#you don't know it but she is terrified of losing you. but she isn't here to tell you that. is she.

[theminecraftbee]

Etho and Grian are back at base, hysterically laughing over their achievement. Cleo sits inside, staring, as the two of them talk about getting a wither and a warden to fight, and tries to figure out what she feels about it.

In some ways it's not their fault. Task made them do it and all that. Plus--

Well, it's not like she and Etho are losing hearts anytime soon. They've both done a damn good job keeping themselves from dying. A benefit, Cleo thinks, of deciding to team with Etho this time. Between the two of them, they'll largely only do chaos they can recover from. Maybe this is their game. Maybe this time, Cleo manages to stick with someone until the very end. It looks like it. It looks like...

Grian, of course, is the confounding factor.

She wasn't going to turn him away. He needed allies. They needed someone a bit better at actually doing damage than herself or Etho. It's mutually beneficial. And, besides, he's weirdly lovable, in an inherently kind of dangerous way. A little like loving a bobcat someone had accidentally raised as a pet cat until it got a bit too big and stinky and murdery for them. Like, yeah, he shouldn't be domesticated and he's not, really, in any sense of the word, but it's a bit sad to watch him try to survive on his own now, right?

Hah. Maybe that's what Scar managed to do to him. Would explain a lot, really.

Anyway, he's her bobcat now, which is the problem.

See the thing is: Cleo understands Etho. It's why finally deciding to be partners for once felt... right. They're similar flavors of people. Scared, mostly. Survivors, but not in the 'will stab anyone' way that like, Martyn is. Loyal, although Cleo has no delusions that Etho is as loyal as she. And scared. Has she already said that? Scared. It's important to the kinds of things she and Etho are. Like... mountain lions, maybe. Mountain lions that have been around just enough people to know how dangerous they are. Like that.

God, she's only doing cat metaphors. Bdubs really is turning them all into furries.

Anyway, the point is, Grian isn't scared.

And that... terrifies her.

That's scarier than anything else. Because, see, Cleo wants to survive. But more than that, she wants her partners to survive. And she and Etho, the two of them are doing well. Better than most people. They're green and they have so many hearts.

But Grian? Grian's yellow and not afraid and goading Etho into not being afraid too. It's not their fault, exactly, Cleo thinks. They both had hard tasks. They didn't have a choice, Cleo thinks.

But. But.

She doesn't know what to do, if Etho gets convinced the humans down the mountain aren't scary. She doesn't know what to do if he gets too close. She doesn't know what to do if he gets hurt.

Because she--she doesn't think she can learn to stop being scared, anymore.

But she also doesn't know how many times her heart can stand to lose someone.

Did you know--wild cats are social? They have a reputation for being loners, but mountain lions, they're social. They don't do well being alone. They don't actually hunt solely alone. That's the important bit here. They seem independent, sure, but actually...

Anyway. This is Bdubs's fault. For making her a furry, apparently.

She watches Grian and Etho scheme together and sits back and breathes and tells herself that Etho isn't going to stop being afraid anytime soon. That if push came to shove, he, at least, would retreat back, and that maybe the two of them could convince Grian to retreat too. Safe from hunters. Safe from red.

Maybe safe from hurting each other, too.

(She's not so sure about that part.)

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #zombiecleo #a bee fic #staring in. cleo and the fact she seems to consider dying before or at the same time as her allies as her happy ending #staring in. cleo and the fact that the thing she and etho have most in common is CAUTION. #and then staring at grian. #hm. well. hopefully that ends better than it seems like it might. #ALSO SHOUTOUT TO ME HAVING THE BRITISH PERSON USE METAPHORS USING EXCLUSIVELY AMERICAN WILDCATS #in my defense they're the ones i'm actually familiar with

[bi-writes]

ex-tf141!mercenary!fem!reader x ex-husband!simon because there's nothing hotter than being covered in blood and debating whether or not to kill him or fuck him (18+) ⚠️🔞

cw: reader is curvy (deal with it), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dramatization + graphic depictions of murder + violence, criticizes military service, blood kink, size kink (simon's huge ok), pet names (luv, sweetheart, baby, honey), mw3 spoilers, reader is unhinged and unapologetic about it, dark content ahead, unprotected piv, cumplay, (can this also be considered a throuple fic? maybe...)

this isn't her. he doesn't recognize her. she doesn't fight the way he remembers, she doesn't look like she used to.

she wears all black. the black cargo pants are tight around her perfect thighs, and the way they cinch around her waist makes his mouth water. her vest covers her torso, but he has vivid memories of ripping an identical one off of her, ripping the fabric of her shirt so he could bury his mouth between her tits.

when she used to be his. when she used to be a good girl.

he watches, frozen, as she shows off her newfound ruthlessness. she fires her weapon at one man's knees, bringing him to the ground. he feels sick when she kicks him onto his back, getting on top of him, and uses her tactical knife and shoves it into the softness of his neck. she leans over him, splatters of blood freckled across her face, and she watches the life leave his eyes.

she doesn't get up until he stops twitching.

he doesn't remember this. when she used to watch his six, he remembers having to hold her close at night, quieting her cries. he remembers the conversations they used to have, where she used to tell him that whenever she closes her eyes, she sees every person she ever killed.

the justification of murder behind the patches she wore on her vest had never been enough to quiet her nightmares. she was always so soft-hearted. she was always too good, too considerate, too kind. it was something her superiors always wanted to rip away from her; it was something simon fought hard to keep.

he had lost his humanity, but she had not, and he remembers smoothing his hand over her chest and across her heart, telling himself that he would never let it go, never let her lose it.

it is gone. he knows it--he knows it because she doesn't just kill her opponents, she tortures them. she aims for vulnerable places, and then she kills them angrily. she likes to hear them scream. she watches them cry. she wipes the blood of her enemies on her thigh, and then she gets up and does it all over again, in different ways, in heinous ways. she's terrifying, and she's laughing, and there is nothing behind those fucking eyes.

he holds her in his sight. he adjusts the scope, gripping the rifle tighter, and suddenly it feels too heavy in his hands. he can see her in it, and he watches in horror.

he knows his orders. permission to kill on sight, those are his orders--mercenaries had gotten the same intel as them, but they are not here to destroy the biochemical weapons. they are here to steal them.

he can kill her right now. he has her, right where he wants her, and even from this far away, he knows he won't miss.

when she's finally alone, she stands, and she looks up, turning in a slow circle. his heart squeezes--she knows he's here. she holds up a hand, four fingers held up. he reaches up to his radio and turns the knob to the right channel. it crackles, and then he hears her voice.

"hey, baby," you coo, and he sees you smile, and it's ugly, and he hates it. "you miss me that much that you gotta follow me around at work?"

"'f y'know wot's good for you, you'll pack up your shit and leave."

you tsk, spinning the knife around in your hand before sticking it back into your boot. you wipe the sweat from your forehead, and blood smears along your brow.

"awww, teddy bear, don't be that way," you pout. "how about you come down here?" you grin wide, turning just his way, giggling when you see him perched for overwatch. "hmm? you're just cranky, baby...need me to help you relax..."

"you're right fuckin' mad," he spits, and you reach down at the man beneath you, snatching his rifle off his back and making sure it's loaded. "and i'm gonna fuckin' kill you."

you wink up at him.

"yeah? so take the shot, honey," you challenge. the smirk that blooms on your face infuriates him. he hates you. but then you turn around and keep walking, knowing that he won't shoot, and his gaze follows the sway of your hips. instead of thinking about your brains splattered against gravel, he thinks about when he used to bend you over his bed in the barracks and eat your pussy from behind you--when he used to get on his knees and fuck you with his tongue and make you cum into his mouth.

when you disappear from his view, you laugh over comms. "you're pathetic, simon," your murmur. "could never trust you to get the fucking job done."

he remembers when you left. johnny had left a scar on you--an angry one, one that refused to heal. and while simon was equally as buried in his grief, he always felt just a little better when he was kissing you, holding you, feeling the warmth of you, knowing you were alive.

"you didn't love him. not like i did--" you snap, continuing to pack.

"are you fuckin' mad?! do y'hear yourself talk?! wot the fuck do you know about me and johnny?!"

"then how are you not angry?!" you scream. "how are still standing there, so fucking normal, how are you so fucking calm?!"

"sweetheart--"

"don't fucking touch me," you bite. "you don't get it--" angry tears flow easily down your face. "--you didn't love him the same."

"i did--" he grips your face, making you look at him. "i loved him like i love you, don't say that. don't fucking say that, don't you dare pretend you're the only one that feels anything--"

you rip his hands off of you, narrowing your eyes, and he does not recognize you. this is not you.

"y-you're a liar," you whisper. "you're a fucking liar. and you make me sick."

ghost steps over the bodies that you left behind. it is a massacre of men that you leave at your feet. slit throats, bullets in knees, in stomachs, little finishers you leave between their legs. you are not a fan of men--he knows this because of how hard it had been to get close to you. how difficult it had been to even so much as touch your arm, your face--to get you into his bed, to marry you in secret and fuck you spineless. the only easy thing that had ever happened to you was the way johnny fell right into step with you.

and the hardest thing that he had ever done was fucking die.

when he finds the trunk of biochemical vials, you are not there. he has found it first, and he bends down to inspect them, closing the lid and securing them inside before moving his hand up to press on the button of his comms to alert his team.

"uh uh uh," a low voice warns. "take your hand off the radio, sweetheart."

he moves, but the bloodied tip of a tactical knife is sharp against his throat, and he swallows hard. he calls your name, and you just giggle. this is a game to you. he lowers his hand, and you reach down, grabbing his rifle and tossing it. you also unholstered his handgun and the throwing knives from his boot, throwing them behind you.

"mmm..." you smooth a hand down his back. "you're as hot as the day i met you, baby..."

ghost grunts as you grip one side of his ass, and you grip his shoulder tight, kicking him just right so he was kneeling on both knees now. you lean over him and plant a warm, wet kiss to the jaw of his mask, moving so you were standing in front of him now. you kick the trunk of vials to the side, looking down at him, digging the sharp edge of the blade harder against his neck.

"look at you..." you hum, licking your bottom lip. "you're still so big, teddy bear..." he hisses when you lean over, cupping him through his pants. your warm hand squeeze the length of him, and you whine when you feel how hard he is, how much he still feels for you. he glares at you under that plastic, terrifying mask, but your panties are soaking. "so fucking hard for me, too...you miss me, baby?"

he leans over, into the blade, growling.

"'f you leave now, you can still take your life with ya."

you pucker your lips, and he snarls. your face is not one he knows--you have drying blood along your cheeks, smears of it along the softness of your neck. you have blood and dirt under your fingernails, and there is fire in your eyes, and you are not the good girl he fell in love with, but you look like her, and it scares him.

"awww, baby, if i thought you would kill me, you would be dead--" you lean forward and lick along his hard jaw, tasting the salt and sweat of his mask. "...right along your other boys. don't lie to me. it's not a good look for you."

he bites, and you laugh, and then you nod your head.

"sit down," you demand, and he sits. he is big, and his gear is heavy, and he sits with a grunt, and you climb over him, into his lap. you reach down, your eyes on his, and you unzip his cargo pants, your hand slipping under and pulling his cock out, and you smile when it stands hard and heavy. "oh, baby...you want this, don't you?"

you lean in, kissing him through the mask, sucking along the fabric and whining.

"you want this, don't you? you still want me? you still love me?"

"fuckin' hell--"

"you wanna fuck me, teddy bear?" you spit into the palm of your hand, reaching down and smoothing your wet hand over the red tip of him. "you're so big...as big as i remember..." you whimper. "say you wanna fuck me, simon--" fuck, you're using his name, "--say you want me."

against your lips, you feel him whisper yes--fuck--yes, luv--and you can't help it. you can't help yourself.

he's so warm and big. you hold onto his shoulders, still gripping the bloody knife, and you sink down on him. it's easy though, because you're soaking, and even though you're so fucking tight, you suck him in, right until your clit is grinding against the little hairs at the base of his cock and you're bouncing in his lap.

simon is weak. he's weak, and he knows it, because he loves you, and your pussy is so tight, and your moans are music, and fucking you is the only thing he truly understands, the only thing that still makes sense.

you smooth your hands along the back of his neck, and when you whimper and moan, simon thinks he sees you. his good girl, his pretty little wife, the soft girl that he loves, the one crying as she rides his cock because he's hitting all the gooey, pretty places inside of her that make her so fucking wet. he grips your ass tight, guiding you up and down, fucking up into you as he feels his stomach turn and his balls tighten.

"simon--" you cry, and he nods his head, cradling you to his chest, his head tilted back as he looks up at you. there is blood on your skin and a knife digging into his back, but you're saying his name, and his heart aches, and your pussy is so good-- "gonna come--gonna come--"

"yeah--" he growls, and you push up his mask, lick into his mouth, kiss him sloppy and hard and desperate. "fuck--fuck, yeah--"

he takes off his glove to touch you, two big fingers on your clit as you fuck him desperately. when you come, you soak his cock, and when you tighten, he comes, too, rolling his hips as he spills out of your tight hole and onto your thighs, onto his.

it feels so good. it feels so good to be full of him, to feel him deep, and you smooth your hands down your stomach, feeling him there, stretching you so wide with his come on your thighs, and when he pulls out, you giggle when he gathers the slick onto his fingers and feeds it to you.

you suck his fingers, tasting him, and you whine, looking right into his dark eyes. your heart hurts for a moment--but only a moment. when he pulls his fingers from your mouth, your eyes flicker.

because he still wears his fucking wedding ring.

at the sight of it, you grip your knife tight, and you sink it right into his stomach.

he is laying there in a pool of blood when you're dressed, when the trunk of vials is secure for you to take. you lean over him, pressing on the button of his radio, and you call for medevac to his team, and then you rip the radio in two.

you cup his cheeks, kissing him softly over the mask, and you smooth a finger down his cheek.

"don't pull the knife out, baby, or you'll bleed out," you coo. you tilt your head to the side, knowing you only have a few second window to leave, and you smile down at him.

"until next time, simon."

when you go, you take a piece of him with you.

and fuck--fuck you. because he wants it back.

#OMGGGGGGG #FUCK #I CAVED #I NEED HIM #carnally #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

[zaldritzosrose]

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader)

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

(Based on Lose Control by Teddy Swims)

TW: She/Her pronouns, canon-typical incest (uncle x niece), afab reader, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 2,985

kēlītsos = little cat, kitten

I apologise now, but this isn't a 'happy' ending.

Something's got a hold of me lately. No, I don't know myself anymore.

You were off limits, Aegon knew that. The fact had been drilled into him by his mother time after time. His niece, the only one who looked at him with some modicum of love or affection. He didn’t know if you felt the same, but he could pretend every time you would smile at him, or your hands would linger against his just a moment longer than needed.

But how could he not want you? You were beautiful. He didn’t care about the rumours that surrounded your parentage. Those dark curls, eyes so brown they could be mistaken for black. All the things that people used to paint you a bastard, he found to be the most beautiful things in the world.

His thoughts were consumed by you, even when you weren’t around. Everything reminded him of you.  The more he thought of you, the more he remembered he couldn’t have you and the further he sank into his cups. 

The day you left for Dragonstone with your mother had broken him beyond belief. Wine and whores barely fill the void you left behind.

Feels like the walls are all closin' in. And the devil's knockin' at my door, whoa… Out of my mind, how many times. Did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone?

Aegon stumbled back into his chambers. The third night this week that he’d spent drowning his sorrows in some dingy tavern. Word had come that your mother was returning to King’s Landing with you and your brothers. The petitions for the seat at Driftmark were to be heard, and your brother Lucerys’ claim was being questioned.

Aegon would see you again, and it terrified him. 

He was embarrassed of the kind of man he’d become in your absence. A drunk, chasing whatever skirt he could. Fear set in, knowing you’d see him like this.

The morning of your return had come, but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed. He was a mess in so many ways. The scent of wine still lingered on his breath and skin from the night before. Sun streamed in through his window, and he quickly sunk back under his sheets.

But his peace was short lived, the door to his chambers slamming open and the harsh words of his mother filling the room. Aegon groaned, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time his mother would ever berate him this way. But he was in no mood for it.

The sound of her admonishments faded to muffled noise as Aegon tried to rub the sleep from his features. But his actions seemed to only antagonise her more. Heavy limbs rolled from his bed, gripping the sheet around his body as he stood.

His mother’s tirade stopped at his movement, her words faltering.

“I will not apologise, for it falls on deaf ears. Now if you don’t mind, I fear I require a bath.” 

Aegon grumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape Alicent’s harsh words.

He ignored anything else that came from her lips, walking away and towards his thankfully, already filled bath.

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

You didn’t want to be here. None of your memories of the Red Keep were particularly fond. Well, save for a few. The times spent with your uncle, Aegon, would always bring a smile to your face when you thought of them. When he would sneak to your chambers, cakes in hand, demanding you come to the gardens with him. Why?

Because he missed you.

Back then, you thought little of it, simply thinking your uncle was being kind, as an uncle should be. But when you think of those moments now? Heat filled your belly and a blush bloomed on your cheeks. The evenings spent curled up next to him beneath a tree in the royal gardens, lips sticky from the cakes he always brought, his arms wrapped tight around you and your head on his chest. Those moments had seemed so innocent then.

The reactions of your mother told you now, that they were not. The way your mother had demanded you stop sneaking out in the evenings with him – how spending time alone with any boy in such a way was unbecoming. 

But Aegon was the only one who didn’t tease you about your dark hair and eyes – you knew the rumours well enough. Instead, he told you how pretty you were. Comparing your eyes to embers and your hair to the finest chocolate. 

Now, you stood at Jace’s side, listening to your mother talk to some lord or another. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sneak off to find Aegon.” Jace whispered, only earning an eye roll from you. Your brother was one of few aware of just how much time you had once spent with Aegon.

Luckily for you, he’d never told your mother. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, the moment she’d forbade you from spending time with your uncle, you had stopped. Instead, you had simply hidden your meetings better. Swearing your brother to secrecy when he caught you one night.

You ignored Jace’s comment because no answer you gave would keep that smirk off his face. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, your mother turned and gave you and your brothers permission to spend some time to yourselves before the petitions. You didn’t miss the sideways glance Jace gave you as you hurried away.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

He was washed, dressed, the alcohol feeling like it was seeping out of his skin as he wandered through the corridors. He had no destination in mind, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his bed. But he also had no desire to listen to another of his mother’s verbal lashings against him . And even more so, he was terrified of seeing you.

Would you hate him as he is now? Would you be embarrassed of him?

Aegon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him, his eyes trained solely on the stone floor before him. So, when he collided with the soft form of another person, he was knocked near off balance. As he scrambled to stay upright, he was greeted with a very familiar head of deep brown waves.

“Uncle?” 

Your voice. A voice he had imagined hearing time and time again for the past six years. But when you said his name, he finally met your gaze. The faintest of smiles finding his lips, while his eyes remained just a little glazed from the wine he’d already consumed.

You were here. You were here and you were as beautiful as ever. The deep red of your gown makes those warm curls even deeper in colour. It was only when he felt your hand on his arm that he realised he hadn’t spoken a word.

“Do I render you speechless still?” you smiled; your hand rested on his forearm.

“Always, kēlītsos.” He smiled, watching you blush at the name.

Kitten, so called for the way you always used to curl up next to him, safe under his arm. A sweet name that now had your cheeks hot. It was the way he said it, voice lower than you remembered. But you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, and you now realised that the stories of his love of alcohol were true.

Six years had changed you both in more ways than one.

Problematic. Problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I'm with you.

Aegon hadn’t paid attention to a single word spoken during the petitions. He could care less about who inherited Driftmark. His eyes never left you. He didn’t care who saw him staring. He didn’t care if you saw him staring. Seeing you again had awoken every feeling for you he’d once had. And then some. 

He’d ignored his mother when she demanded he leave the wine alone. He couldn’t handle court sober, never mind having to stay away from you. Now, the room swayed just a little, but the fog on his brain was a welcome distraction from you.

The petitions had gone as well as expected – if seeing Lord Vaemond beheaded was expected. The whole family was on edge, but Aegon was comfortably in a wine induced calm.

So, when you walked in, arms linked with Jace, he had little control of the expression on his face. Disgust at the sight of you so close to your brother, a closeness that had once been reserved for only him. He filled his cup again, no amount of wine in the world would likely make him feel better now.

You sat in the only available seat, between Jace and Aegon. You tried to catch your uncle’s gaze, but he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you and it made you feel ever so slightly hurt. Had you done something to upset him?

Problematic. Problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict.

The supper ended swiftly the moment your brother hit Aemond, provoked of course. The two princes had never been close. You stood with your mother; fists clenched as you watched Aegon pin Luke to the table. There was no love lost between the uncles and nephews, but seeing Aegon treat Luke that way infuriated you.

You stormed from the hall, ignoring the shout of your mother. It was only then that Aegon released Luke, shoving the boy away and drunkenly hurrying after you.

He’d fucked up and he knew it. 

He could hear the clack of your boots on the stones, and he knew where you’d be going. The gardens. Your haven, one you once shared with him.

“I don’t appreciate being followed, uncle.” you called out, stopping just short of the entrance to the garden. 

Aegon was quick to stop behind you, the wine making him unsteady. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance to have you alone.

“You are drunk, Aegon.” 

The accusation, while true, hurt coming from you. Embarrassment flooded him as he tried to find an excuse. But the words went silent on his tongue. He was drunk, yes, but not as drunk as you seemed to think he was.

“It is a common occurrence for you now, I hear. Wine and whores?” Your voice wasn’t as angry as he expected, but having you know such things about him made him sick.

“Nothing more than distractions for a life that is quite tedious.” Aegon replied, doing his best to hold your gaze, blue meeting brown for the first time truly in six years.

“And what makes your life so tedious, I am sure there are many who would revel in the life of a prince.” You answered, turning to continue your walk to the garden, knowing he would follow.

And follow he did, wanting nothing more now than to be in your presence. A presence he’d missed. A presence he’d craved for six years. Even if you seemed frustrated.

“You know exactly what…” he snapped back, the wine loosening his tongue just a little. There was a chance this would be the last time he’d see you, knowing the state of the family, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

“Six years without you, kēlītsos, has been a very long time.” 

You stiffened at that. Was he blaming his problems on you? You stopped dead, turning on your heel to face him, watching as he stumbled when he stopped short of colliding with you.

“And you think it has been easy on me?” Your words came out quieter than you thought, your anger failing as you saw the sadness in his eyes, eyes that had once seemed so bright now seemed sallow and hollow.

“I did not want to leave. My home is here, with you.”

Aegon froze, chewing on the skin of his lip. Any anger he’d felt slipped away almost instantly. You hadn’t wanted to go. Those words sparked the smallest ember of hope in him. Maybe, just maybe, you felt as he did.

“I have spent every moment of those six years missing you.”

He heard nothing else, the wine in his belly fuelling his emotions beyond his control. His rough hands finding your cheeks, pulling you to him as he kissed you. The kiss was messy but reciprocated. Mere seconds passed before you curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him tight against you. A kiss filled with years of love, passion… and lust. Aegon’s hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing his body against yours as he backed you towards a nearby wall. Thankfully the gardens were quiet in the evenings.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, remembering quickly that Aegon had been drinking. As had you, but Aegon had consumed far more than you had.

“You are drunk, Aegon…” 

“Not so much that I am unable to think clearly.” He replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

His hands played with the fabric of your gown, keeping your body pinned between his and the wall. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Not without knowing if you felt as he had all this time.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go.” He whispered, his forehead now resting against yours.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t because it would be easier down the line. Easier to lie and break his heart now than be truthful and have to leave him again. But you did. By the gods, you did. While you’d loved him for longer than you could remember, love was not on your mind at this moment.

“I want this…I want you. I always have.” Your breath fanned across his lips as you spoke, body inching closer on instinct. 

Aegon closed the distance, his kiss gentle though his hands now gripped your waist hard. The red fabric now fisted tight in his hands as he slipped his thigh between your own. Your body responded naturally, heat flooding you as his lips slid down to your jaw then your neck. He knew he couldn’t go so far as to take your virtue, but he needed something.

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth. Can't see the forest through the trees. Got me down on my knees, darlin' please, oh…

Your breath hitched as he bunched your gown in his hands, fingers pressed against the fabric of your small clothes. A touch you’d only dreamt about. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch you so intimately.

The reality had your mouth dry and your flesh searing. Hips canting to meet the deft movements of his fingers. His face buried in your neck as you sighed out in pleasure. You shouldn’t be doing this, and you knew it. All you could focus on was pleasure, not right and wrong. Your own hand soon found the hard length in the front of his breeches, palming him slowly.

Aegon wanted nothing more than to feel you. To commit those soft sounds to memory. To feel your skin on his.

“Aegon…” you breathed, your hands finding the mess of silver waves atop his head.

His name had never sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it again. His hands kept a grip on your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ignoring the confused glance you shot down to him. You soon had your answer when his nose brushed against the fabric of your small clothes, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it over his shoulder.

“What are you-“ your words fell silent as he mouthed at you through your undergarments, his name a moan falling from your lips.

Your hand found his hair again, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. And when his fingers tugged the fabric aside, bearing your flesh to him, all sense was lost.

“So delicious, my sweet girl,” he cooed, licking a hot stripe between your folds.

No man had ever touched you this way, and you wanted no other man but Aegon to touch you this way again. A dream, of course, but one you wanted so desperately. And he lapped at you like a man starved, groaning against your skin at the taste of you, the sound enough to have pleasure shooting up your spine.

And soon the knot in your belly snapped, hands tightening in his hair as you panted his name. Aegon only stopped his ministrations when you pushed him away. With a final kiss to your inner thigh, he stood.

“You are mine, kēlītsos, and you always have been.”

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Morning had come. You didn’t remember returning to Aegon’s chambers but that was where you woke. Wrapped in his arms and feeling safer than ever. It would not last. It never did. Shouts from outside the door told you that. And the door crashing open, revealing the furious face of your mother made it crystal clear to Aegon.

You were off limits. He knew that. He’d hoped it would change. But when morning came, the harsh words directed at you by your mother told you it never would. And his dreams become nightmares as you leave him again.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x reader #reader insert #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic

[autistichalsin]

My incomplete list of circumstantial bits of evidence for werebear!Halsin

Note: I can see the case for both Halsin knowing AND not knowing that he's a werebear- I'm going to include both here.

The most glaring: Halsin can't control his wildshape. This is highly unusual for any Druid, let alone an Archdruid of his age and power. He not only can't control the transformation when experiencing strong emotions, but he can't entirely control his actions when scared or angry; he tells the player, after being rescued from the goblin pens, that he will be unable to not attack the goblins threatening them. This makes no sense for a wildshaped Druid, but makes plenty of sense for a terrified werebear. 1B. No other Druids in the entire game have the wildshape problems Halsin does. 1C. Halsin can control all his other wildshapes properly, and behaves much more like other Druids when using them.

Werebears who haven't learned to control themselves yet (such as if they don't know they are one, are recently turned, etc) often transform unexpectedly when threatened.

Halsin's bear wildshape is treated differently than any other; it's the only wildshape he can't control, and it has a separate mechanic to other wildshapes in-game, being activated not with other wildshapes, but on the screen for abilities that are an intrinsic part of the character's skills. Yes, this is probably because it's only Halsin who can do this, but circumstantially... it is interesting.

Werebears avoid biting to prevent spreading their lycanthrophy (unless they have negotiated with the person they are trying to turn). As far as I've seen (I DEFINITELY could be wrong, though, please let me know if I am), Halsin only ever uses his claws to attack- no biting attacks.

If you look at the sky during the romance scene with the player, the moon is shown very bright and prominent; it isn't 100% certain, but it looks like it could be full.

Halsin is VERY different from his normal personality in bear form, excluding the romance scene; if you use Speak With Animals when he's in the cage, he'll say things like "time for blood" as he prepares to attack the goblins. Werebears in bear form are noted for being irritable and quick to violence, though they attempt to mitigate the effects of these impulses through self-isolation so no one innocent is harmed. 6B. Halsin in normal form tries very hard to not get violent when possible, noting that "killing is never [his] first choice", yet when needs must, he won't hesitate to kill- the opposite of the bear.

If Halsin doesn't know he's a werebear (explaining him not telling you), it's worth noting that it IS possible for werebears who weren't born as such not to be aware, with any actions taken during the full moon tending to get written off as bad dreams. Halsin could just think he has a recurring nightmare about losing control of his bear form.

Halsin resonates wit bears a lot deeper than most other Druids do with their favorite animals. Kagha comes the closest with her love of snakes, but even she speaks more metaphorically, whereas Halsin will do it literally, such as a new, as-yet-unimplemented line where he says he hopes "an old bear" can help the player, making jokes about poking the bear, etc. in fact, he refers to himself as a bear more often than he refers to himself as an elf.

Halsin makes reference to honey mead being his favorite drink. Werebears have a special honey mead concoction they enjoy. This drink is highly intoxicating to non-were, which means it might be more intoxicating than other drinks to were too.

Halsin is shown having an alignment that leans far more towards good than neutral, whereas most of the Druids in this game have a neutral alignment. Werebears are one of two weres in DND lore that have a good alignment.

Werebears usually live solitary lives. Circle of the Moon Druids are noted as being very solitary as well, with it being possible to go weeks without seeing another Druid (though Archdruids of this Circle will of course be more involved). Halsin, before becoming Archdruid, is implied to have fit this, such as him making reference to having hibernated in bear wildshape.

However, werebears are still noted to have a strong sense of community, and they often act as guardian of a particular area. Like Halsin protecting his Grove, then protecting his commune in the end, even noting that his urge to roam has dwindled after finding the latter. In fact, werebears are noted to often be sedentary and prefer not to leave their homes; Halsin is restless and roaming until the epilogue, when all his traumas are resolved, at which point he settles and shows contentment at having gone from "a life of high adventure" to one of anything but. (He says this to the player if romanced, worrying that he took them from just that life, but he repeatedly says he is happy to have given up adventuring.)

It is noted that when werebears don't isolate, one of the more common choices for werebears is.... you guessed it. Becoming a Druid.

Werebears have the ability to call local bears to them. The Emerald Grove has three bears living there.

Werebears don't marry, but might have favorite mates they visit often. Depending on player choice, Halsin might end up a bit more committed than the latter, but still less than the former. Also, this ties in well with Halsin's stated philosophy on polyamory, with him specifically stating that a bear's coupling habits suit him more than another animal's, like, say, a wolf, would.

It is well-known by now that there used to be a Bard Origin named Helia, who would have been either a Halfling or a Gnome. Helia also would have been a werewolf. While it's not known for sure that she was cut specifically FOR Halsin to be made playable (it's doubtful, given how early Helia was cut), there are signs that parts of her story might have been given to Halsin. For example, if one looks in datamined dialogues, certain goblin camp scenes still say that it could be either Helia or Halsin's bear there. Such as this one for the goblin kids running off to warn the adults: "Panicked, the kids run to the room with the goblin warriors and call for help, because the bear / Helia has escaped. After that they disappear." (Not sure if they still run in the final game, but the PAD is still in the files.) Or for the goblin kids throwing rocks before the cutscene is triggered, "One of the goblin kids that is throwing rocks at Helia or the bear." I don't want to speculate too much about cut content, but this suggests that Halsin and Helia's stories may have intertwined somewhat, and that when Helia was cut, parts of her went to Halsin. This may be why Halsin's bear wildshape was written more like him being a were instead; in a meta sense, he "became" a lycanthrope when he inherited part of Helia's story.

Halsin is wide/tall, muscular, and has body hair (though not facial hair), to the point that people repeatedly comment on how unusual he is for an elf. Unusual for an elf, but not a werebear, who are noted for being, you guessed it, wide/tall, muscular, and hairy.

Werebears who are bitten instead of being born as such are almost always transformed by a more experienced werebear and then taken as a protege, to become a guardian of the forest, which would explain a LOT about Halsin if he chose this.

Halsin shows a lot of empathy and compassion for Astarion and the Dark Urge. While of course it could just be his genuinely kind nature, it could also be him relating it to his own experience as a werebear.

Lastly, there's this art from the collector's edition; my guess is that this art was made after they decided Halsin would be playable, but before Karlach had an official design (the IGN interview indicates that Karlach was only added earlier this year, leaving a wide window for this to happen). While this is, of course, subjective, the pose and juxtaposition of the bear to Halsin looks a lot like the sort of art used in werewolf movies. Sort of like how one of Halsin's point-and-click lines, "the power of the bear lies within me," sounds very were-like too. This one is more subjective than the others, but I still wanted to include it.

This is all circumstantial, I know, but i thought it might be interesting to get out there nonetheless!

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[luna-rainbow]

On Steve Rogers, loss, and loneliness

Unlike some of the other characters, Steve's hurt isn't as plain to the eye. His demeanour is usually one of stoicism and optimism, and it is easy to forget that his story is steeped in loss and loneliness.

Steve's introduction highlighted how alone he was - an orphan, armed with a list of ailments, and hiding behind a newspaper to avoid small chat with other recruits. When rejected by the recruitment centre, Steve shrugs and heads to watch a movie - alone.

Steve is a loner, we are shown, and then just as abruptly - perhaps just like the way it had happened many years ago - Bucky crashes into Steve's world and hooks an arm around his shoulders and noisily talks about an expo and dispels all of Steve's melancholic air. Steve is a loner, except for Bucky.

But Bucky is now leaving to go to war.

Steve is used to being stoic, because there were no adults around him to spoil him. He is used to being buoyant, because Sarah taught him how to pick himself up and carry on. Steve is used facing the empty house and lonely silence -- except for Bucky, who filled his room with chatter, "We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids."

So when we hear the anxious strain in his voice as he is informed by Bucky that he is leaving -- it also becomes plain that Steve is also used to loss, or the threat of loss shadowing him, everyday.

In his short life, he has already lost so much. He has lost his health (my thought is he was probably healthier in his early childhood until he caught scarlet fever, and then his health got a lot worse after that). He has lost his father, and all the security of having a family breadwinner. He has lost his mother - to long hours of work and eventually to the disease she was battling against.

What he dreads would happen, does happen. Life seems to have a way of chasing him down like that. Sarah gets sick, and his fear of coming home to find her gone...one day inevitably comes true.

At his darkest moment, Bucky squeezes his shoulder and promises, "You don't have to do it (alone). I'm with you to the end of the line."

It's just enough for Steve to square his shoulders and push on, as Sarah had always taught him to do. Deep inside - possibly buried so deep that he can barely put it into words, he knows that he pulled through because "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

I'm going to pause here and emphasise how deeply lonely (and young) Steve was, and how, naturally, the only stable presence — ie Bucky — in his life, through periods of terrible grief and uncertainty, is going to be such a deep-rooted emotional foundation for him (regardless of how you ship).

When the draft does come for Bucky, it's not just Bucky who's unhappy, it's Steve who's also aghast. Suddenly, the possibility of losing his last bastion looms over him, and he remembers the fear and anxiety and the devastating grief of losing Sarah. But it is also a war that needs fighting - so he comes up with a solution: sign himself up. He can't keep Bucky from the war, but he wants to fight alongside him. Besides Bucky, what else does he have to lose?

"Men are laying down their lives, I have no right to do any less. That's what you don't understand, Bucky."

He says this angrily, because the words he can't say aloud are, "You are laying down your life, Bucky, and I might never see you again, and I can't go through all that again, not by myself."

When he hears about the 107th being captured, he has to go. He is saving Bucky, sure, but he is also saving himself, because the pillar, the lifebuoy, the harness that has kept him afloat all those years is Bucky, and he's terrified of sinking.

The serum makes him taller and more women pause to smile at him, but he is still incredibly alone. He sits alone during break, he draws alone in his book, he runs off alone and none of the USO girls even notices until it's his turn on stage.

But Bucky notices him immediately, and says, "I thought you were smaller," and, "Did it hurt?"

Steve doesn't really believe in miracles. His whole life feels like one bad luck after another, even if he forces one foot in front of another and keeps marching on. But maybe at that moment, he feels like Bucky is his miracle. Bucky, who always seems to notice when he's alone and pulls him into his social circle. Bucky, who had seen him lose his dad and Sarah and promised him the end of the line. Bucky, who he - and all the commanders - thought was dead, pulls through and gives him another promise - that he would follow the little guy back into war.

When Steve is finally thrust into the frontline, the losses keeps mounting, man after man are falling, condolence letter after letter is being written. And then towards the end of 1944, the tides seem to finally turn. German forces are waning, the Allied forces are advancing, and quietly, secretly, Steve dreams of home.

And that dream dies with Bucky.

"Honour the dignity of his choice," he is told, but he can't shake off the guilt.

He pushes himself forward, step by dragging step. Nazi Germany is falling. He is taking down Hydra with his own hands…and at the end, he buries them all in the ocean with himself.

His is sinking, but he isn’t afraid, because he is going where all the people who mattered are waiting.

And he is denied even that.

He opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t recognise. They tell him they had won the war.

But no one wants to speak with him about what was lost.

A folder of old photos, the museum of unmoving murals, the silent movies of a smile he would never see again.

He thought he had lost all there was to lose, but somehow life always seem to find something else to take.

What we see of off-duty Steve in the modern world is once again a figure of loneliness. He goes to the gym alone, he goes for a ride on the train alone, he sits at the cafe alone, he goes for runs alone, he goes to the museum alone.

Only during those solitary moments he could truly be Steve Rogers, instead of trying to meet everyone's expectations of Captain America. He is just shy of 27 years old, but suddenly, he can no longer lay claim to youth. Only a dream ago he was "just a kid from Brooklyn", and now he's an "old-fashioned" (as per Coulson) "older fellow" (as per Tony).

He's in the history books, he's on the television, he's in the classrooms; everyone knows of Captain America, but Steve Rogers is lost.

He had been willing to lose his life on the Valkyrie, but what he lost was every living connection and his own identity.

"Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing," the friendly man says to him on their first meeting, but Sam only knows half of it.

The too soft bed and the too quiet room is one thing, the unshakeable nightmares another, but the worst of it is -- this isn't home.

He is marooned in a place that bears eerie resemblance to the world he knew, without being familiar.

Until the moment Bucky's mask comes off.

It's like the anchor dropping. He's now got a connection tethering him to this strange place, someone with "shared experience" that means he is no longer alone, and he is no longer a ghost forgotten by the seventy years of lost time.

"He doesn't know you."

"He will."

He has to believe that Bucky will, because Bucky is proof that Steve Rogers exists.

And once again, Bucky is his miracle. On the brink of killing them both, Bucky reels back from his brainwashing and hauls them both to safety.

Even if Bucky leaves after that, he's left behind something Steve hasn't had for a long time -- hope, and belonging.

"Family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago," he says to Tony as he prepares to meet the ragged team of enhanced people that is to become the Avengers. "I'm home."

Stoic and buoyant as he has always been, Steve sets to work building that home for himself. Gradually, we see Steve open up. He forms new connections and new friendships, he talks about his vulnerabilities with people he trusts, and he reclaims his own identity. He looks for Bucky, and waits until Bucky is ready to build that home for himself.

Until it is once again blown apart by the end of Infinity War - he loses not just Bucky, the anchor to his past, but the new family he has made apart from Natasha.

That's why it makes sense that Steve, not Tony, is the one working so hard to reverse the Snap. His family was 5 years ago, Tony's family is now. The people who rallied behind Steve and not Captain America, the people who followed him after he dropped the shield, the people with whom he no longer needed to be endlessly lonely and tirelessly stoic and who loved him for who Steve Rogers was, they all vanished in the Snap.

So even if there was only a small hope, Steve wants them back.

And that's why his decision to leave everything he had built, the sacrifices he had made to bring them back, in order to go into a life of incredibly loneliness and deception is still the dumbest narrative faux pas in the MCU.

#steve rogers #steve rogers meta #bucky barnes #stucky #stucky meta #long post #this got away from me and is super long sorry #anti endgame #as always

[ystrike1]

My Happy Marriage - By Agitogi Akumi (9/10)

The anime adaptation of this is also good. Go watch it.

Redemption and trauma don't go together often. Most of the time it's easier to kill off evil characters, and rush into a happy ending. This happy ending is slow and painful, and our heroine has to fight for every single shred of happiness she gets.

Miyo is from the Saimori family. She was born for entirely political reasons. Her father had a beloved lover, who he had to abandon to marry her mother. He did his duty, but then his political bride died young.

He immediately brought his lover back into his life. He officially married her, and he gave her complete power out of guilt.

Miyo loses her right to...everything. Her new mother sees her as an obstacle who almost ruined her true love. When they have a daughter that new daughter is superior in every single way.

Kaya Saimori is beautiful. Smart. She also has supernatural powers, as a daughter of the Saimori family should.

Miyo didn't manifest, so the abuse her "mother" puts her through gets worse...until finally Miyo is completely degraded.

At 19 she is a soulless husk who only apologizes.

She also loses her only friend. Kaya gets to marry him instead of her. Kaya gets the family home. Kaya gets the spirit power. Kaya gets the love. Kaya gets the respect.

Miyo can't even be jealous.

She is so drained.

So tried of being ignored.

She "turns off" when her "mother" abuses her. She dreams of the mother who loved her. Of the love and future she cannot have because she is a useless...

Her father marries her off to a powerful stranger. The head of the Kudo family. He has burned through a half dozen fiances. He doesn't like rude, prideful, rich women. He lives on a small estate despite his wealth, and he protects the world from supernatural monsters that rarely appear. He believes his work is important, even if said monsters only attack once or twice a generation.

He is a VERY serious man.

Miyo wins him over by being serious too.

She does not look down on him for living a quiet life.

She thinks his job is cool as hell.

She doesn't think he's a boring, stiff man.

She thinks he will abandon her when he notices she has no powers.

He could not care less.

He thinks her cooking is delicious, and when she makes a hair ornament for him he wears it right away. They are both stiff and awkward, together.

They are a great couple.

When we see Kouji again he is miserable. He misses his only love. Here we see the illusion break. Miyo thinks Kaya is beautiful, irresistible and charming. She only thinks that way because of her isolated and awful upbringing. Kaya is actually an unbearable brat. Kouji isn't moved by her beauty or good breeding in the slightest.

In fact, he goes a little crazy.

He decides to pretend to like Kaya, so he can protect Miyo from her family. You see, they're all idiots. Miyo doesn't have powers, but she is her mothers daughter. Her real mother was from a family that can control dreams and minds. The most terrifying family. Her father realizes he gave away a very valuable bride for a low price, and now he wants her back.

Kouji has her back though. He is her shadow ally, even during his most crazy moments.

Kaya falls in love with Kudo because she's a superficial moron. She also knew Kouji is in love with Miyo. She just took him to make Miyo miserable.

....bitch...

Kouji resists her bullcrap, because he knows she's a liar.

Kaya's jealousy festers and explodes when she sees Miyo happy with her handsome husband. Her happy ending is at hand at last. Kudo storms to Saimori house. He demands an apology for Miyo before the marriage. He says she will be treated with respect from now on, or he will never use his considerable army influence to help them. He doesn't care if Miyo was given to him for political reasons. She is his now, and he has no real use for her family. He's strong enough on his own. Funnily enough he only accepted the proposal because he was tried of being nagged about marriage.

Now, he is a happy man who will protect his happy marriage.

Miyo, sadly, gets kidnapped. Kaya spews toxic crap. She says she is more suitable for the handsome and powerful Kudo. Her horrible mother beats the shit out of Miyo the whole time. Miyo does not apologize. She knows happiness is within her reach.

The Saimori family isn't that great.

Turns out their power is on the decline. Kaya has excellent supernatural sight, but no combat abilities. She's middle of the pack. She was never special.

Miyo doesn't want to be special.

She wants to be happy.

She doesn't apologize. She defys her "mother". She looks down on Kaya, and she says nobody deserves Kudo except her.

Kudo storms the house for real. He burns the gates with lightning. Kouji alerted him about the kidnapping. His plan to be a shadow actually worked great. He never once hesitated to be there for Miyo, even though he wasn't powerful enough to actually save her.

He stands back, and he watches Kudo crush the Saimori house. The awful house that abused his bride.

Miyo smiles.

She is proud of herself, because she didn’t even think of giving up her husband. The voices in her head didn’t win.

My Happy Marriage is very...complicated.

Miyo struggles. Her mothers powers do manifest. The darkness makes her depression worse. The abuse she went through doesn't go away. She still believes she is stupid, and unworthy. Kudo has to slowly help her heal. He says he will kill anyone that gets in the way of her happiness (basically)...and the story moves on.

Kaya becomes a servant in a strict house, but she's still heir. She's still going to marry Kouji. Kouji has decided to better himself. He was thinking about killing Miyo, and then himself, so they could escape their hellish lives together. Now that she's happy he plans to move to the city. He's actually going to be with Kaya and rebuild the Saimori house into a respectable one, from the ground up. No execution. No gratuitous revenge.

Life goes on.

It's frighteningly mature.

Killing Kaya wouldn't solve a damn thing, because she's an immature idiot. Technically her mom was abusing her too. Kaya was pushed to be perfect and powerful. Her mother used to threaten her and say she would end up like Miyo if she didn't do well. So, in the end nobody in the Saimori family was happy.

Miyo still isn't completely happy, but she's trying.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #my happy marriage

[reorientation]

It's only been two days but I figured I'd come share one of my favorite fantasies here.

I want a cruel girlfriend who's a staunch lesbian, doesn't care for Men at all or want them touching her. But the moment she meets me, she instantly can tell how much my pussy drips at the thought of a Man using me as He pleases, despite my proudly worn label as a lesbian.

It doesn't happen quickly, for a while she treats me normally. Only involving fantasies about other women, only using her fingers and her mouth to make me cum, never doing anything out of the ordinary for a "lesbian" couple. Until she slowly starts incorporating more Male centric ideas into my head, she asks innocently if I'd mind trying to take a dildo during sex. I agree because it's not like it's actually a Man right?

Then she asks my opinion on her wearing a strap on, by this point she's almost entirely stopped going down on me. Our sex almost entirely comprises of fingering and her dildos that are steadily growing in size. I say yes to her using a strap on, because I love her and want to make her happy. She makes comments about how we're probably the straightest lesbian couple out there.

Before I've realized it, she's now only using a squirting strap on when we have sex. I don't top her at all anymore, I'm a complete pillow princess now. She doesn't finger me or rub my clit anymore, our foreplay entirely exists of her pushing me to my knees to suck her strap. She tells me how I'm suck a natural at having a cock in my mouth.

It isn't until a few weeks later that she truly starts breaking my brain. "This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be fucked on all fours by a thick cock about to turn you into a mommy. Maybe we should have a guy fuck you instead since it's what you crave." It's impossible for me to hold back my orgasm when she says that.

One day she blindfolds me and tells me it's just trying something new, I feel her filling my cunt in a way she never has before, almost like she's throbbing. I can't stop whimpering and letting out high pitched moans, it feels like she's gotten so much stronger since the last time we slept together.

I lose count of how much I cum, and she asks my barely there brain if I'd like to see a surprise. When she takes the blindfold off all I can see is not one, but three Men on our bed while she sits next to me, the one in front clearly the person who's been fucking me the whole time.

I'm terrified, I don't understand what's happening but she tells me it's okay, that she understands. I've been calling myself a lesbian this whole time when in reality my sexuality is whatever she wants it to be, and right now she wants me to be a hole for Men. I so obviously loved having a real cock filling me, and I shouldn't deny myself.

By the time the first Man cums inside of me I'm gone, I'm completely lost to cock, there's nothing I want more in life than to be filled and used by Men.

My girlfriend and I have stopped having sex now, anytime she's horny she goes out to find a real lesbian to fuck her, or she texts at least three Men telling them her dyke is begging for His cock again so she can watch me be broken over and over again.

She fills my head with ideas that all Men are better than me, they're entitled to my body because I'm so stupid. Because I shouldn't have been showing off my huge tits in such a tight shirt. Because I denied them access to my holes for so many years when I hadn't rubbed my cunt to girls since before I had met her. And I believe her.

Her favorite days are when I come home a complete mess, having obviously been raped by one of her friends on my way back. She even makes me call them when I touch myself, thanking them and begging for them to be more cruel next time.

I still love her and she still loves me, she just loves ruining me more. She still calls me her lesbian girlfriend, but we both know it's only because it makes Men extra aggressive when breaking me.

I've never been happier than being my girlfriend's ruined dyke.

- 🩵

I don't even think I need to add anything - except to say that this little broken dyke is a very good girl.

#reor: stream lesbian anon #kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #lgetsd #dykebreaking #lesbian breeding #reor: anon fiction

[ayvnari]

bloodied lips

rhea ripley x f!reader

After losing her fight, she seeks her girlfriend out to blow off some steam.

word count: 1.8k

(incomplete bc idk if its good)

18+!!

warnings : rhea taking her anger out on you, mean-ish rhea, cursing, smoking, mommy rhea, pure smut, oral r!recieving and r!giving, fingering r!recieving, teasing, edging, slight sadism/ masochism, thigh riding, bad girl good girl type, degredation/ praise kink, rough fucking, strap usage, cowgirl, mirror stuff, somewhat bratty reader, idk what else just really slutty

note: this is about the summer slam 2021, rhea ripley vs. nikki a.s.h vs. charlotte flair, also this is my first time writing smut that wasn't a jokey joke so erm!!! and theres barely any plot, mostly just smut bc.

if you asked me a year ago, i never would have imagined myself front row at the summer slam, but yet i was here.

i watched rhea walk into the ring, she practically demanded respect with her presence. and god knows i would give it to her. i couldn't believe i was watching my girlfriend walk into a ring.

of course, i've seen it plenty of times, but i could never get enough of it. and the best part was that she was always the most riled up after winning a good match.

but, what i didn't expect was the complete opposite. not only did she not win, she failed miserably. i winced at every blow she suffered, nikki and charlotte were not holding back.

everytime rhea looked at me in the crowd i blew her a kiss, that would usually pick her spirits up. but she was far too angry to care about me, or anyone for that matter, all she cared about was winning this fight.

after the fight, i waited back in her dressing room for rhea. i was sitting at her vanity, watching the next fight on the tv in the corner of the room. she walked in fuming.

curses spilled out of her mouth.

"that fucking bitch , using those cheesy ass moves , fucking bitch!" she yelled, her australian accent booming through the room. she kicked one of the chairs, before glaring at herself in the mirror.

i jumped as she kicked the chair, i furrowed my eyebrows. "rhea?" i said, my voice calm as i tried to hopefully calm her down.

she looked at me, but it wasn't the normal, loving look she gave me before the match, it was a death glare.

i gulped, before taking a deep breath. "lets calm down, okay? i mean... it cant be that bad." i smiled sheepishly. "there's always next ti-"

"no, there isn't a fucking next time y/n!" she yelled. " i spent fucking months training for this fight and i couldn't do shit, so don't tell me about next time, i don't need a fucking pep talk." rhea clenched her fists, running her hands over her head as she paced around the room.

i stayed quiet, looking down.

"get over here." she told me, i just looked up at her.

"i said, get the fuck over here, y/n. im not in a good mood." she said, wiping the blood off her lips as she stared at me, her voice eerily calm.

i got up from the vanity that i sat in, i looked up at rhea, she could be terrifying when she was pissed. i took small steps towards her, before she grabbed me by the back of my neck.

my eyes widened as she pulled me into a kiss. my face flushed a deep crimson as she bit my lip harshly. i was used to rhea being a bit rough, but i couldn't help but be surprised when i felt a sharp, burning pain on my lip, and blood trickled from my lip onto her own.

she pulled back, rubbing her thumb over my bottom lip, smudging the blood on my lips. she licked the blood of her lips, her eyes filled with anger and lust. almost as a warning of what was to come if i didn't obey her.

"take your clothes off." rhea demanded. my eyes widened. we had never done anything like this in such a public place, nevermind outside our bedroom. even if it was her dressing room, we both knew that her coach would be in here any minute now to reprimand her.

"rhea you can't be seri-"

"off. now."

i looked down, it was clear i wasn't gonna get a word in. "but-"

she grabbed me roughly. "y/n, im not in the fucking mood right now for your bratty shit. just do as i say, now take. it. off." i knew i should be scared of her, but the wetness in my panties were telling me otherwise.

i knew i shouldn't tease her, but i couldn't help myself. i turned my head to the side and crossed my arms.

"no."

rhea's eyes turned a dark shade of red, she growled. "what the hell do you mean, 'no'?!" she yelled. my eyes widened at her tone, gosh she was such a turn on when she was angry.

"i said no! i don't wanna, i wanna finish watching the fight." i huffed, before sitting down on a nearby couch, ignoring rhea entirely. i could practically feel her staring at the back of my head, her eyes like lazers.

i heard her breathing increase, i was surprised steam wasn't coming out of her ears. i knew she wasn't gonna let this behavior slide, and that only excited me more.

i heard rhea walk out, slamming the door behind her. she was pissed.

by the time we got back into her car to leave, rhea couldn't keep her eyes off of me, she was practically begging for my attention, and i didn't listen to her.

"y/n. look at me." she demanded, she was still pissed about her fight, and even more pissed that i wasn't paying her any mind.

"you know what? okay." that was all rhea said. my eyes widened and i looked at her, but rhea was already pulling out of the parking space.

did i fuck up? no.

i looked at the smirk that adorned her face, she had something planned, and i was completely unprepared.

the second we got back to her apartment, she pushed me up against the wall and gripped my hair, pulling my head to look at her. she gripped me tight, i winced in pain, her large hand was a blessing and a cruse. i felt her hand unbuckle my belt and unzipping my jeans. she roughly stuck her hands into my jeans, her large, calloused fingers tracing me through my panties.

i let out a shaky breath. "rhea..." i whined, i couldn't ignore her when her hands were on me, it was impossible.

"shut the fuck up." rhea glared at me. "you wanted to be a fucking brat? i'll treat you like a brat." she scoffed, a smirk played at her lips. if i weren't so turned on i probably would have punched her.

she wrapped her large hands around my waist, and picked me up like i weighed nothing. she threw me over the shoulder and took me to our bedroom.

she pushed me into the room, standing me in front of the large closet mirror.

"look at me." her voice caught me off guard and my eyes caught hers in the mirror, i felt a shiver run down my back as she glared at me.

she smirked, and started unbuckling my jeans, pulling them down roughly. they pooled at my feet as she forced a hand in my underwear, her calloused fingers running over my slit.

"god, fucking slut..." she cooed. i closed my eyes, and she bit my ear roughly. "you've been acting like such a bitch all day, you wanted this didn't you?"

i looked at her in the mirror, pleading for her to touch me. every touch of hers felt like heaven, and i needed more.

she scoffed. "what do you want?" she raised her chin up, tilting her head. god, i loved when she did that.

my words caught in my throat, i felt her thumb slowly graze my skin, and I felt my knees become weak.

"use your words." her voice was husky and demanding.

"i... i..." my words didn't seem to want to come out of my mouth.

rhea began to get frustrated, she pulled her hand out of my underwear, and gripped my waist, pulling it towards her. she roughly pushed me against the mirror, her hands the only things holding me up as my cheek smushed against the glass.

my heavy breath fogged up the mirror, as I looked back towards rhea, whos grinded her hips against me. "tell me what you want." she repeated, her hand inching up my shirt before roughly gripping one of my breasts.

i let out a surprised yelp. "rhea... i... i want you... please..." i begged, my voice was hoarse and whiny, i wasn't proud of it but at this point i couldn't care less.

"im pissed, y/n." she growled. "i wanted you to help me, and instead you gave me back talk then completely ignored me. do you really expect me to touch you?" she said, her voice was mocking, i could practically hear her smirk.

i should be mad, but i couldn't help the wet spot that formed on my underwear.

rhea let out a groan of frustration, sitting on the bed. she was manspreading as she glared at me, leaning back on her arms.

"so do it yourself."

my breath hitched at her words. "rhea... please i can't-"

"do it. you really wanna keep pissing me off?" she threatened.

i let out a small sigh, my eyes glazed over. she pulled me down on her leg, looking up at me.

i bit my lip, looking at her. her words repeated in my head

do you really wanna keep pissing me off?

my cooter wooter ached at her words. i moved my hips, moving them back and forth on her thigh.

i bit my lip and let out a soft moan.

she sat there watching me, clearly amused by the predicament she put me in.

I held onto her shoulders, rutting my hips on her thigh, the feeling of her denim jeans drove me crazy. god, and that look in her eye. it made me feel so powerless.

i felt that familiar knot in my stomach, i hid my face in the nook of her neck. i rocked my hips, they began to ache as i tried to chase my high.

"rhea... please... im so close... im gonna-" i was suddenly knocked off balance by rhea bouncing her leg, my orgasm fading away from me.

"i don't think you deserve it." rhea said, glaring at me.

i looked up at her, my lip trembling. "rhea please... i'll do anything!" i cried into her chest.

rhea sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and lighting it, she took a drag and blew it in my face, her black lipstick staining the paper casing.

"go get it." she said, before taking another drag, the tip of the cigarette lighting a bright red as she did.

i felt relief at those words, was she gonna finally give me what i wanted?

i got up from her lap, my legs shaky from my previous denial, my core still aching from the loss. i opened the closet, and picked up a box. i opened it, pulling out a large, black, 7inch strap-on.

i practically drooled at the thought of rhea ruining me with it.

i walked back over to her, she snatched it out of my hand, before pulling down her jeans, she put it on and looked at me.

she grabbed me by my hair, pushing me down between her legs. she pushed it against my lips, practically growling at me.

"suck it."

-

i cant finish this just take this i dont know if it's good or not so erm!

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x you #wwe rhea ripley #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley fanfiction #bro its not even done #its so bad #wtf

[m-ayo-o]

　✦　˚ your hot psycho course mate ★⋆. ࿐࿔

𐙚 light blackmails reader (she knows a little about kira) into doing his bidding with the death note -_- college au [21+]

*　✦　.　nsfw cw: DARK CONTENT non consent: reader is blackmailed → dubious consent: she enjoys it. threat, murder, oral, toy use; clit clamp, ring gag. overstimulation, squirting  ˚　.   *

He's your snobby stuck up college course mate and there's nothing about him that you like. He's a smug fucking bastard and you wish he'd stop staring at you in class.

Luck isn't on your side, since he gets you to himself when you're paired into a group project together. Typical, that you get put with this creep.

He manages to lure you back to his place because it's bigger and more comfortable than your small single apartment.

And that's when he first shows you it...

A black book...

It looks simple enough, but when he pulls it out of the drawer you start to shiver and he tells you what he could do to you... if you disobeyed him.

"What the fuck are you talking about," you knew he was weird, but this is too much, "Light?"

"Get on your knees"

He gives you a smirk like he expects you to do what he says. He knows you will sooner or later.

But you laugh and scoff.

"What?"

Your laughter turns nervous when he just keeps staring and you stutter something about needing to leave. But his left hand circles around your wrist in a bruising grip and his right finds a pen.

"Stay still"

The TV is on. Some stupid talk show.

He scribes something down on the white lined paper. A name, in immaculate handwriting.

He's finished. Time goes slack.

"Watch"

He takes your chin between his fingers and points your face towards the screen.

He studies his watch.

"Now"

Your eyes are glued to the TV. Your lip starts to tremble and you see one of the talk show contestants start to convulse. His whole body shakes, he chokes out a few terrible noises and collapses right there on the set.

The entire TV station descends into chaos and the channel abruptly goes blank.

"See?"

It's him, it's really him. Kira is real. And he's in your class. Undetected... A normal student???

"No-"

There's nothing normal about him.

Your eyes blink up to meet his hollow glare and you slowly shake your head, terrified.

"Come here," his hand slithers up your arm and rests on your shoulder- the one he knows you hurt in netball practice the other week- and he squeezes. You wince and he pulls you closer.

"Say no again, pretty girl"

You didn't.

And when he touched you, god, all you could think about was how good it felt...

Your pleasure points... Your pain... He controls it all...

And you succumb to his touch until your wrists are bound to his bedframe, your eyes are bleary from it all and you momentarily lose sight of him.

"Light?"

You call out like you need him.

His body looms over you. He removed his shirt and pants. He stripped you bare.

He has something in his hand.

"What's that.."

He hushes you and slips something cold and hard in your mouth. It feels like a circle. Your mouth is forced open. You can still breathe.

You gasp and he lets out a sinister chuckle.

Then attaches a toy to your clit.

"Oo-wh--"

You can't talk.

"Don't worry it'll feel good."

It clamps onto you hard and starts buzzing.

The vibrations are so intense your eyes well up with fresh tears of overstimulation and he watches your legs twitch and your hips buck with a painfully hard orgasm. You can't control it. Liquid starts spilling out of you and the mattress feels unbearably wet. Your arms tug at the ropes and you let out some cute weak noises from the confines of your ring gag.

"Haha, wow, you look cute when you squirt" he finally takes his boxers off and shows you what he's packing...

"Uh-" your efforts to back away only get him harder.

He approaches you and climbs over your body, pressing his knees either side of your shoulders and he slaps your face with his dick.

"You can't say no, remember?"

You're not in a position to say no.

Do you even want to?

Your mouth gapes and you start drooling, the vibrations continue and you feel like you're about to cum again. Your eyes flutter back and he calls you a good little slut before sinking his cock through the metal ring and over your wet tongue.

He gets himself off with your mouth but you can barely suck him due to the compromising metal ring. Your saliva drips everywhere; down your chin, over your neck, and he starts using your throat.

He hums with pleasure when you gag and everything gets a bit dirty and hot and you swear you've never been so turned on in your life.

He finally takes his cock out and releases you from the gag...

The first words that spill out of your mouth leave you shocked. But he's not surprised at all.

Just amused.

"Light- fuck-- fuck me??"

Your thighs are holding onto the clit clamp so tight he can barely open your legs.

But when he manages to spread them and finds the mess you've made... your juice so slick and dripping in filthy strings from your thighs...

"Oh," he lets out a moan, "good girl"

His praise and that expression on his face make him look so... hot. Your body shudders at the thought of finding him so attractive but he coaxes out a few more whimpered noises to the tune of begging and he slides his cock through your mess.

"Now, aren't you so glad we played this little game?"

A game of blackmail and murder.

You nod slowly and he tells you how pretty you look. Your pussy starts throbbing and sucking him in and, with the vibrator still on full power, he sinks in and you cum over his cock instantly.

"Finally got something to cum around, huh. Feel good, angel?"

You nod and he fucks you stupid.

You can't stop asking him for more and he gives you exactly what you want.

He gets everything he needs and more and he thinks this could be quite a nice arrangement.

Now, after college, you get yourselves into a little routine and, even after your group project is finished, you make a habit of getting fucked by your hot psycho course mate.

#light yagami smut #light yagami x reader #light x reader #light yagami death note #yagami light #death note smut #death note fanfiction #deathnote #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[lauraneedstochill]

I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She's smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn't. (or, alternatively: "No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now.")

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he's clearly in love with.

author's note: I'm working on 3 fics at the moment, and it's taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er) for starters. I'm a bit more comfortable with sharing this one because I feel like it's actually more of my style (wow, that sounds kinda pretentious). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn't add anything to the story). also, I don't think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don't care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He's been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn't very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond's never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He's used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he's some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that's approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won't be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He's never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He's been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it's a topic he never brings up, it's a humiliating secret that's just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn't withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it'd always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn't get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can't bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it's the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what's going on.

"Aemond," she approaches him, whispering. "What's wrong? Is it the headache again?"

Aemond doesn't want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

"Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain."

"I don't think we have time to fuss over me," he declines with a pain-stained voice. "I was under the impression that we're expecting someone to join us today."

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

"Please don't tell me you require motivation," Aegon's voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

"Undoubtedly you've interacted with women before," he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond's suffering. "Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won't run away."

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

"Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself," her voice is tinged with irritation. "Just for one evening. Can you do that?"

Aegon's body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

"As you wish, mother," he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety's bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she's approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It's not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn't seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won't let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she's used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

"Someone is about to get a piece of cake," Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

"Someone needs to shut up," Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn't even tasted yet. Aemond can't help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She's seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

"You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I'm surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience?"

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to Y/N, astonished by his own reaction. It's not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It's just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they're surrounded with.

"I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve," he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can't steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting Y/N lead the conversation. She's easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would've really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That's until she abruptly stops.

"Are you feeling alright?" she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion. 

"I apologize if I'm not exactly the best at keeping you company. It's been a long day," he knows he should've come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then Y/N moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It's obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he's the reason their conversation was cut short, but Y/N doesn't make a big deal out of it.

"We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested," she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he'll get any rest as his head feels like it's gripped in an iron vise again.

The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he's almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it's the nausea, he doesn't know nor does he care. He's been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to the King's Landing for a man she's never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there's only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He's passing by Helaena's chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it's not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She's reading to them, and it's a tale they've heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn't need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N's shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

"You are an impatient little thing," Y/N giggles.

"That she is," Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

"Pardon me, I didn't hear you coming in," she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. "Your sister was kind enough to keep me company."

"I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven't left her side ever since," Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

"Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?" Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

"Make sure to be on time for dinner," his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. Y/N mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she's telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, Y/N pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she'll ever be impressed by him.

"This is where you study?" she's admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative "hmm".

"How many of these have you read?"

"Quiet a few," he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

"I wonder what are your preferred subjects."

"History and philosophy," he doesn't mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he's had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady's man.

"Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?" when Y/N glances at him, there's a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she's actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

"I'm afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all," Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

"Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time," she presses the matter further but does so very gently. "Name just a couple."

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don't stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She's never too pushy with her questions, she's making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn't dare to leave Y/N hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

"I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting," she says, almost whispering, when they're seated.

"You did not, no need to fret," Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can't curb the pain that's spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. Y/N is sitting on his right, and Aemond's body can't adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He's so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother's gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it.

He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They're rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That's why, when Aemond opens his eye, he's startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

"I did knock but got no response," she gives him a look that's a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he's unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must've had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks:

"The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago."

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance:

"There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal."

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what's expected of him, it's about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn't want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

"The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other," Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. "It seems like you're getting along quite well?"

"I could think of no better woman than Y/N," Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn't say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn't know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

"Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you'd be happy to know," Alicent gives him a lax smile. "I shall let you go back to sleep," she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he'll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N's chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, Y/N is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can't find her in the library and she isn't in Helaena's chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He's lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

"I've been looking for you," she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they're only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

"We must've passed each other, because I've been looking for you, too," he confesses. Y/N seems very pleased with herself though he isn't sure why.

"I think the weather calls for a walk," she blithely suggests. "Would you like to accompany me?" — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond's looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes Y/N's hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they've done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn't. The feeling of holding someone's hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He's blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can't help but think that Y/N was the reason for that.

"Your mother came to me this morning," she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. "I assume she talked to you, too?"

"She did," Aemond confirms. "Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?"

"Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses," Y/N mimics a man's voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there, too. "Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech".

"He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience," the prince chuckles and she laughs. Aemond holds a pause and then adds:

"Forgive me if I'm being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you."

"It was not," she slows her steps. "I know what's expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I'm being honest...," she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. "I am glad that it's you," Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. "We'll make a pretty good team. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aemond lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at Y/N.

"It seems so," he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There's a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

"But I shall give you a warning," Y/N says with a mischievous grin. "My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won't shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two".

"Can any of them outdrink Aegon?" he jokes, and Y/N bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she's listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it's almost intimidating. But there's a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can't tell if Y/N senses that something is wrong but she's the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they're greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. Y/N lightly squeezes Aemond's hand.

"Tomorrow is a big day then," — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won't be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

"There is still time for you to plan an escape," Aemond jests half-heartedly.

Y/N looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head:

"Only if you're planning one. We are in this together, remember?" her thumb brushes over his. "It's all about teamwork."

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn't want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It's the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn't grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They've tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that's known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother's words — "I thought you'd be happy to know". Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there's more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider Y/N his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep.

He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn't ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn't get a chance to see Y/N throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots Y/N the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It's hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N's hand.

But right when they're standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, Y/N lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That's when it dawns on him that she's well aware of the attention but she doesn't really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it's just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he's not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can't tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he's getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn't remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

"Aemond, you've been dancing," she can't hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

"Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion," Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

"It is, indeed," she doesn't let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

"I can assure you, this isn't a cause for your distress."

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn't see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn't alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on Y/N's face is unreadable. She's oblivious to Aemond's presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he'll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

"... It's not too late to change that, don't you think," Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

"It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser", when Y/N talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

"Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn't of a frivolous kind," he's circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

"I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation," she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at Y/N and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it's not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She's looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

"I can be very persuasive," his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. "I think you should appreciate the attention while I'm this generous and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he's not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she's still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

"I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you're forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it," her voice doesn't lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she's not afraid of anything.

Y/N lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He's frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

"You didn't... You did not just do that," there's a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

"Did what, ser?" her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

"You will not get away with this," he scowls, nettled.

"You're telling me that you're considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe," Y/N seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

"You, insidious wre...!"

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man:

"I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed," Y/N flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

"Shouldn't she watch hers? She's talking to a lord," Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

"And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?"

"It was a... a simple misunderstanding," his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

"And what was the matter in question?" Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

"I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal," the man fakes a smile. "Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly".

"You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time," Aemond looks down on him. "Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?"

"I shall rejoin the celebration then," ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to Y/N. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can't stop himself from asking:

"Did he harm you?"

"He didn't get a chance," she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn't sure how.

"Dare I say we've got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

"I'll escort you to your chambers," the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds: "I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist."

Y/N doesn't move an inch.

"...You are not mad at me?" she's looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

"I'm thinking about cutting his arm off," he says under his breath, but she catches it.

"Aemond, there's no need!" Y/N gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

"I will have to disagree," he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond's hand — finally — clings to her again.

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me," Y/N confesses. 

"And I don't want you to get hurt," his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Y/N's cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

"I think I... I was the one who did some damage," she complains.

"You must imagine my surprise," Aemond drawls, teasing.

"Oh, Gods," a quiet groan leaves her mouth. "That was not very ladylike of me."

Y/N covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

"You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of," he enunciates each word. "He only sets an example of unseemly behavior."

"I'm afraid I wasn't too far off," Y/N remarks, her voice relenting.

"Hmm, you're certainly not to be truffled with," he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

"May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?" Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

"My father taught me that," her tone is surprisingly impish.

"And how did you manage to talk him into it?"

"Talking didn't help much, actually," Y/N grins. "And then I broke my brother's nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm."

"How old were you?"

"Nine," she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can't hold back the laugh.

Y/N joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other's company. But then her smile wilts.

"There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren't very nice back then," she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

"What did they do?"

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It's just um," she's looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn't any. "It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean."

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, Y/N spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

"Is it the headache?" her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn't know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that. Y/N is quick to clear up his confusion:

"I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn't ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive," she explains coyly.

"By asking about my health?" he finds his voice again. "I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions."

"We've only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you're allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone," she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who's known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

"Did the ointment help?" she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on Y/N's face tells him otherwise.

"That was your doing?" he can't hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

"I've been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required," she informs him.

"And what kind of witchcraft is it?"

"It is not," she playfully elbows him. "It was something my grandfather taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain," Y/N has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

"After her death, he wouldn't let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret," her smile is bittersweet. "Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again."

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would've done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

"I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first," Y/N reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester's face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

"I shamelessly boosted his ego," she wrinkles her nose. "Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill."

"But I wasn't just that," Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn't want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she's been a saving grace for him, but he's somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

"It was way more than that and I...," never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I must admit, you exceeded my expectations," Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

"I am glad to be of service, my prince," she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn't register the moment Y/N came a bit closer, but she isn't shying away from shortening the distance. There's something enamoring about her trusting nature but that's not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would've been disrespectful and naive. He's mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at Y/N, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

"I shall bid you goodnight," her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends.

Lucerys's name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond's routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She's never nosy or clingy; he's the one seeking her company at all times. She's an early riser, too, and they're always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and Y/N can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it's all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she's terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives Y/N enough confidence to pat Vhagar's snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can't help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he's oblivious to how inseparable they've become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister's chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — "You two seem joined at the hip!", it startles him. But that moment doesn't turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

"I will steal her away from time to time," Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

"Bold of you to assume I will let you," he chuckles, his gaze not leaving Y/N.

"I think she’ll have the last word," his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn't think twice before admitting:

"She will never say no."

"My point exactly."

The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He doesn't want to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. Y/N asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that's when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn't want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn't like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven't been on good terms ever since. 

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks:

"Must you really go?"

He ponders before answering with a sigh:

"It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect."

"I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you," she frowns.

"It would be a little too late for an apology," Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

"I still think you deserve one," she says like it's the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

"I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me," and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile:

"I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting."

Aemond doesn't know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn't involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that's what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

"Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!" Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

"I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him."

"I didn't say I want to switch places," he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

"Although switching places with you sounds tempting," he sneers.

"And why would you ever want that?" Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

"You've got yourself a pretty wife-to-be," Aegon chants and whistles.

"Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged," Aemond deadpans.

" 'tis won't be necessary," Aegon's quick to object. "Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession," his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles:

"You'll get no argument from me."

Leaving Y/N is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She's standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they're both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that's not what motivates her. Instead, she's an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar's carcass away.

"You had a successful hunt, dear prince," when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

"As usual," Aemond answers indifferently. "Never took you for a hunter."

"I cannot appreciate cruelty," Lannister forces out. "And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear's grip. So I am here merely to control my brother's primal impulses."

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

"Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him," the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint.

"I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother's sympathy toward your..."

"You should not," Aemond cuts him off. "Would be better to address his manners but it's the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves," with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn't there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he's never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would've been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it's already too late as Y/N is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

"...What am I missing exactly?" she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn't care.

"You've been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing," she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

"Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion," her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland's scared tone.

"But what are your accomplishments?" the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. "Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. He, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

Y/N looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

"You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above," Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she's seen enough.

"The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you're clearly lacking," Y/N casts Jason a disdainful glance. "So from where I am standing, it looks like I'm the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn't surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

"I would like it if we left earlier, my prince."

"As you wish," Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone's attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond's ire.

"Give me just a second," he can't help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn't let him make a sound.

"That was the second time your brother couldn't hold his tongue," Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. "If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time."

"Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like..."

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

"I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like."

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

"Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore," Aemond says, sitting next to her.

"I sure hope so," she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

"Y/N, whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture," way more than he cares to admit, "but there's no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me," Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

"I will."

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

"No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now," she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

He runs out of luck so fast, he must've jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. Y/N notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

"Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?" she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When Y/N finds out, she looks devastated.

"It must steep for a few hours, I can't make it right away," her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

"There is another way that I know of," she slowly suggests. "But you will need to lie down."

"Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in," Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

"Close your eye," she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that Y/N leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

"It was probably all the noise that caused this," she presumes.

"Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil," Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

"He is pissed I didn't choose him," she laughs quietly.

"Choose him?" her words peak his interest. "You had a choice in the matter?"

"My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn't like," her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

"May I ask what was your decision process?" Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

"I've heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten," he can't see her smile but he can hear it. "That was impressive enough."

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes:

"That can't be the only thing you've heard."

"I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors," she notes imperturbably.

"I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm..."

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

"I decided I would be the judge of that," Y/N says firmly.

"And what is your verdict?" he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn't think for a second:

"All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn't a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you."

Aemond shouldn't take it to heart but that's precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn't breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. Y/N removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

"What do you see?" he exhales.

"Nothing scary, that's for sure," Y/N's gaze doesn't leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

"Nothing I don't admire," her voice is a little above a whisper.

"Nothing I wouldn't love."

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

Y/N lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it's almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It's her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what's left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it's on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn't want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

"I must admit," she tries to catch her breath, she can't stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, "you exceeded my expectations."

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

"It's all about teamwork, as I've heard," he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they're kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He's lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn't make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

> the title is a quote from Hozier's song

>> I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can't help but mention the extensive research that @ adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept.

>>> I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn't add any music in this fic BUT I've listened to "Mr Sandman" a lot, especially the instrumental version (I didn't mention it earlier in case you don't like listening to music while reading). 💕 my masterlist

#aemond targaryen fanfic #I hardly believe anyone will read ALL that but I'm giving it a go #LISTEN my other fic is about Aemond getting his ass kicked #and there's lots of blood and family drama #so I wanted to start with smth light okay??? #is he *too soft*? well not when it comes to the Lannisters lmao #but pls let the man be soft for once #also my mental health needed a break from describing fights and torture so here we go #ALSO will I ever stop writing female characters who can stand up for themselves? probably not #hotd fanfiction #my stuff #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen hotd #hotd fics #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfics #aemond targaryen

[idk-bruh-20]

Tony, the futurist

Buckle in folks, I've had some thoughts and I'm about to make it ✨everyone's✨ problem.

Been thinking about Tony Stark, the futurist who saw the end of the world.

Tony, who in IM1 escapes kidnapping and torture and says, "I shouldn't be alive. Unless if was for a reason."

who, in The Avengers, has this exchange with Bruce Banner:

Tony: You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. This stops it. This little circle of light. It's part of me now, not just armor. It's a… terrible privilege. Bruce: But you can control it. Tony: Because I learned how. Bruce: It's different. Tony: Hey, I've read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should've killed you. Bruce: So you're saying that the Hulk… the other guy… saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what? Tony: I guess we'll find out. Bruce: You might not like that. Tony: You just might.

Right after this, Cap tells Tony, "You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

And then Tony flies a nuke into a wormhole, tries to call his girlfriend because he thinks these are his last moments, did not go in there expecting to survive.

Although he survives, he witnesses an alien army so terrifying, so unbeatable, it gives him crippling PTSD nightmares and panic attacks, knowing they are not prepared to defend the earth.

I'm thinking about Tony who, in AOU, gets manipulated by Wanda into witnessing his worst nightmare.

Which, by the way, involves losing all of his newfound friends.

Later, he has this exchange with Nick Fury:

Tony: And I'm the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I didn't tell the team, how could I? I saw them all dead, Nick. I felt it. The whole world, too. It's because of me. I wasn't ready. I didn't do all I could. Fury: The Maximoff girl, she's working you, Stark. Playing on your fear. Tony: I wasn't tricked, I was shown. It wasn't a nightmare, it was my legacy. The end of the path I started us on. Fury: You've come up with some pretty impressive inventions, Tony. War isn't one of them. Tony: I watched my friends die. You'd think that'd be as bad as it gets, right? Nope. Wasn't the worst part. Fury: The worst part is that you didn't.

Tony's worst fear is to survive in a world he's failed to save. He has to "do all [he] could" or else the future he's terrified of will happen and it will be his fault.

(Not to put too fine a point on it, but there's a reason why Tony and Peter are so compatible as mentor and mentee.)

Tony's seen what's coming, and he's willing to do whatever it takes.

Here's the thing, though:

Tony doesn't actually want to die.

In AOU, when they're arguing about why he created Ultron, Tony says this to Cap:

"Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the 'why we fight'? So we get to go home?"

He tells Bruce that the reason they should create Ultron is to have "peace in our time."

He tells Pepper that his constant tinkering, his inability to ever, ever rest is because he needs to keep her safe from the oncoming threat.

Tony has a life he wants to protect, people he wants to keep safe. And, unlike the other Avengers, he knows exactly how impossible this will be to achieve.

Tony is the only Avenger who understands how severely outmatched they are. Maybe Thor understands the threat, but he has no ability to imagine losing.

Tony tries to get them to understand:

Tony: Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's… that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that? Steve: Together. Tony: We'll lose. Steve: Then we'll do that together, too.

Well, they do lose. And they don't do it together.

And it turns out Tony was right about everything.

He was right that he would survive to face his world that he'd failed to save.

He was right that the Avengers would not be enough.

He was right that Bruce's powers would be worthwhile someday.

And, apparently,

some people think he was right that he was only alive for this reason.

Because, obviously, the only "reason" for someone like Tony Stark to be alive is to eventually sacrifice himself, right?

A character so traumatized can only find peace in death.

Right?

No.

Stop that.

Tony Stark may have been willing to risk his life for his family, but that doesn't mean he wanted that to be his end.

Remember when this happened?

Bruce: Saved it for what? Tony: I guess we'll find out. Bruce: You might not like that. Tony: You just might.

Bruce gets to live long enough to like his ending.

Remember when this happened?

All Tony ever wanted to do was make the world a better place.

And, what about this?

You're telling me that Yinsen didn't value family above all else?

That he thought Tony should die and leave them behind?

No.

Tony Stark is a futurist.

He is the Cassandra of the MCU. He warns the others constantly of the oncoming threat that only he, apparently, can see. (Even Thanos calls him "cursed with knowledge.")

No one believes him. Alone, he tries to prepare for the threat that he has witnessed. He sits with his nightmares and tries to find a way around them, constantly.

He builds a life worth living, finds people worth protecting, just like Yinsen told him to.

To protect the future, he does all he possibly can.

Tony deserved to be part of the future too.

#this is messy as hell but I'm UPSET and I need ALL OF YOU TO BE UPSET WITH ME TOO #say it louder for the people in the back #TONY STARK DESERVED A HAPPY ENDING #FUCK THE RUSSOS #thoughts #tony stark #he just. he knew he was going to die. that whole time! #and he was fine with it but also he was NOT FINE WITH IT. #GOD. #let tony be with his fucking CHILDREN. his FAMILY. #you're saying CAP got to be with his family??? WHAT FAMILY??? peggy already HAD A FAMILY #never going to be over this #peace out y'all I'm going to go stew on this in silence again #just had to cause pain to others and as usual I shall now depart #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #ironfam #tony stark deserved a happy ending #avengers #endgame

[shadowynn]

| in love and lore | ten |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: some cursing, some violence, mentions of blood

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: so, i know it's been a minute, and i'm sorry. i'm just a little bad about writing multiple stories at the same time as i get super absorbed in one or the other. but, it's finally here and i hope you all enjoy. i know at some point i said we'd have a yunho moment, but sadly that has been moved to the next chapter, but don't worry, it's coming! once again, thank you for all the support and love!

| nine | ten | eleven |

~~~

My blood is on my own hands.

The words replayed inside Hongjoong’s mind, repeating themselves over and over again and the way you had curled back into yourself when you had looked at the dead body beside you one last time haunted him. It was the same state you were in now, nearly half an hour later. You had managed to secure your thoughts well enough from them, but your emotions leaked through the walls you had built inside your mind, filling him and the others with the guilt that racked your body. 

It took everything in him to not go to you in that moment, desperate to ease your mind and convince you that none of this was your fault. If anyone were to be blamed for what happened, it was him. It was his fault the borders of the camp hadn’t been secure enough and his fault for allowing you to be in harm’s way. He should have never dropped his guard around you. He should have never left you alone. He should have made sure one of them was around you at all times, but he hadn’t. He had let himself grow lax with your safety and had nearly lost you because of it. What would have happened if one of his men hadn’t heard you and came to investigate? What if he hadn’t gotten the message relayed in time? Would he have still gotten to you in time? Or would it have been too late?

He struggled with this last thought, uncertain what he would have done if he had lost you tonight. He had just found you, had just finally gotten you; and the thought of losing you just after finally having you in his hands sent a wave of fear running through him that he hadn’t felt in years.

He remembered exactly what had happened to Seoyun all those years ago, remembered exactly how much the death had hurt her. And even now, nearly a decade and a half later, she wasn’t the same. A part of her had died that night alongside her mate. 

The thought of going through that very same thing terrified him. It left him fighting every fiber of his being that yearned to never let you out of his sight again, to keep you right by his side for as long as he could. It left him fighting the urge to lock you away, somewhere no one could ever get to you. Somewhere no one could ever hurt you. And despite knowing you were completely safe and secure in Jongho’s hands, he still couldn’t get rid of the urge to be with you himself. 

“Hongjoong.” He hadn’t noticed he was moving until Mingi stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Rushing her isn't going to help right now.” 

Hongjoong nodded, collapsing back down in his seat. He knew that, but the urge to make things up with you was still there. The apology he had given you earlier replayed itself in his mind, reminding him of how flat it had seemed to fall. If he could just go to you for a minute and convince you that it was his fault, that he was to blame, perhaps…

“Jongho's got her, see?” Mingi replied, taking note of the way your emotions had temporarily lifted, the guilt that had racked your body disappearing for just a moment. 

But despite Mingi’s assurances, it was clear he and the others were of a similar mindset. Though a relative silence had settled amongst those who remained in the camp, he could feel the tension that had settled between them. Each one of them fighting the same inward battle as himself because they had failed just as he had. They had sworn to keep you safe, that nothing would happen to you, but they had very nearly lost you tonight. The notion made all the worse knowing it had happened right under their care. 

“The camp should be secure now.” San interrupted their conversation as he made his way inside their tent, wrapping a cloth around the palm of his left hand to stop the bleeding. “I put another barrier up around your tent as well, Hongjoong, ensuring we’re the only ones who can get to her at the moment. I know she doesn’t think it was one of our men who did it, but I didn’t want to take any more chances.”

Hongjoong nodded, fully realizing that was something he should have thought of himself when he had doubled the guard for the rest of the night. And he would have, if he had been thinking clearly, but he hadn’t. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try and access his memories?” Wooyoung brought back the topic from earlier as San collapsed down onto the cot next to him, not quite content with his earlier answer. “I don’t think there’s any harm in trying; not as long as we have the antidote in hand.”

“No, I don’t want to risk it.” Hongjoong shook his head. Wooyoung had made it clear he had no qualms risking his life by ingesting the dead daemon’s blood in an attempt to piece together what exactly had happened tonight, but the idea hadn’t sat well with him or the others. Not with the bloodsbane that still contaminated it and not after what had happened to you. He couldn’t go through two scares like that in one night. “Not when we don’t even know if it would work. You’ve never ingested a dead man’s blood before.”

“Well, what about hers, then?” Wooyoung was quick to ask instead. “Perhaps we could get a better idea of what exactly happened if I saw-“

“No.” Mingi cut his second idea off before he could finish it. “She already hates that she can’t keep her thoughts to herself because of the bond. Imagine how she would feel if you were to go through everything she had thought and experienced over the past day.”

“But if I asked her first, maybe-“

“You really think she would agree to that?” Seonghwa leaned forward in his seat, settling his chin into his hand. “That she would just let you shift through her thoughts and feelings of your ride with her from earlier?”

“But if it��ll help us find out who-“

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s voice served as a warning, but he wasn’t upset, not when he knew all the younger daemon wanted to do was help. “y/n already went through everything she remembered with us, so I doubt you would be able to gain any information that would prove beneficial. The best course of action at the moment is to wait to hear back from Yunho and Yeosang.”

“And have they found anything yet?” Seonghwa asked.

Hongjoong closed his eyes, reaching out towards the bond that tied himself to Yunho. The tent he was currently sitting inside faded from view, turning into the forest they had been traveling through the past few days. The woods were dark this time of night, the trees surrounding them blocking the majority of the moonlight, but he could just make out the shadowy figure of the wolf Yunho was using to track just a few feet ahead. Once Yunho had caught sight of the tracks near the original attack site, his shadow beast had been able to catch the scent of the person who had been there. Unsure of what exactly waited on the other end of the trail, he had sent Yeosang with him to hide their presence and given orders for them to stay out of sight and await further instructions once they reached the end of the trail. 

Have you found anything? Hongjoong repeated the question to Yunho, hoping he had more information than what he was seeing at first glance. 

“No,” Yunho’s voice was low, breathless from the time he had been running, “but I think we’re nearing the end of the trail.”

Sure enough, Yunho’s observation was correct. Just a few moments later his beast came to a stop at the edge of a small clearing. Even knowing they were fully covered from sight with Yeosang’s ability, they still came to a stop beside it, peering out into it from the cover of the trees in search of a sign of those they had been tracking. 

“No one’s here.” Yeosang was the first to make the observation, quickly taking note that though there were clear signs of a makeshift camp at one point, the clearing was now abandoned. There were no visible signs of anyone still being within the surrounding area, quickly scattering before any form of retaliation hit them. 

Hold your cover for just a moment longer. Hongjoong pulled back from Yunho, bringing himself back to his current position at their camp. He turned to Seonghwa beside him, ready to meet up Yunho and Yeosang. “They’ve made it to the camp.” 

He didn’t have to convey anything else for Seonghwa to nod his understanding and take the wrist Hongjoong extended in his direction. Despite being long used to the mechanics of Seonghwa’s ability, he still tensed as his fangs sunk into his skin, taking in the blood he needed to transport Hongjoong alongside him. 

In a matter of seconds, he had joined the other two miles away, taking in the site with his own two eyes. Yeosang had been right in his assessment, besides the three other daemons currently with him, he didn’t sense any other auras in the surrounding area. Whoever had been here before was now long gone, taking off into the night. 

And why would they have stayed? While the true intent of their attack was uncertain, it was clear they had attempted some form of secrecy with it. Whether it had been just a means to scout them out, sneak inside and find a way to him, or something else, he wasn’t sure, but their plan had failed the moment you had shown up. You had unknowingly ruined their plan, causing them to turn heel and run for the time being. 

“Should I have Haru track them further?” Yunho asked, scratching his shadow beast behind its ear when it nudged its head against his hands. Despite not truly being alive, Yunho’s beasts acted strangely lifelike, uncanny only because of how different they were from his predecessor. Yunho’s care towards the beasts clearly showed in the way they manifested themselves with his blood. 

Hongjoong was silent at first as he approached the clearing, taking in the dying embers of a fire. Whoever had been here, had left in quite the hurry, not bothering to hide their previous presence there. By the amount of tracks littering the grounds, the group had been small, no more than a handful. Whether they had been human or daemon, however, it was impossible to tell, but he leaned towards the latter. Something strange had gone on tonight in the attack, something that only became possible with the daemon’s maetha. 

Though they had quite the head start, there was no doubt they would be able to catch up with the group. As long as they had a hint of one of their scents, Yunho’s beast would be able to track it for miles. Whether or not that was the best way to spend their time and resources at the moment, however, he was unsure. 

A part of him was well aware it might have been in their best interest to just let them go. Tracking them down could very well take days to complete, spreading his guard thin, especially Yunho and Seonghwa, who would carry the majority of the work on their own shoulders. And if Seonghwa was right, if it was part of the militia groups that had caused mayhem for his father, there was a very good chance they would never find them at all, wasting all of their time. It might very well have been better to just stay on the defensive, continue on towards Taeyang with extra caution. The attackers had lost the element of surprise, making it much harder for them to attempt anything else the remainder of the trip. 

But he couldn’t let go of the fact they had hurt you, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let them just get away with it. Accident or not, it didn’t matter; he would make sure they paid for their crimes. He would make sure that everyone knew you were not something to be messed with; that there were consequences to those actions. 

“Are you up for a long chase?” Hongjoong straightened up, turning back to the taller daemon. A part of him was aware you would likely be against this decision, aware you would likely want him to just leave it be and move on, but he couldn’t. Not when the situation had affected you the way it had. Not when he knew his inaction could very well risk your life again. 

Yunho nodded, and the beast at his side sprung into action, beginning to sniff out the trail the previous occupants had taken. 

“I’ll stay with Yunho for now. Yeosang, you can head back with Seonghwa and let the others know what’s going on.” Hongjoong began, fingers itching to be on the hunt. Your words continued replaying in his mind even now, and the sight of you clinging to Seonghwa hit him once more. The only thing he wanted more than to be by your side at this moment was to bathe himself in the blood of the man who had done that to you. “We’ll stay camped where we are now for the time being. San set up multiple barriers, so y/n should be safe, but-“

“Don’t worry,” Yeosang put his hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, “we won’t let anything else happen to-“

“Something’s wrong.” Yunho interrupted them from across the clearing, bent down next to his beast, “Haru can’t catch a scent.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I thought maybe he just needed more blood for the second chase, but even with it, he keeps acting as though their trail ends here.” Yunho looked up to the rest of the group, wiping his bloodied hand against his pants. “He caught something, I’m sure of it, but once he reaches the end of the clearing, it’s gone.”

“And what does that mean?” Yeosang’s head tilted, eyes glancing between each of them. “That they just, what… disappeared?”

“I don’t think so,” Yunho’s brow furrowed, attempting to get Haru to track the scent once more. “I can see their tracks running off in this direction, but Haru doesn’t seem able to track it.” 

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was low, etched with worry. 

“I know,” Hongjoong replied, coming to the same solution Seonghwa had. It was one he had known was a possibility all along, but one he had very much hoped wasn’t true. Because if it was, they had much more trouble on their hands than they had originally believed. 

“But why now? Why after all these years do they act now?” Yeosang asked, eyes sweeping the grounds around him in a new light. “What was their goal? What did they possibly hope to achieve tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong went over your words once again in his mind, hoping to glean just a bit more information. Your hesitation had been clear, almost certain it hadn’t been their guard who had attacked you in that moment, but he had brushed your worries aside in the hope that you were wrong. Because if you were right, and it hadn’t been one of their own that had attacked you…

“Forget the trail. There’s no way we’ll be able to track them now.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep a string of curses from rolling out. “At least not from the ground. We’ll head back for now, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to get a set of eyes in the skies before we go.” 

Yunho nodded, and his wolf dissolved into the shadows around it, replaced a few seconds later by an owl. It quickly took off into the night, sent out searching for any sign of their attackers from above. Even if they couldn’t track them down physically, any sort of information they could glean would be beneficial, even if it was just the size of the group.

With Yunho’s scout sent out, they prepared for Seonghwa to take them back to camp and tell the others what they had discovered. No one would be happy with the news they brought, and as much as Hongjoong didn’t want to resort to it, he now questioned whether or not Wooyoung had been right. Perhaps attempting to shift through the memories of the dead daemon or your own was the best move to make. Perhaps it would give them information they wouldn’t be able to get elsewhere.

God, he thought this night couldn’t get any worse, but he had been quickly proven wrong. He had thought things would get better now that the war was over, but if they were right - and all signs were beginning to point that way - human retaliation was now the least of his problems. Because if it was them who had appeared tonight, he had a whole new series of problems to attend to, especially if they had found out about you and just who exactly you were. 

~~~

Angel, are you alright?

You looked up to find Jongho still standing before you, faintly aware that he had still been speaking to you. Whatever he had been telling you though, you had missed, too wrapped up with your own thoughts to take his words in.  If Jongho minded, he didn’t show it, simply proffering the items in his hands over to you now that he knew he held your attention once again. 

“Once you’re done, you can sleep here tonight.” Jongho didn’t press you for an answer to the question he had asked you in your head, most likely repeating whatever he had been saying when you had lost focus. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You nodded, accepting the bundle he handed over to you and setting it down on the table beside you to avoid getting any of the blood that coated you onto them too. A small part of you was aware the clothes Jongho had given you were not your own, most likely an extra set of Hongjoong’s, just as that same part of you was aware Jongho was requesting you sleep here tonight. If circumstances had been normal, you would have argued your way out of each, not seeing the need for either when your own were just a few tents down, but you were too exhausted to argue. And after everything that had just happened, you didn’t completely mind, not really. 

You weren’t sure exactly how you felt. Once the adrenaline had worn off, you were left with a wide variety of emotions flooding your system. Your first concern had been the daemon who had died, consumed with a guilt for not saving his life, for not acting quickly enough. But as guilty as you felt, your anxiety was quick to take over. The thought of what might have happened to you if the other daemon hadn’t come to investigate floored you. What would have happened if he hadn’t gotten Hongjoong like you asked? Would you even still be alive right now? Or would you have gotten yourself killed?

While you had often tread closely to the heat of the battles during the war, the only significant injury you had ever received was the stray arrow in the fight at Maehwa. It had been painful, there was no doubt about that, but you had soldiers nearby who were well trained and able to get you to safety and ensure you were never in any immediate danger as they helped to ensure you could heal yourself. But tonight, tonight you had placed yourself in a situation where you had been completely helpless. If it wasn’t for the nearby daemon whose curiosity had gotten the better of him or the surprise the daemon felt at your presence once he had stabbed you, you didn’t doubt you would be in a very different situation than you were now. If you were even still alive. 

It was the same thought that was in everyone’s mind tonight, but unlike yourself, they each had pinned the blame on themselves; racked with the guilt of seeing you injured under their care. You could feel hints of their remorse flowing through to yourself, making it difficult to differentiate between your own and serving to make you feel worse overall. The only person who was at fault tonight was yourself. You had been the one who had gone out on your own, yearning for some peace and quiet away from them. And you were the one who had gone after the daemon instead of running and getting help for the both of you. Why they would blame themselves for your injury, you didn’t understand, and you wished they would see the only one at fault was yourself. 

“Jongho.” 

You reached out for his wrist, pulling him to a stop before he could leave you. You weren’t sure exactly what it was that you wanted to say, or why exactly you had stopped him, consumed with a yearning to stop the guilt that played in his own mind. But anything that you might have thought of fell away when you caught his gaze, taken back by the raw emotion displayed there; the tenderness in his features making your heart leap. The sudden yearning to cross the distance between the two of you and envelop yourself in his arms struck you quickly, and before you could process the thought completely or how the action might have been met by him, you were giving in and doing just that. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were apologizing for as your arms wrapped themselves around his chest, quickly burying your face into his neck and relishing the warmth his body brought. You could feel him initially tense as you tugged yourself into him, but just as you were about to pull back out of embarrassment, he responded and swiftly wrapped you up in his own embrace.  

“For what?” There was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke, clearly taken back by the sudden show of vulnerability you had given. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re standing there blaming yourself over something I did.” Your fingers grasped at his shirt, attempting to somehow pull yourself in closer. Your chest thrummed at the close contact; his touch helping to fill the hollowness that had plagued you since the bond had been put into place. “I should have acted faster. I should have gotten a hold of one of you first. I’m not a fighter, I know that, and yet, I can’t seem to stop myself when someone’s in danger no matter how many times I get myself hurt.”

You didn’t regret your actions, not truly, but as the panic faded and your mind cleared, you quickly began to see everything you had done wrong. You had lost precious time in your indecision, time that could have been much better spent getting someone who knew what to do in the given situation. While you knew you would never forgive yourself if you just left the guard to die, you had long come to see how foolish your actions had been. You could have very well gotten yourself killed alongside him and then how many more would have died without your warning?

Soomin often got onto you for your tendency to head into dangerous situations, completely forgoing your own personal safety for the sake of others. A part of you was aware her worries were warranted; she was looking out for you and only wanted to make sure you always got back home in one piece. But it was difficult for you to put your life above those around you. You understood where she and Hyunwoo came from, knowing you would do anything and everything to keep them safe if your roles were reversed,  but it was hard to put the same priority on yourself. You had never done well when someone died under your care, unable to live with the knowledge you might have been able to do something for them. 

And tonight you had once again put your life on the line and very nearly gotten yourself killed. When Soomin heard about what happened, you’d never hear the end of it, and quite possibly neither would any of the eight men who had promised to protect you. Though they might not blame you for what happened, you knew Soomin would waste no time telling you how unbelievably stupid you had been. 

But it wasn’t only your actions and regrets that had taken your mind captive for the night, and the more you went over everything in your head, the less it all made sense. Why had the attackers only shot the one arrow? Why had you not been shot at when you had finally found the strength to act? And what had happened to the guard under your care? He had died, you were certain of it, and yet, he had moved and spoke with an ease that should have been impossible. And even if it hadn’t been, even if he had somehow miraculously healed himself, what had he been going on about? You hadn’t made out much in your injured status, much more preoccupied with the dagger sticking in you, and yet, what little you had heard had only served to confuse you further. He had seemed completely surprised by your appearance, and though you had likely never spoken to him before, he should have been familiar enough with who you were and what you could do. He should have known you were there to help him and he should have known you were perfectly safe inside the camp. 

“And we should have never dropped our guard around you. We should have been more diligent with your protection.” Jongho’s grip loosened, pulling you back just far enough so he could look you in your face. “We promised that nothing would happen to you under our care and we failed.” His hands left your waist, moving upwards to cup your face and ensure your gaze was directly on him. 

“And I told you that you can’t always fight my battles for me, nor do I expect that of you.” You shook your head. “I understand you want to protect me, but as much as you may wish it to be otherwise, you won’t always be able to be there, and blaming yourself each time it happens will only serve to make me feel worse.” You lifted your hand to meet his, covering it with your own. “Despite what you may think, I don’t blame any of you for what happened tonight and I won’t hold you accountable for the consequences of my own actions. My life, my blood, is in my own hands and no one else’s.”

To your surprise, the hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly stubborn you are before, angel?”

“It may have been mentioned a few times before, but,” you huffed, unable to keep your own smile from peaking through, remembering how Yeosang had told you something similar a few weeks ago, “that’s besides the point. I want you to stop blaming yourself for what happened tonight.”

“Only if you agree to do the same.” He retorted back, causing you to narrow your gaze. 

Now who was being stubborn?

You didn’t try to hide your thoughts. If anything, you wanted him to hear it, and seeing the way his shoulders lightened at your teasing remark and the smile it tugged on his lips lifted a small weight off your own chest. 

Now that the tension in the room was beginning to dissipate, you were becoming aware of just how close the two of you were and found it not quite as easy to hold his gaze any longer. Your eyes shifted to the side, hoping the hands Jongho held to your face covered the blush working its way up the back of your neck. But one quick glance back in Jongho’s direction showed you weren’t the only one growing flustered by the events. 

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t keep a frown from peeking through as you did your best to gently step away from him, taking in the blood that now stained his own clothes. He let you go with little resistance, scratching at the back of his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He followed the direction of your gaze to his shirt, understanding just what you were apologizing for once he saw the stains for himself. “Oh, don’t worry about it.” He waved your concern away. “This happens quite often.”

“Right.” You nodded, shuffling awkwardly. You recalled Wooyoung’s words from the first night in their camp, how he had mentioned Jongho’s tenacity on the battlefield. He had been right though, you never would have expected that out of the daemon standing before you, seemingly just as flustered by your previous exchange as you were. “Um, well, I should probably wash off.”

“Right.” Jongho repeated your earlier sentiment. “I’ll be outside then if you need anything.” He motioned to the exit behind him, giving you one last look before turning to follow through with his words, bumping into the table behind him in the process. 

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the giggle that threatened to come through, thankful it had been Jongho with you tonight than any of the others. He was easy to be around; his personality most like your own and the least out of all of them to tease you about it later on. 

Your conversation with him had helped to alleviate your nerves, allowing you to temporarily forget your worries for just a minute, but it didn’t take them long to return once he was gone and you were left alone scrubbing the blood off your body. With the difference in color between the two it was easy to differentiate the two from each other, the flecks of white signifying the lower daemon’s rank and a stark contrast from your own. 

You quickly sank into the water drawn for you, wanting to be rid of the sight as soon as possible, but no matter how much you scrubbed, you didn’t feel clean. How was any of this fair? That you got to live through the night and not him? And for what? Why had he been killed? What had been their motive?

Hongjoong had said it was most likely nothing more than the scattered remains of some human battalion, but you had a hard time believing him. If they weren’t happy with losing the war, then why hadn’t you seen or heard anyone while you were out? Why hadn’t the snuck into the camp and continued their killing spree? Why hadn’t they attacked you when you had attempted to get him to safety? And how had they gotten their hands on bloodsbane, a poison humans were incapable of brewing themselves, and one complicated enough that only a few people knew how to brew other than yourself.

Nothing about the attack gave any sort of evidence towards them being human, but them being other daemons didn’t make much sense either. If it had been daemons upset with the way the war had ended, and upset with your presence here with them, then why hadn’t he tried to finish you off quickly in the end? Why had he seemed to show you mercy and not just kill you when he had the chance?

Your fingers brushed against the skin where the dagger had sunk into. There was no physical sign that you had been stabbed recently, the area unblemished and smooth beneath your fingertips. What would have happened to you if your blood hadn’t had its healing properties? Not just tonight, but yourself in general? What would have become of you if you hadn’t been able to heal yourself and others from the brink of death with just a few drops?

You had never seen your ability as a curse. How could you when it had saved you and so many others? But you would have been lying if you had said you had never wished to exchange it for something else. At the time, you would have traded it and your ability to brew potions away if it meant you could be human. If it meant you could have an easier life and fit in, you would have eagerly given it all away, but now, now you weren’t so sure. You didn’t think you yearned to be human anymore, but you didn’t want to be fully daemon either, nor did you want to continue being stuck in the middle. You just wanted to fit in, to not be judged and controlled by those around you. You just wanted to be yourself, but exactly what or who that was, you didn’t know anymore.

You didn’t stray in the water for long, climbing out and tugging on the clothes Jongho had grabbed for you earlier. If you weren’t certain they were Hongjoong’s before, you were now. They smelled distinctly of him and you couldn’t resist the urge to pull the collar up to your face and breathe his scent in. Your senses weren’t as strong as a daemon, but you were familiar enough with his to detect the subtle hints of it in them and the tent around you. It left a wave of warmth flooding through you, easing the stress the night had brought and making you wonder why you resisted the bond you had with each of them so much. 

Perhaps if things had been different. Perhaps if you hadn’t been their mate and you hadn’t been forced into all of this with very little choice. Perhaps if they hadn’t been daemons, if they hadn’t been the king and his generals and you not a half-daemon. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so afraid of what the future held and afraid of getting hurt. It was safer for you to keep your distance and safer if you continued to refuse their advances, because the moment you let your guard down, the moment you finally gave in, you would only have opened yourself to get hurt. It had happened before and it would happen again. You had long learned those above you only treated you kindly because they wanted something from you, and the moment that use was gone, so were they. 

Which is why you hated the bond that tied you to each of them, hated the way it filled you with emotions and yearnings so against your natural inclination. You wanted to keep your distance, wanted to keep yourself safe, but fighting it was so damn hard. It warped your emotions, making it difficult to differentiate between what was real and what was fake, because those emotions and thoughts were fake, right? Created by whatever magic they had used to effectively tie you to them. Despite how real they might have felt, they were manufactured. They had to be. And yet, you couldn’t stop the deep yearning in the pit of your stomach to walk back outside the tent and bury yourself back into Jongho’s arms. 

You forced the thoughts away before you got yourself obsessing over how exactly each of them felt about you once again, the very thing you had gone out into the night to avoid earlier. The realization would have made you laugh if it didn’t depress you so much, fully realizing now that staying in bed would have been the wiser thing to do. But, you hadn’t, and one look at the bed in the corner was all it took to let you know sleep wouldn’t be coming for you anytime soon. Your brain was still much too active to sleep.

You didn’t want to be alone either, though, and despite the awkwardness you felt over your last interaction with Jongho, you couldn’t fight the part of you that craved to be near him once again. And though you didn’t want to give in so easily, you wasted little time thinking it over and heading outside. The daemon had kept his word, and you found him settled on the ground next to the entrance when you stepped outside. He fiddled with a dagger, flipping it in between his fingers, but his movements stilled when he heard your soft approach. 

 “Is something wrong?” Jongho asked as you settled on the ground next to him, just far enough to avoid brushing up against him.

“No,” you shook your head, “I just don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon.” You brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and shivering slightly from the night air. The daemon’s clothes were made of a lighter fabric of your own, coming from the warmer climates of the south, but winter was fast approaching. “And laying in bed with only thoughts to occupy myself will only serve to drive me crazy.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You did your best to avoid his gaze, still slightly embarrassed by your interaction with him earlier. What did he think of it? “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.” 

It was strange enough having someone who cared that wasn’t family, but even stranger knowing just who was sitting beside you. After all the rumors you had heard about him and the others, you never expected the man sitting beside you, let alone that he would be your supposed mate; someone bound to you by the ancient magic of the daemons. It left you wondering just who the real Jongho was: the bloodthirsty daemon on the battlefield or the shy, blushing boy next to you now.

It left you wondering just who exactly the others were as well. There was no denying the darkness inside each of them, but was that their true nature or one built by the cruelty they had been shown themselves? You remembered the first night you had with Hongjoong. The man had oozed the aura and feel of the daemon king he was. His very nature and actions fitting the man you had heard of. He had gleefully killed Hayoon without a second thought, and yet, there was the Hongjoong you had seen in private. The Hongjoong who had very nearly broken down when he had explained how your parents had died, and the Hongjoong who had clung to you as though his very life had depended upon it.

“Jongho, what was your childhood like?” The question was out before you could stop it, curious for a peek of the boy he had been then. “Before you discovered you were a part of the Black Guard, that is.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t much different from what it is now.” If Jongho took offense to your prying question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he crushed the dagger he had been fiddling with - reminding you of the other question prodding at the back of your mind - to free up his arms and lean his weight back against them. “My father has been training the king’s soldiers for almost two centuries now, so I grew up in the royal court and was familiar with the royal family before I became a member of Hongjoong’s guard. In fact, I was quite close to both him and Seonghwa before my horns turned black.”

“The two of you grew up in court?” You asked, just now realizing how little you knew about all of them. Besides the little bit of backstory Yeosang had revealed to you before, and the bits you had put together by comments here and there, you didn’t really know anything about any of them. 

Jongho nodded. “It was far less glamorous than you might imagine, especially for Seonghwa. His mother was a handmaid for Hongjoong’s mother, the current queen at the time, but their are never many children in the city, so we often spent time together despite the queen’s distaste for it.” 

“She didn’t approve?”

“No, despite being far from noble blood herself, she never approved of Hongjoong associating himself with anyone she thought was too far beneath him,” Jongho replied, causing your stomach to twist. You hadn’t given Hongjoong’s mother much thought before now. In fact, you hadn’t even been aware if she was alive or not, but you couldn’t help but selfishly begin to wish she was dead. If she didn’t approve of Seonghwa before he was chosen for the Black Guard, what would she think of you? Someone who wasn’t even fully daemon? “She didn’t mind me quite as much; my father had earned my family’s name respect, but she did often try to keep Hongjoong away from the both of us, saying he needn’t concern himself with those outside his guard, so you can imagine her shock when our horns both turned black, especially Seonghwa’s.” 

“She sounds lovely.” You couldn’t keep the sarcasm from coming through, tightening your grip on your legs. You had known all along the issues your presence would bring when you arrived in Taeyang, but Hongjoong’s mother had not been a source of anxiety for you until now.

Jongho chuckled, oblivious to how much his words had affected you. “That would be one way to describe her. She was never nearly as bad as his father was, but she was his mate…” His smile faded away and you knew exactly where his thoughts had traveled based on the way his entire demeanor fell. You had learned exactly what sort of man Hongjoong’s father was.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through when you were younger.” Your head fell to his shoulder, hoping to be able to comfort him in some way and feeling guilty for bringing the past memories back up. Physical touch made the bond thrum for yourself, so you hoped it would do the same for him now, conveying the empathy you felt for him. Based upon the way his body relaxed and leaned further into your touch, you figured you were right. “I wish I could have been there for you sooner.” 

“How have you done it, angel?”

“Hmm?” You tilted your head towards his face, not quite understanding what he had meant.

“This world has not treated you kindly, and yet, you haven’t let it destroy you. You haven’t let it corrupt you. Despite everything you’ve gone through, you treat everyone with a kindness they do not deserve.” 

“I guess when you’re born into a world that hates you, you learn very quickly you can either let it get the best of you or simply make the best of it.” You shrugged, settling further into his side. A part of you was conscious of the vulnerability you were showing him, warning you to pull back before you got yourself into a situation where you ended up hurt, but after everything that had just happened, you were too exhausted to care. It felt nice. He felt nice. “And with my ability to heal, it just feels natural to want to help those around me. No matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

“That doesn’t mean you should live with the weight of the world upon your shoulders. That doesn’t mean you should blame yourself every time someone dies around you.” His reply made you stop. “You didn’t kill the guard tonight nor have you ever killed anyone else that may have died under your watch. Your hands are clean.” 

“You’re wrong.” Your grip tightened itself on your legs, unable to stop the pit growing in your stomach. “Am I not at least partially to blame if I had the ability to save them and chose not to? Would you not hold some resentment towards me if I had decided to not save Seonghwa? Would you not have held some of the blame on me?”

He was silent for a moment and you didn’t dare look him in the face, terrified of the guilt you would find there. You already knew the answer to your question, fully realizing he had every right to think that way. That it was perfectly reasonable for him to put the blame on you, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to. That didn’t mean it made you feel any better. You didn’t want to be right.

“Do you blame Hongjoong for your parents’ deaths?”

Your lips twisted, unsure how exactly his reply made you feel. No, you didn’t blame him for what had happened. Perhaps a part of you had for a minute, seeking some sort of vengeance for what had happened, but you knew it wasn’t his fault and you couldn’t, wouldn’t put the blame on him when you knew it was his father’s fault and not his own. 

“Perhaps a part of me would have been upset if you hadn’t chosen to save him, but it would be wrong to pin the blame on you. You shouldn’t live your life on the expectations of others. The choice should ultimately be yours.” 

You knew his statement was meant to be supporting, but it fell flat, causing you to pull away from him. “Well, no one has ever seemed to care what I want in life before. That has always seemed to already be decided for me.” 

“Angel, I didn’t mean… shit.” Jongho pulled back as well, running a hand through his hair as a string of curses rolled out. “I’m sorry.”

“I know and I’m trying, it’s just…” You were trying not to be resentful, trying to understand things from their point of view. They were trying to make up for the past, right? You could see it in their actions, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t still hurt. It didn’t take the sting away from his words. It didn’t make him feel any less of a hypocrite.

Your chin settled in between your knees, the current conversation reminding you of the one the two of you had had the night everything had changed. But as frustrated as you were with everything that had been said and done, you couldn’t shake your own guilt from that night. While Jongho’s own words had stung and his actions hurtful, you now realized the weight your own words had on him that night when you had mentioned he had no idea what it was like to not have a choice. At the time, you had thought it to be true, frustrated by how he and the others had been dictating your every move, but that wasn’t true. Not exactly. Not after what you had learned about his past.

“I’m sorry as well.” Your grip tightened against your legs once more, but your head fell back to its former place on his shoulder. “That night Hongjoong killed Hayoon, I said some things that I shouldn’t have. You know exactly what it’s like to not be given a choice and I apologize for implying you didn’t.”

“Angel, you have nothing to apologize for.” Jongho leaned into your touch, head falling on top of your own. “You had every reason to be upset that night and it should be me apologizing for it.” 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still wish to…”

A yawn escaped your lips, mumbling your words. The exhaustion that had built up inside you the past few days was finally taking a hold of you as the adrenaline of the events left your body. Jongho’s gentle presence next to you only further helping you to relax and while you knew it was probably for the best if you took the time to try and sleep, you didn’t want to leave his side.

“If you’re tired, you should go sleep.” But the way his arm had snuck around your back to help support your body told you he was of a similar mindset as you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded your head, but it was easier said than done unfolding yourself from his side. Jongho didn’t attempt to push you any further, letting you stay next to him as long as you wanted, but the moment you did pick yourself up and disappeared back inside the tent, you felt your anxiety crawling back once you were alone again. You couldn’t keep a frown from appearing as you stood in the middle of the tent, hating how being separated from them made you feel. You had spent your whole life by yourself, fully able to deal with your anxieties and problems on your own, but now that they had entered it, you struggled. Even with Jongho just a few feet away, and the rest not too much farther, your chest ached, wanting nothing more than to curl back up with Jongho, craving the relief his presence brought.

There was some relief in knowing it was Hongjoong’s tent you were in, and though you had some hesitation sleeping here for the night, curling up in his bed helped to ease your mind a little. You buried yourself beneath the covers, once again breathing in his scent that surrounded you, and for a very brief moment, you wondered what it would be like if he was here with you. A thought that sent you quickly hiding your face under the covers despite fully knowing no one could see you at the moment. But as embarrassed as the thought made you, you couldn’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments what would happen if you did call out to him. Would he come?

It reminded you of your earlier interaction with Wooyoung, a moment that had happened less than a day ago and yet felt so far away after everything that had happened. Despite the uncomfortable spot on top of the horse, you hadn’t slept that well in ages, at ease in his arms. And after everything that had happened, you found yourself craving a moment similar to that once more than you ever cared to admit. 

The realization left you groaning, rolling over and burying your head once more as you did your best to kick it and any other similar thought from your mind. But as aggravated as you were with the thoughts, it was a blessed distraction from the rest of your other worries, and though it took a minute, your exhaustion slowly began to get the better of you and you finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~

taglists are now in reblogs :)

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fantasy au

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Danny and Danielle definitely love to mess around with people guessing their relationship.

~~~

Duke: Danny, who is that girl with you?

Danny: Oh, she's my cousin. Long story. Anyway...

~~~

~Gala in honor of a new victory of the Young Titans.~

Batman hands the adoption papers to Phantom.

Danny: Look, man, I already have parents and I'm a self-sufficient ghost with a job and...I'm really not a fan of creepy billionaires with a lair under the estate.

~Danielle literally appears out of thin air~

Elle: Hey, dad. I don't want to interrupt, but father is dead ahead, coming right at us.

Danny: What, is that crazy fruit loop here too? Call Clockwork, tell him to lend me the thermos I left in his lair. I might as well get child support for both of you.

Batman looks stunned, then nods. The 1+2 action is very successful, Alfred will not be able to resist such cute faces.

~~~

~ Danny pointing at the phone screen~

Danny: Here. Jazz and Elle. My sisters. They are so cool.

Dick: But isn't the ghost girl your cousin? Or daughter, according to Bruce?

Danny:...Not to change the subject...Show me a picture of Jason in pixy boots!

~~~

Danny: This is Elle, my no-love-but-hate product with my nemesis, and this is Dan, my youngest. Who knew that when you play with timelines, you have to use protection!

Flash: Yeah, rookie mistake.

~~~

~Dining room, Wayne Manor~

Dan: I'm not going to play along with your crazy ideas! It's humiliating!

Alfred: Master Dan, your attitude towards your father upsets me immensely. Kindly sit down and have a cup of tea with your family.

Dan:...I still don't understand how Jazz and Pennyworth make me do what they want.

Oracle: No one dares to resist Alfred and upset older sister. These are the laws of the universe. Would you like another cup of milk oolong?

Dan: *sighs*

~~~

Nightwing: So you and King Phantom and Chronos...

Vlad: No! Disgusting! We're just raising kids together. I have them every Thursday and I curse the day I thought I needed an heir. Your father has a whole bunch of them...I thought I could keep one under control, but now my house is like a battlefield and I'm losing. What is this, gum on the chair?!

~~~

Danny: I’m so tired of this job.

Dan: You know what, I used to want to kill you and your whole family for revenge, but now...you must suffer. Have fun with the paperwork. Now the whole Ghost Zone thinks you’re my father, so I don’t want to inherit that stupid ring and crown if I crush your core. Elle and I are gonna go to Starbucks, and then I’m gonna teach her to terrify Vlad. Good luck trying to stop me.

Danny: ...I hate this family...

~~~

Danny and Elle are just having fun. :D

Dan and Vlad:Why do I have to participate?

Clockwork: Everything is going as it should be. Nice.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dark danny #dani phantom #dani fenton #duke thomas #dick grayson #nightwing #vlad masters #clockwork #vlad plasmius #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #jazz fenton #danny fenton #batkids #elle phantom #danielle phantom #dan phantom #alfred pennyworth #oracle #barbara gordon

[needle-noggins]

Uh. I have a lot to scream about re: Vashwood in Vol. 8. This is the volume that, on my first read, fully converted me to a Vashwood Believer, had me screaming crying at 8 am. I still got all hysterical reading it again. "You are not lost... Wolfwood" changed something in my brain.

I JUST. AAAAAAHHH. Wolfwood feels like he's dying, there's no hope, he is utterly lost, and Vash swoops in to answer his literal prayer - no, you are not lost. You can change. You can be forgiven - in fact - there is no need for it, because you are not your past. All that matters is what you choose to do in the here and now. And of course, Wolfwood saves Vash from the Ark, then Vash helps them escape... they're fighting in tandem again, saving each other over and over, expressing how much they care for each other over and over...

Just get married already.

ADKJFHSJLF THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF AN ACTION-ADVENTURE ROMANCE NOVEL??? BATTLE HUSBANDS??? WHAT?

Also, "Wolfwood, I owe you for so much, don't I?" Is just. Fuck, dude. Vash is terrified of losing Wolfwood in this moment and he's thinking about how far he would go for him. He owes him so much - Wolfwood changed him so much. It's not dissimilar to how Vash feels about Rem's memory - he feels like his entire struggle is to make up for her sacrifice, for what she taught him about hope and determination. Remember the parallels with baby Vash and Rem vs the Vashwood "shoot" moment?

Then Chapel begs Vash to stop, and Vash is like, "think again motherfucker, I'm actually considering murder this time" which is. HUGE. Local pacifist comes face to face with the person who destroyed his loved one's psyche and he's seeing red. For Wolfwood, would he pull the trigger? Would he exact revenge, would he ensure Chapel and the EOM by extension could never harm another child?

"He is all the reason I need to keep on fighting" is just. AGH. Just all pure Vash, too, no prosthetic arm, no red jacket, no gun, even - just his plant powers. Elendira tells him he's throwing his life away, but Vash doesn't care. He'd gladly give his life for Wolfwood. If that isn't love then I don't know what the fuck it is.

#just get married already sorry if that inflicted psychic damage to you #trigunbookclub #vashwood

[vickyvicarious]

van helsing character notes from today: he is typically "up to time" (punctual), and also always brings his bag with him now (ready for the worst)

"Let all be put down... exactly." OH GOD. here it comes.

I love the way Jack says "it was a lovely morning"; he's speaking with hindsight here, and his misery and resignation color all that came before. He sounds almost mournful as well as wistful when he describes the beautiful day, because he knows the contrast awaiting him inside.

Jack saying "She is always an early riser." with a audible side-eye is so funny. I don't think it's about what he's saying here, more the context of her seeing Lucy and not noticing her sleep isn't peaceful rest. And of course taking away the flowers. Or maybe it's even just that he wishes he didn't have to run into her first thing in the morning.

I LOVE the little, "mm?" interspersed throughout Mrs. Westenra's speech. Again, I feel like the voice acting paints such a good picture of her character, and especially here where she is seeking praise/showing off her self-satisfaction at "helping"

Speaking of. The little edge of rasp in Jack's delivery of "to which she answered:" just before Mrs. Westenra reveals what she has done. And his resigned tone on "asked the Professor." As he's narrating this dialogue he is restricted to just speech tags but his delivery makes his misery clear.

the music creeping in as Mrs. Westenra talks about the "horrible, strong-smelling flowers" building as you realize what she's done and what it must mean in time with van Helsing...!

Mrs. Westenra sounds so proud of herself. So oblivious and cheerful.

The little quiver in Jack's voice at "he actually smiled on her"

"Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down." Jack speaks this line softly, almost wonderingly. He has so much faith in van Helsing, and he's been using his mentor's confidence as a linchpin to keep his own composure; to see van Helsing break like this is terrifying to him I think. And he doesn't know what to do about it, can't say anything.

van Helsing's sobs and gasping breaths for control are BRUTAL. SO INCREDIBLE. god and his plea to god. AMAZING

and the music, almost gentle at first but more and more creepy and lingering/ominous as he goes along

the fierce determination as van Helsing insists they will keep fighting

"yet another operation of transfusion of blood." the way Jack says this line I think really brings out a sense of hopeless resignation. He sounds almost sickened at the last word. Everything seems to point to this being useless yet again, but obviously failing to try their utmost isn't even a consideration. He just is losing hope that it can be stopped.

"Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep." THIS delivery is so excellent. The deep sigh, the resigned tone, the almost bored listing of what was once so agonizing an operation. The way he doesn't linger on Lucy's improvement at all, doesn't even linger on van Helsing's condition. Instead he just kind of sums up that it worked (for now), that van Helsing spoke to Mrs. Westenra, etc. etc.....

"After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal." He sounds almost amused, and so exhausted, so sad. She doesn't even know that she has nearly died for a third time. She doesn't know that, as far as he can tell, she will continue on just like this, on and on, nearly dying, barely saved, recovered and cheerful, and then death coming back again, and again, until eventually it cannot be denied any longer...

van Helsing broke down today, but Jack is the one who is most brutally disheartened. He's losing hope, he's becoming almost numb, he's doubting his own mind.

#dracula daily #re: dracula #jack seward #van helsing #mrs. westenra

[eyesanddragons]

Albatross, Animus Dragons and Preventable Tragedies

(Also Known as: This tragedy was not inevitable, let's talk about responsibility)

(CWs: Murder, Abuse)

So, Legends Darkstalker as a book has a lot of thoughts about fate and inevitability. Clearsight and Darkstalker try and fail to create an ideal future for the both of them, Fathom is scared that he can't prevent his animus magic from destroying is soul, and the readers know how all of this is going to end since Legends Darkstalker is a prequel to Arc 2.

In the midst of all this talk about inevitability and fate we have...Albatross. Someone who we've known about since Arc 1 and know how his story ends. He causes the Royal Seawing Massacre, his magic allegedly "driving him insane." What's interesting about Albatross is that when you really look at his life, this historical version of it falls short in many ways. The retelling of his life leave out important context, and notably, scrub any idea that someone or multiple someones might have caused him to act like this.

It's Albatross' fault in the end, it's his fault for losing control, his fault for being "insane."

But if we take an actual look at the story in Legends Darkstalker you find that this really isn't the case.

Albatross found out he was an animus in a very...unpleasant way. He enchanted a shell to bite the claws off his sister, Sapphire. This event was deeply traumatic and would stick with Albatross for his entire life. You might be wondering why Albatross didn't fix Sapphire's claws considering his powers and I'll get to one of the reasons in a bit since it's very important to what I'm trying to say, but @/kinkajouwof breaks it down over here.

In short, most likely the reason why Albatross didn't fix it at the start is due to uncertainty if he really Could do it and because Albatross and Sapphire were terrified.

The reason more important to my point though is that Lagoon Actively Benefited from this fear. When Lagoon became Queen she would hold this action over Albatross whenever he was unwilling to do things to guilt him into following what she wanted him to do.

"This is a waste of time, Lagoon," he said. "Nobody ever tested me, but we figured out quickly enough what I could do. If any of them have a shred of power, surely they would of known by now. Or it will become obvious, sooner or later." "I'd prefer sooner," the queen said silkily. "If we find another animus in the tribe, that would make us twice as powerful, which would be quite useful given how the Mudwings and Rainwings have been behaving lately. And the earlier we find her, the sooner you can start to train her, and the sooner I can start to use her." "Besides," she added in a lower voice, so Fathom had to strain to hear her, "I think we would all prefer to discover our next animus in a less...dramatic fashion than you were discovered. Don't you?" Albatross flinched, just slightly. He cast a skeptical eye across the young. "My power is more than enough for whatever you need. I've given you everything you've asked for, haven't I? And I don't want an apprentice."

Afterwards Lagoon commands Albatross to start the test but you can see what I mean. Lagoon actively threatens Albatross and Exploits Him, and wants to find Other Animus Dragons to Exploit. He is not just a Subject to Lagoon, he is an Object to Lagoon. Non-sexual objectification.

She plans to do the same thing to another animus, Lagoon's rule was built on Exploiting the powers of the people she could Control. She wants to find them young so she could mold them into the tools she wanted them to be earlier. She wants to condition them to treat themselves as objects Now.

This treatment comes to a head during the banquet. Where Lagoon once again holds what happened to Sapphire over his head, while also threatening to Replace Him.

"Here is our first animus," Queen Lagoon said to the Skywings, who seemed to have figured that out themselves, judging by the looks of terror on their faces. "My brother, Albatross. We were just talking this morning about what his next project should be. I'm thinking big this time. Something that makes me invulnerable, perhaps. Or something that kills any dragon who might be a threat to me." Beyond Albatross, over the couches, Splash stiffened, and Fathom saw her crush one of the hibiscus blossoms between her claws. He glanced around and saw his father put a wing around Manta, who had gone pale. "Yes," Albatross said. "Although you recall I wasn't exactly enthused about any of those ideas." "Then it's lucky you're not my only animus dragon," Queen Lagoon said coldly. Fathom felt a shiver all the way down to the tip of his tail. If she asked him to do a spell like that, would he? Would he obey his queen and put his own mother in danger? Or disobey her, and perhaps put everyone he cared about in even worse danger? What would she do to Indigo If I ever said no to her? Albatross stopped right in front of the queen, snout-to-snout with her. Fathom couldn't read his face. He looked as though he'd been carved from stone, any emotions chipped away. "Do you think you're done?" Queen Lagoon said to him softly. "Do you think you'll ever be done atoning for what you did to Sapphire? It's not going to end Albatross. You'll always be mine."

This is a bit of a blunder on Lagoon's part since Albatross Kills her! She's revealed that she is Never going to let him go, that no matter how hard he works he's never going to escape. No matter what he does he will be an Object to her. Fight, Flight or Freeze, stay here and be worked to death killing hundreds of people or Escape Now.

And Albatross...chose Fight.

Note that Albatross literally says right here that he doesn't Want to make Lagoon Invulnerable, he doesn't Want to give her the power to kill people.

When he starts killing other people it's not because he became ax-crazy. He killed the Queen, no matter how horrible and cruel she was their all going to defend her...and they've never thought about him. They've never cared for him. To them he was also an Object.

So...he kills them too.

Now I'm not saying He should of killed all those people, murder is bad actually. But this is a Consequence of Lagoon and the rest of Seawing society's actions. This is the direct, real, bloody consequence of treating a person like an object designed to serve their every whim.

This wasn't something he was doomed to be, this is something that has a tangible cause and effect. The system and the way it treated him is What Caused This.

Except, none of the Seawings who survived Want to face that. They don't Want to accept responsibility for that. Why should they accept the responsibility and guilt of having lead one of their own to believe that murder was the only way to escape a truly horrific and abusive situation...when they have a perfectly convenient scapegoat. Remember...Albatross is an object. Lagoon died, not because she perpetuating a horrible abusive situation that her society allowed her to do due to the absolute power she was given, but because she handled Albatross Improperly. Animus magic is just a dangerous thing, and the people who can use it are dangerous tools. This isn't Their Fault for treating a person like an object, it's the fault of improper usage of a tool.

It's a more convenient story for everyone...except for Fathom who proceeds to be treated horribly and drown himself in guilt and shame for being Dangerous.

Seawing Society caused something horrible and instead of trying to fix it, turned their backs and pretended they did nothing wrong. When we see Anemone their doing the Exact Same Thing to her. She is an object, a weapon of war, and she will be treated as such. Anemone believes she's doomed to become evil and almost Kills her family out of the belief that she is doomed to become a mass murderer.

Albatross' Massacre was preventable, and that's what makes it tragic.

#wof #wings of fire #wof albatross #wof anemone #wof meta #been a hot minute! #I get really frustrated whenever people treat Albatross as doomed to be evil #he really isnt