince has a crushed skull, I will believe that Aegon Targaryen has returned from the grave. Elsewise, no. This is some feigned boy, no more. A sellsword's ploy to win support." -- Arianne I, TWOW

-------

"I... it would give great joy to my father if Elia's son were still alive. He loved his sister well." -- Arianne I, TWOW

-------

So it was. "I was seven when Elia died. They say I held her daughter Rhaenys once, when I was too young to remember. Aegon will be a stranger to me, whether true or false." The princess paused. "We looked for Rhaegar's sister, not his son." Her father had confided in Ser Daemon when he chose him as his daughter's shield; with him at least she could speak freely. "I would sooner it were Quentyn who'd returned." -- Arianne I, TWOW

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Meanwhile, King Aerys was becoming ever more estranged from his own son and heir. Early in the year 279 AC, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, was formally betrothed to Princess Elia Martell, the delicate young sister of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne. They were wed the following year, in a lavish ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, but Aerys II did not attend. He told the small council that he feared an attempt upon his life if he left the confines of the Red Keep, even with his Kingsguard to protect him. Nor would he allow his younger son, Viserys, to attend his brother's wedding.

When Prince Rhaegar and his new wife chose to take up residence on Dragonstone instead of the Red Keep, rumors flew thick and fast across the Seven Kingdoms. Some claimed that the crown prince was planning to depose his father and seize the Iron Throne for himself, whilst others said that King Aerys meant to disinherit Rhaegar and name Viserys heir in his place. Nor did the birth of King Aerys's first grandchild, a girl named Rhaenys, born on Dragonstone in 280 AC, do aught to reconcile father and son. When Prince Rhaegar returned to the Red Keep to present his daughter to his own mother and father, Queen Rhaella embraced the babe warmly, but King Aerys refused to touch or hold the child and complained that she "smells Dornish." -- TWOIAF

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Chief amongst the Mad King's supporters were three lords of his small council: Qarlton Chelsted, master of coin, Lucerys Velaryon, master of ships, and Symond Staunton, master of laws. The eunuch Varys, master of whisperers, and Wisdom Rossart, grand master of the Guild of Alchemists, also enjoyed the king's trust. Prince Rhaegar's support came from the younger men at court, including Lord Jon Connington, Ser Myles Mooton of Maidenpool, and Ser Richard Lonmouth. The Dornishmen who had come to court with the Princess Elia were in the prince's confidence as well, particularly Prince Lewyn Martell, Elia's uncle and a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. But the most formidable of all Rhaegar's friends and allies in King's Landing was surely Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.-- TWOIAF

-------

And when the triumphant Prince of Dragonstone named Lyanna Stark, daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, the queen of love and beauty, placing a garland of blue roses in her lap with the tip of his lance, the lickspittle lords gathered around the king declared that further proof of his perfidy. Why would the prince have thus given insult to his own wife, the Princess Elia Martell of Dorne (who was present), unless it was to help him gain the Iron Throne? The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia's delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar's cause, Symond Staunton suggested to the king..-- TWOIAF

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As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon's turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon. With the coming of the new year, the crown prince had taken to the road with half a dozen of his closest friends and confidants, on a journey that would ultimately lead him back to the riverlands. Not ten leagues from Harrenhal, Rhaegar fell upon Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, and carried her off, lighting a fire that would consume his house and kin and all those he loved—and half the realm besides..-- TWOIAF

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From Dorne, in defense of Princess Elia, ten thousand spears came over the Boneway and marched to King's Landing to bolster the host that Rhaegar was raising. Those who were there at court during this time have recounted that Aerys's behavior was erratic. He was untrusting of any save his Kingsguard—and then only imperfectly, for he kept Ser Jaime Lannister close at all hours to serve as a hostage against his father..-- TWOIAF

-------

Birds flew and couriers raced to bear word of the victory at the Ruby Ford. When the news reached the Red Keep, it was said that Aerys cursed the Dornish, certain that Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar. He sent his pregnant queen, Rhaella, and his younger son and new heir, Viserys, away to Dragonstone, but Princess Elia was forced to remain in King's Landing with Rhaegar's children as a hostage against Dorne. Having burned his previous Hand, Lord Chelsted, alive for bad counsel during the war, Aerys now appointed another to the position: the alchemist Rossart—a man of low birth, with little to recommend him but his flames and trickery. -- TWOIAF

-------

The Red Keep was soon breached, but in the chaos, misfortune soon fell upon Elia of Dorne and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. It is tragic that the blood spilled in war may as readily be innocent as it is guilty, and that those who ravished and murdered Princess Elia escaped justice. It is not known who murdered Princess Rhaenys in her bed, or smashed the infant Prince Aegon's head against a wall. Some whisper it was done at Aerys's own command when he learned that Lord Lannister had taken up Robert's cause, while others suggest that Elia did it herself for fear of what would happen to her children in the hands of her dead husband's enemies.-- TWOIAF

-------

Dorne continued to be closely allied with House Targaryen in the years that followed, with the Martells supporting the Targaryens against the Blackfyre Pretenders and sending spears to fight the Ninepenny Kings on the Stepstones. Their loyal service was rewarded when Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, took to wife Princess Elia Martell of Sunspear, and sired two children by her. But for the madness of Rhaegar's father, Aerys II, a prince of Dornish blood might very well have one day ruled the realm, but the upheavals of Robert's Rebellion brought about the end of Prince Rhaegar, his wife, and his children. .-- TWOIAF

#elia martell #eliaweek2021 #asoiaf

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Honor him. Younger Mercenary Oberyn Martell x f!reader fanfic. #Writer Wednesday 05/26/2021

Summary: You receive the worst news, Oberyn Martell died, your first lover and the first adventure you lived.

Once when you were younger you ran away from your house escaping an unhappy engagement and the promise of a dull life. But your family hired an elite force of mercenaries to find you not knowing that their leader is a Prince of Dorne.

Word count: 6,5k (ups sorry)

Warning: Blood, violence, Oberyn’s death is mentioned as canon in the book and show, Ophidiophobia(fear of snakes), unhappy arranged marriage, alcohol. +18 SMUT (it means no minors, pls) virgen f!reader, oral sex (f¡ receiving descriptive, male receiving mentioned) p in v sex (unprotected cos there’s no durex in Essos BUT USE PROTECTION IN REAL LIFE PEOPLE) grieving.

A/N: I'M SORRY I'M LATE this is for #Writer Wednesday, the challenge created by @autumnleaves1991-blog

I read the books a long time ago, yep, I’m one of those people that said “I’ll finish them when George publish them all” so I got ASOIAF wiki and run with it, so buckle up for some bad geography from Essos and inaccurate cultural stuff. I think this is the longest thing I’ve written and the smuttiest, so sorry if it’s cringy.

Honor him

“Apparently he won the combat but the wounds were too severe and he died”

You raise your eyes from the book. One of the young servants whispers to another collecting the dead leaves on the ground.

“What is it?”

They rise from the ground nervously expecting that you will scold them for gossiping

“We heard the news from the world. A bard was chanting them on the market, my lady” she approaches the fountain; you’re seated on the ceramic tile, feet inside the water, refreshing from the blazing sun in this part of Essos.

“And what did he say?”

“He said there was a trial in Kingslanding. For the death of king Joffrey, and it was his cousin...”

“His uncle, the imp” clarifies the other and the other girl rolls her eyes

“Yes, his uncle was on trial for his murder. And Prince Oberyn from Dorne was his champion”

“The imp asked for a trial by combat, you see, my lady” adds the other

“He battled the Mountain; he crushed the prince’s skull apparently”

“But! but! His blade had poison on it so the Mountain died too” says the other girl excitedly

“Oberyn died?” you mutter, your hands are limp and you don’t realize that you have drop your book until you hear the “blop” sound in the water and it splashed your tunic

Your mind travels to years past in an instant: A journey through the vast empty lands of this continent and how you loved for the first time.

The pages of your book are getting more and more transparent while the black trickles of ink disappear in the water. You wish to scream, to rip your clothes and your hair out of your scalp but you do nothing.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the girls look at each other when you don’t move or try to retrieve your book from the water.

You always thought the greatest pain he gave you was leaving you at your father’s door many years ago, but now he’s gone forever. You always thought, while looking from your window at night, that you will see him one day, coming back on his dark horse ready to steal you away again, but now that he’s dead that small hope, that tiny flame that you kept in your heart is gone.

Your childish hopes and dreams of reviving your first love are shattered. It’s true that your life has changed, you’re a grown woman now, wiser and experience but you still fantasize over him, seeing his face and his hands on your lovers.

“We should call physician” you heard them whisper, but so far away

“Where is he anyway?”

“At his clinic, you silly girl, run”

“You do not need to call him” you mutter “I’m fine. Excuse me”

Not caring for splashing water all over the house, you run to your chambers and collapse into your bed. Buried in the soft pillows, you cried, muffling your howls with them so nobody could hear. Late in the night the moon and stars shine bright casting bluish shadows in your room.

Your body is tired but restless and in the night shade a timid ray of white light illuminates that small scar in your forearm in the shape of a half-moon. And you kiss it, at least you will always have something of his carved in your skin.

Many years ago. Essos.

“You’re cheating, boy” the big man slams the table, the wooden pieces and the coins that all the players have laid at the center fall down. He points at you spitting from a mouth full of crooked black teeth “Show me your arms, boy, I know you’re lying”

“I’m just lucky, sir” you raise your blouse’s sleeves and your arms up innocently and somehow it makes him angrier

He insults you in whatever language he speaks and slams the table up, the players run and the loud tavern suddenly gets quite, waiting for the next movement. You’re an ant in front of that enormous giant, when he stands tall and walks menacingly towards you, you freeze, he doesn’t listen to you when you apologize, it doesn’t matter anyway, you just did to gain time and look for an exit but the room is too crowded.

“Here, boy, I’ve also many tricks under my sleeve” he has a dirty bag hanging from his belt and takes it and throws it at you. It lands at your feet and for a second you smirk not knowing what a bag could do to you, but then it moves and in a blur you see a green and yellow thing twisting until you feel it pressing and slithering over your body. The snake, a beautiful, shiny creature with vibrant colors faces you hissing and shows its fangs. Everything happens to fast. Out of instinct you protect your face with your arms and the animal understands this as a threat and it bites. The pain rings like a bell all over your body every nerve in your body aflame.

In a second, cold blood wets your face and you gasp when you see the snake’s head slide to the side separated from its body with a clean cut.

“I’m sorry for the demise of your little friend” A tall lean man stands beside the giant. You can’t see his face, since he’s covered with black turban and his body is in full armor. One of his arms still holds a curved sword that has snake blood on it; the other has a dagger pointed to your enemy’s neck.

“That viper was worth more than you or your little friend and you will pay for it”

“I doubt it. You know my little friend here” and he points his sword to you “it’s worth a lot and if I don’t tend to her wound rapidly she will die and that’s a shame. So, decide now, do you want to be a setback or do you want to keep living your stinky life longer?”

By brute force, the giant decides his fate and tries to disarm the man who in a swift movement cuts his throat and his blood and destiny joints that of his pet.

“You’ve been quite difficult to find, child” he opens the fabric covering his face. His eyes are dark, dark beard covers his defined jaw line and an amused smirk graces his handsome face. “Let me see that arm” he lowers his weapons, shamelessly cleaning his dagger on the back of the dead tall man and walks to you until your back is pressed against one of the tavern columns. Sheathing his sword, his hand takes yours and raises your arm, evaluating the wound and he hums deeply “Oh, sweet child”

“Am I going to die?” you cry

“Probably”

“If it’s my father who commands you to find me, I beg you to let me die; I do not wish to go back. Death is better than that dreadful place” you shake your head determined but terrified at the same time. He looks at you with his brow troubled

“Death is never better than anything” and he drags your arm to his face. His dark gaze fix on you while he sucks on the wound so hard that for a moment you think he’s drinking your life away. But then he lets you go and spits to the ground “Let’s hope that’s enough. You will come with me so I can give you the antidote”

“I told you, I have no desire to return to my home”

“It’s a pity, then, that I don’t care about that” he grins.

He gave you so many small jars to drink. Some tasted sweet some bitter and some other made you want to vomit and not drink or eat ever again. But you’re alive. A few hours passed, and then a day, then two, and you’re irrevocably getting back home.

You’ve learnt that your father, in an attempt to find you, has commissioned this elite group of mercenaries to retrieve you; and he’s the leader. It’s a small company but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. All of them seemed to have many different skills, weapons hidden at every corner of their body, they speak languages you don’t know and you ride your horse tied to it watching each one of them with a suspicious look. After two days riding with them you have decided that there’s no way you could escape now. There’s always one of them standing guard and just a small glare your way gets every thought of escaping out of your head. So, even if it’s dramatic, you decided that your best option is to die. A few days in the desert without water and food and your father will receive a corpse.

“Drink, little girl, you’re withering like a flower” the leader, the man that saved you, says handing you the waterskin

“No, thank you” you turn your head, seated under the shadow of a very thin and dry bush. The orange and violet light announces the immanent sunset where you have stopped for the day.

“You’ve been refusing water all day. You have to drink” he says and pushes the waterskin to your face once more.

“No, thank you” you repeat and he sighs. Thinking you’ve won as he throws the waterskin by his side, you smile subtly until he’s close, crouched down, knees over the sand, looking at you.

“Maybe being a spoiled little flower works for your father, but not to me. Drink or I will make you” He takes your chin and raises it to meet his eyes

“I’m not thirsty” you say, your lips are already dry and they hurt, your tongue is thick inside your mouth and your body screams for just one drop.

“Don’t challenge me, child” he lowers his voice and you gulp

“I’m not a child” you protest, he keeps calling you that and honestly you don’t think he’s much older that you

“Then why do you behave like one? Drink, for the last time” His mouth is a fine line now and his grip on your chin is a little bit firmer

When you don’t answer he opens the waterskin and tucking on your lower lip he pours a small trickle of water in your mouth. The liquid taste sweet, your body works on it own and you open your mouth to drink more with desperation.

“So you weren’t thirsty...stubborn girl” he smirks and you want to slap his smug and beautiful face

He stops pouring water and laughs when you rise up drinking the last drops before he puts the cap on it.

“Look at you, not a withering flower anymore” the mercenary brushes his knuckles over you cheek and you feel them burn “What else do you want?” his thumb caress your chin gathering the small drops of water on your skin and spreads it over your lower lip.

You feel your bones burning, a tension in your lower belly that you haven’t feel many times and that makes you ask for something you don’t even know, so you just answer a timid yes and let him guide you to the fire and the rest of the company.

One of the mercenary is skinning some rabbits, methodically pulling the skin off with blood hands and a deathly gaze fix on you “So she decided to join us” she says

“Oberyn can be really persuasive” another, a big bald man with a beard tinted in blue, adds

So his name is Oberyn, where have you heard that name before?

“Remember that her father is paying for the whole of her, untouched he said” a lean blonde woman, with her face full of black and blue tattoos, is lounged over the bags sharpening her knives

“Well, I hope he doesn’t see her arm, that viper left her with a beautiful scar” Oberyn sits down and helps the mercenary skinning the animals and impales them and puts them to roast on the fire

“I’m not talking about that kind of viper...” she says and the company laughs

“I’m right here” they stop laughing looking at you as if you have done something they deem impossible

“So she speaks” the bearded man says

“She does but it may take some convincing” Oberyn smiles at you over the flames that illuminate his striking and sharp features “If you wish to eat, sweet flower, why don’t tell us how did you escape? We love a good story while we camp”

“Your father was convinced some ragged boy had stole you from your palace” adds the blonde woman

You smile, feeling some kind of pride for your plan, that, looking at it from perspective, did not grant you what you wanted but at least you had a good run. You tell them about how you disguised as a ragged boy lurking a few nights prior your escape so that the servants suspected about somebody being guilty of your disappearing. And how you ran away the night of your betrothal and made it look as if somebody had kidnapped you.

“I ran out of money in Lys so I had to beg, or steal, or gamble for a few coins. And then you found me” you finish your tale, sucking on your fingers, the meat is the best you ever tasted but yet again it must be the hunger from this days refusing to eat or drink.

“I’m almost tempted to let you go, young one, you seem a very resourceful girl” the beard man that you now know as Uhlan smiles at you proudly

“Think about the money” the blonde woman, Rikan, chew on a bone and toss it to the fire

“I’m always thinking about it, why do you think I’m a sellsword?” he jests

“Because you were a street rat with a broad back as broad as your stupidity and it’s the only thing you can do” Rikan spits and Uhlan laughs, a deep and low chuckle that resonates as a thunder.

“She’s a little princess, she couldn’t have survived much longer” the other woman, Shifa adds, the rest of the company has changed the way they look at you, but her. She still squints at you

“There’re princes that have survived worse” Uhlan counters and suddenly there’s a heavy and uncomfortable silence over them. You look at all of them trying to understand and you see Oberyn looking at his feet until he claps his hands together “Let’s get some sleep, we have a long way ahead”

It’s surprising what food, water and company can achieve. You’re smiling more, you almost forget that you will be delivered to your father and future husband within days, Uhlan tells you about his many adventures, how he almost die in Yiti, how he rode once with a Khalassar and that he had seen the great shadow in the East. Rikan has gifted you a knife “a girl needs to defend herself” she said and proceed to show you how to kill a man in many different ways “If you want to kill your husband though, you must ask Oberyn, he’s the one that knows about poisons and how to kill somebody without raising suspicions”

“How does he know that?” you ask, leaning to the right so you get close to her horse, Oberyn rides beside Shifa before you; both of them speaking in a language you don’t understand

“He has studied many things; he’s been all over the world. He was almost a Maester once, but preferred to travel, fight and fuck the world before he gets back to his duties”

“Duties?”

“He’s a prince” she whispers a mischievous smile on her lips “he doesn’t want to talk about it, because it makes people treat him differently or underestimate him. So don’t tell him it was me, blame the big rat”

“Did somebody call me?” Uhlan screams at the back

“You do have a sharp ear when you want, my friend”

You arrive to Myr at dusk. The city is still vibrating, the merchants offering everything you could imagine and the streets smell like thousands spices. And you absorb it all with wide eyes and open mouth.

“It’s a beautiful world, my sweet flower, and you wanted to end your life” Oberyn raises his voice over the people chatting and selling stuff

“If only it could always be like this” you answer, your smile dies in your mouth remembering this is a passing thing. The adventure will be over soon.

“Life gives us many opportunities to dwell in its pleasures; you have only to acquire a keen eye to recognize the perfect moment to seize it”

“Are you implying that I will have another chance to escape?” you scoff

“Maybe...if that is what you want or maybe to enjoy your life as a married woman, who knows”

You sigh deeply trying to ignore the thoughts about your future husband, that drunken bastard, boring and dull that your father chose.

“Or you could run away and avoid your responsibilities; you can create your own destiny, my sweet flower”

“And that’s what you are doing? Avoiding your duties?” you stop in your tracks and he watches you for a moment, chewing on his lower lip

“Maybe” he answers finally

“I’m tired of being treated as if I was overreacting being a spoiled child while you are here doing exactly what I did, ran away, from the duties of a noble life. I’m not overreacting; all I want is to decide if I want to live my life bearing children for my fool husband and maybe die giving birth or out of boredom and disappointment or try my luck in the wild world. Isn’t that what you are doing? Travel, fight and fuck the world? What’s the difference between me and you?” The people surround you, the company has already enter the tavern in front of you knowing they shouldn’t meddle

“Travel, fight and fuck the world seem a pretty good title for a book. Maybe when I’m old I will write my adventures under that title” he laughs

“I’m glad I amuse you” you spat with your arms crossed

“I apologize if I made you feel that I was underestimating you. Do not confuse my laughter with mockery, I know how you feel and I understand.” He comes close to you, each hand on your arms, pressing them lightly “Believe me, I wouldn’t have accepted this job if your father didn’t pay so well. I have to get back home and I want to leave my company with enough resources so they can continue on their own” he explains, he bends his neck so you are so close you can smell his scent, leather, horse and the dessert. “But that doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy ourselves while it lasts” Oberyn smiles and passes his arm over your shoulders “Have you tasted the wine from Myr?” you shake your head “It’s the sweetest”

The wine is starting to play with your mind, your smile falls languidly over the corner of your lips and you don’t know why you’re laughing but whatever song Uhlan is singing is the funniest thing you’ve heard. Rikan laughs by your side, her laugh is actually sweet and high making her look less menacing. Shifa is the only one that doesn’t look amused at all and he drinks from her goblet eyeing the tavern, especially you, with hatred.

“C’mon, Shifa, we know you can smile” Uhlan grabs her in a bear hug but she squeezes herself out of it

“Let me alone, you brute”

“You haven’t talked much since we retrieve the little girl over here, tell us what’s going on in that little twisted mind of yours?” the man jokes and the other mercenary glares at him

“I’m going to my chamber” She drinks the rest of her drink and strides to the rooms, pushing the drunken people in her way

“Leave her, Uhlan! She’s just jealous that her prince is not directing his attentions only to her lately” Rikan says winking at you

Oberyn has been absent having a conversation in another table until he comes back with a serious expression

“I’m partially offended that you think our company it’s not worth your time” Uhlan says sliding to give him enough space to seat by his side

“Huh, so I guess Shifa is not the only one jealous” Rikan drinks looking at him over her goblet

“Shut up!”

“Where is she?” Oberyn asks

“She went to her chamber” Uhlan serves him wine “So what was about those ugly bastards that got your attention; I thought you had a very refined taste”

“Those are Westerosi men; I wanted to get news of the world. Some of us still appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, my friend” Oberyn taps on his big shoulder

“I appreciate the pursuit of a good fuck better, my friend. Let’s see if those Westerosi want to share some news with me, Rikan are you coming? I’m always lucky with you around”

“I don’t like Westerosi” she snarls

“I don’t care, I just need you to be there so they take a good look at your ugly face and they get convinced that fucking with me is the good option of the two of us” he jokes with one of those thunder like chuckles

Rikan laughs and she follows him, waddling towards the men’s table.

“I should go to my room” you say, rising too fast and the whole room twists and turns

“You liked the wine, I see” he observes you grab the wooden table for your dear life until you find your balance

“Too sweet, I haven’t noticed it until it was too late”

“Let me guide you then”

Oberyn grabs you by your waist and helps you climb the stairs to the second floor. People gather around the aisle, laughter and moans fill the air and the heat of Oberyn skin over yours and the boldness giving by the alcohol make you pressed your body against his a little tighter than its necessary.

“This is you” he says opening the door for you

“Is it true what you said about creating our own destiny?” you collapse on his firm chest, your hands brushing over his neck

“Yes, sweet flower”

“Sweet flower” you mimic his accent “Say it one more time” your glossy lips, sticky with wine, leave a kiss on the tan uncover skin of his chest. His laugh makes you raise your head

“You need to sleep, child”

“No, no!” you slap his hand away when he tries to push you inside the room “Don’t call me that, I’m not a child. I’m a woman” you try to fix your posture to seem taller but you body stumbles to one side almost falling down

“What you are is a very inebriated girl. Good night, my sweet flower” he says closing the door

“Are you going to Shifa’s room?” the words escape your lips before you can think and he lingers on the door with an eyebrow raised

“Why do you ask that?”

“I don’t want you to go to her” again the words are out before you process them

“And what do you want me to do?” Oberyn closes the door behind him. And you breathe deeply a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Stay with me” you mutter

“Believe me I would, but you don’t know what you are asking. It is the wine speaking”

“No it’s not” you pout again falling into his arms, hearing how you sound like a spoiled little girl, you cough “It’s not” you repeat

“Right, let me take you to bed then”

You gasp looking at him with wide eyes. Oberyn hugs your body and walks towards the simple bed at the corner until you both fall down on the soft mattress

“Oberyn” you whisper “I have to tell you something before we...”

“Tell me, sweet flower” He lays beside you, posing his head over his fist

“I’m...I’ve never...” you stutter

“No need to worry” with his free hand he starts to brush his index finger from your brow to the tip of your nose so slowly and softly that you feel your eyes closing down

“Are you trying to make me sleep as if I was a puppy?” you slur

“Shh” he continues until the room goes dark and you cannot open your eyes for much that you try

“Sweet dreams, sweet flower” you hear before you blank out.

The sun pierces your eyes as if its rays were daggers. The company laughs at your expense, but yet again, Shifa hisses and insults you in some language but it’s evident that she said something nasty because Oberyn glares at her.

“No more Myr wine for you, little girl” Uhlan laughs helping you get on your horse

“Never” you murmur

The pain in the back of your head and the unstoppable thirst you have makes you moody, and it doesn’t help that you know you’re one day away from your home. But everything is worse with the hard sting of jealousy. It’s not that Oberyn does much, but he rides along side her, speaking in that stupid language you don’t understand, and she makes him laugh, he watches with attention whatever she points at during the way. He looks at her, talks to her. All you want is to rush your stupid horse and take her place.

It gets worse when Shifa sees you observing them; knowing damn well what you feel, she becomes softer, leaving touches on his skin, whispers things on his ear. And you can see the intimacy, the camaraderie that they share and that you will never have. And she’s a woman not a little girl, fierce, independent, and strong; and you cannot stop comparing yourself to her.

You arrive to a small town in between the domains of the two free cities, just hours away from the gates of Pentos.

“We will spent the night here, we need to be presentable for tomorrow”

The town has a small and humble bath house. The simple exterior made of red brick doesn’t show the beauty it has in its interior. The garden inside is made of brick and ceramic creating beautiful arches that frame the pool in the middle; green vines crept over the walls and the tender murmur of water is the only sound you can hear.

“We have rooms to accommodate you for the night once you’re done with your baths” the lady, owner of the house, announces and snaps her fingers towards the servants so they get everything ready.

“Thank you” Oberyn says bowing his head “Wash away the dust of our journey, my friends. Specially you, Uhlan” he jokes, slapping the big man’s belly

“You’re as stinky as me, my prince, but the Gods didn’t give me a beautiful face”

The company strips shamelessly, you think that they’re so comfortable around each other that they don’t think twice before submerge their naked bodies in the fresh water.

You stay by the side, taking off your shoes and rolling your sleeves so you can wash your feet and face. You avert your eyes when you see that Oberyn’s armor is on the floor. Your eyes fixed on the water and the blue tiles at the bottom, but you cannot stop from raising your eyes just a little.

His magnificent, strong, and tight body, his beautiful golden skin is marked in scars in some parts, you see the muscles on his legs tensing and relaxing as he gets in the pool. Your eyes travel through the room to avoid seeing him in his full grace.

“C’mon child, you don’t want to be stinky when you meet your father” Rikan splash water at you

“I-I”

“Let her be, she’s scare of my big cock” Uhlan laughs

“That thing that you can barely get up? C’mon, child, it is harmless” The blonde mercenary swims towards you and grabs your hand to pull you in

“Rikan, leave her, let’s finish and we will leave her some privacy” Oberyn says under the small waterfall brushing his skin with a small piece of soap

“Your husband’s eyes will be the only ones that will see you naked” Shifa says and she swims towards Oberyn. Her body is toned and muscular. She joints him under the water stream and when she tries to touch him, he moves away.

You don’t want to smile, but you do, until you remember that he refused you the other night and tonight is the last night you’ll spend with them. Shifa will have him for whatever time she wants.

Eventually they leave the pool, putting on some fresh clothes and rubbing some scent oils on their skins and they look different, less mercenary and more like elite warriors with a thousand adventures to tell. You will miss them; they are the only friends you have ever had.

“Thank you” you say stopping their banter over who’s going to take which room, they look at you confused “Thank you for rescuing me” you say with a trembling voice

“It’s nothing, child” Uhlan says and you see his big eyes shine

“We will give you some privacy” Rikan nods

When they are away you take off those stinky clothes you’ve been wearing since you escape. You moan feeling the water soften your muscle and you enjoy the strong cascade of water hitting your back until your bones feel like liquid inside your skin.

“I never expected you to thank us for getting you to your father” his voice gets you out of the trance, and you don’t open your eyes when you hear the soft sound of clothes hitting the ground and the splash of water when he gets inside the pool again.

“I didn’t thank you for that, but for rescuing me” you answer still your eyes closed under the waterfall “And saving my life” you pass your hand over the now healed wound, a moon shape scar where he suck the venom out of you.

Oberyn fingers grab your wrist, raising your arm towards his lips and planting kisses alongside your veins until he arrives to the thicker skin of the scar, sucking again on it.

“Do you still believe that it was better to let you die from the snake’s bite than to be back home?” he whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you over your pulse

“I still can run away” you open one eye. Oberyn looks amused at you

“Will you?” he asks saving the distance between you

“I don’t know. Will you come get me if I do?” You approach him, intertwining your hands on his neck

“The world is big and beautiful; it will be a shame that a sweet flower like you rots in a place like this all her life” he turns his head and leaves a kiss on each of your arms

“So that’s a no” you laugh but the pain in your heart is real

“I have to leave Essos soon, I guess the time for adventures is up” he exhales deeply

“Just the last one then” you’re surprised of your boldness when you rise on your tiptoes to kiss his lips

It is soft at first. Just tasting him, tempting him to show you more, and he does. Oberyn opens his mouth and sucks on your lower lip and when your mouth is open he savors you with his tongue. He holds your face on his large palms guiding you softly until the kiss deepens and your hands leave his neck roaming through his back and he reciprocates. His hand caresses every inch from your neck to your arms. You moan in protest when he breaks the kiss but then his kisses move to your neck nibbling your skin. He pampers every part of you with his attention, soft kisses and bites over the top of you breast.You cry out laughing when he grabs you and rise by the waist so he can access your tits. You circle his waist with your legs and you hold yourself on his shoulders.

Any good sense in you, any coherent thought gets lost one his mouth sucks on your nipples and you kiss his head trying to control your panting. The sounds that come out of you seem so far away, his low grunts and moans over your breast melt you and you feel the heat gathering between your legs.

“My sweet flower, you have the sweetest tits” he moans and he lowers you so he can kiss you one more time. You run your fingers over his dark hair, his impossibly close to you but you need more. You need him like those drops of water he poured in you the first time. The hunger, the jealousy and desire you felt these past days have reached its peak and you think your heart will collapse. You repeat his name on his lips like a plea.

Oberyn carries you to the side of the pool, and you feel your cheeks burning, your body in goose flesh feeling exposed and at his mercy now that the water is not covering you. He takes his time admiring you, his brow eyes eating every pore of your skin. Kissing your legs he parts them grabbing you by the hips he positions you just at the edge of the pool. He palms your breasts one more time, gracing each nipple with a small pinch that makes you moan loudly. You get flustered, gaining a bit of your conscience back

“No need to be shy, my love, let go. I wish to hear every sweet moan, drink every drop of this sweet cunt” he plants a kiss on your navel, before lowering his face. His first lick between your lips makes you marvel of the unknown sensation. His eyes are fixed on you while he licks faster and sucks between your small lips, when you tense, every single fiber of your body burning, he changes his rhythm, lapping languidly all your sex and back again, fast and slow, and never too much. Until you’re gasping for air and pushing him away

“Please, it’s too much”

“Let me show you, trust me” his wet mouth bites you inner thigh before he starts again. This time you reach the point of no return faster. A wide abyss before you where you skin burns and you heart beat faster until you fall, crying his name. And he holds you, planting kisses all over you body, every part he can reach. The gasps lead to laughter

“What happe...how?” you ask

“I have many things to show you my sweet flower” he smiles

Oberyn lets you in his room. The warm night breeze moves the white curtains and the moonshine casts its rays so you can see him get on top of you with the warmest of smiles.

“Do you still want this, my flower?” he asks

You grab him by the neck and let your lips answer for you. Lowering your touch you push his back so he presses his body against you even tighter.

“Please, please” you beg on his ear

He reaches between your bodies and brushes the tip of his cock on your lips coating it in your arousal, before pushing gently. You gasp at the intrusion; it’s not pain what you feel but definitively a bit uncomfortable at first

“Let me in, my sweet, relax for me” Oberyn bends his neck to kiss and bite your tits. The pleasure turns your body into a withering mess until you’re full of him.

He moves lazily at first letting you grow used to his length and width while he observes your face

“Is it alright my love?”

“I need more” you murmur

“More?” He rises, pressing the weight of his body on his knees and opens you wider grabbing the soft skin on your hips “Like this?” he thrusts deep and fast with each word and you nod biting your lip. His pace is unforgiving, and you cannot think, all you can feel is him, and his sweet words and praises combined with the slaps of wet skin and the creaks of this old bed. Your fingers scratch softly on his chest trying to hold into something when you feel that abyss again, but this time you let it go and it hits you harder. Oberyn collapses over you letting your cunt squeeze him even tighter, slowly dragging himself in and out until he sense his release coming and he pushes harder once, twice until he spills his warm seed.

You kiss his brow, wet from exhaustion and the pool, in a way the cage he’s forming with his body pressed against the mattress is the freest you have ever felt.

The dawn wakes you up, many years later, a harrowing pain in your chest remembering how he kissed you a thousand times, how you slept caged in his arms for a few hours and then woke up with his face between your thighs

“Does it hurt?” he asked and you flinched, feeling the swollen and sensitive skin “I will kiss it better” he said. And you made love again, he moved you in the bed showing how to touch your body and how to touch him, how to pleasure him with your mouth as he did to you. Until the sun invaded the room and crashed your safe space between the shadows. You could no longer hide from your destiny, it was time to go.

He left you, a small and decent kiss on your hand and bid you farewell wishing you a happy life.

You remember running, not paying attention to your father’s complaints and your mother’s cries while you soon-to-be husband drank wine unbothered by the whole thing. You ran to the balcony watching his dark horse taking him out of the city.

He never looked back, and with his parting figure you promised you will live your life happy even if you have to run for it. That you will live adventures on your own until life gives you the last drop of its joy and pleasure. In a way you promised to honor him without knowing one day it will come true.

So you woke up, older, wiser, in your own house, after many adventures lived, and after a sleepless night mourning him, you grab paper and ink and write:

“Travel, fight and fuck the world: the Adventures of an Unusual Lady”

#writer wednesday #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #ASOIAF Fanfic

[featherwriterweather]

The speakeasy “Le bonne nuit” Riverdale season 3/smut

It was hot autumnal night. It felt more like a summer. The night breeze was whispering tales of the teenage love that was experienced in the past months. We all had our summer flings. Some of them blossomed into relationships, others had to stay hidden because of love that was said to be unfit or unworthy in front of the messed up society of the small town of Riverdale that we called home. 

That night was much different then the rest of the nights we had ever since the new school year had started. Our friends, our brothers, all of which Serpents, had gathered in the tent park to discuss a matter that couldn’t be kept in the waiting. The Goolies were back and, as far as we knew, their leader, the former Serpent, or more like a black mamba as I liked to call her, Penny Peabody, were back in town and they wanted the taste of fresh blood. Their strings were pulled by the much higher standing persona of the man in black. And, as Ronnie had infromed us, this man was her father, the one and only Hiram Lodge.

I was an honorary Serpent and I still didn’t have my jacket on my back, but as the night was getting older and so was my bravery. I was sitting on the ground, near the fire, next to Tony and Cheryl. Sweet pea and Fangs were pressing their bags to the nearest tree. Fp was pacing back and forth in front of the fire, while Jug was sitting in his throne, an old chair with crown drawn on its leather, and his queen,Betty, who was also my editor in the Blue and Gold, was standing right by his side.

“We gotta do something, man. We can’t just let them go round our land free. If they want blood, we should give them some.” Sweet pea said as he pushed himself off the tree. His face was death serious, something I wasn’t used to see, at least not when we were alone. Nobody knew that him and I had a secret. After my parents fled on me during riot night, Tony had offered me shelter with the Serpents. Every single night since then, when I was feeling down, scared or had a nightmare, I would go to Sweet pea’s trailer and I would stay the night with him. At first, nothing really was happening between us. But the more I was seeking the comfort of his warm bed, the more we wanted to push it forward. And so during the last days of summer, after Josy ditched him, we finally laid the cards down and did it. We’ve been hooking up for quite some time but decided to keep it down low so it was only between me and him. But the others got a little suspicious of his protectivness over me, which found its way to the surface again that night. 

As he was talking to Jug, going on how we should defend our last piece of land, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around me so I was warm. He prefered to be cold but to keep me warm. That act alone, of having his Serpent jacket on my back, gave me the voice I’ve been trying to find all along.

“No, Sweet pea! We will not attack first. That will give them a reason to kill us all. We have to get more information. If Hiram is helping them, we have to get into his deepest deals to get the game. Then we will attack and free ourselves once and for all of them.” Jug said while tapping with his leg nervously on the ground.

“That’s a very good idea, Jug. There is only one problem. My father never speaks to any of us about that. So we have to go to the people he trusts to get what we need.” Ronnie declared standing behind Jug. Nobody had seen her come to us but she was our strongest ally so we were happy whenever she could offer us a good piece of information.

“What do you have in mind, V?” Betty asked. She had that gift inside herself to read people’s mind just by looking into their eyes. Whenever an idea was forming in our head, she knew we were up to something. I wonder how she haven’t found out about me and Sweet pea yet.

“All I am saying is that his gorillas, Leo, James and whatever the hell were the names of the other, know more than I would ever know.”

“That’s easy. We will get them, fix up their faces and they will sing like birds.” Fangs said from his place next to the tree.

“Not everything is solved with fists, Fangs.” Fp blurted out with his nervous voice looking straight into Fangs as he was trying to tame a little tiger with the power of his eyesight.

“That’s at least an idea, Fangs. But these neanderthals don’t go anywhere without daddy. We would have to think of something else.” she answered him never cheating to her habit of gesturing with her hands.

“Don’t we forget something here, guys?” I said. All of a sudden everyone turned to me. “ They are men before everything else. And what usually makes a man go crazy and spill everything? Think about it.”

“A woman ready to play. I like how you’re thinking. If we could get those idiots drunk and hard, they will tell us all.” Tony finished for me beaming with pride at my idea.

“No! I am not putting you in danger. All of you. We would figure it all out.” Jug said shaking his head.

“Don’t shut us down just that quick, Jug. We are women, we know how to lure men into doing what we want.” Betty took the initiative. “I would go with my girls as a true queen, to help V please her dad and his gorillas. Meanwhile, you and the boys will be inside as security guards. The moment we get them to leave the Speakeasy, you can handle them as you want to. It’s a plan worth trying.”

“I am in. I got just the dress for that.” I said.

“No, Y/N! I am not keen on the idea of using our women for target.’‘ I was surprised by the sudden outburst of Sweet pea but I knew he was saying it because this plan involved me.

“It’s a good plan! We’ll do it. Tomorrow night. Veronica will invite her dad for a casual talk while the girls take care of the bodyguards as we are there to secure the Speakeasy.” Jug said approvingly.

The same night I went into Sweet pea’s trailer again. I knew he wasn’t happy for the plan but it was our best shot.

“Hey, Pea! Would you let me stay the night again?”

“You’re always welcome!” he said openning the sheets of his bed for me. “But I don’t know how I feel about the seduction thing you came up with. I don’t want to look how some asshole will touch you and look at you as you are an item he can claim”

“You don’t have a say here, Pea. I want to deserve my jacket and I think the idea is damn good. And you would be there to keep an eye on me and the gorilla. But I can do my best to assure you that it’s just work and nothing more to me.” I said as I kissed him and got on top of him. 

Slowly I started moving all the while kissing him. I pulled away from him and took off my shirt. He was always in the mood for a middle of the night fun. His hand were tracing paths between my hips and my buttcheeks. He was squeezing tightly at the skin, kissing me with all the passion he got. I could feel how hard he was underneath me. In one swift motion he turned us over so now he was on top of me. I took the hem of his shirt in my fingers and lifted it towards his head. He took it off himself to easy me. Next his pants and boxers followed as well as my own bottom and lacy underwear. He trailed kissed down my neck and colar bone, slowly kissing his way down south to the place that craved him the most. I was already wet and he knew it well enought. 

His kisses and touches sent chills through my whole body. Kissing all his way to my very core, he started drawing circles with his tongue. I buried my hands in his hair and left myself be completely absorbed in the sensation of him eating me out. It was something I loved to be given and he was giving it to me everytime. His hands found their way to my breast, squeezing them, claiming that they were made for his touch. My body was waving on its own under the sweet pressure of the extasy that was builing in me.

Soon enough he kissed his way back up and I felt a pure bliss when he entered me in one painfully slow but extremely good motion. He started moving slowly at first, kissing my neck. With each moan he was picking up the pace, making me go completely lost under his touch.

“You’re a mess right now, babe. So wet for me and so tight. Do you know how hard that makes me? How crazy I am about every part of you?” he hissed in my ear, biting it softly

“Dammit, Pea! You’re gonna make me scream if you continue to talk to me like that. And I am not sure I want to muffle this scream.”

“Scream for me, baby. I want to make you scream. You’re going to let go! So soon!” he was feeling how close I was. My walls were tightening agains him. I simply nodded and gave myself fully to the sensation of riding out my orgasm. 

I knew he wasn’t finished yet, so I pushed him on his back and got to business.Just like he did, I kissed my way down to his still hard dick and slowly licked it all up from the core to the head. His deep moan made me go wet all over again. I took it deep into my mouth, giving him a firm stroke as I was sucking it. He hands got a hold of my hair making me go a little faster. His deep voice moans were making me eager to go faster and faster untill I felt him twich and realese the tention in my hand.  His smile said it all to me as I went up to kiss his lips and then rest my head on his shoulder.

The morning came and so did the night. We all got dressed in our sexiest dresses and went to the Speakeasy waiting for Hiram to arrive with his gorillas for the casual talk with his daughter. The boys, who were all wearing black, stood by the bar playing their role of security guards for the night.

“Daddy, welcome!” Ronnie said as her dad walked inside.

“Mija, you wanted to talk to me, so here I am.” He said sitting at one of the tables.

“Let my girls take care of your fellas here, daddy, while we have some quility father-daughter time.” she said as she waved at us.

“Let’s do this girls!” Tony said as we all finished our drinks and went to the gorillas. They were three and so were we. Betty, Tony and I went up to them and sat in their laps. I could sense how mad Jug and Sweet pea were just by this sight. We started talking, whispering sweet nothings in their ears as we were handing them drink after drink after drink. Leo, the one that I took, was moving his hand up and down my leg that was peeking through the slit of the dress. I looked behind his shoulder and saw how Sweet pea squeezed his hand into a fist and slammed in on the bar. Jug put his hand on his chest and said word for I am pretty sure was “Not now, give them some more time!”

Soon the alcohol did its magic. The tree almost middle aged gorillas Hiram had hired were completely under our spell. All three of us stood up and took them by the hand taking them towards the back room with smile on our faces all the while biting our lips knowing that in a few second the boys would take care of them.

We took them back without Hiram seeing anything. Ronnie was doing amazing job at keeping him distracted.The boys slipped into the back room after us while Reggie and Pops were holding the forth at the bar. 

“Ladies, you can step aside. We advice you not to see what will happen next.” Jug said telling us to leave.

“No, we’re staying. My girls and I want to see these scumbags singing like lovebirds.” Betty said with a certain dark beam in her eyes. We moved to the side of the room and waited the Serpents to work their own kind of magic to make them talk and spill all about Hiram’s plans with the Goolies and the drug dealing.

“Sweet pea, do you wanna show this one here how to act around a lady?” Jug said.

“My pleasure, Jones!” He said as he arched up his back and slammed his right fist in Leo’s face so hard that it broke his nose. “This is for touching my girl! Now let’s talk business. Speak! What has Hiram with the Goolies?”

I was weirdly proud of his eagerness to protect me, that he called me his girl and of his honor. But also I was a little scared of his force and thirst for punishing these scancs.

Not long after the first fists, all three of Hiram’s gorillas started singing all the information we need. We pulled it off as an incident of some drugged men trying to take us away from the gorillas. Hiram acted like he didn’t suspect anything and called them idiots. “You can’t even hold one teenage girl for the night without getting into a fight. Why did I even hire you? Let’s go! We’re done here, Mija! When you have a better deal, call me!”

“Oh, I will, daddy! I’ll make sure.” Ronnie said as she turned to us smiling. Our job for the night was done. Once more we proved that teenagers and especially the Serpents can trick the big bad men in black without them even noticing. But little did we know that the war between father and daughter had just begun.

#riverdale smut #riverdale imagine #riverdale southside #southside serpents #serpents imagine #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea smut #sweet pea and reader #sweet pea and you #riverdale gangs #riverdale season 3 #riverdale girls #serpent boys #riverdale serpents

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #171

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the Berserker of El Dorado, a.k.a. the CEO of Amazones, a.k.a. yet another reason why Type Moon should stop designing teenage characters. Like several other servants from Agartha her true name is hidden when you meet her, so expect spoilers below the break.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: The reason they call him that is because you have to resist punching him in the face.

Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, is a Zealot Barbarian for a whole lot of anger issues and godly boons.

Race and Background

Penth’s the daughter of a god and also fuckign terrifying, so that’s why she’s a Fallen Aasimar. When she fell she got +1 Strength and +2 Charisma, as well as Darkvision which explains the black sclera, Celestial Resistance to radiant and necrotic damage, Healing Hands to keep her golden body in top condition, and the Light Bearer cantrip. Your weapons are glowy, this’ll take care of that for now.

You’re queen, but a queen of the amazons, so modify that Noble background to get History and Intimidation proficiency.

Ability Scores

If you want to be the daughter of a war god you’d better be able to war good, so make sure your Strength is as high as possible. Your Dexterity also better be good, I know jumping is strength-based, but running around in half a suit of armor is dex based. It definitely doesn’t look like armor, but it’s spiked, and a +2 to dexterity will let you use medium armor efficiently. After that is Charisma, you’re a shrewd businesswoman and also fucking terrifying for anyone vaguely greek. Your Wisdom’s also pretty solid, you’re good at sniffing out Achilles, and you’ve got an even keener business sense. Constitution isn’t that solid, you’re kind of a glass cannon, but you’re still pretty solid. Finally, dump Intelligence. Half the time you’re a raging ball of teeth and spikes, the other half you’re a CEO. Neither of those make me want to put much faith in your smarts.

Class Levels

1. First level barbarians start of strong (pun intended) with Rage, beefing up as a bonus action for advantage on strength checks & saves, damage resistance, and a bonus to attack damage. You also get Unarmored Defense, making running around in that outfit a slightly less bad idea. Or it would, if your constitution modifier wasn’t +0.

You also get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two barbarian skills. Athletics because you’re literally an amazon, and Perception to help you find that damnable greek hero.

2. At second level, your Reckless Attacks will help you pierce through that jerk’s magic skin, giving you advantage on all attacks for the round, at the cost of taking attacks at advantage. To be fair, your AC’s probably like 12 right now, so it’s not like it makes him more likely to hit you.

You also get a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on dexterity saves you can see coming, like a fireball. Or a giant careening chariot. Either or.

3. Your brand new Primal Knowledge gives you proficiency with Survival. It’s a dog eat dog world, and now you know how to cook that dog. You also get a Necrotic Shroud as a bonus action, adding necrotic damage to your attacks once per turn for a minute and when you transform you scare the crap out of people nearby if they fail a charisma save. You can transform once per long rest.

On top of your divine blood activating this level, your divine blood activates this level, making you a Zealot barbarian. Your Divine Fury adds even more damage to your attacks once per turn while raging. Pick either necrotic or radiant damage, I’m not your mother, it’s your choice. You also become a Warrior of the Gods, so now reviving you doesn’t cost money. You don’t have a guts skill, so this’ll come in handy.

4. Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Dual Wielder, letting you attack with both sides of that giant mace thing using your bonus action. It also gives you +1 AC while dual wielding, that’s nice. Some barbarians have to die to attack with a bonus action, and you got it as a feat.

5. If you want to attack even more, Extra Attack lets you attack twice with your action, so now you can attack three times per turn. Your Fast Movement also adds 10 feet to your movement speed to catch up to that carrot.

6. Your Fanatical Focus lets you re-roll a failed save once per rage. Your golden rule means it’s hard to mess with your body, and this will help with that.

7. Seventh level barbarians get a Feral Instinct, giving you advantage on initiative checks. You can also ignore being surprised if you rage immediately on the first turn of combat. You also get an Instinctive Pounce, moving half your speed when you start a rage. Your rival is basically a manic the hedgehog humansona, so you’ve got to be able to keep up.

8. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more damaging and accurate attacks.

9. Ninth level barbs get Brutal Criticals, giving you an extra die of damage when you deal critical hits. Shockingly, giant metal balls hurt when slammed into people. Wild.

10. Tenth level zealots have a Zealous Presence, spending a bonus action once per long rest to inspire nearby creatures to get advantage on attack rolls and saves until your next turn.

11: Eleventh level barbarians get a Relentless Rage to avoid death while raging. If you pass a DC 10 constitution save, you drop to 1 hp instead of 0 and the DC goes up by 5. When you finish a short rest, it goes back to 0. I guess you do have a guts skill after all.

12. Use this ASI to grab the Mobile feat for even more movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain and opportunity attacks. Achilles is really going to have to step his game up here.

13. Another level, another Brutal Critical, making your critical hits even more brutal. Don’t really have a joke for this one, it’s pretty self-explanatory.

14. Fourteenth level zealots can Rage Beyond Death, meaning you can’t die until you stop raging. Damage that takes you to 0 hp still starts the death save train a-rolling, but you don’t die until your rage ends, and even then only if you’re still at 0 hp. It’s a good thing you don’t have the ability to heal yourself right before your rage ends, or that would be busted. Wait...

15. Fifteenth level berserkers get a Persistent Rage, so now your rage only ends if you want it to, or if time runs out, making you immortal for a full minute of combat. Or until someone casts Sleep, a first level spell.

16. For this ASI we’re getting a little experimental with Flail Mastery, a feat from an old Unearthed Arcana. Technically it only applies to flails, but if you can convince your DM to use UA this old you can probably convince him to extend the definition to morningstars too. Anyway, you get +1 to attack rolls, can use your bonus action to negate a shield’s defenses on your attacks for the turn, and your opportunity attacks force a strength save, on a failure the creature gets knocked prone, which eats up half their movement. Not a big deal for a halfling, very big deal for Achilles.

17. Did somebody say Brutal Critical? I did, just now. Speaking of, you get another one of those, meaning your critical hits now deal double the amount of dice plus three extra.

18. Your Indomitable Might means all your strength checks are now at least your strength score, which is pretty freaking good. It’d be even better if we could bump that up higher though...

19. Your last ASI is going towards your str- no, sorry, it’s another feat, now you’re Menacing. This rounds out your Charisma, doubles your proficiency in Intimidation, and you can replace one attack from your action with a contested Intimidation v Insight check against a humanoid. If you succeed, the target is frightened for a turn. Really we’ve just been giving you better versions of the Berserker class features. Shame we couldn’t get that strength up one last time though.

20. Just kidding! Primal Champions get +4 to their strength and Constitution, and your maximum for both scores increases by the same amount so you don’t have to worry about capping out. You also get unlimited rages, so just pop a new one whenever the old one’s about to run out.

Pros:

Your race, plus all those feats you took, give you a lot of options in the middle of combat, even while raging. You can heal yourself, scare people, attack... okay, it’s three things, but that’s two things more than most berserkers.

By the end of the build, you have unlimited rages, and you can’t die while raging. Tack on your healing hands at the end of a battle, and you’re effectively immortal to anyone not packing Sleep. It’s a first level spell, so a lot of people will be packing it, but by the time this combo comes together most people will be using 9th level spells, so they’ll probably overlook it.

You’re also pretty speedy, even compared to other barbarians. 50′ of movement speed and the ability to ignore difficult terrain will make it hard for your to get space between you and it. Even moreso when your opportunity attacks knock it flat on its ass.

Cons:

Before you become an immortal rage machine, you’re pretty squishy thanks to your low constitution score. I mean, squishy compared to other barbarians. You’re still rocking almost 200 HP and rage protection, but it means you’re not quite as tanky as Herc. Until you hit level 20.

We picked up a lot of Feats in this build, so that’s a good part of the reason why your ability scores are so low compared to other builds. Your fighting style only cares about strength and charisma, but if you get in a business meeting you can’t scare your way out of you’re going to have a rough time.

You have absolutely no way of dealing magical damage. You might be able to eke out some chip damage with Divine Fury and Necrotic Shroud, but if you go up against something with resistance or immunity to nonmagical weapons you’re going to have a bad time. It’s lucky you’re not super pissed at someone who literally has that as their defining feature, huh?

#fate grand order #fgo #DND #D&D 5e #berserker of el dorado #Barbarian

[maplecornia]

chapter 21

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.72K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: in regards to the banner above...yes tae if i also looked like you i would want to kiss myself too

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

Some people are connected.

Aren't they?

When you meet them, it’s as though something clicks. Something inside that tells you some unimaginable being has brought you together. A hidden string tying you to the other, drawing you slowly across the universe just to meet each other.

And once you’re connected…

Do you ever really let go of them?

Groaning, Taeyhung turns over in his bed for the thousandth time.

Why is this so hard?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he lies on his back, sheets and comforter scattered, as he stares up at the ceiling. Glaring up at it with his eyebrows furrowed tightly together, he purses his lip into a pout, his jaw set defiantly.

“This is your fault.” He mutters underneath his breath, before running his hand absentmindedly through the tangled locks of his hair. “I don’t know how...but all of this is your fault.”

When the ceiling doesn’t answer him, he gives it a look before rolling out of bed, not really caring if he brings the covers along with him. As they fall from the tangles around his body, and rest safely on the floor, he catches the reflection of his eyes in the full-length mirror he keeps expertly held on the sliding door which hides his clothes closet. Biting his lip, he hesitates a bit before heading over to the mirror and taking his reflection in.

He’s grown a bit taller...perhaps half an inch. Don’t worry Namjoon hyung, one day I’ll be as tall as you. Though he smirks a bit at the thought, it quickly vanishes as his gaze travels to more points in his reflection. His dark glazed eyes, his mess of curls resting on his head, his slightly pale lips. Almost despondent, he pulls aside the already halfway buttoned down shirt and presses his fingers against his stomach. He smiles back to when all that was there was a soft belly. When he didn’t care as much.

When did he start caring?

Was it when he saw everything that ARMYs felt about him? When he realized just how double sided they could be? Was it when he realized that they really did care what he showed them? That if he showed them who he really was…

They would just walk away?

He knows he probably shouldn’t have read those comments, that he shouldn't have seen what some people have said...but did they forget that he could see everything they said?

Did they forget how much he gave...how much he sacrificed for them?

And when he shows them all of him…

The good and the bad…

"Kim Taehyung seems a bit rude…

He doesn’t care at all about BTS.

You think he needs them? If he were given a chance he would just leave.

Kim Taehyung is too moody. He’s happy one moment but sad the next.

Don’t you think fame has changed him? He seems so cocky.

What’s wrong with Kim Taehyung lately? Doesn’t he seem depressed?

Honestly, if I had to put my money on it, he’d be the first one to leave.

He’s so untalented.

BTS is filled with a group of 6 very talented, beautiful, and handsome young men. And then there’s the roach called Kim Taehyung.

Why doesn’t Kim Taehyung just leave? If you’re really bored with everything by now, why don’t you just leave?

Do us a favor and stop pretending.

Just leave."

Taehyung winces at the overwhelming amount of bad memories slamming into his inner consciousness. He tries to forget them, but every time he looks in the mirror, he can see them reflected back at him. As though they were burned deep into his skin. As though the sign of hard muscle beneath his fingertips is a scar he can’t escape.

The only thing he can remember, the only thing he can think about when he sees himself, is what they have molded him into.

The beautiful, the perfect sculpture which they call V.

Defiantly, flames burning in his eyes, he meets his gaze in the mirror. Anger and hurt mixing together into one painful chaos inside his chest, his gaze darkens before he swings back his fist and rams it deep into the mirror. As the glass shatters and sharp, iridescent pieces dig maliciously into his skin, he breathes heavily and glares up at his broken reflection. Into the dull dim hue of his hazelnut haze.

Eyes which have changed from bright beautiful saucers that could only see the sky...

To a gap of emptiness which cannot be filled.

Reflecting the cold abyss he feels in his own heart.

As thick blood begins to numbingly ooze from the cuts in his skin, he hardly flinches. The iron taste playing sinisterly on his lips, he can’t help but relish in the pain. Is this what he deserves? Is this what they want now that he’s not who he was before? Now that he’s grown, changed even the slightest bit? He almost wants to push his fist deeper into the glass, deepen the pain, all to distract him from the roar in his ears.

The constant screaming inside his mind.

He did everything they wanted him to do. He smiled for them, hid the inner part of him screaming, brushed away any hateful comments, any people who hurt him, and laughed through all the pain. He became a bigger person and grew.

He did it all for them.

He did it all for the sake of BTS.

Because he loved ARMY. Because he loved his hyungs.

Because this was his dream.

He became the man they all wanted.

He became V.

So why?

Why is it the moment he starts to let go of the mask, the moment he starts to become himself in front of their eyes...

Why do they turn against him as though he had never existed in the first place?

As though they didn’t beg him to hide.

As though all his efforts…

Meant nothing after all.

The worst part of it all…

Was that he let go for them.

Because he wasn’t willing to say goodbye.

The soft ring of his alarm breaks him out of his thoughts and his hand falls to his side as he turns to the sound. Sighing, he runs his hand through his tangled mess of hair picking up a tissue on the way to his dresser, and wiping off the thin trails of blood the cuts brought forth. In the back of his mind, he scoffs at the fact that that’s the third mirror he’s broken this week. Perhaps he needs a break. Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a deep breath.

A break from myself.

Picking up the phone he quickly dismisses the alarm, and finds himself staring at the lock screen in dismay.

To this day, Taehyung still uses the Galaxy BTS phone made especially for them and ARMY. Jimin absolutely loved the thing, and Taehyung treasures it with a quiet wonder. When he finally moved everything from his old phone to this one, he used it daily, even if it wasn’t always in front of the cameras. Back then when they had to leave for a while, looking at it gave him strength to go on. To head back to them. To see ARMY again.

Looking at it now, he wonders if it’s actually real.

If the love ARMY gives them…

Isn’t all just a lie.

When the phone buzzes suddenly, Taehyung lets out a small yelp, fumbling as his phone flies halfway in the air. Luckily, he’s able to catch it before it falls. Letting out a small breath of relief, he checks the random message that has popped up on his lock screen, peering to see who it belongs to.

Eyes widening, he nearly drops his phone again.

Stumbling to catch it, he falls on top of his pile of sheets and blankets, but thankfully the phone falls in his outstretched hands securely.

It's you.

Why is it always you?

Shocked, he slowly unlocks the phone, opening your little message. As it pulls up on his screen, he softly smiles.

Good morning, Mr. Pan.

It's such a simple message. Such short, sweet words said out of consideration and kindness. You sent it as a second thought, somehow knowing that he might need a smile after the amount of trouble he must have gotten in yesterday. He doesn't know this. All he knows is that a mere mention from you has made everything all right again.

It clears his mind, allows him to focus, saves him from the darkness continuing to choke him in its hold.

He picks up his phone and presses a button, before holding it up to his ear. It rings into the dead silence for a couple of seconds, making Taehyung a bit nervous. For a moment, he doesn't know if you're going to pick up, but once he hears the familiar click and the steady sound of your breathing, he can feel a rush of relief spreading through his body and leaving nothing but happiness.

"Hello?" You nearly whisper, a bit in shock. He can hear it over the phone and, sitting up, he doesn't notice as the gorgeous smile grows.

It’s funny how he didn’t realize until he heard your voice, that his head and his mind was filled with thoughts of you.

On the other line, you smile softly, finding the same truth.

Was it only yesterday that your dream came true?

He finally did it. He spoke to you.

Things should be over right?

But you find yourselves wanting…

More.

"Good morning." He teases in response to your recent message and you have to refrain yourself from groaning in embarrassment. "Did you sleep well?"

Hearing his innocent voice and the deep lure to it so early in the morning makes you wonder if you're dreaming. Smiling on the other line, you cup your hands around your phone, pulling it close to your cheek and smile, unable to stop the happy pink hue from creeping onto your rosy cheeks.

"Yes." You reply, a bit of excitement creeping into your voice from the giddy fact that you’re talking to him. "I slept like a baby...what about you?"

You decide to keep from him the fact that you hardly slept last night. Your constant nightmares and terrors of panic scared you. They made you afraid, thinking that if you closed your eyes, you would once more be lost in a deep sleep. Trapped in the hidden corners of your mind.

He smiles on the other line a bit sadly, deciding to keep the fact that he didn't sleep half the night to himself, lost in the whirlpool of hateful comments and slurs towards him. Towards BTS. He decides to hide the truth that the only thing that was able to let him sleep that night was the sight of your phone number held tightly within his hands.

"Yeah...yeah I slept alright." He says, unable to mask the catch in his voice. Your eyes widening in concern, you open your mouth to ask if he's alright, but he quickly clears his throat and changes the topic.

“How’s your ankle?” Even though you know he asked the question to change the subject, you can't help but wince.

Your ankle hasn’t shown much improvement.

The swelling has gone down and you're able to stand on it, but every time you try to walk, numb pain still courses up your veins. It's still pretty bruised, but what is there that you can do? You've already slipped on an ice pack, wrapping it carefully around your ankle to prepare you for the day, but you know it's going to be quite the uncomfortable ride.

You hesitate, pondering whether or not to tell him this, but he continues on the other line.

“Yen?” The way he whispers your name makes you melt inside. So concerned and full of worry, you wonder if you truly deserve this small blessing. The blessing to know someone like him. “Are you okay? Does it still hurt?”

The blessing to be able to speak to him.

Smiling, you shake your head before responding, slightly struck speechless.

“Yes, I’m fine...your ice pack yesterday really helped so I’m all ready to head to work today. Don't worry, I’m fully prepared with an ice pack of my own in case the bruise starts to bother me…” You start rambling, trying to reassure him that everything will be fine, while on the other line, his eyes go wide with protective anger.

You’re doing it again.

Forcing yourself to continue, when you should be looking to take care of yourself.

Not the other way around.

“No.” He says interrupting your slight tangent, and you flinch, pausing and your grip clenching tightly around the phone. You knew this would happen. You knew that he would be upset. That’s why you shouldn’t have said anything. Somehow, this frustrates you. You know it shouldn’t, after all he’s just looking after you, but you can take care of yourself. You aren’t some damsel in distress that needs saving.

Trying hard to forget what you’d rather not remember, you sigh, massaging your temple.

“Taehyung, I’m fine. I really am--”

“I don't believe you. And even if you were telling the truth, you should at least rest it for a day at least! Do you want to worsen it because you decided to push yourself?” Shocked at his sincere and concerned tone, you really don't know what to say. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but feel that if you listen to him, if you rest easy for just today, you’ll be letting someone down.

Namjoon is waiting for you.

He doesn’t know that your ankle is bruised, nor that you could sprain or quite possibly break it if you try to come into work today. But you’ve already been late once before. Today was supposed to be your first official day on the job. He was counting on you to be there.

Hoping that he’d be able to rely on you.

You can’t help but feel that if you decide to stay...that you'd be letting him down.

You don’t want to let him down.

You can’t let him down.

Glancing down at your ankle, you grimace a bit as you bitterly smile.

This is just a minor bump in the road isn’t it? All you're doing is offering a small sacrifice so that you can be there for him. So that you can carry out your job, your obligation as his manager. He should know that you will always be there to help. Isn’t that what a manager should do? You have a duty, an obligation...a simple bruise shouldn’t get in the way of that. After all the ways you let him down yesterday, and the kind way he treated you in spite of that...isn’t that the least you can do? You can afford to give something in return...after all he’s given you already.

Yes...this is nothing…

Taehyung wouldn’t understand…

Right?

Taking a deep breath, you respond to him.

“Taehyung, I really appreciate your concern but…”

“If you say you’re fine I am going to come to your apartment and force you back into your bed.” He replies so steadily and sternly that it’s hard for you to conceal your burst of laughter. He hears, however and grows a tiny bit offended, not willing to admit that the sound of your laughter brought a little bit more light into his clouded mind.

“You think I’m joking?!” He shouts on the other line, and you can’t keep it back anymore, your laughter spilling over and melodiously carrying itself through the line and into Taehyung’s small, scattered room. He smiles at the fact that he was able to make you laugh, although it wasn’t his intention. That just like that...you were able to make everything seem alright again. It’s almost as though a mere smile from you, a simple laugh escaping from your lips…

Makes the world a little bit brighter to him.

“I-I’m sorry…!” You manage to gasp out between your small fits of giggles. “It’s just the thought of you walking over here all angry and trying to force me back in bed…” You break off at the end, your sweet melodic laugh ringing high in the air once more, and he can’t help but crack a smile, eventually laughing along with you. After a moment, once the laughter subsides, each of you glance toward the phone as though that would help you see the other's face, or at least imagine it as though you were standing right next to each other.

Taehyung smiles a bit before glancing away and closing his eyes in serenity.

“Yen?” he murmurs softly, his eyes opening a fraction of an inch as he stares into the distance, almost imagining your smiling face right in front of him. At the sound of him saying your name once more, your eyes flash towards the phone, a bit surprised. It takes you a moment, but you eventually answer, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Yes?” you respond, your hands once more finding themselves cupping around the phone almost as if you held onto it a little bit tighter he would magically stay with you just a little bit longer. Offer you this comfort for just a bit more.

Is that too much to ask?

You know it is and yet you can’t help yourself from wishing for it.

Wishing that you had...more.

“I want you to know that I’m saying this with the best interests for you in mind.” He answers, and your brow crinkles a bit, wondering what he’s going to do this time. Taking a deep breath, he ponders whether or not to say the words, but he decides to do it anyway. Your safety is the most important after all.

“Don’t come to work today. Please stay home, and take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Startled, you open your mouth to answer, to refuse the kind request, to let him know that you’re going to head to work anyway, but he’s already hung up the phone, leaving you dumbfounded. Your heart pacing a million miles per hour, his last few words lingering in your mind.

I don’t want to see you get hurt.

“Who gave you the right?” you murmur softly, your hands rising furiously to hide the growing hot blush against your cheeks against your will. The hot tears that begin to push against your eyes, threatening to escape out of the cage you have held them in for so long.

“Who told you to care so much about me?”

Taehyung, after hanging up the phone, has completely forgotten about everything else but you. He smiles a bit sheepishly at the cheesy things he’s said and stares at the empty screen where your profile pic rests, safe in his contacts. He can’t help but wonder how you do it.

How with a few simple words…

You make everything okay again.

Turning to his closet, he starts to pull out a couple of clothes to wear that day, as he dials a number on his phone. Once it starts to ring, he places it on his dresser, putting it on speaker phone so he can hear the clear annoyed voice that answers, no doubt being distracted from an important source of work.

“What is it, Taehyung?” he snaps, tired and worn-out, and Tae smiles at the familiar greeting, as he pulls off his shirt, avoiding the cracked mirror beside him.

“Nice to talk to you too, Namjoonie. How's the album coming?” He responds playfully, and Namjoon on the other line can't help but smile. He adores that nickname, and it definitely puts him in a better mood. Just like Taehyung knew it would. Turning back to the screen of the computer, Namjoon can't help but sigh. There’s a whole lot of work to be made with the album...and such little time to do it in.

“Well...it’d go a lot faster without interruptions like this. What is it Taehyung-ah? This better not be a prank call or something for a Vlive…” Namjoon begins, his tone warning and Tae can’t help but laugh. He shakes his head, pulling down his pajama pants, and deciding to replace them with plain blue jeans. They don’t really have dance practice planned today, just a bunch of meetings and preparations for the album...maybe even a photo shoot.

“You know I try to stay away from Vlive’s nowadays.” Tae replies, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failing miserably. At the comment, Namjoon can’t help but feel a stab of pity and regret. He knows that it’s a sensitive topic for Tae now...especially with what happened the last time Taehyung held a Vlive….he shouldn’t have mentioned it so soon.

“No it's not...Namjoon it’s about Yen.” Tae explains, and at the mention of your name, Namjoon sits straight in his chair, work forgotten, and mind focusing on you.

“What? Is she okay? Did something happen? Is she--” Voice heavily decorated with worry, Tae has to bite back the laugh that threatens to be released. Is this how he sounded to you? No wonder you started laughing at him. Smiling softly at how open and kind Namjoons heart is, Tae shakes his head once more, pulling on a grey hoodie.

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” Tae replies, as he pulls on his socks, and rummages for his jean jacket. Namjoon waits a bit impatiently on the other line, trying his best to be polite and wait for Taehyung to finish. Once he finds it, Tae lets out a small cry of victory before looping his arms through it and finishing his look. Picking up the phone as he grabs a plain white mask and heads for the door, Taehyung smiles slightly at his victory.

Try to refuse staying home after this, my Wendy.

Just as RM opens his mouth to demand a straight answer from him, Taehyung replies, leaving behind the mess he had made just moments before untouched and forgotten.

“Namjoon...could you do a favor for me?”

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this chapter was kind of sad...

chapter 22 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

#{infinite stars} updated! #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction series #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kim taehyung #ot7 #ot7 fanfic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 fanfic #wattpad #wattpad writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #bts x reader #bts x female!reader #writer #bts fluff #bts angst #fluff #angst #series #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

How would the DMC brothers (+ V) be with a full demon S/O?

Dante

Demons can have human emotions, Dante knows that better than anyone, he's seen it happen more than once; like devils crying. Demons can learn to love and feel what humans feel, so why should you be any different? Human or not to him it doesn't matter, if he loves you then he loves you and that's it.

But that's not saying that he doesn't find having a demon partner not cool or anything though, the complete opposite of that! It's badass having someone more closer to his level at his side, and deep down it takes away a lot of the stress of having to keep looking over his shoulder to always make sure that a human partner would be safe. With you being a demon and fighting to protect yourself is in your blood, he has nothing to worry about (but still Dante being Dante there's always a tiny bit of worry he keeps hidden away)

He is absolutely blown away at the sight of your devil trigger! His exact word being:

"God damn, baby! And you said my trigger had a great ass?!"

Your sudden clawed hand across his jaw, which in your human form would barely hurt him for a few seconds, stung him for days.

When the rare occasion when no one else is around the shop and customers are guaranteed not to show up during the day Dante lets a bit of his inner demon out and does what normal demon mates do: nesting. Now his bed is not that big, sure it can fit two average human sized people but it struggles to fit two devils. So the two of you, both in trigger (him preferably for your comfort not Sin Trigger) will both squeeze together as comfortably as the two of you can get in bed and just...pet each other. Yeah. It's very common for demon mates to groom each other, not like cats and lick each other (but I mean that's another choice if you want, I'm not judging 👀) but just run your crawled hands up each other and just...take each other in, basically how demons cuddle by feeling each other's power and stuff, it's quite comforting actually.

There have been most definitely instances where the two of you have both been stabbed by the same sword or something

With your demonic blood being more on par with his, Dante can have more of all balls out training sessions, not on the same level as those with Vergil but more than he normally can do with Nero, Lady, or any other more human-like training partners. Training sessions with you are more like those with Trish and Lucia, other demons, and depending on how strong you are possibly even further than that with both of you scrapping and slicing away at each other in the strongest versions of your DT.

Fights are the number one way for demons to calm themselves. So after your (very violent, but somehow friendly and maybe a little flirty?) spars the two of you will faze back into your human forms and flop on the ground (usually the rooftop of Devil May Cry) and lay in each other's arms complementing moves each other did, heads finding their way into chests and hands brushing at whatever previous that were already healed with healing factor before finding yourselves passionately at each other's lips with all the time in the world seemingly meaningless as the two of you lose yourselves for the rest of the night.

Vergil

Vergil is always one who is attracted by strength whether it be physical or mental, so it's no surprise that he would eventually find himself interested in being with a demon partner, he always did find humans to be more complicated anyway.

Like with Dante, Vergil is quite relieved with your instinctive ability to protect yourself so he doesn't have to keep watch over you 24/7, you're perfectly strong to fend for yourself and he 100% respects that.

Of course, given that have demonic power he's going to want to spar with you, that most of his idea of a 'date' anyway knowing him, and you often don't mind given the natural spark that goes through your blood when it comes to a fight. Vergil isn't the one to be mostly focused on looks, although yes he will admit you are very beautiful with your appearance as well, but he finds strength even more beautiful so it's not a surprise that he finds your trigger to be one of the most beautiful things on earth. The very first few spars you had went on for countless hours just because he desperately wanted to learn everything you could do with it and the two of you got some pretty decent bonding out of it as well.

Oh course the whole thing with Mundus is a pretty touchy subject, especially post 5 after him finally in his true and restored self after the whole Nelo Angelo experience and everything that followed it, and with demon having extremely long lifespans the conversation, even before the two of you get together, of where your alliance was is going to come up at some point. Given your status of working alongside Dante and the others at Devil May Cry, the answer should be obvious but to Vergil it means quite a lot to him given that a complete demon such as yourself would be working alongside a bunch of hybrids and humans to defend humanity and defy your master (your master who’d tortured him for decades), just like his father did. He’s heard Trish’s story from bits and pieces she told him as V and the rest Dante shared with him, but your unknown story deeply intrigues him and when you do get around to telling it and how you were hunted down and almost killed hundreds of times for your betrayal for many years I’d like to say that was the point that he truly started to feel a little small something for you. 

He also likes watching when you square off against Dante. Since and his brother have much drastic differences in fighting styles and that it makes sense that you if you’re able to properly stand a match against one brother that you’d be able to fight with the other, so he likes watching how differently that you fight against his brother and even takes notice of you pulling off very different things he would’ve never though of doing against him and you even see him doing new moves similar to yours the next time you see the twins fight.

Vergil has always found human emotions...hard to deal with. So on days he’s feeling frustrated, whether it be because of his brother or his attempts to get connected with Nero being unsuccessful, he likes spending time with you in devil trigger either sparring to just being near one another to let his demon calm himself down.  

V

V, like Vergil, finds strength really attractive. So what if you're a demon? To him that matters very little, not too long after the two of you have met has he already found two of Blake's works that you remind him of (You're a fucking dork, V)

Normally demons he has seen and personally been put up against always seem to fight with this feral clumsiness that has no sense of class to it, you on the other hand seem to fight with all the grace in the world with your devil trigger. V feels taken aback and mesmerized everytime he sees it, how you seem to float effortlessly through air like a leaf in the wind as you dodge and repel every attack sent your way. In these little dazes, it's usually Griffon that has to snap him out of it with a very loud: "Okay! Time to wake up Romeo!" That usually almost makes V lose the grip on his cane and fall before Shadow had to rush over and help him not tip over. Whenever this happens V always gets an interesting shade of pink on his face after he's really taken a moment to realize his fawning over you.

Speaking of his familiars, they sure love being around you! Because their master is in head over heels for you? Eh, partly, but most importantly it's because whenever they're around you they get a power boost off your demon energy, which may be because of the type of demon you are, or it just comes from your emotional bond with V, your choice. So expect most times when Griffon and Shadow are out of their tattoos they swarm over to you and cuddle on over next to you, with Griffon sitting in your lap, Shadow laying up against your leg making the occasional biscuit motion on your thigh, and if V has made his place leaning against your side as he reads his book you might hear the occasional pleased sounding rumble of Nightmare from his hair.

V would never keep secrets from his s/o, human or not, I feel that he would tell you ahead of time during 5 what's going to eventually happen to him and with you being a demon and understanding this more than any human would and I feel like that would be an even more sense of comfort and a little less to worry about and the two of you could just focus on the time that's left.

V is fairly fragile, even in human standards, his body can’t take much making him rely mostly on his familiars to do physically hard tasks for him. So with you being a demon that means you’re without a doubt stronger than him meaning not only can you save his ass in moments that not even his contacted demons can help him that much but also you’re going to have to watch your own strength and make sure you don’t accidentally hurt him doing something like holding too tightly on his hand or something.

Like I said before, V is absolutely entranced by the form of your devil trigger and he likes you in the late hours of the night trigger so he can mindlessly trace the rough or soft feeling of your triggered skin as he finally is able to let himself drift off to sleep.

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #v x reader #mine #dante sparda #vergil sparda #v dmc

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - v (King!Steven x Reader)

Chapter Summary: Two months after the reader’s marriage to King Steven, she learns what appears to be the truth hidden in the dungeon. 

Warnings: description of wounds, anxiety, no Steve in this chapter, talks of infertility

Word Count: 2.5k

<-Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

Weeks after your marriage and the coronation that took place soon after, the crown still sat heavy at the top of your head. The weight would nearly be unbearable if it weren’t for your husband who ruled by your side. The smiles on your faces were never forced and life began to settle into an easy, steady pace. However, as the people grew accustomed to calling you their queen, they increasingly became impatient and displeased when two months has passed, and you still weren’t with child. The Rogers’ line would stop and end with Steven if he were to die without an heir.

You worried about your competency. Among the many duties of the queen, providing heirs was at the top of that list and you were still unsuccessful. However, King Steven sought to be your rock in this troubling time with your wavering confidence, assuring you that you both had a lifetime of providing heirs and to not rush it.  

Even with the king’s constant assurance and kind words, you still felt like a failure.

The children of the orphanage cheered as soon as you walked through the building’s threshold. The little ones ran up to you and clung at your legs, nearly knocking you over if it weren’t for Natasha’s quick hands that shot out and steadied you. You laughed as you decided to crouch down to be eye-level with the children and opened your arms out to let them hug you. It was Sister Mary, the woman in charge of the orphanage, who disbanded the children and told the little ones to leave you be. The little ones dispersed – some going in the back gardens to play in the fountain your husband donated years ago, others playing in the courtyard, while some played inside.

One of the little girls, Abagail, took your hand and eagerly led you to her toys. You didn’t miss the way that Sister Mary eyed your midsection to peak if you would be showing any signs of a pregnancy. You saw her face fall with disappointment she realized you still had the same body as you did during the coronation.

“Everyone really wants you to have a baby,” Abagail whispered to you. You smiled at her and nodded. “Sister Mary keeps talking about how you disappoint the king because you aren’t pregnant.”

Your smile fell slightly as you listened to the little girl. She was young – you remembered Sister Mary telling you she was six on your first visit. She didn’t really know boundaries yet. “Really?” You asked.

“Yes… she says how the king’s wives are cursed with infertility and how the king grows angry and eventually kills – “

“Abagail!” Sister Mary called the little girl’s attention. The woman comes over and ushers the little girl away but the girl stood her ground. “I’m sorry, your grace. The little ones have such vivid imaginations.”

“I, too, have vivid imaginations.” You stood and shook your head. “Abby meant no harm, did you?” She shook her head with a pout as Sister Mary tells her to play with the children outside. As soon as Abagail was out of earshot, you took a step towards Sister Mary and gave her a smile. “Children are innocent. They only repeat what they hear. I only hope that you teach the children the truth. Because what she was about to say is defamatory towards the king. And I wonder how the king would tolerate such slander.”

“Of course, your grace.” She bowed her head, but her words weren’t true. She was only saying them out of duty – not respect. You were about to retaliate when Wanda called your attention.

“Your majesty,” Wanda spoke up. Your two ladies noticing the tension between you and the nun. “We should journey back to the castle. The king must be eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“Yes.” You nodded. You glanced at Sister Mary once more and gave her another smile before making your way to the carriage.

“I only hope for your sake, your grace, that it is only rumors.” You stopped in your tracks and swallowed. You frowned as you told Natasha and Wanda that you’d meet them outside. The two ladies hesitantly walked out. You turned and glared at the nun.

“Pardon?”

“The king is cruel,” her voice was hushed but her face feigned respect and politeness. Her smile was teasing as if she knew something you didn’t. “Or at least that’s what the rumors say.” She stared at you with cold eyes and no fear. She wasn’t afraid that she was speaking out against the king in front of her queen. She believed she told the truth.

“Watch your tongue.” You snapped. A few of the children’s heads popped up at your tone. You took a deep breath to compose yourself. You didn’t want to make a scene, but the crone overstepped. “You are speaking of my husband, your king… Watch. Your. Tongue, Sister Mary.”

Sister Mary reached out suddenly and seized your wrists as she examined the now faded cuts. “I see these every time you come… I can’t help but wonder where they came from.”

“They’re not from the king. Not that it’s your business.” You muttered, snatching your hands away. “Steven is a good man and has proven to be a great king. How dare you speak of him – “

“Are you saying that to convince me or yourself? I’ve lived long under King Steven’s rule, girl. I’ve been here since Margaret and since Sharon. I’ve seen the haunted looks on their faces. I wonder how long it will be until the king breaks you down, too. And here they call the Thanos the Mad King when Brooken has harbored one for years.”

You were speechless and shaking with rage. You bit on your tongue, hard – so hard that you tasted the metallic taste of your own blood – before you turned away and rushed out. Natasha and Wanda were already in the carriage when Ser Pietro helped you in.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

You were silent as you wiped your hands on your skirts. The carriage jostled a bit as the horses began to move. Natasha and Wanda glanced over at each other after several minutes of silence. Your irritation and anger evident in the lines of your frown as you drifted off into your mind.

The king had been nothing but kind to you in your time together. Each and every day as you both grew closer to one another, he had proven the rumors wrong. You believed he was misrepresented in York – that the servants created an image of a monster to justify the war between the North. Steven had shown you no cruelty – aside from the prisoners in the dungeon. But they were traitors who conspired against their king. Even your father would’ve shown them no mercy. It was what a king had to do… right?

“(Y/N)…” Your head snapped up and met Wanda’s concerned stare. She reached out and grabbed your hand, which you hadn’t realized had been rubbing the skin of your wrist raw. “You’ll reinjure your wrist. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” you muttered.

“The old crone is well, old. Don’t take her words to heart.” Natasha encouraged. “The king has been nothing but a delight has he not?”

“He has, indeed.” You nodded.

“And again, your father wouldn’t have married you off to a cruel monster.” Wanda piped up. She gave your hand a tight squeeze and offered you a smile. “Sister Mary’s like everyone else… They just can’t wait until your belly swells with a child. Brooken has waited long enough.”

“I’m not quite sure if I’m … able.” You confessed. Wanda and Natasha scoffed in response. The two girls babbled on about it being too soon to tell. “It’s been two months since the marriage. Steven and I have shared our bed for two months now and I’m still not pregnant. I’m afraid I’m a disappointment to all.”

“Don’t say that.” Natasha waved her hand. “Two months is too soon to tell, (Y/N). Besides, you heard what the doctors, the midwives, the maesters say. There’s certain periods throughout the month that make chances of conception optimal. Just because you two go at it nightly,” you flushed at her words as you stuttered a rebuttal. She held her hand up to silence you. “We’ve heard it all. Big castle, thick walls. But we’ve heard.”

“Nat – “you groaned. Your hands covered your face, bashfully.

You three laughed at your embarrassment. Natasha giggled and leaned over to grab your hand. “You needn’t worry… It’ll happen in time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

»————-　⚜　————-««

As soon as your ladies and you arrived to the castle, you were immediately greeted by Lord Rumlow and Pierce.

“I trust the visit to the orphanage went well?” Lord Pierce asked you as he bowed.

“It was lovely as it always is.” You grinned at the two lords. You wondered why they were awaiting for your arrival – or why they were speaking to you at all. Lord Pierce didn’t like you, or at least you believed he didn’t because of how he wasn’t as welcoming as Lord Barnes or Lord Wilson. Lord Rumlow simply always gave you a bad feeling just by standing beneath his stare. You knew of Steven’s distaste for the two men – especially Brock, who was next in line due to being Steven’s next blood relative. “What have I done to have you two bless me with your presence?”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly at your words. They were teasing and sarcastic. He definitely saw your father in you. “We have urgent matters to discuss with the queen.” He glanced over at Natasha and Wanda who were watching the two men warily with curious frowns. “Alone, of course. It’s a matter of the council.”

“Shouldn’t my husband be in charge of this then?” You asked.

Lord Rumlow shook his head. “The new Brooken Queen must know of this matter as well. The king is very much versed.”

“Very well.” You nodded. “You may go.” You told your ladies. You exchanged confused glances before turning to the men. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”

“Of course.” Alexander nodded. He glanced over at Brock who offered you his arm and you hesitantly took it.

The walk was awkward to say the least. The two men weren’t the most ideal conversationalist and the curious stares of the servants as you passed by them did not help. Were you being led into a trap?

“Does my cousin treat you right?” Lord Rumlow asked suddenly as they turned into a familiar corridor. Your brows shot up when you realized they were leading you towards the dungeon.

“Yes, of course. King Steven has been nothing but a blessing in these past two months.” You said, honestly. You had no reason to doubt it, either.

“And the marriage… consummated?” Lord Pierce asked.

“Yes.” You answered. The two men glanced at one another as they slowly descended the steps that led to the dungeon. “Where are we going?”

“We’re acquainting you with what Steven really is…” Lord Pierce answered ominously. Your frown deepened as you tried to pull your arm away from Brock’s, but the Lord tightened his grip on you.

“Unhand me.” You ordered.

“I can’t, (Y/N).” He muttered as he pulled you along.

The men pulled you into the hall. The barred prisons with badly shaped men welcomed you. The stench assaulted your nostrils and nearly made you vomit. You passed by a man, huddled in the corner. He was asleep – or at least you hoped he was – and his mouth was wide open allowing his drool to escape. He had no teeth and his gums were bloody.

You gasped, taking a step back. You felt someone grab at your skirts. You let out a shriek as another man, so skinny you saw his ribs, grabbed at the bottom of your dress through the bars. His fingernails had been ripped off, bits of his skin seemed to have been flayed.

“What is this?” You snapped.

“Sharon?” One of the prisoners asked, his voice quaking. The vocal chords dry. You frowned, feeling your heart drop.

“These are the men that the king has imprisoned.” Pierce explained. “Good men, for the most part.”

“Steven wouldn’t have imprisoned these men for being good. There must’ve been a reason.” You argued. “Steven’s a good king.”

“Look at these men and tell me what good man would torture men to this degree?” Lord Pierce inquired. You shook your head.

“Steven said these men are traitors. He wants a bright future for Brooken and he imprisoned traitors who conspire against him. He only tortures because he… he’s looking for those who are plotting against the king.” Your voice broke as you began to shake. Tears threaten to spill but you held them in. You didn’t want to cry in front of these men  –  you didn’t want to look weak. You pried your hand from Brock’s grip and stumbled backwards.

“These men’s only crime was that the queen favored them.” Brock explained, grimly. “Sharon was a jewel … Young, tall, beautiful. Men grew fascinated with her and wanted the queen’s favor over the king’s. In a jealous rage, the king imprisoned those who preferred his wife.”

“No – “

“Sharon?” Another voice called. Drier than the other man.

“These men are haunted from what they’ve witnessed. Do you know what happened to Queen Sharon?” Brock asked. “Or Queen Margaret?”

“They died tragic deaths but not at the king’s hands!” You snapped. The two men stood silently as they shook their heads. They stared at you with pity as you peered through the prison. You’ve been to York’s prisons once – maybe twice – and they weren’t in this condition. The men weren’t starved, tortured. They were fed properly until their trials. “Why are you doing this?”

“You must know the monster that sits on the throne next to you.” Pierce said. “Do you know what happened to the two queens before you?”

“No.” You gave in to what they wanted. If they wanted to explain, so be it. “No, I do not.” Why was everyone tearing down the happiness you were building now after two months? Why wouldn’t anyone tell you before?

“Queen Margaret and the king fought relentlessly for months. He needs heirs. She didn’t want to bear a child. They fought and fought. Until one day, the king finally had enough of her. He stabbed her through the heart in the throne room. No one saw except for the council. No one knew how to react. No one wanted to act out against the king. So, we watched her bleed out on the floor as she stared at the man she loved, who took away her life.

Queen Sharon was defiant. She refused to sleep in the same bed chamber as the king. He needed an heir. She steadily turned him away. These men,” Pierce gestured to the prisoners, “all wanted favor with the queen. Steven thought she was attempting to start a coup against him. When it was proven she was not, it made him believe that these men were her lovers. So, in an act of cruelty, the king beheaded her in front of them.” He pointed to where you were standing – in the center of the room where all could see you. “Right where you’re standing.”

“That’s the man you married, Queen (Y/N).” Brock said. “That’s the true King Steven.”

Your eyes watered, but still, you refused to cry. “I’d like to leave now.”

“We will accompany you, then.” Lord Rumlow nodded. He offered his arm again but you refused. You turned around, ignoring the pleas and the begs from the prisoners and walked up the stairs in silence.

You winced as the bright sunlight welcomed you, contrasting with the darkness of the dungeon. You turned to the two men and bowed your head as they bowed to you. “Thank you for this ... er... eyeopening excursion, my lords.” You felt your voice crack at the end but you remained calm. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise, your grace.” Pierce nodded before you walked off.

Unbeknownst to you, King Steven was peering around the corner and his fists were shaking with rage.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #captain america x reader #captain america #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #bring him light

[trashlord2020]

Adam Smasher (Cyberpunk 2077) 18+

          A-Z NSFW Headcannons

 WARNINGS: dubious consent (suggested) Necro (only mentioned in passing) and a callous disregard for partners enjoyment and wellbeing. 

I provide these warnings so if any of it bothers you at all you can choose to not read this. If you disregard this and get upset by what you read, you've forfeit your right to complain, fight me. These are of course my own interpretations, in no way is this a 'end all be all'

A = Aftercare 

What, letting you live isn't enough? But seriously, don't expect anything resembling 'care' outta this guy. At the absolute most if you happen to be in a room he owns you could get real lucky and he'll leave you to sort yourself out...just don't be there when he gets back.

B = Body part 

He's a full body cyborg, every part is his favourite. He's almost constantly having things tuned or updated whether it's through Arasaka or his own hard earned eddies, But if he had to pick? His Hands, they're the thing that could end his partner in the moment with just one strong squeeze and having their life literally under his hands does something primal for him. His favourite body part of his partner? He might disguise it under mocking comments and insults but deep in there somewhere there's a man still and he's a thigh man for certain. Thicker they are, the better grip they provide and if his partner is able to pay enough attention they might catch how he almost caresses the skin...

C = Cum

Bodily fluids? disgusting. When he got his ah, 'upgrade' he most certainly passed on that. Sorry ! Sections provide required lubrication (don't forget to bring your own!) for the sake of avoiding friction but his own brand of 'popping the cork' is more of a build up in static and electricity. One he can control the build up of by adjusting 'sensitivity'.

D = Dirty Secret 

He's not a shy kinda guy, he'll have his partners against the window just to brag if there's one available. No, this is more of a vulnerability than anything? Under the metal casing of his chest on each side the tubes and connectors tucked away are very sensitive. The purpose is so he knows if something is amiss or stuck and needs tending too but this has provided a sort of erogenous zone, one he's not at all keen to share with another.

E = Experience 

Before his full body conversion you could say he was quite experienced, if paid partners counted of course. It's always been about him though, even when he (rarely) chooses to provide a helping hand it's been more of a show of dominance than anything. Now with his full Cyborg body and working for the worlds most powerful Corp he rarely finds himself having to pay, most people are either curious enough...or too scared to say no.

F = Favourite Position 

Anything where he can shove his partners head down and bend them across something be it the floor, bed, table or counter He'll use it. As mentioned before walls and windows make a good substitute too. He prefers to be above his partner and them in a position of vulnerability where they have no control, he's in charge here and he takes every opportunity to prove that. It's very rare to find one self facing towards him, often too 'intimate' for his liking.

G = Goofy 

If a partner has the guts they might be surprised to find that a little back and forth sarcasm and snark is enjoyed, even respected. Just be mindful not to insinuate any insults on his behalf, he won't take that lightly and if (when) he grows bored of the talk he'll make that known none too gently, better catch the hint sooner rather than later. So I'd say about 85% serious and 15% Snark.

H = Hair

 He's got a slappable head, bald as a plucked chicken and well...he's all metal down there. No surprise.

I = Intimacy 

If you really squint and tilt your head you might be able to trick yourself into believing the way he may cage his partner in from above as almost 'intimate' but it's really not...Just a show of pure dominance, nothing about enjoying the heat pouring off them at all... In all honesty this isn't making 'love' he's simply not capable of that, likely never was. He may lower his voice till you feel it more in your bones than hear it to whisper awful, dirty things only your both privy too but there's no true intimacy in his actions or words.

J = Jack Off 

Araska didn't provide him with his 'tool' no, that's something he chose to indulge in with eddies from his freelance years and when the work was done he certainly took time to test things out. Nowadays he rarely indulges, why would you need to if he could have almost anybody that happens to spark his interest.

K = Kink

Breath play, no of course not his. The act of cutting somebodies life line off, holding them in suspense and watching the fear grow in their eyes as they wonder if he's even going to bother letting go...it really gets him riled up. The only reason he does bother to let them go instead of squeezing a little harder is that a corpse hardly has the same appeal, don’t mistake it for mercy.

L = Location 

While Adam owns his own room he often has little use for it, spending at best an hour in there a day. You'd be lucky to be taken back there. He often finds himself in hotels/resorts instead, not his issue if it gets trashed then and nobodies going to barge in to investigate all the noise, not when mutters of 'smasher' quickly spread like wild fire. Enjoy your walk of shame back home. :)

M = Motivation 

Often it's just a a general build up that leads to him indulging but a bloody fight will always leave him with some built up 'charge'. Many of his partners in recent years have been people he's done a recent job with, something about watching the blood steam off their cybernetics as they catch their breath really does it for him. Basically a callous and shared disregard for life is what would really catch his interest, otherwise it's purely down to cosmetics in which case don't expect a repeat.

N = NO 

Making love...you probably saw this coming a mile away. As mentioned he's not shy, he knows what he wants and has little issue with obtaining it but if you're expecting a tentative partner who takes care of your needs? Keep looking, he'll never be that.

O = Oral  

He's got no means of which to give oral, his jaw is made out of metal and there's no tongue hidden away. A small (very small) part of him laments not being able to taste what's he's enjoying but again, it would of been more for his enjoyment than anything. On the other hand he certainly enjoys the sight of somebody figuring out their way around him with hands and tongue, the tremor in their hands is something he picks up on without fail but this is never how he achieves his end goal. Attempting to blow Adam Smasher is the closest thing You'll get to foreplay.

P = Pace 

A constant rough pace from start to finish, as mentioned somewhere above he can control his sensitivity so if he finds his charge building up too quick for his likening he doesn't have to slow down, just dial things back a little. There's no stuttering or slipping either as it's all controlled due to years of working with his cybernetics and yet, somehow it never fails to feel so raw and animalistic.

Q = Quickie 

He likes for things to be 'to the point' as he's certainly not here for tea and biscuits... If he's free for the whole day and just finished a big job you might want to look into hiring a wheelchair for the next week but on average he's here to get his jollies and move on. Make sure to undress yourself though, it's an obstacle and we all know how much he enjoys tearing through those.

R = Risk

What your everyday joytoy may consider a risk he may simply see as a little spice to make things more interesting. He doesn't care if somebody was dumb enough to walk in on him but they sure as hell better be quick about leaving, he doesn't share. If his partner has (foolishly) made it obvious they don't want to be caught? He might find that a little insulting and make it a point for them to be caught or seen, again, it's about the dominance he has over them.

S = Stamina

There's no refractory period, none. If he wants to go again he can, the only thing that's going to stop him is the potential heat build-up from too many overcharges in too short a time. This right here is why you'll want to bring your own lube, things are going to get sore and quickly otherwise.

T = Toy

What he's got going on down there could be considered a 'toy'. Lots of interesting features he enjoys tormenting his partners with. That's not enough for you? He's not going to pretend to be thrilled about it but if you somehow got your own toys on hand then so long as they don't get in the way of his enjoyment, use away. Likely the only real chance you have at getting your own enjoyment to be honest, just don't try using them on him. He won't be amused.

U = Unfair 

He enjoys demeaning and talking down to his partners, talk about how 'easy' they were or laugh at how weak they're proving to be. Might physically tease, bring them to the edge if he's super into the moment but he's only going to push you over if you really beg for it...not often he will though, he's in charge and he gets to decide how this plays out.

V = Volume  

Besides all the inner workings of his cybernetics powering away and the times he decides to speak? Practically silent. No moans or gasps as he has no need to breath. If a overcharge proves to be particularly powerful (usually due to a lengthy build up) his Voice emitter may play some static feedback, closest thing you'll get to a groan. Besides, his partner will be more than making up for the silence.

W = Wild Card 

He's bisexual but straight leaning. It's leftover from the gang he ran with once long ago when he was a everyday nobody. Nowadays he's simply not bothered what others think, incapable of considering it even. Women and more feminine leaning partners will have an easier time garnering his attentions but anyone's game if they prove themselves interesting enough.

X = X-Ray

Custom Hardware baby. Don't ask me what unlucky gonk had the job to make this but it's kitted out. The shape is as expected but the length can be retracted and extended at will. When in use the shortest it can go is 6 inches (he will never keep it this short though, that's below him) and the maximum length is 14 inches although ‘yikes’ lets be real, not a lot of people are going to be able to handle that, it's bragging rights and intimidation factor more than anything. His common use of range is 8-10 inch. He can move individual sections, vibrate and even cause minor shocks at will.

Y = Yearning

If no outside factors are taken into account it can take several weeks before he considers a roll in the hay. A lack of hormones means a lack of natural drive. But a busy week of fighting and killing will quickly land him in a private 'meeting'.

Z = ZZZ 

Sleep? you're kidding right. Every few days (or weeks if it's a boring month) he has to have a system scrub and recharge of sorts. He has a private station for this so nobody is going to catch him unaware. Once the deed is done he's over and out, no pillow talk or sweet nothings. If you've managed to really leave an impression he might throw you a contact for seconds. It's run through a security system of course, can't have just anybody being able to contact him.

#I laid awake at 3am thinking about this #lost control of my life #gotta do everything myself stg #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk 2077