#4 the creatures I follow too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

too-much-tma-stuff · 4 months

Text

Finally getting help (prt 4)

Masterpost

The bats worked through the night, coordinating and researching everything that needed to be done. Distortion showed up on the camera which they assumed was Vlad trying to get in but he didn’t manage it. After he finished trying from multiple angels including somehow from directly above (well Zatana did say invisibility, intangibility, and flight were the minimal powers they should expect from creatures of the infinite realms.) He turned human again and spent a long time banging on their front door.

He tried to call the cops but commissioner Gordon called Bruce directly to get the full story then told Vlad it could be dealt with in the morning. Zatana was also coordinating people heading to Amity, a full on raid of the GIW, and the Fentons.

Batman and Superman were collecting all the information that the raid team was sending out and workshopping public statements they could sent out to the public and the government about the unacceptable things they had found and the steps the JL was taking to fix it. The government was not going to be happy they knew, with the JL ‘over-stepping’ into their business and actually getting the word out about the atrocities a branch of their government and their pet scientists had been planning. The JL needed to get out ahead of it before the narrative could be twisted against them.

It was first thing in the morning when they did a live broadcast from the watchtower with Batman, Superman, and Zatana telling the world about the parallel world existing harmlessly along side their own, and the way the government tried to exploit it. The atrocities committed under the name of the Anti-Ecto acts with the ignorance of the public as a cover.

It was at the same time that Constantine, Dick, and Cas were raiding the Fenton’s home. Of course they were armed, but so were the bats, and they were used to fighting people who were armed. It wasn’t a particularly hard fight.

A redhead was sitting wide eyed at the kitchen table. “Can’t we just have one normal day!” She suddenly snapped but she was glaring at her parents, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. “First you send Danny away with Vlad even though you KNOW they hate each other and it’s a school day and now this! What did you do to bring the heroes down on us!?”

“I don’t know Jazzybear!” Jack half whined as he was forced into power supressing cuffs to neutralize his minor super strength and sat down in the living room.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, don’t worry sweetie,” Maddie added, both of them were dressed in jump suits which did not help their supervillain vibes.

“it’s not a mistake mate, you’ve been messing with shit you really shouldn’t. And that portal in your basement is a fucking beacon welcoming a war. You’ve gone unchecked for too god damn long, we’re taking over things now.” Constantine told them before stalking down into the basement with Tim on his heels, Batman would be joining them as soon as they were done their press conference.

Cas stayed to watch the parents and Dick approached Jazz gently. “Hey can I talk to you in private please? It’s about your brother,” He said gently and she stiffened immediately. Looking at him in a way that made him feel like she could see straight into his soul and froze him to the spot. After a moment though she just sighed and nodded, beckoning to him to follow her upstairs, to a room that was probably Danny’s not her own. She sat on his bed and grabbed a bear that had been sitting on the edge, waving for him to sit at the desk.

“So, what do you know?” She asked with a sigh.

“Well, last night Vlad took Danny to a Wayne Gala, one of Bruce’s daughter Cas is really good with body language and clocked that something was wrong so she and one of the other kids got him away from Vlad and out of the party. I guess he really needed some adult support because he broke down and told them a lot, about the Phantom thing, the ghosts and… something you’re not going to like. But first I want you to know he’s safe, Bruce Wayne is a licensed foster parent and he’s taking good care of Danny, you can come live with them too if you want.

“We’re going to deal with the ghosts and the GIW and everything else now, I can’t promise by the end of this you won’t need somewhere else to go. I have a feeling if Batman and the Martian family have anything to say about this your parents will end up in prison for their unethical experiments.”

“As long as Danny is okay,” Jazz said firmly. “I was only staying to take care of him anyway, just get me emancipated and a scholarship for Gotham U so I can study while still being close to him I’ll be fine. I’m almost 18 as it is.”

Dick nodded, she was a smart and driven girl, she knew what she wanted, he could respect that. “Now, the thing you won’t like…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “Danny is pregnant.”

“What!?“ Jazz blanched, gaping at him for a long minute. “That can’t be right! I mean I knew he was trans but he’s usually only interested in girls, how would he even-“ She cut off her eyes widening. “It was Vlad wasn’t it?” She gritted out with an expression the promised excruciating violence.

“Yes,” Dick said shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“Right.” Jazz said and got up, coldly calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed a baseball bat from next to Danny’s bed that seemed to be glowing slightly then marched to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and pulled out two odd looking guns. Before Dick could say much of anything she had vaulted out of the window and taking off down the street.

“Oh dear,” Dick muttered faintly before heading back downstairs. “Hey Cas can we turn on the news, some sort of local station?” He asked. Cas nodded and searched around for the remote, turning it on to find the channel was already on local news.

Vlad was already on there, talking about how it was awful Bruce Wayne had Kidnapped a local child Danial Fenton, and he could not be allowed to get away with this just because he was rich! But that didn’t last long, they watched for a few minutes before a blur of red hair and blue rushed past the camera.

“YOU TOUCHED MY BROTHER YOU CREEP!” Jazz said as she came out swinging and she must have quite the arm because her first swing sent him nearly flying off the stage. He scrambled to get up as she lunged at him again.

“Now Jasmine you’ve clearly been misinformed, I didn’t do anything-“ His muffled voice was cut off as she swung the bat again and he yelped as she hit him in the stomach.

“YOU GOT HIM PREGNANT! YOU DID THIS! YOU SHOULD BEHIND BARS NOT BEHIND A PODIUM YOU FROOTLOOP!” She shrieked as she swung again and this time he managed to dodge. The cameras following them as Jazz chased him down the street, the sound of his supplications and her shrieking fading out as they became more and more distant.

It took a frantic moment for the camera angle to switch to something else, maybe a drone, which was able to follow them down the street.

“You Don’t UNDERSTAND! I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted a perfect son! If he had just agreed to be my son none of this would have happened! When I knew it failed I told him to let them die!” Vlad yelled at her, though that did NOT seem to comfort Jazz at all. She had devolved into shrieking book titles like curses as she chased him with the bat and shot at him with the guns though her aim didn’t seem very good.

Well they had him admitting to it on camera now. As he watched a new actor joined the fray, a girl in a red jumpsuit holding a blaster.

“You did what to Danny!?” She demanded as she pointed the blaster at Vlad.

“Oh cheespuffs!” Vlad breathed, his eyes widening as Jazz trailed off letting who must be Red Huntress take over the chase as Vlad shouted about how he had made her! He had given her her weapons she couldn’t use them against him! Which did not seem to be stopping her.

The camera fuzzed out for just a second and then Valery was chasing a ghost with red eyes and a white outfit. Cas was laughing silently at the show and both of the Fenton parents seemed to be in shock. A few minutes later Jazz walked back in through the front door looking tired.

“Turn that off please,” she sighed as she put the bat down.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and picked up the remote again, turning off the tv.

“Vlad didn’t actually do that, did he Jazzy?” Jack asked softly, he sounded so hurt, as if he had any fucking right!

Jazz looked at him blankly. “How many times have we tried to warn you about him? How many times has Danny told you he didn’t feel safe with Vlad? But as usual you couldn’t see past your own desires. I’m going to go see if the trenchcoat guy needs any help getting into your files,” She sighed before vanishing downstairs.

Dick glanced at Cas, and then followed them, she would have no trouble watching the Fentons and staying quiet whereas Dick felt like he was about to explode. Batman joined them before long and between the three of them they shut the bulkheads on the portal and locked them, secured dangerous chemicals and devices, and downloaded everything they could. There were plenty of prototypes and blueprints, and stuff that could generously be called research.

It was obvious these people were geniuses but it was even more obvious that at some point they had become careless and obsessive. Half of the writing on the blueprints wasn’t legible, dangerous chemicals were not in proper containment, and the weapons were not locked up. Looking at all of this it wasn’t surprising that two of the people they had been involving in their research suffered exposure, it was a surprise more hadn’t. It was easy to tell when Bruce came down he was horrified, it was in the way he froze when he saw the lab, as if his brain was struggling to process just how irresponsible the Fenton parents had been.

“You must be Jazz, it’s nice to meet you. Danny speaks highly of you,” He finally rebooted to say when she waved at him.

“I love my little brother, I always did the best I could to keep him safe from… all this,” Jazz said gesturing at the lab with a sigh. “I wish it had done any good.”

“You did plenty of good,” Dick put in. “Trust me, to a kid having someone care about them can make all the difference.

“All those nights I patched him up after he came back from fighting ghosts. He healed fast but still. I can’t believe… he’s already been through so much and we knew Vlad was up to something! Ellie said she was our cousin but she looked just like him, I should have kept a closer eye on-” She cut off and shook her head. “He’s a good kid, of course if he couldn’t give the babies up, even if it would be better for them if he did. I hope he knows I’d support him either way, I hope he didn’t not tell me because he thought I’d be upset at Him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick assured her gently. “Being a big sibling is hard, I know. But trust me you’re doing a great job, better than I did with my brothers,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You can ask him yourself later though. We have a lot to get done today to make sure he’s safe.”

She nodded stubbornly and doubled down on her work, directing them occasionally to where she knew they’d find more weapons or logs. She knew her way around the lab to a disturbing extent.

Bruce and Dick both got a notification from Agent A saying that after a substantial sleep in Danny had woken up and was having breakfast. He seemed worried about the family but he was taking it alright, especially since he knew they were busy people. It did motivate Dick to clear things up as soon as they could so that they could get back to Danny though. The last thing he needed was More stress!

They had plenty of evidence of the Fenton parents breaking the law to call the police and have them taken away which gave them all the time they needed to strip the house. They got everything they could and decided to leave Constantine at the house to watch the portal until they could figure out how to shut it down completely without causing any damage. It seemed unstable so they didn’t want to risk it just now, especially without Danny’s input because according to Jazz Danny had made genuine connections in the Infinite Realms.

They wrapped up this stage of the investigation before dinner after being up for about 36 hours. Of course they weren’t Done, there was still plenty to do investigating the government, how they’d gotten away with this and if they had any other nasty tricks up their sleeve. They’d have to manage any backlash from this unilateral move, and they’d have to figure out what to tell the public about Danny since Bruce would be fostering him. But all that could be done after having a family dinner with their new brother and a nap.

part 5

@blacksea21090 @zline @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @iamalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @genius11rare @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @vivavelle @phoenixdemonqueen @jaggedheart11 @amyheart19 @ashenfairytale @thedragonqueen1998 @quotesandanime @j-joshi @unknown707 @baby-glowstick @okami-love @felicityroth @blackroserelina @wanderwithwings @shephardking @stargirl1331 @supermcraig @tkiesai @thegatorsgoose @mushroomymoss @llavalada @drownthesun @theraccoonempire @ark12 @telidina @dasha022

Please subscribe to the masterpost everyone! the tag list is getting a bit to big for me to manage ^^;

1K notes · View notes

trashogram · 4 months

Text

He Chose You (Pt.1)

Lucifer/Reader

Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another. Rated E for explicit sexual content of the raunchiest variety in later chapters and also weird old people.

There was a knock at your door. It sounded like someone rapping their knuckles against the wood whimsically, as if following the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.

The methodical folding of your clothes into garage sale-quality drawers came to a halt. You looked over your shoulder, shifting on your feet hesitantly.

It had been little over a week since you moved into the grand old Donner apartment. Apart from a quick tow-in of shoddy furniture from your hired movers, no one had come calling.

You definitely weren’t expecting anyone either, not in a brand new city you’d spontaneously decided to live in.

After another moment of uncertainty, you pivoted to the door and inched it open to a slit you could peek through. “Hello?”

Your brow furrowed as you stared at the empty space ahead of you. Pulling the door open fully, you peered down one end of the hallway to the other.

Nothing but cracked and crumbling crown moldings on wainscoting, a matted-looking saxony carpet, the same musty, stale air…

‘Quack’

You nearly jumped out of your skin, head snapping down to see a real, live duck standing just outside your doorframe.

“Oh!”

You immediately squatted down to marvel at the animal. It gazed back up at you with beady red eyes and a curious gait.

“Hey little guy,” You cooed, smiling despite the incongruous image of a waterfowl in your building.

You raised a hand and reached out slowly, instinctive desire to pet the cute little creature warring with a minuscule yet no less embarrassing fear.

Were ducks typically friendly? You knew so little, ornithology not being your thing.

“Will you let me pet you?” Your fingers hovered over the surprisingly patient animal before it decided to nudge itself under your palm.

The duck shivered with delight at your touch, all-white feathers ruffling excitedly and tail wagging, looking akin to a very happy dog.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, heart melting. “You’re so cute!”

Soft feathers brushed against your bent knees as the duck drew close enough to rub its body against you. It had gone from doggish to cat-like effortlessly, and you couldn’t help giggling over how silly it looked.

“Where did you come from?” You asked after a bit of cuddling, glancing from side to side once again. The hallway remained empty, no one running to fetch what you assumed was a beloved pet.

‘That’s… weird.’ You thought. ‘So, who knocked on my door?’

It was tempting to ask the bird that was currently bouncing on its webbed feet. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter before positioning yourself so that you were sitting. In an instant, the duck made to climb into your lap, allowing you to carefully lift it onto your legs when it couldn’t reach.

“You’re so silly!” Grinning, you continued to stroke its head. “Your owner is probably worried sick about their silly little guy.”

‘Quack’

The duck burrowed its head against your stomach as it settled on your lap, and you sighed. “I’d love to keep you, but I don’t know how to take care of you, sweetie.”

Little red eyes bore into you from below, seemingly wide and beseeching. It was too precious, and too perfect (to the point where you idly wondered if someone was somehow scouting a way to scam you via adorable duck shenanigans).

Aside from the guttural, sad ‘wek’ you got in reply, a slow creak of hinges drew your attention back up. The door across from you had visibly opened the barest amount. You squinted, just able to make out frizzy red hair and a red-rimmed, down-turned mouth in the dim lighting.

“Oh hey, hi!” You stopped yourself from standing, instead of bracing the bundle in your lap close. “Is this your duck?”

A tingle went up your spine as the door opened fully and an old woman appeared. She was dressed in green capri pants and a ruffled tan blouse, hair red as an open flame and barely kept in-check by a cheetah-print scarf. The makeup she wore was caked on, harsh red lipstick smeared around her thin lips and black kohl-rimmed eyes popping out of her wrinkled face.

The sour, almost suspicious look on her face softened but did not completely go away, even when she smiled.

“Oh Lou!” She cried, making you jump. “You didn’t get very far, did you? I almost didn’t notice you were gone, you little scoundrel!”

“Well, thank goodness for that I guess. He’s got those little legs, ya see,” She nodded down at your lap, “but he’s so darn fast anyway, might as well be a midget racehorse!��

You chuckled and smiled politely. That persistent tingling at your back had you holding back a shiver, and the skin on your arms prickled and rose.

“I didn’t know we could have pet ducks in this building.” Your words belied a confidence, as well as interest in having a conversation with this woman, that you didn’t truly have.

As a matter of fact, despite the inner scolding you gave yourself for being judgmental, you were quite off-put in the woman’s presence. The want to return to your apartment and shut the door in her overly-painted face was rising like a lump in your throat.

“He seems to really like you, that’s so sweet. He’s not usually this friendly with anyone but my hubby. That’s Mr. Farrow, honey, have you met him?” The woman - presumably Mrs, Farrow, leaned down just a few feet away.

She still looked to be examining you and your avian companion, the bland pleasantness oozing yet unable to suffocate the shrewd glint in her dark eyes.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m afraid I haven’t -” You started.

“Oh, that’s alright! That’s fine! Matter of fact, he’d get an earful from me if he was talkin’ to a pretty thing like you without me knowin’!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Just kiddin’, honey. You’re new to the building though, aren’t you? Well, welcome! It’s nice to see a new face here! ‘Specially a young one!”

“Thank —”

“Maybe that’s why Lou is so taken with you! Animals just thrive off energy and sunshine and all that. Not slow, almost dead things. I’m sure you’re birds of a feather that way.”

Again, your soft laughter is polite, teetering on nervousness.

You took a moment to rise, humming apologetically when Lou squawked as he was jostled. On your feet, you instinctively stepped back. One foot over the threshold and solid in your apartment.

“He is really sweet.” You said, holding the animal out as carefully as you could. “I’m glad he didn’t get lost.”

Mrs. Farrow stared, arms falling to her sides. She didn’t attempt to take the bird from you for a long, long moment.

Confusion and disbelief clouded your mind as you stood, waiting, watching as Mrs. Farrow’s throat bobbed when she swallowed forcefully.

What? Was she afraid of the duck?

In a split-second, she returned to smiling animatedly and waved a geriatric hand in the air so flippantly that the uncomfortable moment ceased to exist.

“Oh honey, you can put him down if you want. He’ll come back over now that our door’s open.” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Lou’s not my biggest fan. He’s such a prideful thing, you know. Just like Mr. Farrow - it’s probably why they get along so well!”

You blinked, then slowly bent at the waist to let Lou down. The duck made another disdainful quack, red eyes looking at you morosely.

It’s little legs eventually rowed through the air in an effort to gain footing. You lightly placed him over the carpet and let go, allowing Lou to jump down.

The duck began waddling away, though it appeared to hang its head as it did so. Occasionally, he turned to look at you, somber and sullen as if bidding farewell before walking on death row.

“Aww, poor little thing.” Mrs. Farrow drawled. At your side. “Looks like my Lou is sweet on you! Poor guy, I can see why! Again, a lovely young thing like you is probably a gift from above in this stuffy old place.”

“Say, how long have you been here?”

You turned to the old woman. “About a week, I’m still getting settled.”

Mrs. Farrow nodded vigorously, eyes bright but mouth pursed. “A week, a week?! A week and no one’s introduced themselves to you?”

“Holy Toledo, you must think we’re all a bunch a’ snobs in here! That’s no good. Oh! Why don’t you come over for dinner sometime and me and my mister can show you some proper hospitality?”

“Oh, that's really nice of you —”

“Sure! Sure! It’ll be great, how ‘bout tomorrow night? It’d give us some time to get prepared, have things cleaned and settled. Do you like steak? That’d be perfect, actually. I’ve got some in the freezer just waitin’ to be defrosted.”

“Um, well — That’s a little short notice…”

“I’m sure Mr. Farrow won’t mind. He’ll be glad for the company, and if he isn’t, well he will be when I’m done with him.” She chortled. “Just another joke, honey. He’s always dyin’ to talk to someone that isn’t me. It’d be a real treat to him. Treat ta me too! What do you say?”

Your mouth opened and closed as a light sheen of sweat broke over the nape of your neck. Mrs. Farrow’s sharp eyes were wider, attempting to beguile you while your head was still spinning.

“I-I guess, maybe —” You stammered.

“Wonderful!” The eccentric woman’s eyes lit up like fireworks, cigarette-smoker’s voice becoming truly raucous in her delight. “I’ll go ahead and get started. You go get back to what it was you were doing before Lou and I interrupted you! And don’t worry about a thing! We might be old timers, but a good meal and good cheer never go out of style.”

Mrs. Farrow laughed, pretending to shoo you away until you were back inside your apartment and she was pulling your door to a close for you.

“Have a good night, honey! We’ll see you tomorrow! 6 o’clock, don’t be late!”

Before you knew it, you were staring at the back of your own door again.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

1K notes · View notes

introboy · 6 months

Text

So so excited to share my @mcytblrholidayexchange gift for @follow-the-compass-home! My concept was to combine a bunch of prompts together into one AU.

The premise is a modern-fantasy roommate situation where Tango, Bdubs, and Etho live together in an apartment. The only issue is that none of them are human, but they're all trying desperately to blend in, even though they don't really understand humanity as a concept.

More information can be found below the cut, and an introductory fic snippet can be found here (x)!

Downstairs Neighbors AU

Prompts used as inspiration:

Focus on Tango, Etho, and Bdubs

Include Boatem

Story told from Grian's perspective

Hybrid/inhuman AU

Angst with a happy ending

Emphasis on character dynamics

Here's a summary!!!

Tango, Etho, and Bdubs found each other by looking for roommates on Craigslist. They live in a 4-bedroom apartment together.

Tango is a spirit who wanted to interact with the world in a physical sense, so he built himself a body. He's basically just a ghost possessing an android (but unlike ghosts, he was never alive; he came into being as a fully-formed spirit). He doesn't adhere to normal bodily necessities like food, water, or sleep, which is convenient but also heavily concerning from an outsider's perspective.

Etho is a specific kind of shapeshifter called a mimic. He doesn't have a true form, but can copy the shape and mannerisms of most living creatures. The only constant across all of his appearances is a scarred left eye and white hair. Unfortunately, it takes practice to nail specific species characteristics, so he often forgets what he's supposed to look like and falls into uncanny valley. He wears a mask to cover his more noticable facial slipups.

Bdubs is some sort of plant creature (he doesn't really understand it himself). He has a perfect internal clock and sleeps, without fail, for 12 hours every night. He spends a lot of time in the unoccupied bedroom-- he uses it as a makeshift greenhouse, and it's filled with grow lights and humidifiers. He loves taking care of houseplants, but it's also a cover for him to spend time under the grow lights. Without enough light & water he gets lethargic.

Bdubs, Etho, and Tango, henceforth referred to as BET, all assume that the others are human. But since none of them know how to act human, they continuously pick up stranger and stranger habits from each other.

BET are close friends with Impulse & Skizzleman, who live together across the hall. Their upstairs neighbors are Grian, Pearl, Mumbo, and Scar, who are also besties with Imp & Skizz. BET and Boatem don't know each other well, but Grian especially thinks his neighbors are really odd.

Like BET, Grian is not human, and neither are the rest of his roommates. But they all know about each other, and Grian especially is really good at knowing how to act natural in public places. He's an avian shapeshifter, who can take the form of either a scarlet macaw or a human. Unlike Etho, both forms come equally naturally to Grian, and the shapeshifting process is a lot easier for him.

(Imp & Skizz are not human either-- they are a demon and an angel respectively. But, like Grian, they're really good at blending in when in public.)

One day, Grian gets injured on a flight and accidentally ends up on BET's balcony instead of his own. He's too disoriented to shift back into his human form or fly away, so Bdubs and Etho find him outside their door. Tango calls Impulse over in the hopes that he knows how to fix the random-injured-parrot crisis, but the only result is that Grian and Impulse start to truly take note of how strange their neighbors' living situation is. Incidents like the one pictured above arise (i.e. everyone finding out that there is not a singular scrap of food to be found in the entire apartment).

Ok that's all the rambling I'll do in this post, but I hope you enjoyed! Happy holidays!!

1K notes · View notes

physalian · 3 months

Text

What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!

I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!

Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:

1. No modern means of communication

Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.

With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.

2. The Monster Allegory

Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.

Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.

What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.

3. Magic Systems!

Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?

Then Fantasy is for you!

There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.

4. Real-World Politics, who?

Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.

Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”

Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.

5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”

Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?

This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.

6. You are in complete control

But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.

It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.

It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.

7. Even if it has been done before, do it again

You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).

But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.

So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.

And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #fantasy #scifi #writeblr #writing #what no one tells you about writing

847 notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 11 months

Text

Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #addams family #stranger things #i just love the addams family so much #one of my favorite aus to make actually #the way they love is so pure and unapologetically genuine #even if it's different from the norm of love and courtship #that makes it even more romantic #my writing

2K notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 3 months

Note

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

781 notes · View notes

em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 3 months

Text

jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 2: Need

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You crave.

I am sorry for how long this took - to be fair, it's been months since I wrote actual smut and I was nervous to re-pop my smut cherry, ahahahaha. Yes, this chapter features actual smut, hallelujah for Reader! This doesn't technically mark the end for the troubles, however deceptive the ending is. Depression is a process, and sometimes we go through ups and downs with it. We're facing an up here! Ish.

Thanks be to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and offering much-needed pointers to make this chapter coherent and well-rounded. I cannot post without you holding my hand ever, and I love you for putting up with it.

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of PPD, penetrative s*x, lactation and lactation kink.

Wading through the waters of this curious state of mind is no easy process.

Melancholy. Mother’s malady. Madness. Whatever it is called among differing circles, you now know it is not uncommon. This knowledge does not ease the despondency that comes in waves, threatening to shatter any semblance of the control you are tenuously rebuilding. There are days when you feel as though you cannot even bear to lay eyes on your boy and girl, that the merest act of sighting them will somehow cause their unhappiness, that you will ruin them by being near them. There are times when you believe yourself to be the only woman in the world who cannot simply love her children as mothers ought to, free of the complication of treacherous notions slithering through the mind like draughts of poison, silent in their destruction. There are moments when you think that perhaps you should never have allowed them to spring to fruition, that you should have found a way to tear out the blooms that had sprouted within your belly before they had the chance to become living, breathing creatures.

That last thought is particularly repellent.

It is not your fault for thinking these things, though. They are ideas sprung from this affliction, designed to cause uncertainty and create chaos. It does not stop you from thinking that you may well be the most despicable monster to disgrace the earth. If you were left to your own devices, it is indeed likely that you would remain abed for days on end, resigned to misery.

But it is not a fate that you are allowed to succumb to. On the mornings when you find yourself unable to depart the cocoon of your sheets, your ladies coax you up with surprising and uncharacteristic purposefulness. Gone is their cloying timidity, replaced by creatures of determination as they all but drag you bodily upright to clothe and feed you, to immerse you in cheerful chatter while they work.

Gerardys comes to visit you, followed swiftly by Ūlla, newly returned from her journeys. The two rather predictably bicker over how best to approach any potential treatment.

“My colleagues at the Citadel recommend bloodletting,” the maester says with a frown, glancing nervously at your healer, “to restore imbalanced humours.”

Ūlla levels him with a foul look. “Are you stupid? Princess making milk. Losing blood is bad for her, and the babes!”

“If she remains hydrated, any complications will be minimal.”

“Tell Prince,” she shoots back challengingly. “See if he agree.”

“Forgive me, but Prince Daemon does not have the final word here, my lady. As Maester of Dragonstone, it is my responsibility to ensure residents are—”

“Losing blood hurt Princess, and babes, too! Stupid man!”

She storms out of the room with nary a word further, and you find yourself resigned to the possibility of enduring fattening leeches hanging off your skin. Gerardys begins to talk you through the process, though in truth you are not minding him as closely as you ought, but it does not seem to be long before Ūlla re-enters.

“Here,” she says, pressing a nondescript pouch into your hands. All the while, she is glaring at the maester. You inspect the contents, your nose tickling at the mild citrus scent that emanates from within. “Lemon balm,” she explains. “Make into a tea.”

Alas, you think ruefully. More tea. At this rate, it is a small wonder that your urine has not taken on the various aromas and hues of the remedies you are made to consume.

The tea does help, though, or perhaps it is simply in your mind. Perhaps the tea is not the cure, but time. Perhaps it is the magic that lives in your blood, that unites you to your dragon and ties you to the fate of a long-dead dynasty, that best eases your path forward. You still have hours and days where you fare poorly. But gradually, these moments come with less and less severity, feelings that do not fade but are ones you can muse upon, chew about like toffee sticking to the crowns of your teeth. Uncomfortable, difficult to cleanse yourself of, yes, but possible where you perhaps had not even been aware of their existence before. You learn to appreciate them for what they are, no more or less than calls for a defeat that is not yet yours to claim…

Because, despite the war in your head, your babes are happy. They are settled. They thrive. If you truly had been failing, this would not be so.

And thus, you persist with the teas and tonics and tepid baths recommended to you, with the dogged joviality of Jeyne and Bethany, with long walks at Ser Lysan’s side marked by the whip of salty sea air and the faint pulsing warmth of the sun. With visits to your boy, your Athfiezar, his smoke-breath and scaled mass and the thrum of a secret kinship clearing the muck of unhappiness from your view and restoring, in parts, a clarity well-missed. Through it all, you realise—bit by bit, hour by hour—that there is more beyond the sorrow. That something is blossoming, weak and spindly and scarcely living, but there, right there below your ribs and growing, a sickly weed straining toward the light. Something like hope.

It unfreezes the most poisonous of your tender ambitions, slackening the bonds of your inflexible drive to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys alone. ‘Tis a hard-won concession, but one necessary to your wellbeing and theirs. Still, you cannot help but feel your bond closest when they are swaddled against you, tiny hands pressed against your breasts and greedy suckles drawing from the wellspring of nourishment your body has created for them.

“Have they latched well, Princess? Ought I assist in any way?”

You glance up with great effort, nearly incapable of tearing your eyes away from them both. Freda feigns nonchalance, but it is easy enough to tell that she is anxious. Your rather spectacular histrionics are not easily forgotten by all.

Shaking your head, you smile. “They are fine, thank you. They are perfect.”

Never have you spoken truer words. You are constantly marvelling at how dissimilar they are to the shrivelled little beings that you had laboured to bring into the world scarcely two moons ago. Their hair, pale at birth, has only grown brighter, solid where it had been opaque. Much of Aelys’s has fallen out, which you have been assured is quite usual. It certainly makes it easier to differentiate between the two on sight, though this is becoming more and more simple as their differing features have begun to assert themselves. In Rhaenar, you see the promise of Daemon’s strong nose; in Aelys, the shape of the eyes. They share your mouth, even if Aelys’s pout reminds you more of Rhaenyra. These little things make them individuals with each passing day, untangle the singularity they are oft referred to as and begin to show those around them that they are becoming their own person.

You know now that your wish to gather them close and tuck them out of sight of all others is not simple maternal instinct, and instead a symptom of this malady. Through Freda’s tales, you learn that many are involved in the rearing of common-born children; through Ūlla’s considerable experience and your sister’s anecdotes, you begin to understand that your original undertaking was never feasible. It grates you so, but you try to take heed of their womanly advice more than you truly desire to, obliging their recommendations to allow the twins to sleep in the nursery during the night. But in the daytime—in the now—they are all yours.

“That they are,” Freda says, snapping you from your hypnotic reverie. “A bonnier lad and lass I’ve never met, you can be assured of that!”

Even though you know she likely feels duty-bound to say so, you cannot help the flush of pleasure. Their nursing has slowed, eyes heavy-lidded and noses huffing warmth against your skin. It is gratifying to see them so satisfied.

As soon as Rhaenar’s lips pull away, smacking wetly as he gurgles and smiles, Freda is ready to lift him into her arms. His head rests upon the cloth tossed over her shoulder, fists waving with each pat she makes against his back.

“Another meal for the little Prince and Princess,” she says, grinning. “Well done, Your Highness!”

“It would seem so.” Aelys is done, you think, but working her mouth still for comfort. It seems to please her to continue the act long after your milk has emptied. You cup her head, running your fingers through the wispy locks in a manner you hope is soothing. “It is relieving to have finally managed it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Rhaenar belches, kicking his legs when Freda makes a startled noise as she always does. “But what an impressive feat, milady—nursing one babe to a full belly can be difficult enough, never mind two! That thistle tea must be something special, indeed.”

It is not only the tea, you think.

The memories of Daemon’s lips at your nipples, his body hard against yours, the low lusty grunts of more than just gustatory delight—and there are many, as many memories as nights in which his faithful service so oft takes place—elicit a soft, secretive smile even as heat rushes to your face. This heat travels further, down, down, reminding you uncomfortably of another dilemma you are facing.

Desire. It is something which you ponder greatly upon over the next days.

When you had just given birth, you did not think you would ever be capable of it again. Of course, this sentiment had followed a rather gruelling several hours of agony, much of which you cannot recall, and the overwhelming fear that you may perish as your mother had done. With your lower half all but mangled and shedding the remains of what processes your body had devised to best facilitate your children’s growth, the notion of letting your uncle couple with you had seemed positively dreadful. ‘Twas akin to the thought of him rutting into the gaping maw of a fresh wound. But the blood of that night had passed, and the pain had faded, and in your mind, it is almost like it had never happened at all. You do not remember the sensation.

You have not resumed your courses save for some light spotting in your smallclothes, though that is apparently to be expected. Your breasts are ever noticeable, large and leaking or shrunken and soft depending on the time of day, always sensitive regardless of state. Your belly is quite nearly back to the state it had been before carrying the twins, save for an additional laxness and the crawling lines of dark delineating the places where your flesh had most stretched. These are all changes, differences that you have come to anticipate, understand.

It is likely why the return of carnal longings is so utterly strange, so abnormal in its normality. How can a form so changed experience something so… banal?

Even so, you find yourself drawn to the minutest of details when in Daemon’s presence: the corded strength of his arms; the elegant line of his ringed fingers; the set of his jaw and the shadow of his brow. His voice singing lullabies of old to the twins brings a sort of frantic exhilaration, a dampness pooling between the legs instead of drowsed comfort. His easy grin makes your heart pound as though from great toil. When his attention is elsewhere, you admire the span of his shoulders and the planes of his chest, knotting scars of savagery setting you to swooning.

You feel like one of his fawning admirers, breathless and fluttering and giggling at his innate charm. You feel desperate.

And, worst of all, he does not notice. He fails to recognise the reciprocation of your sighs and moans as he feasts from you for the invitation that they are. His touch is gentle, like he is afraid you will break, even when you press yourself into him so eagerly that it seems no small wonder that he cannot read it for the provocation you intend it to be. He is careful not to make his acts of self-pleasure too obvious, pushing your hands away with a kind murmur of, “Rest now, sweetling, I’ll take care of this,” as though you are incapable of doling out the satisfaction he had taught you so well to perform, as though it is an inconvenience to you rather than he that his member rises so readily at the sight of you.

This state of affairs cannot last. It ought to be an easy thing for you to entice him to act on your shameless thoughts, the way you had so often before the babes had entered the world. You feel frozen, trapped in your abstemious existence as you have been for sennights. How to make him see? How to make him comprehend?

When Rhaenyra hears of your plight, disguised in the politest terms you can muster, she laughs.

“Go on and tend to your brother,” she says to Luke, nodding towards Joff. Based on the quiver of little Corwyn’s lower lip, Joff has thrown one of his toys at him again. He appears poised to do so a second time, wooden dragon carving clutched tightly in an upraised fist. “Have him build a tower with you, perhaps.”

Luke sighs, ever wearied at presiding over the play of the younger two. Still, he abandons the book before him, revolves on his heel and trudges over to the pair of tots, prying the dragon from little fingers and leading them both to the far safer pile of blocks.

Satisfied, Rhaenyra turns back to you. “Have you tried speaking to him?”

The abrupt shift takes you aback. You must cast your mind past the immediate happenings—away from the sound of delighted giggling, the thwock of blocks placed by clumsy hands—to recall your previous conversation.

Oh, yes. Daemon.

“Not… not exactly,” you say, hesitant. “I did not think I would need to ask my husband to… well…”

“There are occasions where you think too highly of him.” Rhaenyra shakes her head wryly, a fond curl to the corner of her lip. “This is one of them. Just because he knows you best of all doesn’t mean he’s not still a man.”

“But he is a man who… enjoys certain acts! Perhaps even more so than other men.” Your thoughts supply you with ample evidence of such a claim, unbidden. How frustrating it is that your thoughts are your only source of carnal satisfaction at present. You swallow nervously, praying that such lewdness or its resulting vexation does not reveal itself in your expression. “Why is he being so obtuse?”

She tilts her head sympathetically. “You forget he was there during your labours. They’re pains easy enough to forget when you’re the one experiencing them, but not soon disregarded as the spectator. He remembers your suffering—he does not wish to revisit any further upon you.”

A flattering observation of him, though you note the lack of supposition in her tone. Intrigue washes through you.

“How do you know? Has he been speaking to you?”

“Oh, darling. He’s frightfully easy to read.”

For a moment, you envy her. She is so alike to Daemon that it is hardly any wonder that she knows his thoughts so well. You, on the other hand, do not share their temperament. It is a fact you often appreciate, for the gods know how calamitous such a warring pair would be in matrimony. It had once been said, you recall not by who, that you were the ice to their fire—but now, you feel the comparison is lacking.

If Rhaenyra and Daemon are a blazing conflagration, then you are the steady warmth of the candle flickering in the evening. Soft, controlled, but carrying the same propensity to burn and maim. A dragon, same as all the rest, but with one rather unique quality: mastery of will. The calamities inflicted by your family might have been averted had past generations indulged their wild spirits a little less.

An odd, haunting echo whispers along the back of your neck, a voice you feel you ought to recognise yet lies beyond the precipice of knowledge, just out of reach. “Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. A dragon is not a slave.”

No. But Targaryens have ever been beholden to their tempers. Mayhaps there is freedom yet to be won.

Rhaenyra clears her throat, brow raised pointedly at your obvious distraction. “Use your words. If you want him to fuck you, you’ll have to make it clear beyond implication.”

You flush, and not only for your inattention. You may be far more accustomed to vulgarity now than you were before marriage, but it does not mean that it is entirely comfortable to hear your sister speak it. Never mind the fact that she is discussing the affairs of your marital bed in so cavalier a manner! You remind yourself that it had been you who had approached her.

“Thank you.”

“I hope I helped. And to be frank, I hope I never need to help again. It’s difficult enough to contend with unspoken.”

A clear enough dismissal: you rise from your seat beside her, squeezing her arm in silent farewell. She catches you just before you turn toward the door, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“And remember,” she says. “If all else fails, just drop your shift and grab his cock. That ought to be enough to encourage him.”

“Rhaenyra!”

It takes a great deal of strength not to follow through on your sister’s recommendation when next you meet with Daemon.

He returns to your chambers following another of his training sessions, sweat-soaked and streaked with grime, grunting as he slips the belt from his waist and sets Dark Sister against the wall. Your ladies avert their stares as he unbuckles the clasps of his leather jerkin and discards the thing across the table. At the sight of his disrobing, Jeyne and Bethany stand, genuflecting hastily before all but rushing from the room. Try as you might, the pair are still somewhat uneasy around him. Characteristically, he appears not to notice their departure—indeed, it is unlikely he truly even noticed their presence.

“I do hope you plan to wipe that table clean,” you call out to him, doing your best to affect a tone of light-hearted teasing. In truth, you feel more than a little faint. It is positively sinful, the way he looks.

Daemon rolls his eyes, bundling up his tunic. He tugs it over his head, exposing the undershirt made translucent from the vigour of his activities. Through it, you can see the scars of old, the firm planes of his chest and belly.

“We have people for that, or did you forget?” he asks. The tunic falls atop the jerkin. A chair screeches across the stone, and your husband seats himself with a wearied sigh to work at the buckles on his boots. “Fucking miserable, this lot. I’m half tempted to drag them to the Stepstones. Perhaps the threat of war might make them more inclined to follow orders. Best way to turn the green ones into true men.”

You know it is mere complaint, but the thought of his flying off to battle is still enough to make your chest pang with worry.

“Not funny,” you say, thumbing the needle in your hand. “Aelys would never stop screaming with you gone. Rhaenar would keep himself awake until your return.”

He grins. “Never fear. I’ll not leave you to manage our little beasts alone.” He pauses; glances toward the cradle. “How are they?”

“See for yourself.”

Hardly needing encouragement, he pads sure-footed toward the sounds of soft gurgling and cooing, the sturdy frame keeping the pair of infants out of your immediate sight. Bending low and extending both arms down, you can hear him murmur, “Rytsas, ñuhys zaldrītsossas.”

Hello, my little dragons.

A high-pitched squeal is his response, no doubt Aelys’s welcome. You try to focus once again on the seam you are patching, though it is hard not to be drawn into the conversation that appears to be taking place to your far left.

Rustling, and a plaintive whine. Daemon sighs. “Daor, ñuhus jorrāeliarzis—jemī ōregon koston daor. Yne aōhi muña asēnilus lo jemī vaogēdan.” No, my loves—I cannot hold you. Your mother would kill me for dirtying you.

“Kony drēje issa.” That is correct, you say archly. You nod toward the screen. “Kōdrion aō syt ilza. Īlvon parklondo go, aōlot rāenābā, kostilus.” There is a bath for you. Wash up before our supper, please.

When he pulls away, the pair squawk their dismay. Luckily, he knows best how to resolve the ensuing fit before it can reach fruition—he jerks his final layer off over his head, depositing the threadbare shirt into the cradle. Their cries fall abruptly silent. You wrinkle your nose at the prospect of their bedding wicking the odour of perspiration, though you are forced to acknowledge the efficacy of such an action. Babes find comfort in the scent of their parents.

Daemon drops a strip of leather on the desk, shaking his head of now-loose hair. On his path to the tub, he stops before you.

“Ynot tolī syz iksā,” he says, rough-hewn palm dragging your chin upward. You are too good to me.

It is all you can do not to moan like an eager slattern as his lips slot against yours and the musk of him rattles your bones like tinder to firewood, bursting and sparking with banked heat. Acerbic, mingled with smoke and the particular fragrance of ashy mud found nowhere else but here upon the isle, it is strong enough to taste upon his mouth, feel upon your skin. Before you have the mind to deepen it, to drag him down and haul your skirts up, he is gone, naught more than a tender dirt-smudged stroke to the cheek to mark his departure.

You collapse back against the chaise, bewildered and hot, the heavy glide of his favourite coat finally breaking free from your lap and to the floor, needle and thread and all. Meanwhile, you hear him whistling to himself as he removes his breeches, his groan of relief as he steps into the water.

You have half a mind to disturb his bathing, for how dare he leave you so bereft? But it is not his fault. Well, to be fair, there is no fault at play here, for there has been no fault committed. Unless being far too handsome is a fault, you think.

Alas, there is no recourse but to wait for the opportune time to strike. It cannot be now—supper is still to come, and the babes must be put to the nursery.

‘Tis this thought you must repeat over and over again. Not now: Daemon is dressing for the evening meal, even if you truly only want to have him remain without clothing, to prowl about with his considerable endowments on display for your avid gaze, and something alarmingly like grief twists in your stomach with each item of clothing that further conceals him from you. Not now: you take your girl and he takes your boy and the four of you make your way through the halls, and you must ruthlessly quell the driving lust from your core with each step, for there can be no notions of lechery with a babe curled in your grasp just so, an innocence you will not dare risk tainting with the impurity of your designs. Not now: the Keepers are explaining that the twins’ dragons “are becoming unruly, my Prince”, and “they will need far more outdoor enrichment than we had previously discussed”, and you must nod your head in sage agreement even as you press a kiss to Rhaenar’s forehead, then Aelys’s, all too aware of the low thrum of Daemon’s voice while you say goodnight to Freda and the children.

Supper comes and goes in a burning haze, marked by the knowing looks you receive from your sister across the table and the pervasive awareness that he is right there next to you, so close and yet untouchable, not now, not in the way you want. When you are done eating—and honestly, you do not even remember putting food into your mouth, but your plate is empty and your belly pleasantly full so you must have—you are forced to just sit, all too conscious of the arm Daemon has carelessly draped across the back of your chair, the rumble of his laugh as his cups flow amply with the free and easy conversation between he and Harwin and Laenor. And then, and then, you are returned to your chambers after minutes or hours or days, so wound up on the inside that you feel close to madness of a different kind, near to bursting, blood bubbling effervescently like the sharpest of Northern wines.

All night, you had been anticipating this moment. Why now does your nerve fail you?

“Come here,” he says, disturbing the panicked wheelabout in your mind.

For a moment, you wonder whom it is he is speaking to—but then he glances up at you, frowning quizzically. You realise you are the only other being in the room. Wringing your hands and cursing your foolish transparency, you trail toward him, stopping expectantly when you are within reach.

Silence.

“Well?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. You look about, trying to determine what it is he wants. He sighs, and adds, “Do you plan on sleeping in that dress, or would you like a hand with the laces?”

“Oh!”

Like a poorly performing puppet, you whirl around spasmodically, breath stuck somewhere between its starting and finishing point, suspended in your chest as he shifts your hair to one side and begins the methodical task of unthreading you from your fabric prison. Each wrench of cord is as keenly felt as a thrust between your legs, or the memory of it, hushing your careening passions to the metronome of the tug tug shwip at your back. Daemon’s breath is sweetly fragrant, hot upon your neck, near enough that you can hear his every exhale before the pressure of air caresses your skin. It is an eternity before the gown slithers to the floor, followed by the soft-boned corset you have favoured in recent moons.

“Shift, too?” is his next whispered query, fingers already at the ties and tugging, palms dragging it clear from your collarbone and down, down, down. It bunches at your waist, but it is far enough for his liking, and he turns you in his grasp to back you unerringly to the bed. A kiss, then, “Make yourself comfortable, talītsos,” and he moves away to remove his own clothing.

Your heart sinks at the familiarity. The routine. Make yourself comfortable, followed by abortive sensual touches and the hard suckle of man at teat before your breasts are dried up for the night, then squirming alone in the dark to the furious beat of his fist over his length across the room and the barely groaned “Fuck!” as he spurts his release on something, anything that is not you.

Even so, you crawl onto the mattress, nipples tingling with the gentle sway of movement and shift pooling over the convergence of your thighs. Kneeling, you wait, torn between hiding and fully baring yourself to the cooling chamber.

He joins you thereafter, body rising over yours as his mouth sinks to touch your own, tongue chasing the give of your lips to feed you the heady prickle of inebriation in a plush glide. Too soon does he break from you, the ridge of his nose pressing a warm line through the wet of his kisses along your jaw, your throat. He bears you slowly down, back against the pillows, grip sliding up your thighs and bypassing where you need him entirely, up your hips, up, away—

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, fumbling at his wrist to make him pause in his pursuit.

He leans back, concern carving lines in his face. Before he speaks—before you lose all semblance of courage—you try to make it plain without words.

You part your thighs flat to the bed. Slowly, without thinking too hard, you draw the rumpled hem of your shift up over your belly, rasping against your flesh, and you show him the dewy softness that awaits, begging for his favour. You imagine it glistens in the low light of candle flame there, dappling gold on tender flesh starved for touch.

Daemon stares unblinking, surprise transforming liquid, dark. “What’s this?”

“I need—” You drag his fingers to your mound, resisting the urge to shudder. “Please?”

He huffs, not a sound of amusement but one of seeming triumph. Idly, as though indifferent, his thumb coasts a path along your folds, taking care not to part them. The nail catches just so upon the hood of your half-hidden bud, sparking and fizzling straight to all the pleasure centres of your body. “Look at you. I’ve left you wanting, have I?”

“Ye—yeah.” You tip your hips up invitingly, breaths like little pants coming quicker, too loud in the quiet. “It’s been so… so long since…”

You bite off a gasp as he crawls forward, lowers, deliberately splaying you open with the blunted, veiny drive of his shaft. He hisses at the pressure, the sleekness, the heat. You feel it too, the scorch of iron striking molten, and you tip your head up in search of some relief from the ache of it.

He stirs himself there, making no attempt to push in where he catches.

“Since what, sweetling?” His arms lock you in place, hand falling warningly to your throat as his teeth make divots in the lobe of your ear. “Since I touched you? Fucked you? Put my seed in your belly?”

“Yes!”

You nod furiously, clutching his fist around your windpipe tighter, squeezing so that you can feel the threat of it through layers of muscle. Grinding your hips up at him, your entrance tightens painfully as he once again slides above where you want him, knocking where you are most sensitive. Need drips slickly to the bedsheets beneath your core.

The enthusiasm of your agreement lures a noise of satisfaction from his chest. “Thought I was doing the right thing. Thought I was being a good husband, keeping my cock away from my poor little wife, scarcely free of the birthing bed.”

He reaches between your bodies with his other hand and grasps the root of himself to slap his cockhead against your petaled opening, the collision of skin producing an audible sucking sound. Your nipples strain to the ceiling, your reason tethered like wire to the churning of your belly.

Daemon grunts, grip shifting to wind against your nape, tugging sharply at the hairs there. “But I forgot, didn’t I? That you’re a whore.”

“I am,” you say, pitchy and breathless. “I’ve been waiting for you, kepus.”

He tugs again, grimacing as finally—finally—his girth aims true. The broad head of him slips inside, filling the empty spaces in you with weight and heat and heft until your cunny is as wide open as your lips are, a silent scream of sensation. Time slows and all the ages of the earth roll into the seconds that he piles himself inside you, forcing through the stubborn clench straight to the root. You wince, the fit tight like you remember, struggling to breathe at the deep-seated throb from somewhere below your ribs where he has engraved a path.

“Fuck.” He moans quietly against your shoulder, more to himself than to you. His cock digs deeper, harder, and you cry out, neatly unable to bear it. “Fuck, how are you still so tight?”

You squeeze around him at the words, revelling in the choked growl even as your body tries to curl in on itself from sheer stimulation, legs hitching up around his waist to drive him to your will. Embracing him, you bury your nose in his hair as he tilts you to his liking and withdraws, returning with a jolt that sparks uncomfortably in your gut. His mouth drags and leaves bruises along your neck as his thrusts start tentative, grow bold.

It is a testament to his own longing that he does not continue rattling off the filthiest declarations imaginable, fists clenched over your thighs and at the base of your skull with a strength that will mar you come morning. You smile at each throbbing plunge, bask in the squelch and judder of your forms moving in tandem, sweat smoothing the way. He pants, overcome, and you echo his sounds in a rhythm like ancient music.

Daemon’s lips venture lower, spine hunching atop you. He crows, jubilant, and you realise that your arousal is not the only fluid your body has released. Rising up, he takes you by both hipbones and settles you atop his thighs, tugging you over his lap and admiring the sight you make below him. He does not stop moving, length sluicing in minuscule revolutions, a constant bevy of sensation.

“Look at you,” he says again, palm smoothing flat over your stomach and gliding up over your breastbone, diverting to tweak one of your leaking nipples.

You squeal, feeling the rush of milk dribble down your breast. His nostrils flare, thumb stoppering the fall and chasing to its source before withdrawing and licking it from his skin with a lewd pop. You think he means to incite the other, only his digits venture lower and twist cruelly at your straining pearl. Tears spring to your eyes as something like the memory of peaking kindles in your stomach.

“Ah, there—all of you cries for me now, little girl. Isn’t that nice?” Callous satisfaction harshens the curve of his grin. “Eyes, tits, cunt… weeping for Uncle. And I’ll drink everything down.”

He presses the backs of your knees to the bed and descends, latching onto your nipple as his onslaught renews, pleasure in duality crystallizing at your chest and below and melding into one. You lose track of where you end and he begins, where the relief is greatest. He drags you to that elusive end in a swirl of writhing limbs and salt-musk sticking to the roof of your mouth as you call for him.

His thrusts come faster, shallower, making direct contact with the locus of feeling with each forward movement. The entirety of you gears toward the crest of the mountain, that moment of great and glorious bliss. When you finally reach it, you keen, bones and muscle coiling inward as a great wave surges outward.

You twist uncontrollably, fingernails scoring through his flesh as you come.

“Kepus,” you hear yourself babbling, clinging to his head at your other breast as you lurch discordantly across the mattress. “Harder, harder, more—”

You turn into a glutton desirous of this particular form of punishment, ravenous for the ache and the sting and the burn of it, and he responds in kind.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Each plea for more meets with a plunge of girth that sets you to shrieking, pushing yourself into them though your body urges you to flee. More, more, more. You are drunk on it, greedy for the assault. He is ever obliging to fuck harder, harder, faster.

And then—

Daemon withdraws, climbing over you with frantic disregard, hand a blur between his legs. He pushes you down, wrenches your jaw up, apart, digging into the hinge.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls, mean and monstrous with his cock aimed straight for your face, panting and slavering as he works himself over.

You stick your tongue out for good measure, straining against his hold for just one taste, but he does not let you. His fingers curl into the meat between your skull and spine, pain making you cross-eyed, and he shifts urgently on his knees.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—”

Seed spurts hot on the corner of your mouth, along your cheek, across your closed eyelids before he brings his length to your lips. You pull eagerly at him, rising to bring him further into your mouth even as his fist knocks unkindly against your teeth. His caustic flavour, familiar and missed, spreads across your palate, and you drink of him like a penitent come to worship at the altar of the gods.

Mindlessly, he grinds down at you, softening girth making you gag ever so slightly. Spend clings to your lashes and stings in your eyes as you look up at him, but you cannot care.

He stills, winded, chest expanding and collapsing with a thirst for air. Then, with a gentleness lacking in these last moments, he works himself free of you, flopping to your side with a sigh and a weak noise of contentment. He looks relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in weeks. Moons, even.

You brush stray strands from his forehead, smoothing starlight from his weathered temples. He turns into the touch, mouth meeting the inside of your wrist.

“You really are too good to me, sweetling,” he murmurs.

His lips press to the tip of your nose, palm warm and comforting on your back. Fingers trace patterns into your flesh, at first seeming meaningless until you recognise the strokes, deliberate and sure, for what they are.

‘Avy jorrāelan.’ I love you.

“I know,” you say, answering both spoken and unspoken sentiment, your heart utterly full. In turn, you trace the same glyphs on the skin of his chest. From the smile that fills his eyes with light incandescent, he knows, too.

You lay in the quiet, basking in the surety of each other.

But it cannot last. You are loath to break the serenity, though you speak nonetheless, making a weak gesture to the pearly gleam that clumps your lashes, streaks your face.

“Do you mind… perhaps getting me a washcloth? I… cannot see.”

It is only now that he appears to notice the state he has left you in. With another kiss and an amused bark of laughter, he moves to do your bidding.

You settle back, content, watching your uncle stride fully nude to the wash basin to wet the cloth he has scrounged from its resting place. While you wait, you count all your many blessings: your babes, happy and settled and thriving. Your sister, skilful and kind in her confidence. Athfiezar, fierce and devoted and liberating when the walls feel as though they are caving in. Your tutor, your healer, your maester, your attendants, your life here on this isle, in this time and place and season. Your husband, your lover, the very benefactor of all you have come to hold dear.

Daemon kneels beside you, sponging away the worst of his deeds with a sure hand and steady smirk. “I’ll be sure to mind my aim next time, hm?”

Next time. An implicit vow.

You feel it again—a glow like the pinprick of daylight at a tunnel’s end, warming the chill from your bones and the frost from your heart, slow and sure and stubborn in the face of the complications that are yet to come. Something thawing, soothing, deadening the weight of grief and hardships past.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes closed at the sensation of his frame moulded against yours, real and true and necessary. “Next time.”

Something like hope.

Read on AO3:

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in the comments!

To be on the taglist:

Click here to apply for the general taglist! Click here to apply for the terms of endearment taglist!

443 notes · View notes

magiccath · 5 months

Text

Secrets big and small

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: in which you are forced to admit your feelings for the Doctor, even if you think he will leave you for it

A/N: For the absolute love of my life and favorite beta, thanks for dealing with me talking about this more than I wrote it

The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. After a few good inhales, he popped back inside the ship, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

You waited by the ship's console, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The Doctor had promised you a beach vacation, and judging by his face, this wasn’t a beach. Sometimes you wondered how much control the Doctor actually had over the ship, considering it only landed in the places he intended about 25% of the time.

“We’re not at a beach are we?”

The Doctor ignored your question and moved over to the console, grabbing one of the many oddly shaped screens attached to the control panel. He pulled his glasses out of his suit pocket, perching the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

“Interesting…” He hummed, more to himself than you.

“Where did we end up this time?” You asked, opening the door to peek outside. You knew better than to walk off without the Doctor, but a little look had never hurt you.

The minute you opened the door you were met with the bustling noise of a street. All kinds of aliens walked by you, each one unique in their own way.

“It would appear we landed on the planet Phact, but I’m not sure why.”

You continued to stare out of the TARDIS wide-eyed, taking in all of the strange creatures before you. Your eyes followed an individual who walked by, a series of tentacles hanging out of his mouth.

“Is it safe?” you asked as an afterthought.

“As far as I know,” the Doctor shrugged, putting his glasses back in his pocket. He moved away from the console to stand at your side by the door.

You looked over at him, debating if you should tell him that wasn’t exactly a reassuring thought.

“Since we’re here…” he smiled cheekily, inclining his head toward the door. You laughed and rolled your eyes. The Doctor never could resist a good adventure.

You followed him out the door, waiting momentarily as he locked the TARDIS up.

“Remember that time you forgot to tell me it was rude to wear less than three layers on Titan 4?” you ask, watching him slip the key back into his endless coat pockets.

The Doctor shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets and leaning toward you. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Is there anything I should know about this planet?” you raise your eyebrows questioningly.

The Doctor’s brow wrinkled as he thought about it, trying to remember his limited knowledge about Phact.

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged again, smiling softly.

You scrunched your nose slightly, not sure you believed him. Still, you followed him.

The Doctor talked excitedly as the two of you walked through the city streets. Most of the time, you only understood half of the words he was saying. Frankly, you just enjoyed listening to him talk.

As you walked your eyes took in everything around you. It didn’t matter how long you traveled with the Doctor, it always seemed like there was more for you to learn and discover.

The Doctor continued talking, waving his hands about in the air. Abruptly, he stopped to look at a nearby poster. You followed him, trying to peek over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. The Doctor shifted to the side so you could read the sign too, the TARDIS translation circuit making the writing legible to you.

“The 998th Olympic games?” you read aloud, your eyebrows furrowed.

“That would explain all of the species here!” he smiled brightly, looking at the diverse crowd around you.

You nodded in agreement, following his gaze. There really did appear to be all kinds of species from around the galaxy.

“Want to go?” He whispered to you, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“We don’t have tickets. Or money.”

The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows again, pulling the psychic paper out of his pocket. He shook it at you with a mischievous grin.

A smile took over your own face as you nodded, “alright then,” you said excitedly. You’d never been to the Olympics, let alone the space Olympics.

The Doctor guided you through the crowd towards the giant area, holding your hand tightly so as not to lose you. You tried not to focus too much on the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours. He just didn’t want you to wander off, there wasn’t much else to it, right?

“Y’know I carried the Olympic torch once,” he smirked back at you, still guiding you through the crowds.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“What?” the Doctor asked, not catching your comment over the chatter of the crowd. You smiled softly and shook your head, deciding it was best not to repeat yourself.

The Doctor led you to the ticket line, waiting patiently for the guards to check your tickets and let you in. He bounced slightly on his feet, unable to stand still for too long.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” you asked anxiously, eyeing the copious amounts of security surrounding the arena.

“Of course!” the Doctor smiled brightly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. The movement made both of you realize he was still holding your hand, even if he didn’t need to. With a small, hardly discernible blush, the Doctor slid his hand from yours.

The line moved forward and the guard asked for your tickets. The Doctor winked at you before handing the psychic paper over with a confident smile.

“Are you serious, mate?” The guard laughed dryly, looking between you and the Doctor.

“Most of the time,” the Doctor’s confident smile didn’t waver.

The guard sighed and leaned into his walkie-talkie, chattering softly to someone on the other end. You looked up at the Doctor with wide eyes, urging him to explain.

“Probably getting us a special escort or something,” he shrugged, turning the paper around to see what your fake tickets said. When his eyes landed on the paper his face instantly turned ghostly white.

“Doctor…” you growled softly.

“W-we should probably run now,” he whispered back. Before you could react, the security guard pulled the two of you firmly to the side.

“Doctor, what is going on?” You whispered as the guard led the two of you to a police car. At least, you assumed it was a police car. Unless flashing red and blue lights meant something else on other planets, it was definitely a police car.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor winced softly as the security guard guided the two of you to an officer. The cop looked you up and down before guiding you inside of the car.

“I would feel a lot better if you told me why.”

You weren’t necessarily mad about the police car, it wasn’t the first time you had gotten arrested on the Doctor’s behalf. Usually, he was able to get you out of it. You were more frustrated that he wasn’t telling you what was happening.

“Remember Titan 4?” he winced.

“Doctor!” you snapped angrily, “I specifically asked you if I needed to know anything about this planet!”

“Right, I know I’m sorry, I forgot,” he whispered, shaking his head softly.

“How bad is it?” you sighed, looking down at your lap.

“They’re not gonna kill us,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

“What did we even do?”

“You can’t lie on Phact.”

“Like, physically?”

The Doctor grimaced, thinking the question through, “not exactly,” he offered. You waited for him to further explain.

“They can tell telepathically if you lie and that ability extends to psychic paper.”

“I gathered as such,” you sighed, “but that still doesn't explain why we’re in a cop car”

“It’s illegal to lie.”

“Seriously?” you gaped, “any kind of lie?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Even if you tell your friend she looks fine when she really looks a mess 'cause you want to spare her feelings?”

The Doctor frowned but nodded again, more tentatively this time.

“That’s a horrible idea.”

“Don’t tell them that.”

You sighed softly in agreement.

“I really am sorry,” he looked at you with those big, sad brown eyes of his. It was very, very hard to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that. It was your weakness.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “What are they going to do?”

Before the Doctor could answer, the car stopped and a cop came around to help you out of the car. The officer led you inside a very space-looking police station to a very Earth-looking interrogation room. You sat next to the Doctor in metal fold-out chairs, a table separating you and the officer. At least they didn’t cuff you.

“Names,” the officer groaned, clicking his pen and hovering it over a yellow legal pad. He had the kind of face and demeanor that told you he would rather be anywhere else.

“The Doctor.”

“Really funny, what’s your actual name?” the officer frowned.

“That’s my name,” the Doctor pouted, offended that someone would think it wasn’t. You smiled softly to yourself, finding the Doctor’s disappointed frown adorable.

“Fine,” the officer groaned, scribbling it down on his paper. “Age?”

“904,” he said without blinking. You hid your widening smile with your hand. You were starting to feel a little bad for the police officer.

“You’re how old?”

“904.”

“Species?”

“Gallifreyan.”

“Never heard of them,” the officer shook his head, writing it down on his paper. “You lot must age differently,” he grumbled, more towards his paper than the two of you.

“Right, and you?” the officer asked, tilting his head in your direction.

The Doctor nodded softly at you, urging you to comply with the officer’s wishes. You sighed and answered the same questions. The officer just seemed relieved to write down something less ridiculous.

“Alright,” he slid the paper pad away from him before leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed “You have been charged with a first-class felony of deception. You will not be fined or executed. To be released from custody you must provide your biggest secret”

“That’s it?” you asked, it seemed a little too simple. The officer nodded, clearly fed up with you and the Doctor.

“Look, folks, let’s just make this easier for all of us and get on with it?”

The Doctor nodded his agreement, casting a nervous look over at you. You nodded back, trying to think of something you could say. You knew easily what your biggest secret was, but you knew you couldn’t say it out loud. Especially not in front of the Doctor.

“I’m terrified of hospitals,” the Doctor said with a small frown.

“That’s ironic,” you chuckled, assuming he was making a joke. The officer stared at him for a few minutes, probably thinking the same thing.

“Checks out,” the officer sighed, writing “scared of hospitals” next to his other notes on the Doctor. “Weird secret, mate,” he added before turning his attention to you.

You fiddled anxiously before leaning back in your seat, your eyes trained on your hands.

“Does he have to be here for it?” you asked softly. The Doctor looked at you confused, wondering what was so bad you didn’t want him to know.

“I just admitted I'm terrified of hospitals as a doctor, it can't get worse than that,” he laughed.

“Does he?” you asked the officer, ignoring the Doctor. The cop looked between the two of you; the Doctor staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at you, and you trying to act like he wasn’t there.

“Yes,” the officer challenged, leaning back in his seat again. You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering if he only said that to see how things would play out.

“So, what’s your secret?” he smirked, confirming your suspicions. “I’ll know if you’re lying”

You sighed, trying to steady your racing heart. You wanted to scream, maybe even cry. You wanted to blame the Doctor, even if it wasn’t really his fault. Even more, you wanted to wipe that stupid, smug smile off of the officer’s face.

You took one last look at the Doctor, smiling sadly at him. He looked back at you with confusion, unsure why you were looking at him as if it was the last time you’d ever see him. To you, it felt like it would be. He could never look at you the same, not after this.

“I’m in love with this idiot,” you sighed, cocking your head towards the Doctor. The silence that followed was deafening. While the Doctor’s brain struggled to process your words the officer sized you up, searching for any falsities in your statement.

“What a strange pair,” the officer shook his head, leaning forward to write on his pad again. “In love with the other one”

You looked at those words scribbled on the thin, crappy paper and felt your heart clench. It was out there now, the Doctor knew. At the moment, you couldn’t think of anything worse. You would rather spend your entire life in prison than have had to admit that.

“You’re free to go,” the officer waved you off, more preoccupied with writing more things on his paper pad. It seemed so simple, yet one little secret had turned your world upside down.

You nodded solemnly and stood up, heading out the door. The Doctor wasn’t far behind you.

The walk back to the TARDIS was really quiet, a stark contrast from a few short hours ago. You tried not to sulk too much as you walked through the busy streets back to the ship.

The Doctor unlocked the doors without a word, holding them open for you. You walked inside the ship for what you assumed was the last time. The Doctor followed, heading over to the console to mess with a few buttons.

“I’ll pack my things,” you whispered, more to the floor than the Doctor. You moved towards the hallway that led to your room but the Doctor cut you off.

“What?”

“I’ll pack up,” your eyes remained trained on the floor, not wanting to look into his. You knew the Doctor wasn’t going to keep you around after this. It was glaringly clear that he didn’t have those feelings for you, that he couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” he frowned, moving away from the console.

“You’re kicking me out.”

“I think I would know if I was.” He moved so he was standing in front of you, tilting his head down in an attempt to catch your eye.

“It’s ok,” you shook your head, your eyes trained on your shoes, “I know you don’t want me around anymore.”

“Is this about the whole secret thing?” the Doctor asked gently.

“I know you don’t feel the same, I never expected you to,” you shook your head, averting your gaze again. “I’d understand if you just wanted to drop me back at home.”

“Is that what you want?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat, “It’s not exactly about what I want is it?”

The Doctor remained silent, his mind working for the right thing to say. He didn’t fully comprehend what was happening.

“You’re under the assumption that I’m going to drop you because you love me?” He said softly, still trying to catch your eye.

“Is that not what’s happening right now?” You frowned, confused.

The Doctor laughed softly, moving away from you with one long stride. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the spiky strands. You continued to frown at him, confused by his demeanor.

“I can establish a psychic block,” he explained, waving his hands about as he talked. You frowned, confused as to why he was talking about this now. “I told the officer a secret, but I didn’t tell him my greatest secret.”

He had the kind of look on his face he got when he was trying, and failing, to figure something out. It was a look you knew well at this point, you had just never been the cause of it.

“There’s so much of you in my head,” he groaned, waving his hands by the sides of his face, “which is saying a lot 'cause I have more in my head than you will ever experience in your entire life.”

You gaped at him, unsure what you were supposed to say in this scenario. Was this his secret?

“You take up so much space,” he emphasized exasperatedly, repeatedly running his hands through his hair. “Even when you’re not here I’m constantly thinking about you!” He leaned his hands against the console, hanging his head as he continued rambling.

You stared at him like he had grown a second head. No, three extra heads. And a tail.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

The Doctor moved back over to you, reaching out to cradle your face in his hands. He cupped your cheeks gently and bent his head forward so your foreheads connected.

“You take up so much space,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your face. “And the fact that you can’t see that kills me, it really kills me.”

“Doctor-” you whispered in shock. In your mind, there was only ever one way that the Doctor could react to your feelings, and this certainly wasn’t it. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

The Doctor laughed sharply, shaking his head against yours, “You’re clueless, y’know that?”

“You’re not much better,” you frowned back. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” Your heart thudded against your chest, threatening to beat right out of your body. The mere implication that the Doctor could have even a shred of feelings for you was sending your senses into overdrive.

“Yes, I am,” he whispered. That was all you needed. You knew it was hard for him to say things like this. He wasn’t exactly the “I love you” type. The fact that he had said this much already was a wonder.

You didn’t really think about it, you just kissed him. His lips fit against yours perfectly and the kiss was over much sooner than either of you had wanted.

Your face was still cradled in his hands as the Doctor bent down to press another, quicker kiss against your lips, returning the act of affection. You smiled happily as he pulled back, looking up at him with pure adoration.

“Are you really afraid of hospitals though?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Terrified,” he shook his head.

425 notes · View notes

aonungslvr · 7 months

Text

he’s…what?

pairing ; jealous! ao’nung x f!sully! reader

taggings ; 🪽⭐️🐚

summary ; ao’nung quickly falls for the sully sister after she arrives in his village, but who is this boy she keeps talking about?

3.1k words

when you and your family had first arrived in awa’atlu you hated it. the sound of ilu’s chirping and waves thrashing against the sand wasn’t normal. the smell of salt was disgusting. there were no trees to shield you from the suns rays or give you coverage when you wanted to be alone. no grass or cool dirt to dig your feet into.

this wasn’t your home; you belong in the forest. you had been chased out of your home after having a knife held to your throat by sky demons; obviously you weren’t happy to be here.

your nerves certainly were not eased when the tsahík of the metkayina, ronal, had grabbed your four-fingered hand to show the crowd. you were instantly met with hisses and snarls from the lighter blue clan. you gently trembled at her touch, less from fear and more from annoyance, and continued staring into the sand, trying to dig your feet into it like dirt. it was too hot; this wasn’t your dirt. your mother intervened, seeing your discomfort, and held you to her; raising her fangs towards the tsahìk. your father entered himself in hopes of calming the situation down, showing the clan his own 4 fingered hand.

when ronal had moved on and the attention focused on the leaders of the metkayina, you glanced up, seeing the ocean clan more clearly this time. you had noticed a girl and two boys closer to your family than the others; they looked around your age. the female was eyeing your youngest brother before her vision shifted towards you. she offered you a warm smile along with a small wave. you looked her up and down before giving her your own smile and wave, though you lowered your hand as you could tell she was now focused on your extra finger.

you looked beside her to see a taller boy with a bun, he had been the one to make fun of your brothers thin tails, the tail you all shared. you sighed and continued staring at the teen, for some reason you couldn’t stop. that was proved false when the boy looked your way, you diverted your eyes back to the sand as fast as you could. you hadn’t been able to see it, but the teal na’vi eyed you up and down silently. his shorter friend slapped his arm and laughed at him, whispering something you couldn’t quite pick up.

apparently whatever your parents and the leaders were talking about had been concluded. you heard the olo’keytans stern and loud voice speak out among the crowd, before he faced your family directly and spoke a bit softer.

“my son ao’nung, and my daughter tsireya will show you our ways.”

ao’nung and tsireya. the boy you had stared at spoke up in disagreement, leading you to his name being ao’nung, as well as him being the chiefs son. the kind girl had also made herself to be tsireya when she guided your family to your new home.

you walked among kiri, trailing shortly behind her. you followed tsireya and ao’nung had followed from behind you all, paired with his little friend.

“i do not like it here kiri.” you spoke as you looked up to face her.

she scoffed in return, “yeah me neither.”

“these are ilu, if you want to live here, you have to ride.”

you and your siblings were all hip length deep in the sea, surrounded by multiple swimming animals, they were called ilu. they reminded you of your ikran.

the ocean siblings had been tasked with training you all to learn how to survive within their clan, and it was time to tame your animal.

tsireya first helped lo’ak, you already knew why. it was quite obvious. he had settled onto the creatures back and held onto the saddle. he made tsaheylu with the marine animal and she took off. you watched as your brother had tried to hold on as best he could but was ripped off due to the speed and pressure that being underwater included.

he had failed miserably and tsireya continued to guide him, but you couldn’t all wait for him. (you’d be there for years.)

ao’nung had invited you over a few feet to show you how to get your own ilu. he explained the process just as tsireya had. you mounted the animal and waited for instruction.

“hold here, when you make the bond, you need to think with her. not against her. let her guide you.”

after seeing what happened with lo’ak, you figured that was a load of bullshit and you would be swept away too. you gripped on the saddle with one hand and grabbed your braid with the other.

“your position is wrong.”

the blue teen pushed your back down and shifted your legs. the feeling was different, the extra skin on his arms were odd. your heartbeat quickened for a moment and the ilu beneath you flapped her fins.

“there. remember, bond gentle.”

you connected your kuru with the creature, and took off. you panicked for a little until you were reminded with how dramatic lo’ak is. he had made this look like such a hard task, it really wasn’t too bad. the water pressure threatened you but you were able to manage. you tightened your grip and squeezed your eyes shut. as you felt the tide flow with you, you slowly opened your eyes. you instructed your ilu to slow it down, which she listened too.

the sea wasn’t horrible. there were so many new creatures you had never even known about. you looked among the fish and corals as you smiled at the sight. feeling your chest begin to tighten, you and your ilu went back up to the surface, swimming closer to where you had left the others.

tuk was the first to congratulate her big sister, “that was so cool (y/n)!”

“yeah way better then lo’ak”, laughed your eldest brother, neteyam.

“ok bro, who invited toruk makto?” your youngest brother was always the jokester, and you laughed at the reference.

looking back at your mentor, you noticed ao’nung hadn’t held any malice or laughter towards you, you took that as a good sign.

throughout the training of your family, you had sectioned off into unofficial groups. tsireya tended to assist lo’ak and tuk, while ao’nung helped neteyam, kiri, and you. ao’nung had tried selling you off to tsireya because he was upset he had to deal with three sully’s while his sister only had two. she had argued that having tuk was basically like having two in one, and she stood with her statement.

with annoyance, he taught you what you all needed to know to adjust to the ocean. most of his lessons were filled with sighs and reprimands when someone would do something wrong, but that had started to fade lately.

“what do you mean ao’nung is nicer? no he isn’t? he still makes fun of us during training…”

oh.

it had only began to fade for you.

well this was fine, neteyam was probably just exaggerating. after all, he was certainly a charmer yesterday.

. . .

“you are not breathing right.”

you and ao’nung sat on a jagged rock in the middle of the reef, he was giving you a private lesson on holding your breath because apparently you were falling behind. (not true.)

you looked at him as he demonstrated how to intake the air and hold it, but it just looked like normal breathing. you tried to repeat what he did but it still wasn’t good enough for him.

“what are you even doing? are you even breathing?”

you rolled your eyes and looked away from the teal teenager, he was so dramatic.

“pay attention to me forest girl,” he redirected your face back towards his.

he placed one of his wide hands on your smaller diaphragm and the other where your heart layed.

you panicked at the sudden contact and prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat pick up beneath his touch.

“eywa please i never ask for anyth-“

“your heartbeat is fast. that’s why you cannot breathe.”

thanks great mother.

despite the metkayina’s teasing, he had genuinely seemed to adjust to you. you two spent more one on one training together and even hung out when it wasn’t time to train.

it was nearing eclipse when ao’nung had come to your families marui, unfortunately, your father had noticed him first.

“what are ya’ doin’ here boy.”

the shorter navi hesitated for a moment until he was able to speak up,

“i’m- i’m here for (y/n.) sir.”

your father looked him up and down with a stern look on his face. ao’nung was convinced he would be thrown outside by toruk makto himself. jake grunted and leaded down into your new friends face.

“she’s back by 10 before eclipse. a second after and i’ll cut your tail off. she comes back with even a hint of your touch on her i’ll drag you deep into the ocean by your braid and leave you there. understood?”

“yeah- got it.”

“i said understood.”

“uh-understood sir!”

your dad sighed before finally alerting you of the conversation,

“(y/n!) visitor!”

you showed up at the door as your father was walking away, and was greeted with the sight of ao’nung shaking in the sand.

“hey ao’nung! you alright?”

he eyed the exit, indicating you to leave with him. once you step out he grabbed your thinner arm and ran towards the shore, looking back for the deadly gaze of jake sully.

“oh my god (y/n) why didn’t you tell me your dad is fucking terrifying.”

you giggled and brought your hand to your lips, trying to conceal it.

“whatever, no big deal, follow me.”

despite his ego being damaged, he led you along the shore, pointing out some shells he though you would like on the way. you two eventually made it to the more foresty part of his island, farther from the clan.

you were unaware this area existed and instantly fell in love. it had been months since you had seen a tree. the sight reminded you of your home and it brought you so much happiness. you glanced at the back of ao’nungs head as you continued to follow him where he led. you two made it to a part of the small forest that opened out into the beach. you could see the sunset and water clashing onto the sand all from behind a tree.

“ao’nung! this is so beautiful, it’s just like the forest!”

“well yeah, that’s what i was hoping for..”

he was hiding his flushed face but you could hear the smile he was trying to hold back.

“come!”

you grabbed his arm towards a tree you deemed was tall and had enough branches. effortlessly, you climbed up the tree. you jumped and stood on branches, easily making it to the high thin branch you wanted. you had planted your left leg and arms on the branch as your right leg hung down.

the lighter blue na’vi watched you and his mouth dropped open. he had made fun of your family for being poor divers, but god you were good at climbing. him and his friends would break the branches if they were to ever try that.

“get up here!”

“yeah…i don’t think so.”

you quickly remembered you were among the sea people now, and their bodies simply weren’t built for climbing like you were.

“ah right.”

you hopped down onto a lower branch then the ground, the teen boy staring in aw yet again. you ran up to him and pulled him into a hug while giggling.

“thank you ao’nung, really. this was great”

he scoffed in embarrassment and rubbed his neck,

“yeah, we’ll there’s actually one more thing. i was just wondering if you’d l-“

you cut him off before he could finish his question.

“this is just like what txäol would show me!”

what.

ever since the first mention of this “txäol” they kept coming.

no matter how many times ao’nung tried to get you to like him more, it always ended up as a talk about txäol.

“ao’nung this necklace is so pretty! it looks like the one txäol gave me!”

“txäol used to say that! he’s super funny.”

“oh eywa this shell would look great next to the flowers txäol gave me!”

you were beyond oblivious at the way ao’nungs eye would twitch when you brought up your best friend from back in the forest.

it was a comment on the gifts he’s given you, or the stories he used to tell you, or sometimes you would show the metkayina boy some things the omatikayan gave you before you left the forest.

ao’nung raised his concerns with tsireya first. she was pretty close to you, so he thought she might have some intel.

. . .

tsireya automatically burst out laughing when her brother questioned her.

“your-your joking right? sweet eywa, your so funny! your helpless brother- truly!”

“what- tsireya what are you talking about?! who is txäol?!”

“oh-oh my eywa i cant-“ she continued laughing.

“is he her boyfriend?!”

this just caused tsireya to start laughing again. she gripped her stomach and bent over, unable to stop the giggles that flowed out of her.

“whatever- your never any help! i’ll just ask her!”

and so that’s what he did.

the teal teenager approached you while you were mounting your ilu, getting ready to go hunting.

“(y/n)!”

you turned your head to the sound of your name and saw ao’nung riding his own ilu towards you.

“oh- hey! did you need anything? i was just about to head out.

he had been torturing himself over this question for so long he just cut to the point.

“is txäol your boyfriend?!”

you paused and had no words. your ilu had picked up on your shock and had even dropped her own jaw.

“t-txäol? h-“

you were cut off by the reef na’vi.

“if he is- just tell me. i understand if you have a lover back home that you can’t forget about. all i’m asking is you let me know!”

“he’s n-“ you tried to speak before you were interrupted again.

“i just can’t deal with the not knowing! i see you, (y/n), and i need to know if you see me too! you talk about this txäol guy all the time, so if your in love with him instead, tell me! i won’t be an-“

“he’s gay!”

oh.

bonus!!

the sky people had finally returned back to their planet, and wouldn’t be coming back this time. this meant your people were safe. you could go back to the forest! back to the forest…

when you first arrived at the reef, all you could think about was going home, and how happy you would be. but now that home was right in front of you, you just couldn’t. not without ao’nung.

you two had recently began courting each other, and had plans of mating once you both completed your rite of passages. you couldn’t leave him behind now. so if you couldn’t leave him behind..why not take him with you!

. . .

you yipped for your ikran, calling her down to the sandy shores.

“seyä! hi girl!” you rubbed her nose and cleaned off some sand off her head.

you mounted seyä and invited ao’nung to do the same.

“no fucking way.”

“she doesn’t bite!”

“yes the fuck she do? look at her!”

“aww you poor thing..is he being mean to you?”

you rubbed your ikrans head and made tsaheylu. she flapped her wings and screeched, scaring the hell out of ao’nung.

“yeah there’s no way i’m going anywhere near that th-“

he was cut off as seyä picked him up under his arms using her claws, flying up in the air. you giggled and grabbed ao’nungs hands, pulling him up behind you on the saddle.

“that wasn’t so bad- right?” you could swore you saw a tear running down his face, but he denies it.

. . .

the fly had taken a few days and you were exhausted, ao’nung had given you company and made sure to hold you extra tight when you were getting tired. if it wasn’t for him stopping you to make you sleep, you probably would’ve flown while sleeping.

after what felt like years, you finally arrived back at the forest. you flew over the trees until you saw the omatikaya people, your people. your smile had began hurting your jaw as you landed your ikran on a tree, hopping off and landing on the branches. you would just jumped right down but you had to help the metkayina.

“here- just..place this foot here. and then this arm right here.”

it took awhile (32 minutes) to get him down around 7 branches. it usually took you a few seconds, but who were you to judge.

he mainly just trailed behind you as you greeted so many friends you had missed. he felt like the outsider now, surrounded by darker blue people with thin limbs. he stayed back until he heard someone scream your name. a boy scream your name.

“(y/n)! oh my eywa- your back!” he ran up to you and embraced you in the tightest hug out of everyone else.

ao’nung looked this guy up and down and frowned at him, about to step in and announce himself as your boyfriend until you spoke up.

“txäol! oh i missed you so much-!”

oh. him. the metkayinas anger was reduced, but still present. this boy was all over you! how could he not be upset? he stepped up closer to you and wrapped his hands around your waist, hugging you from behind.

“oh- txäol meet ao’nung, ao’nung meet txäol!”

txäol raised his nonexistent eyebrows at how the boy hugged you and eyed you. he would definitely need you to tell him about everything he missed.

“i’m txäol, (y/n)’s best friend!”

“ao’nung. her mate.”

you kicked ao’nungs knee, trying to get him to be nicer. he was still jealous and god did it show.

“speaking of mates..” txäol started.

you stared and him and gasped. “your lying.”

“(y/n) meet ityea, my boyfriend.”

a shorter omatikayan male entered from the forest and held txäol’s hand. you screeched. like loud. ikran loud.

“txäol oh my eywa i can’t even- you guys are so cute!!” you hugged your best friend and spun around.

“right?! but no- you guys too! i can’t believe you found someone in another clan- you guys are adorable!!”

ao’nung backed up and grounded himself. right. he was gay.

#aonung #ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung x you #ao’nung x sully!reader #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar x you #co writes !!#this took way too long #i’m sorry #sully!reader #sully daughter

749 notes · View notes

f1version · 1 year

Note

11. “am I your favorite?” “I like your dog a bit more than you I won’t lie” with max but instead of dog it’s cats🫶🫶

P1 IN YOUR HEART ★ MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem! gf! reader

summary: 5 times you told Max his cats were P1 in your heart, and 1 time he did a Grand Slam.

warnings: 5 + 1 format ( it’s my first time doing it ), fluff, teasing & joking, established relationship, sassy and jimmy are the favorites ( duh! )

word count: 1.7k

note: this just reminded me how much i LOVE writing fluff, thank you kay <3

general masterlist ★ 1k special

1. SEPTEMBER 30, 2023

The first time it happened, it was Max’s birthday. It wasn’t race week and the obnoxious party Red Bull was going to throw him, was the following day. That left you, Max, Jimmy, and Sassy against the world.

“You are so pretty,” Max said while petting Sassy. You smiled, he loved those little beings so much.

“They may be my favorite thing on this house” You answered jokingly, Jimmy crawling into your lap “Taking P1 indeed”

Max looked at you funny because was he really behind his cats? You bet. Max Verstappen loved being first, even if it meant fighting his cats to be P1 in your heart.

“Oh really?” the Dutchman teased “I’ll be the judge of that” He finished as he picked up Jimmy from your lap and ran away.

2. NOVEMBER 28, 2023

The second time it happened, it was Tuesday, two days after Abu Dhabi. Max had already secured his third world championship back in September, but RedBull had kept both of you there until Monday for partying.

You had just arrived at your shared apartment in Monaco, Jimmy and Sassy surprisingly purring at your arrival, tangling in your feet.

“Hi lovelies!” you said softly, petting both of their tiny heads “How are my favorite beings in the universe?”

“Oh, now they’re your universe?” Max complained, leaving his bags on the floor to pet his cats too “I figured a three-time world champion would be”

You just laughed at his childish behavior “Oh shut up, Maxie. Let them have their moment”

3. DECEMBER 31, 2023

The third time, was on New Year’s Day. You were at a party in Monaco, the sky adorned with stars, and the place was full of friends, family, and colleagues; One minute away from giving a warm welcome to 2024.

Max was holding you close, one arm around your waist, the other one caressing your arm. Your arms were wrapped around his torso, eyes focused on the stars before they drifted to him.

“Maxie” You called, he hummed, his arm around your waist losing a bit. “What’s your year's resolution?”

You and Max usually took that question as a joke, even after you achieved the majority of last year's. Max thought about it for at least 8 seconds before a grin popped on his lips.

“That one’s obvious. I will overtake the cats and become P1 in your heart,” He said, unserious. You laughed.

“Hard one. They will always be my favorite”

Max rolled his eyes, bringing you close one more time that year, his eyes shined with happiness and little mischief.

His temple met yours.

“Well, they don’t get to kiss you right…three, two…now”

Cheers and celebrations were shared while Max cupped your cheeks, kissing you sweetly.

“Happy new year, schatje”

4. JANUARY 29, 2024

The fourth time was on purpose. Max was away in Milton Keynes for testing and practice, you were home with two little creatures.

It had been a long day at the office and you missed Max, so around dusk, you decided to tease him a bit with a picture of the cats.

you: [ 1 image attached ]

you: actually my favorites ever EVER

Max laughed at loud when he saw it, getting a whistle from Christian and a pat on the back from Danny (they had just wrapped up a meeting). Max rolled his eyes, focusing back on your messages. He could win this one.

max: you know what’s my favorite EVER?

you: what?

max: [ 1 image attached ]

max: the new car😍😍😍

you: i could fight you and your vroom vroom AND win

max: good luck with that schatje

5. FEBRUARY 14, 2024

The fifth time was on Valentine’s Day. That morning, when buying groceries, you found yourself in the middle of the pet section, buying a couple some cat accessories and costumes for Valentine’s Day.

You were so eager to try it on the cats that when you got home, you discarded the other bags in the kitchen knowing Max would organize everything while you styled the two furry demons.

“Max! Look at their little costumes!” You said picking up Sassy, she had a heart-shaped antenna headband and a tutu.

“I’m one hundred percent sure she will hate you for the rest of her life” Max answered picking up his phone to take a photo.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged, picking up Jimmy so Max could take a photo of him too. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, since I’m hers and Jim’s favorite… and they’re my favorite”

“Really, schat? On Valentine’s Day?” Max said in faked disbelief “I knew you hated me, but this is heartless”

You just laughed, turning around so you could take off the costumes before they were destroyed.

“I love you, babe!”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Max said “I love you too”

+1 . . . CLOSURE

Finally, it was a “normal” Sunday. Max had a two-week break before the next race, so he took one week off the factory to be with you.

But the thing is, Max, had been acting suspicious. All week long he had been so secretive but also so loving and touchy. What made you realize something was a bit off was his attitude around Friday, Saturday, and today.

On Friday, he decided to go hiking with you, gifting you a beautiful bracelet with three charms: A cat that looked just like Jimmy, a second cat that looked like Sassy, and a couple for both of you. You were used to Max gifting you things, usually, they were simple, handmade items, but he also bought you expensive stuff. You loved everything he gave you.

Then Saturday came. He prepared a dinner date in your favorite Monegasque restaurant, where he gave you flowers and a necklace, it had a heart with an M engraved on it. You loved it.

Even after two days of wonderful gifts and sunshine, Sunday morning was still a surprise. Max decided to wake you up with breakfast in bed and tons of kisses, a lovely morning of you asked anyone.

After that, he said you had to be ready for a picnic at 4 PM, you could have begged him to tell you why but you knew he was stubborn enough to resist everything.

Either way, that’s why you found yourself at the top of Monte Carlo, having a picnic while the sun was burned by the ocean.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s been this weekend?” You asked after taking a sip of wine, it was enchanté.

“Why? Is it out of character?” He asked back jokingly, you rolled your eyes, smiling. “I’m joking”

“I know”

“Follow me”

You grabbed Max’s hand, getting up from the floor. He started walking towards the sunset, golden light shining on his face, blue eyes turning green.

“This past month, we have been talking—daydreaming about a life together” Max started, you nodded “And, yes, we already live together but remember how we wanted more?”

You nodded again, your chest growing warm, this had to be going the place you wanted it to. This had to be the moment you had been waiting for. Max got close, taking your other hand in his as the sky turned pink.

“Well, I figured a couple of months ago before the season started,” He continued “That I want to spend the rest of my days, nights, years, life, and eternity with you”

He started to move away, making up space for a final movement.

“So, I wanted to know,” He knelt “Would you marry me?”

The world stopped. It stopped and even if the sun was setting, daylight had just sprung out from the bottom of Earth.

You started shaking your head yes.

“Yes! Yes, and a million times yes!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him.

Max let out a loud sigh, laughing a bit before sliding the ring into your finger and launching himself at you “Thank you, baby. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so so much”

“I love you so much more, Max”

There were hugs, kisses, laughter, and the dizzying feeling of adrenaline drove the car to the top of the podium. Max, drunk in happiness, cupped your face in his hands.

“Now that's out of the way. Am I your favorite?” He asked, almost laughing, but so hopeful. He was so cute.

“Max Emilian Verstappen!”

“I’m just joking…” He laughed, hugging you for a second and then holding your waist “But am I?”

“I like your cats a bit more than you, I won’t lie”

“Oh for fu-”

That’s when this whole situation clicked for you. Max had started all of this on Friday so it could be like a race weekend, finishing P1 on Sunday’s race.

“Schatje, I’m kidding, you’ve always been my favorite,” You said, now you were cupping his face in your hands “And you just did a Grand Slam,” You said, kissing your future husband.

2K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

The Animal Within

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky can't help but follow you when you go through his territory. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, background character death, mention of blood, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Wolfie and Little Red! My fourth and final Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 4) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse AND Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents! Theme - What should I call you? ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @firefly-graphics and thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer and @buckets-and-trees for the encouragement! ❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When Bucky was a child, the townspeople warned him not to venture too far into the woods. Dangerous creatures lurked in the shadows and many who strayed far from the beaten path never came back. What they didn't know was that he often did that very thing since he could walk. The townspeople had no reason to fear for him. While they were right that the forest held many dangers, it was also a place of kinship and wonder. He found solace in the trees.

Because even predators had soft sides.

Which was one of the reasons he started tracking you.

Who are you?

Bucky knew every creature in his territory, but hadn’t seen you before. You were stunning and quick as you wove in and out of the trees, a blur of red amongst the green and brown background. You stopped at one point to smell some flowers, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. Something about your scent excited him like nothing else, tempting him to chase you down. He refrained from doing so and maintained a safe distance as he followed, not wanting to spook you. He should’ve alerted Steve and the others the deeper you went into the woods, but he wanted to keep you to himself for now.

As if you were his.

Steve would likely ask him later why he decided to follow you in the first place. The easy answer was that this wasn't your home and he wanted to know why you decided to go through this part of the forest. It also concerned him a bit that you were by yourself. While he had his found family, he wondered why wasn’t someone by your side? Was it by choice?

Why are you all alone out here, little red?

The air was cool in this part of the forest, even with the sun shining through the branches, but it didn't seem to bother you as you stopped to play with a rock. Bucky crouched between two trees, careful not to draw attention to himself as he curiously watched. You were smaller than him and appeared far too sweet for your own good. It was strange how he felt the need to protect you and snarl that you needed to stay alert. You were all alone and anyone could come along and just eat you up.

A snap of a twig drew his attention, lowering his body more when another scent drifted through the air. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content in your own little world. Either you didn't sense the foreboding atmosphere shift or you didn't care.

Why aren't you paying attention?!

Bucky bit back a growl when he spotted the large man coming from the opposite direction, almost blending in with the background as he watched you. The fur on the back of his neck stood up straight when he saw the arrow aimed in your direction. The man had every intention of killing you. It was a cruel way to die, especially when all you were doing was playing in the woods.

Now I have to save you.

As the hunter released his arrow, you surprised both of them by suddenly leaping toward the nearest tree and narrowly avoided getting hurt. You didn’t look down as you climbed up the bark and walked across one of the large branches with more agility than he expected, your eyes on the hunter as he reached for another arrow. You must have sensed him if you were able to dodge his weapon like that. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were laughing or playing a game.

No time to play around, little red. You can't stay up there all day.

You must have known that, too, since you leapt from the high height and onto the man below.

With a small scream, you tackled the hunter to the ground. He tried to toss you away, but he didn't stand a chance when you bit into his neck. Bucky didn't expect such ruthlessness from you, but he understood why you attacked since the hunter intended to kill you. And while he didn't normally hunt without giving chase, the tear of flesh and tissue from the man's throat urged the beast inside him to join you. He had to help as you were smaller and could still get hurt.

Pack mentality. Nothing more, right?

Bucky jumped through the trees and charged at the man lying in the dirt. He was still conscious enough to throw an arm up to try and defend himself, but it only led to the wolf chomping down and crunching the bone. He relented after a moment, only to join you in biting his neck. Blood hit his white fur and dripped onto the soil, staining the earth and adding the hunter to the long list of fallen souls in the shadows.

Should've stuck to the beaten path.

You snapped your head up at the sound of his snarl, licking some of the blood from around your mouth as you assessed him. You seemingly forgot about the lifeless hunter as you slowly backed away. Bucky didn't approach you and he wasn't your enemy, but refused to lower his head in submission as you hunched your back. He was almost impressed at the fearless flash in your eyes.

You won't win a fight against me.

Your body collided with his a second later, a firm reminder of your speed even though he was stronger. You didn't claw or bite as the two of you rolled away from the body, but you screamed again. Maybe you wanted to warn him that you weren't a creature to mess with. Or maybe you knew he followed you and wanted to retaliate.

It was for your own good.

Bucky got on top of you as you came to a stop. With a small growl and raise of his lips, he went for your throat. He would've bitten through your neck, but he didn't since his intention wasn't to kill you. He wouldn't let you do any damage to him either. The clench of his jaw was a warning of what he could do if you didn't submit and the hold was enough to make you go lax beneath him with a small sound. And it was the pounding of your heart against his fur that made him loosen his hold.

It's okay, little red.

He let go completely at the sound of snapping and shifting bones beneath him. He knew those noises all too well. The shrill shriek you let out faded to a groan as your body stretched, the red fur disappearing into your skin. Your eyes were still glowing as you completed the transformation from a fox to a human.

A beautiful, naked human.

Though the townspeople feared the woods and knew monsters existed, not everyone believed the myth that shifters roamed the land. But here you were, living proof just like him. Maybe that was why your scent called to him, a mixture of something wild and grounding. It was only right that he changed back into his human form, too. It didn't mean he'd give you the satisfaction of moving away while he shifted back, his bones molding and skin stretching with a grunt. His hair fell in his blue eyes as he exhaled, his breathing harsh as he realized just how close your bodies were.

And that he could smell your arousal.

"You know I didn't need you to save me, right, wolfie?" you smiled, bringing a hand to his cheek. He bristled, but not because it didn't feel nice. It was because you touched him without hesitation. "I had it under control."

Wolfie?

"I think you did need my help," he couldn't help but say. While you were a predator, you weren't as dangerous as him. Your touch was too soft. "You should be thanking me."

"Thank you for not minding your own business."

"It is my business when you're in my territory," he reminded you, placing his hands on each side of your head as he stared down at you. The intimidating look didn't make you cower. It made you smile.

Why aren't you afraid of me?

"I guess so," you said, stretching a little and drawing his attention to your neck. It would look beautiful with his mark on it.

No. I'm not thinking about claiming this beautiful, sly stranger.

"You guess so?"

"Okay, it is your business," you huffed softly. "That man killed a lot of defenseless creatures in the west end of the forest, so I lured him here. And if he didn't take me as bait, I figured a wolf would either scare him off or kill him."

Cunning and smart.

"So you did need my help," he smirked.

"I attacked him just fine without you."

True.

"But if you hadn't, you would've had to rely on me."

"Yes, I would have. Because you're so biiiiig and so strooooong and I'm sooooo helpless," you teased, raising an eyebrow when you purposely lifted your hips to touch his. "Well, you really are big."

His eyes slipped shut, but it didn't stop the blood from flowing south. You were so warm and soft. If he spread your legs a bit more and sheathed himself, he wondered just how tight and hot you'd feel around him. Would you cry out for him or whimper?

"You're also smelly and hairy like a dog," you added.

With a growl, his eyes flew open. Instead of showing fear, you laughed. He was so thrown off by the sound that you were able to use your strength to roll him on his back. The sight of you above him, your breasts lightly bouncing from another laugh, was one he'd later dream about.

"You know the thing about foxes? People always underestimate us," you said with a smile. "Because we're smaller than wolves and so cute. We look almost innocent."

Bucky laughed this time, the sound deep as he brought his hands to your hips to steady you. No other reason. "I know damned well you’re not innocent at all."

He held his breath as you leaned down, your nipples brushing against his chest. "And how would you know that?" you whispered, your lips so close he could almost kiss you.

The scent of blood and death was only a few feet away, but the tempting smell of your pussy had his mouth watering. He had to keep a level head though. He didn't know you. "No one innocent would rip a throat out like that."

He wondered just how many men you lured to their deaths with your act.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

The playfulness faded from your eyes as you sat up. Had he touched on a sore topic? "Sometimes we have to do those things in order to survive," you said, lifting your weight off of him. "Thank you so much for 'saving' me."

"Wait," he urged as he sat up, not wanting you to go away so quickly. That should've bothered him that he wanted you close by. Everything about his pull to you should have. "That's not a proper thank you."

"And what is?" you asked curiously, your eyes moving along his body as he stood up. He wasn't ashamed of his nakedness. If anything, he liked that you saw some of his scars.

"Helping me get rid of this body," he answered, nodding to the hunter. He'd already have to explain to Steve that he assisted in killing him, but he wasn't at all sorry. "And I need to make sure you get back to the border safely."

You nodded after a moment. "Not the kind of 'thank you' I thought you'd want, but I'll help," you said, briefly looking up at the sky and avoiding his gaze. "Don't worry about taking me back. I can manage just fine getting out of here. I'm used to going it alone."

I don't like that.

"I'd feel better if I went with you," he said.

"Fine," you agreed, gesturing to yourself when a breeze picked up, goosebumps rising on your skin. "Just wish I had my red cape to cover up. Unless you don't mind the view."

He licked his lips when you did a spin, giving him a view of every delicious curve of your body. "I don't mind," he admitted.

Hell, he was still half hard just from having you against him on the ground.

"I like you, wolfie," you smiled.

"That's not my name," he said, even if the little nickname made him want to smile.

"What should I call you?" you asked, brushing a bit of dirt off his right arm.

"Bucky," he replied, gently taking your arm before you could walk away. "What should I call you?"

You smiled as you gave him your name and moved in close again. "You can call me little red if you want," you told him, your breath fanning against his ear. "Let's get to work."

Maybe once you finished burying the body, Bucky would convince you to tell him a bit more about yourself. Because he wasn't ready to let you leave his territory yet. Not when he sensed you had no one to go back to. And he had a feeling you weren't quite ready to leave yet either.

Surprise, surprise, I love them already. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes · View notes

shegatsby · 3 months

Text

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi babies! I hope you're doing amazing! I love writing this story i feel alive after months of depression lol. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; None.. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.291K

Chapter 4

Chapter Three – ''Caught in the Web''

The throne room was spinning under her feet, she felt the sudden rush of hot air on her body. No one dared to speak, one could hear the birds outside singing in harmony. Y/N’s alerted eyes found Pyramus, he seemed in shock and quietly left the throne room. Y/N looked at her parents pleadingly, Leto’s brown eyes were fixed on the Emperor, Jessica had a victorious smile and it dawned on her.

This was planned.

‘’Rise young warrior.’’ Shaddam’s voice was heard. ‘’Do parents of Lady Y/N object to this offer?’’

Entire room held its breath. ‘’No, Emperor.’’ Leto answered on the behalf of his house, it broke Y/N’s heart into million pieces. ‘’Not here.’’ she whispered to herself, she couldn’t burst into tears in front of important people and show weakness.

‘’So it is done. Paul Atreides shall take my daughter as wife and you, young warrior Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen shall take Lady Y/N Atreides as your wife.’’ And the crowd went into hypnotic frenzy.

The following hours went blurry, Y/N was taken to chamber to another…

At last, she was in her family’s quarters, she waited for servants to leave them alone. The door closed and a thick silence fell like a dark cloud, hovering over the House Atreides.

‘’How could you?!’’ she yelled, stood up to her feet, her skirts swirling, her face showed nothing but anger, she was a lioness. ‘’How could I refuse the Emperor?!’’ Leto yelled back, he felt powerless like the exact time when Emperor Shaddam demanded his beloved baby daughter to accompany Princes Irulan. Again, someone else was going to take her from him. ‘’Wake up father! This isn’t the Emperor. This is Bene Gesserit’s doing. It has been all along.’’

Leto turned to face Jessica who averted her gaze, she looked guilty of a crime she didn’t commit yet she had her fingers in it. ‘’You?!’’ He didn’t want to believe but she was right. Jessica’s blue eyes couldn’t face her beloved. Paul knew that his parents needed to talk in private so he gently held his older sister’s arm. ‘’let’s go to the gardens.’’ He knew that would calm her.

Y/N stormed odd to the halls of the palace and with Paul they walked to the lush gardens. Gardens of House Corriono were always well maintained and aesthetically pleasing with colors and scent. She had to take deep breaths and pray in silence;

‘’I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.’’

Paul was standing there hands in his pockets, counting his blessings.

‘’Y/N’’ he called softly, ‘’What?!’’ she was about to take her anger out on him, ‘’Do not give me that look Paul. You and Irulan and that.. that Bal headed beast are the ones who profit from this arrangement but me!’’ she tried to keep her voice low, servants and spies could be anywhere. ‘’You can manipulate him, Y/N, remember our training.’’ Paul was making sense but Y/N was too furious to hear .

‘’Y/N…’’ a soft voice called out, they turned to face the owner, ‘’Pyramus..’’ she breathed out, a brief silence fell, his dark brown eyes found hers, ‘’I shall take my leave.’’ Paul announced and left them be.

Two lovers embraced, she started to cry in agony, ‘’What are we going to do now?!’’ her voice desperate, rebelling against her fate. ‘’I have an idea.’’ He said holding her face, ‘’Tonight, after Irulan and Paul’s wedding we run away together.’’ She was shocked to hear him being bold. ‘’We can hijack an ornithopter and hide till we find a ship to fly to my home, you can use the Voice on people.’’ It would be the most outrageous scandal that the Imperium had ever seen, but it was now or never.

All day she got ready for Irulan’s wedding, she wore a long black dress an black lace gloves that were see-through, her long hair let loose. A big obsidian stoned necklace on her delicate throat, the stone shined every time lights hit from the glowglobes. After tonight she was suppose to be shipped to the hellhole called Giedi Prime. House Harkonnen.

The feast was bountiful, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, no one cared about Y/N and her situation. Among the crowd she found her family’s place and started to move past dancing couples to go to them but a firm trap caught her delicate wrist, it was Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

‘’Where to, little dove?’’ he was in his regular black clothing, a silver ring on his little finger, a cunning look on his ocean eyes, ‘’To my family.’’ Y/N replied coldly, ‘’I am your family now.’’ He was so direct it caught her off guard. He didn’t wait for an answer and guided her to the dance floor, his tone was stern, was he hurt that Y/N didn’t go to him first? She deduced with her Bene Gesserit powers. ‘’I highly doubt that.’’ She clapped back in annoyance. He was trying really hard not to lose his temper. He couldn’t show his true self among other houses, he couldn’t humiliate his family so he simply had to wait and be patient and when the time comes… he could insert his ways on her. As if he wasn’t doing it now….

‘’You have a silver tongue. I like that but-‘’ he made her twirl, ‘’be careful.’’ Y/N looked up to meet his orbits, under the yellow lights, among dancing couples one could assume that Feyd and Y/N were a loving couple. It was so easy to lose oneself in his aura that she had to look away. Their bodies pressed to each other, she could smell his cologne, manly and just.. there

‘’You know what, I’m going to be nice to you tonight.’’ She said which caused him to rise his nonexistent eyebrow in questioning. ‘’How come?’’

‘’You might not find me again, so, it’s on the house.’’ And the music ended and she immediately let herself part from him and go to her family.

Rest of the night she avoided most of the people and observed. Paul and Irulan were shipped to Caladan and tomorrow morning all of the lord and ladies were to go back to their home planets. Perfect timing.

Y/N wore her black leather pants and top, she couldn’t afford running in her beautiful gowns if any trouble arrived. She prepared a small bag of essentials, and had been waiting for Pyramus to whistle from outside, her windows were all wide open.

When she heard him she activated her shoes which were made to float in the air and she softly landed on the fresh cut grass, they kissed passionately. She could feel her heart in her throat, this was the first time she was actively rebelling against her family and the rules. Pyramus had his outfit from the night’s entertainment. ‘’Why didn’t you change?’’

‘’Didn’t have time. Follow me.’’ If she was more observant she could have seen the cut on his eyebrow and small bruises on his face clearly.

Ornithopters were on the airfield, since it was really late most of the guards were sleeping on their duty.

Pyramus held her hand, his palm sweaty, ‘’Let’s go.’’ He made her move fast ‘’Wait-‘’ she whispered,

‘’Let’s not wake them up-‘’ he seemed like he didn’t care, they got to an ornithopter. He opened its door, it was for two people. Before she climbed inside she turned to face him for a second, he seemed terrified, ‘’Wait-‘’ her hands went to his face, ‘’What happened to your face?’’ Y/N asked in horror and saw his expression change into guilt.

‘’Pyramus?’’ she whispered, ‘’I’m sorry Y/N..’’

And all of the lights on the field were turned on like lightning on a rainy day, alarms were going off, soldiers wide awake… were they awake the whole time? They were surrounded by Harkonnen soldiers, a sound of applause echoed on the open field, soldiers moved to make way for him.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen approached, he stopped clapping when he saw them, he had his black and dark grey uniform. Y/N could see he was geared up.. just in case.

‘’Did you really think that you could escape me?’’ Feyd asked sarcastically, his voice amused, he looked like a theater actor who finished his bit and proud of himself. ‘’I’m sorry..’’ Pyramus whispered again and let her go, he, without a beat climbed into the ornithopter and flew away.

Y/N could feel the tears of betrayal coming in, Feyd-Rautha with a sudden move grabbed her wrist, she felt like an animal who just stepped into a metal trap, his fingers bruising her wrist, he started to drag her back to the palace. ‘’Let go of me!’’ because of the panic she couldn’t use the Voice on him.

‘’Enough games, little dove. You will be locked to your chambers until we leave for Giedi Prime.’’

She kept trying to fight and get away from him and he stopped in his tracks, an annoyed huff coming out of him he turned to her and with a swift move he lifted her to his shoulder like a cave man.

‘’I order you to let go of me!’’ this time she used the Voice but he wasn’t affected. Why? Y/N noticed the earplugs he was wearing. ‘’I out rank you Lady Y/N.’’ he chuckled and she could feel the panic rise in her. He slapped her butt and she whined in pain, his hand was heavy and big.

Feyd-Rautha marched the empty corridors and found her bedroom, he kicked open the door and threw her onto her bed which was covered with fluffy pillows and he was startled to see so many colors at once. She froze, supporting her body with her hand, he stood there like a statue, immobile. ‘’Thankfully other houses don’t know this foolish attempt of yours.’’ He said coldly ad slowly leaned to be on the same level as her. ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ She felt the threat of his words settle into the room, she felt as if his presence made her vision go dark and the only thing she could see was him.. Feyd-Rautha was so many things but a liar.

He left and she heard the lock on the door.

Y/N was in shock, she had to take deep breaths to calm her racing mind. Soon a maid came to lock the windows and leave her there, without a word.. even her own maids turned their backs on her, Harkonnens were feared. She belonged to them now, her body and soul was his.

She moved to the window to see the full moon, on her knees she prayed till morning came with its fog. Jessica entered with the maids and servants, Y/N was on her knees praying like a mad Bene Gesserit witch. ‘’Prepare the bath for my daughter.’’ Jessica ordered and went to sit next to her.

‘’You will understand me one day.’’ She knew what happened last night and was surprised, Jessica had never thought Y/N would rebel like this.. ‘’When I was in your whomb…’’ she began, ‘’why didn’t you change my sex?’’

Jessica had to tell the truth, ‘’I was ordered to have a daughter as first born. They didn’t tell me why. If I had known.. things would be different.’’ Her blue eyes searching hers, hoping to see something but Y/N was trained well, not a single emotion on her face, a blank slate. ‘’If you don’t manipulate him he’ll be the end of you, you’re my daughter, you have to survive.’’ Jessica kissed her daughters soft hair and stood up to give more orders to carry Y/N’s belongings to the Harkonnen ship.

Y/N watched other houses leave from her window, she tried to read while her servants worked in silence. The sun was setting when she wore her ceremonial gown. It was emerald green, the color fo her house and a hawk was on her chest, symbol of House Atreides. Her long hair was braided elegantly. Her father came to take her outside before the Emperor, it was the custom. Leto tried to talk to her but she didn’t budge, they walked in death silence.

There was a breeze outside, she saw everyone standing in their rightful places. Feyd-Rautha was standing in front of the Emperor who was seated on a moveable throne. Feyd’s hands clasped behind his back, he watched Duke Leto bring Y/N to stand next to her, he noticed that she was avoiding eye contact like an expert.

Leto, when he made her stand next to her husband- to-be he took a step to Feyd, held his arm and whispered into his ear, ‘’Hurt my daughter and I will end your entire blood line.’’ He gave a pat on Feyd’s shoulder and left them.

The field was silent, she could hear the birds, it calmed her. Were there any birds in Giedi Prime?

Padishah Emperor Shaddam basically announced that this young couple had his blessing and the wedding would take place in House Harkonnen’s planet. He made them kiss his ring and ended the ceremony. Y/N walked to her family to say goodbye, Feyd watching her intently, Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, Jessica hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear.

‘’Remember your training.’’

Feyd made her take his arm, his ceremonial clothing was black, he was covered in it, together they walked to the ship. ‘’I must say you look pleasant in green.’’ He spoke quietly, Y/N turned to see the small smile on his plump lips, ‘’Thank you.’’ And they walked to the ship, Y/N looked at her family before the metal door closed.

Tag list; @superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

@palomavz

@beebeechaos

@jeong-uwu

@tian-monique

@avidreader73

@aleemendoza2425-blog

@taleah

Thank you for reading. :)

264 notes · View notes