#and then just restore it to it's glory the way she wants it

[vayneoc]

アラサカの心

[melzula]

Smoke and Shadow

part one

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: it’s finally here! hope you guys enjoy this and sorry it took so long! and ofc reminder that reading the comics is suggested for this piece

summary: The Princess decides to pay Zuko a visit only to find the Fire Nation in disarray.

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Returning home from the Fire Nation always feels bittersweet; you miss your people, but you know that once you’re back in the South the ache of homesickness will be replaced by your longing to be at Zuko’s side. You once thought the end of the war would mean easier days for your relationship, but being the leaders of two different nations seemed to keep you apart more often than it kept you together. Leaving him never got any easier, but you knew in your heart that this was for the best. You had duties to fulfill and people to take care of, so you’d just have to be patient. Things will settle eventually and the distance will become easier, you just have to see it through.

“Do you really have to go? You just got here!” Kiyi complains with a frown as she watches you pack your things and prepare for your return home.

“I’m sorry, Kiyi, but my people need me.“

“Can’t someone else do it?” She retorts, prompting you to let out a small laugh of amusement. She certainly had her older brother’s attitude at times.

“I’m afraid not. I have a tribe to rebuild and students to teach,” you explain to her. “Things don’t run very smoothly when the Chief is away for too long.”

“Will you at least come back and visit me?” The little girl begs, and you can’t really find a way to say no to her when she looks at you with her best pleading eyes. “I want to see more water bending tricks!”

“I promise to come back as soon as I have the time,” you assure her before giving her a tight hug. You’ve grown rather attached to Zuko’s little sister since meeting her, so it’s not easy having to say goodbye.

A gentle knock at your door alerts both you and Kiyi of someone’s presence, but once you see Zuko’s face peeking through the doorway you smile and part from the girl so that she can run out to play in the palace halls. “My love, the ship is ready to leave when you are.”

“I suppose I’m ready,” you sigh with a melancholic smile, melting into Zuko’s touch when he pulls you into his embrace. “It’s going to be hard being away from you.”

“I know,” he comforts while resting his warm hand upon your cool cheek, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll be together again soon.”

“I’m already counting down the days,” you profess earnestly, eliciting a soft chuckle from him in return. Rubbing his nose affectionately against your own, Zuko angles his face to reach your lips and press a tender kiss against your own. It’s the last one you’ll be sharing for some time, and he makes sure to savor it for as long as possible. Your kiss is impossibly sweet, your smell of fire lilies intoxicating, and it pains him to have to pull away from you.

“I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.”

You smile before pulling him in for another kiss, enjoying your perfect goodbye.

~~~

A month has passed since you left the Fire Nation, and the South has developed swimmingly. With the help of your sister tribe, the outer villages have slowly begun to transform into cities equipped with new buildings, homes, and even town halls. Progress is steady and your tribe is growing, and it will only be a matter of time before the Southern Water Tribe is restored to its rightful glory.

As your advisor, Hakoda has agreed to oversee the Southern Reconstruction Project so that you may focus on teaching the next generation of water benders with Master Pakku. Your time as Chief is spent either at your school or in your office to approve new construction plans and debrief with Hakoda about the progress of the rebuilding project. You’re as busy as ever, but you couldn’t be any happier.

“Sifu y/n, why do we have to learn about healing?” One of your students complains as you set out the practice mannequins for the children. “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!”

“Healing is just as important as bending,” you explain thoughtfully. “As a wise woman once told me, ‘You cannot bend something that is broken, but you can heal something that is hurt.’ Some situations require a gentle hand, and it’s important your bending has balance. Healing can save lives, and your gift can be used to help your people.”

“Sifu y/n,” another student says with her hand raised eagerly in the air, “is it true you healed Fire Lord Zuko from a lightning strike?”

“It is,” you reply with a fond smile, laughing at the amazed gasps your students share at the story. “I wouldn’t have been able to save his life if I hadn’t known how to heal, and that’s why it’s important for you all to learn. Now any last questions before we begin?”

A little hand raises into the air and you nod, signaling them to continue. “Do you miss Zuko?”

“Always,” you sigh wistfully, the familiar ache of longing pulling at your heart strings. You wondered what he was doing now and if he was thinking of you in this moment.

After teaching your healing class, you retire to your office for the evening to look over the new construction plans Hakoda has prepared for you. However, your mind seems to be elsewhere for the night as you find yourself repeatedly looking upon the frame on your desk. The night of your coronation you’d had a local artist paint a portrait of Zuko and yourself. You shared the biggest smiles, the two of you adorned in formal water tribe attire for the festivities ahead. It had been a perfect night, and the painting served as a reminder of the wonderful time you’d had together.

Sighing, you look over your schedule for the upcoming week. Nothing too major seems to be taking place, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you took a short trip to the Fire Nation to see how Zuko and Kiyi were doing. Hakoda could handle the reconstruction project on his own for a few days, and Pakku could look after your students in your absence.

Grabbing a scroll and a brush, you quickly begin scribbling out a lengthy list of items for Hakoda and Pakku to oversee while you’re gone. It seems your mind is made up, and as soon as your affairs are in order you’ll be using the secret tunnel to travel to the Fire Nation to finally see Zuko again.

~~~

Zuko was exhausted.

Carrying the guilt he felt for his sister’s kidnapping as well as the awkward tension that came with working alongside his ex-girlfriend wasn’t exactly helping him keep his peace. More children were going missing with every night that passed, and it seemed he wasn’t any closer to catching his sister and her group of Kemurikage. A part of him wished it really was spirits tormenting his people instead of his sister, but he figured she’d have to turn up eventually.

“We’ll find them, Zuko,” Mai comforts, carefully resting her hand upon his tense shoulder as he stares down at the array of scrolls scattered across his desk. Various passages about the Kemurikage and information about the men part of the New Ozai Society line the endless papers, and yet none of it has gotten them any closer to figuring out where the missing children or Azula are.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmurs before shifting his gaze to the bush of fire lilies out in the courtyard. It dawns on him then that he hasn’t had the time to write to you lately, and he feels you deserve to know about Kiyi‘s disappearance and Azula’s return. He’s sure you’d know just what to do, just what to say to make him feel better, and he needs the comfort now more than anything. “I should write y/n. She cares for Kiyi just as much as I do, she should know.”

Mai’s mood immediately sours at the mention of the Southern Princess, but she’s able to mask it well enough for Zuko’s sake. Despite being willing to work with her ex-boyfriend to find her missing brother, their past relationship was still a sore subject for her. It’s not exactly easy getting over the fact that the boy you thought was in love with you was really just using you to get over someone else.

Their talk at the Boiling Rock hadn’t given her any real closure, and her encounter with the Princess at the flower shop didn’t leave the greatest impression on the girl. Mai still couldn’t see what was so special about her, and she didn’t understand what kind of future Zuko saw with her. She supposed it didn’t matter what she thought anymore, and it didn’t matter what Zuko did with his life. She was with Kei Lo now, and the Fire Lord was no longer her concern.

“Is writing a letter to your girlfriend really your top priority right now?” She can’t help but to retort sarcastically, prompting Zuko to scowl.

“Y/n could be a great help to us,” he argues defensively. “She views things more clearly than I do at times and keeps me from making rash decisions.“

“So is she your girlfriend or your babysitter?”

“Mai-!”

“I know, I know,” she sighs with a passive wave of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Zuko lets out a quiet breath before turning to meet her gaze. He’s unsure of how to approach such a sensitive subject, but he knows he must if any progress is to be made. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I know no apology will fix the hurt I caused you, but you have to put it behind you if we’re going to work together. Y/n is my girlfriend, and Kei Lo is your boyfriend, so why are things still so awkward between us?”

“It’s not that simple, Zuko,” Mai snaps, a bitter scowl masking her features. “It’s not just that you broke my heart, it’s that I was stupid enough to let you! I should have known I’d never be enough for you, and you talking about her is like throwing salt in the wound. It’s like a constant reminder that I was never good enough for you, that what we had was all just a lie. I never want to feel that way again, but I feel it every time I’m around you. I’m like the pathetic ex-girlfriend you can’t get away from.”

“Mai…”

“I can’t believe I still care about you,” she grumbles sullenly.

“I care for you too,” he insists before gently taking one of her hands in his own. “Maybe not in the way you want me to, but I do. I always have, even when we were children and I pushed you into the fountain to put out that apple on your head. You’re a good friend, and I owe you more than I can ever repay you for what you did at Boiling Rock. Can’t we still be friends?”

Mai is silent, her gaze set firmly upon her hand in his own. The sensation is warm and familiar, comforting, but she knows the hurt that is to come if she agrees to his request. Maybe one day she can learn to love Kei Lo and fill the emptiness, be the one doing the using instead of the one being used, but she can’t accomplish this feat with Zuko in the picture.

The room is quiet and tense, but still she does not remove her hand.

And neither of them notice the figure in the doorway watching the scene unfold.

~~~

You’re surprised to find Zuko’s end of the tunnel blocked off by Fire Nation guards. He hadn’t been expecting you of course, but you didn’t think you’d find the passage closed off like this. What had happened while you were away to promote such a drastic measure?

“Excuse me,” you call gently so as to not startle the guards that face away from you, “I’m here to see Fire Lord Zuko. May I cross?”

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in or out of the Capital City,” one guard states gruffly, but his companion waves him off dismissively.

“She’s the Southern Chief and the Fire Lord’s girlfriend,” he explains before gesturing you to continue forward. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to hear we’d blocked his beloved from seeing him.”

“O-Oh, my apologies,” the first guard stutters sheepishly before clearing himself out of your path.

“What’s going on? Why is the Capital City in lockdown?”

“Children of the Fire Nation have been going missing and the people are becoming restless,” he explains. "The Fire Lord wants everyone to stay put until a culprit has been caught and the children are returned safe.”

“How awful,” you murmur quietly before an uneasy feeling begins to hit you. “Have you heard anything of Kiyi, Ursa’s daughter? Is she safe?”

The two guards exchange solemn glances, and that’s all you need to know before immediately rushing towards the palace. If Kiyi is in danger, you want to do everything you can to help Zuko find her and the other missing children before it’s too late. Who knows what danger they could be in?

Your trek to the palace isn’t easy, what with the protests and unrest occurring on the streets as a result of Zuko’s harsh restrictions, but you manage to weave your way through the chaos and make it to your destination. You’re a bit overwhelmed by the commotion, blind to the conflict that’s been occurring in your absence and unaware of what exactly is going on, but you do your best to focus on finding Zuko first.

Surprisingly, the palace hallways are relatively empty, and you slow your sprint to a walk once you reach the throne room corridors. The pristine gold doors are left open, and the sound of Zuko’s voice carries through the air. Already you can feel the worry melting away just by hearing him speak, and though you want nothing more than to run in and throw yourself into his arms you stop to listen. You want to make sure you’re not interrupting anything important before you announce yourself.

“I care for you…” you hear him say, prompting your brows to furrow slightly in uncertainty. You can’t exactly make out everything he’s saying or what the context of his conversation is, but you’re able to note the soft gentleness in his tone, and a part of you is starting to feel strange listening in. Who is he speaking to in such a manner?

Peeking your head around the corner, you can’t help but feel your heart begin to sink to your stomach at the sight before you.

Zuko stands in the center of the throne room, gently clasping one of Mai’s hands in his own as he speaks to her in a comforting manner. You’re not sure what exactly they’re saying to each other or why she’s there, but watching the scene unfold before you fills you with dread and insecurity. Surely Zuko wouldn’t be unfaithful to you… would he?

You’ve worked hard to build your trust in him again after all you’d both been through, but you can’t help but question what he’s been up to in your absence. Why was he with his ex-girlfriend, and why he was holding her hand in what looked to be like an intimate moment? Was he thinking of leaving you again? Had he changed his mind about your relationship? What had you just walked in on?

“Zuko?” You call meekly, as if you shouldn’t be there interrupting their moment and as if you’re not his actual girlfriend. The two startle at the intrusion, but when Zuko realizes that you’re actually there before him he immediately releases his hold on her and runs towards you.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, engulfing you in the tightest hug imaginable. You’re unsure how to react at first, still reeling from what you’d just seen, but eventually you return his hug. Your weary gaze sets upon Mai who keeps her eyes down to the ground and refuses to look you in the face.

“Am I interrupting something?” You warily ask when he finally pulls away. He falters for a moment, almost offended by your insinuation.

“No! No, of course not,” he rushes to explain. “We were just… talking.”

“It kind of looked like it was more than just talking to me,” you say defensively. You don’t want to be jealous or accusatory, but you can’t help it. How could you not question them being alone together and holding hands?

“Princess, I swear there is nothing going on,” Zuko pleads earnestly, taking both of your hands in his own. “Mai is only here because the children of the Fire Nation are going missing and she’s helping me find them.”

“They took my little brother,” she adds quietly, solemn gaze still focused on the ground.

“They took Kiyi,” Zuko utters sorrowfully. His eyes are full of shame and worry, and you find it difficult to be upset with him when he looks so hurt and vulnerable.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur softly before pulling him in for a tight hug.

“I have the city on lockdown until I’m able to find the people responsible, and I’m doing everything I can to get them back. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I didn’t mean to exclude you. I swear I was just going to write you and ask for your help.”

“You never have to ask,” you say with a comforting smile. “I came to surprise you because I missed you, and I’m glad I did.“

“So am I,” Zuko professes earnestly before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Neither of you notice Mai leaving the room.

~~~

Zuko catches you up on everything- the Kemurikage, the “Safe Nation Society,” the kidnapping of Tom-Tom and Kiyi, Azula’s return, and Ukano’s possible connection to Zuko’s sister. It was a lot to process, but you were quick to get up to speed so that you’d be able to do all you could to help.

“I don’t think you should have kicked Aang out of the throne room,” you chide Zuko after hearing him recount his disagreement with the Avatar. Fire Nation guards escort you to the Capital City prison as you converse, and Zuko hopes that by the time you reach your destination Mai’s father will be caught and ready for questioning.

“I tried to do things his way, but if he isn’t going to see things my way then I can’t have him around,” he tries to explain.

“Zuko, I saw firsthand how restless your people have become as a result of your harsh lockdown rules. Aang might be right,” you try to reason with him. “I don’t think causing fear and uncertainty is going to help us find the missing children.”

“I had to do something,” he argues weakly, “I have to get my sister back and stop Azula before it’s too late.”

“You will,” you assure him firmly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze.

As the two of you talk, Mai trails along quietly behind you both. A whirlwind of emotions are festering in her mind; she wants her brother returned to her, but she feels guilty exposing her father to Zuko and his guards and costing him his freedom. It feels like she’s working with the enemy, and perhaps in a way that’s true.

She can’t help the scowl that plays upon her features as she watches you and Zuko walk arm in arm to the prison. While she’s fretting over her family, it almost seems as if you two don’t have a care in the world about anything but each other. That isn’t true, of course, but her resentment clouds her better judgement, and all she can feel is disdain for the couple in front of her.

You were Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, a master bender, kind, beautiful. She could understand why any guy would want you, but why did Zuko? And why did you have to want him back? You had practically everything, you grew up a Princess, so why couldn’t you have just let her have this one thing? Why did you have to take him back and take him away from her after she’d finally gotten the one thing she’d always wanted?

“I’m sorry about your brother,” a voice says, pulling Mai away from her thoughts. So wrapped up in her cynicism, she hadn’t even realized they’d made it to the prison. A couple feet away, Zuko speaks to one of his men about the riot that had broken out on behalf of the Safe Nation Society. And in front of her you stand, your features kind and your words remorseful despite the tension you share.

“Thanks,” she says flatly, unsure of what else to say. The last time she’d spoken to you had been in the flower shop, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant conversation. She knows that you’re trying, and she knows this is all just as uncomfortable for you as it is for her, but she still isn’t so easily swayed. She doesn’t think you deserve her sympathy or understanding, and she doesn’t plan to go out of her way to be nice to you.

“I don’t have any siblings so I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I want to help however I can if you’ll let me.”

“You can help by staying out of the way,” she replies bluntly, her gaze hardening much to your surprise. “Zuko promised he’d help me find Tom-Tom, and I don’t need you distracting him while you’re here.”

“I want to help him find Kiyi,” you argue defensively, “I’m not going to get in the way of something as important as finding the missing children. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because you have a really good track record of getting in the way of things that are important to me.”

Stunned by her admission, you can’t help but find yourself falling short of words. You knew Mai didn’t exactly think highly of you or approve of your relationship, but did she really still believe that you’d stolen Zuko away from her? You’re not to blame for what Zuko did to her or what she went through. You’ve endured just as much hurt as she has if not worse, and it isn’t fair for her to paint you as the problem.

“I didn’t even know about you and Zuko until we were already broken up! I’ve never personally tried to hurt you, and I don’t expect you to like me, but you need to get over yourself. Zuko isn’t what’s important here, you and I are not what’s important, it’s the kids. It’s Tom-Tom and Kiyi and all the children that are probably so frightened and alone. Can we at least agree on that?!”

It’s silent for a moment, you and Mai simply starting each other down for what feels like ages until she finally relents. Her tense shoulders slowly fall in defeat and she sighs, somewhat embarrassed at her little outburst. She’d been letting her emotions get the better of her lately, failing to conceal them like she was usually so good at doing, and it was painfully embarrassing for her to come to this realization.

“You’re right,” she murmurs, “let’s just focus on finding the children. The sooner this is all over the sooner we never have to see each other again anyway.”

“Fine by me,” you huff indignantly. Though Mai has more to say, she isn’t given the time to once she spots her boyfriend being escorted towards the prison in handcuffs.

“Kei Lo!” She exclaims before turning to the Fire Lord. “Zuko, this is obviously a mistake! Get him out of those cuffs!”

“I’m not so sure,” Zuko says hesitantly, looking to you for guidance to see if he’s making the right choice. You merely give him a hesitant shrug, not really wanting to get involved in their quarrel. You don’t know the full story, so it’s better to just stay out of it.

“Are you serious? You need her permission to let my boyfriend go?” She exclaims exasperatedly. “Release him!”

“What were you doing with the Safe Nation Society, Kei Lo?” Zuko prods firmly, ignoring Mai’s complaints.

“They ran into me! Literally!” The boy argues to try and prove his innocence.

“You’ve betrayed your allies bedore, who’s to say you aren’t acting as a double agent now!”

“Zuko! Stop being ridiculous!” Mai scolds angrily before looking to you. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

“I’d rather not get involved…” you trail off awkwardly, only irritating her further.

Eventually Zuko allows for Kei Lo’s release, but you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t too happy about it. His firm gaze seems to be burning holes into the back of Kei Lo’s head as he watches Mai embrace the boy, and a part of you wonders if he’s feeling some sort of jealousy towards him. Surely he wouldn’t be, he has no reason or right to be jealous, at least you think so anyway.

“Zuko?” You utter softly, placing a careful hand on his back to get his attention. “If I ask you something… will you be honest with me? Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear?”

“Of course, my love,” he says earnestly before giving you his full undivided attention. “What is it?”

“Do you… do you still-“

“Zuko!”

You startle away from Zuko at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening as you see Aang sprinting towards your boyfriend with Suki and Ty Lee in tow. You’re honestly surprised to see him considering he should have been heading back to the South with Katara and Sokka by now, and based upon his reaction it seems he’s just as surprised to see you.

“Aang!”

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” He exclaims in bewilderment.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Zuko interrupts. “I thought you left.”

“Well you thought wrong, buddy!” Aang corrects him impatiently. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Suki, Ty Lee, and I found something you need to see! Come on!”

“Fire Lord,” one of Zuko’s men interrupts, “the sun will set before we know it. We need to make a plan our people will rise up again.”

Zuko shares a quiet glance with the men before looking to Aang. You know what his answer is going to be, and you know that the Avatar isn’t going to like it.

“I’m sorry, Aang, but General Mak is right. I need to handle this my own way.”

“Even if your way is stupid?!” He rebuffs indignantly.

“What Aang means to say,” you correct, trying to put a nicer spin on his words, “is that maybe the approach you’ve been taking isn’t working. Maybe keeping your people on lockdown like they’re criminals in their own homes will only make things worse. You need to change your approach.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I know what’s best for my people.”

“I’ve seen your people, and they’re not happy. They’re scared, and I know you want to find Kiyi and stop Azula but you need to start thinking rationally first.”

“Can you please just trust that I know what I’m doing? Help me come up with a new plan to keep the Fire Nation citizens in order and find Azula and Ukano so that we can find Kiyi.”

His pleading eyes beg for your understanding and support, but you’re hesitant. You know that Zuko means well, but you don’t agree with his methods at all. Being a leader yourself, you know that fear and unrest is not the way to solve problems. You must treat your people with trust and respect like they deserve, otherwise they won’t be able to do the same for you.

Luckily, Aang buts in before you’re able to shoot Zuko’s request down. An air scooter is abruptly thrown beneath your boyfriend, lifting him up and carrying him away to spirits know where- if the situation weren’t so serious you’d laugh at how discombobulated Zuko looks being swept up off his feet and whisked away by a ball of air.

“Aang, slow down!” You call out before sprinting after the pair. Suki and Ty Lee are right beside you chasing them down. “Why are our reunions always so chaotic?”

“I don’t think this group knows how to live without chaos,” Suki quips with a breathless laugh. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Ty Lee and I will catch you up on everything on the way there.”

“I’d love nothing more,” you applaud gratefully.

You can only hope that whatever it is they’ve found will make things much easier from here on out.

Because you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch

[wonijin]

DOWNFALL

you just wanted more budget for the soccer team. unbeknownst to you, karina wanted more. and before you know it, you were both knee-deep in a dangerous game of sweet lies and bitter emotions.

TAGS: enemies to less than enemies lovers. 3.2k words. thick juicy sexual tension. slight smut at the end.

WARNINGS: manipulation and sexual themes

the sea of students part as karina walks through. you follow her long graceful strides with your fast march.

“come on, karina. aren’t you supposed to be the president here?” you complained lowly in karina’s ear. people are already whispering because of the unusual sight of you and the student body president, you didn't dare attract more by arguing with her publicly.

“i am. that’s why you’ll regard me as president yoo.” karina replied without sparing a glance at you, her cold eyes trained forward.

“well then, president yoo. the soccer club needs more funds. as the captain, i’d like you to raise our budget just a teensy weensy more.”

this exact line has left your lips too many times these past few days. but who could blame you, the girl beside you refused over and over, leaving you no choice but to insist.

“how many times have i told you? we can't. the budget has already been decided so you’ll have to do with what you have.” you both reached an empty classroom and you closed the door behind you immediately.

“fuck that. we missed championship last time because of your shit budgeting. you think i’d stand for the same shit twice.” your hands flew up in the air in frustration, inhaling a deep breath. karina points her icy glares toward you, freezing you in place.

“if you think you can just get whatever you want, then you’re dead wrong. i’m not like my predecessors who bends to every single one of your whims.”

your brows furrow at her words. before you could reply, she had already opened her mouth.

“so i suggest you either give up or you find another way to get to championships.” with that, karina slams the door shut, leaving you fuming and glaring at her back.

karina knows you. she’d seen firsthand your effect on people. she’d watched you break peoples heart. she’d witnessed your charm work to the previous presidents. only to be reduced to tears when they realize they are but a means to an end.

in her eyes, you tarnished the student council’s reputation. they were branded as your puppets. one word from you, and the most respected students karina knew heeded. all because they found you endearing. oh, how it broke the ever so hard working girl.

but karina won’t turn out like them. she refused to be. in fact, she’s on a mission to get revenge. for her friends and for the council. a mission to restore the student council to its former glory and to destroy you.

this is either the stupidest idea you ever cooked or the cleverest.

the school parking lot was flocked with students despite the scorching weather. while cars of all shapes, color and sizes lodged aimlessly.

“everybody! thank you for coming today!” you shouted at the top of your car, holding a megaphone in one hand. “welcome to the soccer team’s sexy summer car wash! where we wash your car in ways both you and the car will enjoy!” cheers erupted through the crowd. you peer among the people gathered and you think just how much you’ve earned from the participation fee alone.

“let’s get this party started, shall we?” you put down the megaphone beside you. the crowd goes wild as you remove your shirt. your team members followed after. and the parking lot is in chaos.

the party is in full swing with more and more people appearing by the hour.

“i didn’t think washing cars would be this fun.” winter giggled beside you as you fill up buckets of water. it was safe to say winter liked the attention. after all, many are already lining up to take her home tonight.

“of course, when have i ever had a bad idea?” you grinned.

“every idea of yours is bad,” winter’s nose scrunch, remembering all those times you got the team in trouble. “speaking of, are you sure karina won’t just pop up suddenly? i mean look at how many people there is, she’s gonna find out.”

“then, let her. we’re students and this is our school.” you shrugged but both you and winter know it isn’t as simple as that. at least not when it comes to yoo jimin.

“she already thinks you’re the devil who have sex with everyone in exchange for favors. this would only make shit worse between the both of you.” winter’s words rang true to ears. unfortunately, you were chose to deaf to reason and consumed by your hatred for the president to heed her advice.

“she can do whatever she wants and i could care less, winter.” if karina wants to paint you as the villain, so be it. those girls, her friends and the past council members, they slept with you willingly. they tried to give you what you want in hopes of winning your heart. but they didn't and so they wept.

“and would you really stop all this just because theres a chance little miss president will come?” at that, both you and winter come back to the heart of the mob.

the team didn’t really have to try to be suggestive or anything. walking around shirtless and flexing your muscles every now and then is enough for this sexy car wash to be sexy. after all, who wouldn’t be satisfied with sweaty six pack abs.

you were washing the hood of someones volvo while the owner was flirting with you.

suddenly you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd. you craned your neck to see the sea of people part.

a koenigsegg jesko pierced the population of teenagers. its engines roar over the hush whispers and its ivory skin reflecting the awe-struck faces of the students.

the luxurious car stopped behind you. everybody fell silent and you stood up, each one eager to know who is the driver.

the door opened and everybody broke out in gasps and distinct whispers. you looked at her with wide eyes as you stood frozen in place.

karina sauntered over to you. confidently and slowly, like she owned all the time in the world. strangely, there was no hint of anger in her gorgeous face. but her eyes held something you couldn’t fathom.

imaginary electricity prickle your skin. the air around you gets more charge every step she takes. you try to school your expression once more.

karina stopped in front of you.

“karina-” you started. but her gaze kept your mouth from saying anything further. she raises her hand and a slender finger met your lips delicately. “shush.”

you quietly observe as she face the car you were washing. she inspects it silently. she traced the hood with her fingers without a word. bubbles gathered at the tip of her fingers. she lifts her hand once more and in a blink of an eye she flicked it over to you. the bubbles landing on your cheek.

“what the fuck?” before your hand can wipe your cheek, her hand stopped yours. the other landed on your cheek gently. you feel your throat get clogged up as your wide eyes meet her brown ones.

you inhaled sharply, shakily as she moved her thumb to remove the white foam. her face closer to yours than before, giving you the chance to admire her features. it was nothing short of perfection.

although you were more than certain the foam had long since left you face, her soft hands stayed perched on your face.

“what are you playing here, karina?” you growled lowly. karina smirks at your frustration. how entertaining to see you crumble.

she leaned impossibly closer. expensive perfume invaded your senses. your eyes closed for a second as you gulped. “you forget. this is my parking lot you’re standing on.”

“we’re students here, we’re allowed to use this space.” as if coming back to your senses, your back straightened as your hand flew to her waist. her smile faltered for a blink of an eye but you caught it. and your lips widened at the sight.

“my, why are you so defensive?” she giggled beside your hear. melodious as it sent your bare spine shivering. if that wasn’t enough, she brought her other hand to your abdomen. “i’m not here to stop your fun. i just dropped by to say hi to my favorite student.”

her body pressed against yours. so close, you can feel her ample chest. should your hands go any lower, it would meet her ass.

“what are you playing here, karina?” you ask one more time.

“i’m playing your game. so try not to lose,” each word left her mouth with diction and it registered onto your brain slowly. just as you were about to make a comeback, her lips planted a kiss onto your ear. you feel your body go red, your mind on haywire.

and when her spell has left your system, she was already in her car revving her engine.

the student body president had declared war. and so far, she’s winning.

“watch me get the highest bid. everybody wants a piece of this, no doubt.” giselle twirled, showing off her curves.

“i doubt anyone would even bid at you. they’ll be too busy putting their money on this.” kazuha replied, flexing her muscles.

everybody lined up back stage for the team’s charity dating. in truth, you’ve raised more than enough money for the team. however, you wouldn’t let the threat by the name of yoo jimin pass so easily. and everybody knows when you cross y/n l/n, you cross the whole soccer team.

so you made the perfect stage of revenge for your humiliation. that little scene from the car wash spread like wildfire, everyone who had a mouth were talking about it. good and bad.

“thanks. i owe you and the team.” you pat winter who is fixing her makeup in front of you. you were the last ones in the line.

“what do you mean? this would’ve happened sooner or later, with or without intervention from miss president.” winter laughed. she put down her mirror and turned her body towards you.

“it’s already too late to talk you down whatever insane plan you come up with. so i wish you luck instead” she smiled at you. winter already knew it will work, there wasn’t a time it didn’t. *captain never fails*, that’s the line the team holds onto.

then you heard her name get called on stage. not soon later, loud chants filled your ears.

and you were left with your own thoughts.

you knew karina was somewhere among the crowd. she’d bid for you until she wins. the night starts with the two of you. and that’s where your game begins. your favorite game, the chasing game.

you’ve never lost at this game. and you have no plans to.

“please welcome! consecutive season MVP for three years and of course captain of the soccer team, y/n l/n” the crowd roared your name. it echoes throughout the whole venue. adrenaline pumps throughout your body.

you smile and the crowd goes wild. “okay. we’re starting off 7K WON.” not a bad start, your pride tells you.

“12K WON.” could be better. your eyes scan the crowd. a woman like karina wouldn’t be hard to miss. no matter how many people are here.

“100K WON.” a gentle voice spoke up. everybody turned turned their heads towards the source. a woman holding the number “7” with a gloved hand.

there she is. sitting elegantly, dressed in white that shows of her milky shoulders. her hair down, her eyes piercing and her lips painted red. she looked ethereal just by sitting in a chair.

the crowd murmured as they watch karina throw the highest bid of the night. you were sure another wildfire had just been brought to life.

“going, sold! a date with miss l/n for 100K WON” the announcer clapped and the audience followed.

“well, folks. this officially ends the soccer team’s charity dating. thank you for coming. for those who won a date, enjoy. for those who didn’t, there are other ways and many more chances.”

you walk down the stage to where karina is standing. she patiently waits for you to reach her, eyes never leaving your figure.

“you must like crashing our parties.” you greet. you both know there’s no need to be hostile, for now at least.

“of course. like i would pass up the chance to see your miserable face.” she links your arms together. you hummed in response. “let me buy you a drink then. for bidding 100K WON for this miserable face.”

you let her guide you to the bar where she orders an expensive drink. figuring you wouldn’t be able to go through the night this sober, you settle for a beer.

“barbaric. just like how i imagined you.” she huffs through her nose. what a priss you thought.

“its a classic” you correct.

the bartender passes you the bar. without missing a beat, you drink some and leave some on your mouth. then, you press your lips to karina and passes the beer to her mouth.

the president makes a disgusted face that makes you chuckle. you see her throat bobbed up and down.

your eyes fly back to her face, “tastes better when its from my mouth, yeah?”

you invade her space until her familiar perfume invades your senses again. “you wanna play my game, karina? sure. i don’t mind.”

“but what i don’t understand is what you’re breaking your heart for?” you say like you already know she’s the one who’s going to end up in tears.

“break my own heart? as if you can get even close” she scoffs.

“because your friends cried over me? please, they knew what they were getting into. it was their fault for not paying attention enough.” you ignore her. and while your words ring true, she still felt anger bubbling in her chest.

“or is it because the past council treated me like a queen?” you look at her in the eyes and laugh lightly in disbelief. her brows furrow in a blink of an eye, but it was gone the moment it appeared.

“i didn’t tell them to do anything. everything they did, they did on their own accord. maybe that’s precisely why it pisses you.i just butter them up a little and suddenly all my wishes come true.”

you had struck a nerve. it was why she’s in this crusade to end you. she worked hard for her seat in the council, fought for her reputation and earned people’s respect. meanwhile, you didn’t do anything and people still kiss the ground you walk on.

people fail to see you. the true you. manipulative and toxic. only she does and it frustrates her.

“but that’s why i like you. while others were blind, you saw reason. they were too busy winning my favor but you were plotting my downfall.” you tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

suddenly, she grabbed you by your tie and crashes your lips together. her lips were soft as they looked. they contrast her aggressiveness. for a moment, both of you were list in your world full of hatred and anger for each other.

your teeth clashed and your tongues intertwine. when you pull away, a string of saliva connects both your lips.

karina takes your hand and lead you outside the venue where her expensive car is parked. both of you wastes no time getting in.

you don’t know how long the drive took but when you did arrive at her mansion, you were drowning in your own lust. in the blink of an eye, you were pinned in the door of her room.

your hands roam all over her, feeling every inch. her lips move from your lips to your jaw to your neck. while her hands reach lower and lower until she’s palming you. you throw your back.

“you think you’re so mighty.” she bites the skin beneath your ear.

“know what i like about being president?” she asks you even though shes aware you’re head is stuck in ecstasy to answer. “i get to put people like you in their place.”

karina rubs circles through your pants. your body burns at her touch, like there’s flames at her fingertips.

“why don’t i show you what your friends saw in me?”you breath out and she laughs at how stupid you sound. how could say that while you writhe under her fingertips.

“after all, you paid for a good time. let me show what your money is worth.” you you reach on to her back for the zipper of her dress. you pull it down, leaving her in her undergarments. your eyes feasts upon everything before you.

“like what you see?” she puts a finger on your chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers. she smirks before kissing you again, slowly this time. her hands quickly unbuttons your shirt and you shrugged it off, not breaking the kiss. you were about to remove your tie but she stops you. “keep it on.” she says firmly.

karina grabs you by the tie and pushes you onto her bed by your shoulders. she climbs onto top of your abdomen. her once more before she pulls away and puts hand on your chest to keep you down. with one hand, she takes off her bra. her boobs spilling for you too see. your eyes meet as her hands massages her voluptuous tits, moaning. she bit her lower lip and threw her head back, just to tease you.

unable to resist any longer, your hands reach out to touch. but her hands were faster, she removes the tie around your neck and binds your hands. “you can touch next time.”

“right now. all of you is mine.” her lips attack your neck until they’re red and purple. hands explore your body until they stop at your chest. squeezing them before removing your bra. her lips move onto them next. she pinched, sucked and you ached for more.

next, she removes your pants and your panties, leaving you bare before her. she admires and for the first time you feel your face flare from someone looking at your body.

as if testing the waters, she puts her knees between your thighs and raises them until her knees barely touch your bare core. “fuck.” you let out a breath.

“don’t worry. i won’t make you beg.” this time, the unsaid words hang on her tongue.

“i’ll give you everything you want tonight. until you’re too drunk to remember anything else but me.” your breath hitch as her hands rub circles on your thighs.

‘by the end of the night, you’re going to be wrapped around my finger’ the thought makes karina smirk.

she gives you one last kiss before diving down, disappearing between your thighs.

[targaryenluvs]

if you’re still taking requests, what about a dark fic for coryo who takes advantage of a reader with one sided love for him, expecting her to be there for him and love him no matter what. so when he comes back to the capitol after all the district 12 drama expecting her to be his one consistency in life, he can’t take it when he sees she’s moved on

LATE TO THE PARTY!

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, you managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

warnings: dark!corio, possessiveness, unrequited love (both sides at different times), pining, stalkingish, home wrecker corio, nc kiss, paparazzi, power dynamics/abuse of power for selfish reasons and intimidation

a/n: let’s let corio chase our ass for once 🙄🙄 shorter than i expected but i just wrote it all so here you go!!!

his hair was different.

you didn’t mind it but it’d been a while since you’d seen coriolanus, in all his glory, family name restored, fortune acquired and highway to power paved out. old you, in-love-with-coriolanus you would’ve fainted.

but you had moved on from him.

you had charles now and you could not have asked for anyone better. he was always there for you, actually payed attention to you and was literally everything a girl dreamed for. and you are content. but at times you felt as if it was just that. content. he didn’t challenge you, and your thoughts. he didn’t ignite passion and fire within you, every time he looked at you it was, meh. the sex was vanilla and cute but you always were left frustrated. you were being treated as if you were fragile whilst you wanted roughness.

coriolanus could tell. ever since he came back and saw you with him, you never looked your best as you usually did. whether it was snappiness at interns or fiddling with your nails, something was up. and he took it as a sign, you needed saving. so he did exactly that.

charles had been away on business in district one for a month now. as if him being present and not doing the most when you were together wasn’t enough, now you had nothing. no one. and god were you pent up and frustrated. half of your interns were always stumbling over each other and the rest were too confident in themselves. you needed a vacation. even if for a night only. that came in the form of a party invitation.

if you’d known who’s party invitation then you would have been sure to decline.

the dress you wore wasn’t yours. your maid had delivered it to you whilst you were in your study working. she said it was left on the doorstep, no claim of responsibility but a letter.

I hope you choose to wear it, the dress is almost as gorgeous as you are, Y/n.

- C.S

and for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of who it came from. but it truly was breathtaking there was no doubt about it. off the shoulders and red, it complimented you well.

you took note of the amount of reporters which was odd. but you were here to have a good time, best to not focus on them and ruin your day. you were so ready to stuff your face after barely having time for it through the day.

the party was surprisingly tame, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and stares pointed your way but you tried not to let it affect you. perhaps they were surprised by you attending alone? you and charles had decided not to rush your relationship so you’d kept it secret to the larger part of the captiol. only your family and friends knew. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of them knowing something you didn’t.

“everyone please gather for coriolanus outside.” you may have given yourself whiplash at the announcement. this was coriolanus’s party? you never expected him to be the type to hold one in all honestly, let alone dish out speeches. but there he stood tall and towering over. his eyes zeroed in on you the second you joined the moving crowd, it was unnerving to say the least.

the faces in the crowd were largely people you didn’t know personally, first names and last rung through your head as you smiled at some and walked past, trying to make your way to the front. but the crowd seemed to huddle, not letting you through for some reason. a hand on your wrist dragged you away, which had you pulling to have it let go of you. the swarms of heads and bodies obscured your vision and the person was unseen by you.

it wasn’t long before you were being pushed up steps and standing to the side of coriolanus. why the hell did they place you up here?

“the lovely y/n l/n-“ coriolanus stretched his open palm, inviting you to take it. the fuck is going on? your eyes were looking into his for an answer and his were looking at you, secretive. “has been the object of my desire, and after chasing her down, she’s agreed to marry me.” flashes went off every which way as you stood still. there’s no way i heard that right. right?

but him pressing his lips to yours and a hand to your back shook you out of your daydream as you pushed him away. not that anyone noticed. “what are you doing?” you scolded him, your back to the crowd as he smiled, his hand stroking your cheek before leaning down and whispering, “taking what’s mine.”

you couldn’t sleep that night, or in the morning. it was your day off from work yet no one was letting you rest. letters, videos, flowers and more sent to your apartment, all congratulating yourself and your fiancée coriolanus. bleh.

you didn’t even know how you were going to tell charles all that happened. would he believe you? would he hate you? how are you supposed to be with him whilst coriolanus announced your marriage. not engagement, marriage. as in this is happening, and we’re already engaged. you’d be breaking of a marriage that hadn’t been planned nor known, by you at least.

your answer came in the form of charles’s letter, wish you and coriolanus well.

My Dear Sweetheart,

I’d hoped to hear of your time away from me in a good way. That you’d made progress with the interns or been promoted.

But it seems in my time away I’ve left you alone, too alone, for you’ve found comfort in the arms of your past. I wish no ill towards you, nor your soon to be husband Coriolanus. The two of you are a fine match, made for eachother.

I only wish you had told me before I left, for I was planning on surprising you with a ring of my own. I guess it’ll have to wait for another. I know it is selfish of me to say so, but I cannot deny the feelings I still harbour for you.

You’re as kind as a mother, as gorgeous as ever, you remind me of the night stars, I know you will shine bright in the capitol. Your smile brings me to remember all the things I love about you. Your soft skin reminds of silk,and your gentle eyes bring me to sleep, I do hope Coriolanus appreciates you as much as I do. I am always here for you yet I will have to settle for the memories and another woman.

I love you my dear, and I wish you the best.

Yours Only,

Charles

it felt as if your heart had been ripped out, you’d lost the love of your life because of coriolanus’s selfishness. and you couldn’t ever escape from him now.

your love for him was for everyone to see, yet he dismissed it when he had it. but his love for you was a secret, kept close to his heart. he only noticed you once you’d moved on from him, and to coriolanus? you couldn’t move on. too bad you didn’t see it till now.

you were late to the party.

[gurugirl]

coming soon to tumblr | handyman!harry

821 word teaser - 10k+ one shot already posted on Patreon.

One shot summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for. Based on this request.

. . .

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

. . .

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[they-bite]

miscellaneous things i appreciate about wendell & wild:

-the nuance built into kat’s punkness. yes, she absolutely is a contrarian rebellious teenager, but it’s also genuinely how she’s always been. it’s not portrayed as rebellion for rebellion’s sake, it’s kat’s way of reasserting her identity and her connection to her parents when she’s spent years having her choices stripped from her.

-how many of the characters like kat. raúl sees a kindred spirit. siobhan wants to be her friend and is being kind in the way she knows how. sister helley reaches out to her even before she becomes a hell maiden. wendell & wild are in awe of her. ms. hunter doesn’t let her position prevent her from treating kat like an individual with agency and importance. it’s heartening that kat, a character defined by guilt both personal and state-issued, is coming into a setting where people genuinely want to see her thrive.

-the future sequence where it’s revealed she stays in rust bank and helps restore it to its former glory made me cry. it’s what they all deserve.

-no one has any “it’s my style” excuses for whitewashing when w&w gave us a litany of black characters with individually distinct features.

-even the demons have more emotional intelligence than your average corporate CEO.

-“you don’t get to smack me”

-when all that’s left of the memory monster is the memory of losing her parents, kat hugs it, letting it dissolve into her. she’s acknowledging that the choices she’s made and the things that’ve happened to her have gotten her to this point, but she’s absolving herself of the guilt — embracing her past instead of hating herself for it.

-raúl’s struggles as a trans boy aren’t framed as oppression porn. siobhan’s accidental deadnaming is just that — an accident— and undoubtedly one she’ll learn from in the future. his mother supports him without reservation. kat doesn’t even make note of it. they could’ve easily added catty smiles, tired sighs and “wait, you’re trans?” moments, but they didn’t. raúl is a human being whose transness informs his life without being crushed by it.

-siobhan’s arc is wonderful. she doesn’t become kat and raúl’s personal savior, she doesn’t angst over what she has to do, the story never becomes about her — but she uses her position (read: her class privilege) to do what she can. she becomes part of the solution.

-i know the last two points read like “duh, everyone should be doing that” but it’s such a relief to have a film get these things right, unapologetically so and without a core of virtue signaling. it’s nice to not have the stories we want told held for ransom, then declawed by producers because pissing off uninspired rich people would be bad for business.

[donaweasley]

Promises to Keep

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Geralt is tasked with protecting a princess but his feelings keep poking at him, urging him to shed his tough armour and give in to his heart. But the witcher is a righteous man. He won’t succumb to his feelings so easily. Will he?

Some pining, some fluff that will lead to a “part 2” of this story.

Warnings: A bit of m.at.ure stuff. K.i.d.s better stay away!

Read time: ~15 mins

Note: This story has been based in a timeline before the fall of Cintra, and so, Geralt has not yet started his quest for Ciri. Oh, and he doesn’t fall in love with Yennefer. 😉

Prologue:

Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with many a difficult missions but the hardest of them all was probably not killing but protecting a person. That person was a princess whose parents had specifically called for Geralt to take their daughter under his wing as Nilfgaard marched towards their doorstep.

The princess could fight; she had been in battles but Nilfgaard had morphed into something entirely different from what the Continent had previously seen. It was as though Hell itself had poured into their army, leaving a trail of ash and blood wherever it went.

And so, turning all cries and protests from the said princess to deaf ears, her parents sent her away, in return of an assurance from her that, should their kingdom fall, she would come back and restore it to its glory, flying their banners from every nook and corner.

They knew she could, they had said.

The journey with Geralt had not been easy, moving from camp to camp, from inn to inn, not to mention the complications of his profession. But time gradually made things easier for them both, eventually bringing them to a point where they could comfortably pose as husband and wife so as to protect her identity, and avail a temporary shelter in a village.

And even though they were living a lie of being a married pair, their hearts often wished to forget reality, and enjoy the bliss of domestic life with one another. To be with each other unconditionally, forgetting all rules and boundaries.

But Geralt was a man of ethics, and she did not want him to bear the burden of guilt just because her stupid heart could not stop fluttering for this kind, brave gentleman with a heart of gold!

And thus, neither, for fear of straining what they already had, could ever utter their feelings to each other. After all, they had promises to keep.

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

A few months ago:

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

She hurt herself on the thick leather armour as she flung her arms around his neck. But she did not care. That was a pain she would happily endure if it meant seeing Geralt at her doorstep safe and sound.

He smelled of sweat and blood and the swamp. He probably tasted like it, too. Alright, so what? The man returned after three weeks from the edge of the Continent. And perhaps from the edge of life. She couldn't care less about what he smelled or tasted like. But did he really…? She was very close to confirming her assumption - almost there - when Geralt suddenly remembered his place: the protector of the princess, a mere witcher.

“Princess,” the rich baritone vibrating in her ear woke her up from her purple dream. She could not help but lean back when she found her “husband” doing the same.

Geralt spread his arms slightly, and smiled with that usual softness in his eyes that came to the forefront only when she was around. “Safe and sound. Just like I had promised.”

“I am honoured!” She jested, and stepped inside, making room for Geralt to do the same.

“Give me a minute. I'll draw a bath for you. And once you have cleaned that mess off you, you'll have a warm dinner waiting,” she smiled and turned to make her way to the bath when Geralt gently but firmly held her wrist.

Neither could deny the spark that coursed through their veins at the contact. But neither would confess. Involuntarily, the witcher’s thumb made faint circles over her veins. Once he realised what he was doing, he slowly released her but their fingers lingered over the other’s before finally making some room between them.

Geralt pleaded with her to stop fussing over it all but the woman was ecstatic! Who could stop her from doing everything she could for the man she was falling in love with! Not even the strongest witcher.

And so, she hopped away to prepare a warm bath for him while he busied himself with the relieving task of removing his armour and weapons.

Geralt lay in the bath, pondering over the unsaid things that have been passing between the princess and him. Especially the ones that happened that evening. They had never been this close before, and it only made his breath shallower every time he thought about it. His mind wandered away unleashed every time his drunken heart slipped into fantasies of what could have happened had he not pulled away from her embrace…or what might happen if he allowed himself a bit more liberty with his feelings…

A gentle knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to the reality of the small room lit by two candles, back to the fact that the woman living under the same roof with him was his mission, not his real wife, as the villagers knew her to be. There was no way a witcher could dream of having a wife and a family, let alone with a princess!

“Need anything?” The voice was gentle, happy…it was caring. It made Geralt smile to think that someone cared so deeply for him, that he was actually having a domestic life, even though a fake one.

“Your company would be nice,” he quipped.

Geralt grinned wickedly. He did not need to see her to know the blush creeping up her ears and cheek.

Over the months their relationship - real or fake, whatever that was - had built into a strong bond, one that was made of cares, banters, challenges, huffs (and not just from the witcher), puns of all kinds and fluttering heartbeats. And though neither backed down during the banters or the puns, either one of them definitely ended up with blood rushing up their cheeks.

(Y/N) bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Two could play this game. Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. It startled Geralt, and she could tell it without seeing his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about from your adventure?” She slowly walked in, eyes straining to look anywhere but at him.

She did not receive an immediate response. How could she! Geralt was spellbound by the boldness of this woman! It was inspired by his own recent boldness, perhaps, he wondered.

He cleared his throat, “Indeed.”

She picked up a small wooden stool, and sat with her back to him. “You were saying?”

“I would detail everything but are you sure you can stomach all that? And before dinner?”

Glimpses from his previous tales crept back, and she gulped at the gory imaginations that his words had painted in her head. Perhaps she could not. But would she confess? No!

“I’m tougher than you think, witcher.”

This was their usual way of addressing each other: “Witcher”, with a sarcastic stress in the middle of the word, and “Princess”, with a vanity enveloping the word.

When they had set out for their journey, she had requested him not to call her “princess”. “I have a name, and I would like to be addressed by it,” she had insisted. But Geralt had decided on maintaining his propriety.

When asked whether he would like to be addressed as Geralt or Witcher, he had simply mumbled, “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Witcher it is then.”

And that has ever been going on, until recently when some rare moments witnessed them addressing each other by their names, and not what they were to the world.

In the small bathroom now, she heard a slosh behind her, signalling the rise of the large man from his bath. She tried her best to stop her shameless mind from picturing his wet body, dripping with water as he stood and stepped out of the tub, as he reached for the towel nearby and dried himself with it before wrapping it low around his waist. But the quiet of the night made sure that every little sound and movement reached her ears, leaving her a slave to her unabashed imagination.

Geralt grunted, the sound coming from right above her head.

“I know you can’t take it…Princess,” the last word was practically breathed on the shell of her ear.

Leaving her a total mess, Geralt sauntered out of the bathroom with a promise to indulge her in his stories after dinner.

That night, in the faint light of the moon, nimble fingers traced the contours of the witcher’s face as he slept - brows slightly arched, lips parted, face as serene as a dawn in Spring. She watched him breathe peacefully, devoid of the cares of the world, until a small smile cracked at a corner of his mouth. With eyes still closed, he placed a hand on hers and brought it to his lips. A chaste kiss was all it was, and yet it had her heart thundering. He had never - ever - shown any affection other than soft looks and gentle smiles.

“Sleep princess,” he rasped in a sleepy voice.

He opened his eyes once, to watch her smile at him, before holding her hand snuggly and drifting back to sleep.

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

Present day:

The sound of the door cracking open brought her back to the present. Quickly slipping a little more below the soapy water, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

It was Geralt. The moment he set one foot inside, his eyes went wide. It took him hardly a second to swing on his heels, to look away, but the sinful image had planted itself in his head. Probably for eternity.

“Pardon me. I…I did not know… I thought you were done. I just returned from outside; I did not notice that you were not anywhere else. I…”

“Geralt!” His name. She spoke his name! That, along with her soothing tone put an abrupt end to his string of stammering apologies. “It’s alright. I know you had no ill intentions.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet for a couple of seconds, he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Her lips stretched into a smirk as she recalled an old conversation that had occurred under very similar circumstances.

“Your company would be nice,” she quipped, just like Geralt had a few months ago.

The witcher recognised the joke immediately. A small smile escaped his usual serious features.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about your first kill,” he jested just like she had back then.

The sigh that filled the room made Geralt wonder if he had said something uncalled for. She was shaken by the incident but if she was making jokes now, she must be recovering. Right?

“(Y/N),” Geralt called without looking at her, “are you alright?”

“No, if truth be told,” came the confession.

He understood. Keeping his gaze focused on the floor, he took a few large steps until he was standing near the foot of the tub. In one smooth move, he was sitting on the floor with his back to her.

There was something about Geralt that made her feel protected all the time. Even in her most exposed and vulnerable state, she felt safe and comfortable with him around. And it was not just the love she felt for him. It was something else. It was something…very “Geralt”.

“The monsters we kill haunt our minds till long after. You never get used to it no matter how many kills you have made,” he sighed.

(Y/N) listened quietly. He was a man of few words, and at most times it seemed as though he was not even listening. But he always understood every single unexpressed emotion, every single unsaid word that she carried within her.

“Every time I close my eyes or every time I hear something, fear grips me,” she shivered at the thought. “You are right. I'm haunted by its memory, and … I cannot seem to shake the thoughts off. No matter how hard I try! I cannot even be courageous enough to convince myself that it is all in my head!” She slapped the water in frustration.

Unlike the witcher, killing monsters was not her profession nor did she volunteer for it. But what she did volunteer for was accompanying Geralt to a trip to the river caves for some herbs. Despite the witcher’s efforts to shield her inside the safety of their home, she managed to argue her way out of the proverbial safety net. Which is what led to the unforeseen event of her first close encounter with one of the many monsters that had become part of Geralt’s life. It also led her to, for the first time, being at the receiving end of Geralt’s fury for risking her life .

‘You were very courageous back there,” Geralt smiled at the memory of her driving her sword through the neck of the drowner, thus saving his own neck in the process.

“I had to be! Couldn’t just stand there and watch my favourite grumpy fellow die!” She jested about it but a shiver ran up her spine as she spoke. “It was disgusting, you know? I can still feel all the blood and slime on my skin.”

“It was also very brave. You saved my life!”

He had thought that his statement would make her proud but he was met with silence.

She spoke after a while. “You do know that I shall not be able to live anymore if something happens to you, don’t you? I shall only survive.”

Geralt’s heart suddenly felt very heavy in his chest. What she said was known information to him. Somewhere in his soul, he knew that she loved him. But to hear it aloud was totally unexpected.

“I shall be fine, princess,” he used his most assuring voice. “Do not worry about me.”

Unseen by him, a smile formed on her countenance. “I know, witcher.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else?” He suggested. “Take your mind off the monster?”

“Hmm… How is Jaskier?” She suddenly asked.

Geralt almost turned his head towards her in surprise. Almost. She was naked, having a bath, and the first “something else” that came to her mind was the bard??

“Jaskier?” He asked. “You wish to talk about Jaskier now?”

“Well, you wanted to talk about something else!”

Was that jealousy that she was sensing in his huffs? She hoped it was.

“He must be fine. I do not know.” He ended the topic as quickly as it had begun.

“Hmm.”

The princess laid her head back on the tub and closed her eyes. There was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that she did want to leave, did not want to do anything that might disturb the moment. Even though it was getting late. Even though Geralt still had to wash himself.

Geralt still has to wash himself! Shit! He must be hungry!

Her eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, I forgot you have to wash up, too! I shall be quick.”

The sudden splash of water pulled Geralt out of his own reverie, inadvertently causing him to turn around so as to ask her not to hurry. But the sight before him left him speechless. It was fortunate that she was too busy to see him else he would never have been able to face her in shame. Geralt turned back and shut his eyes as soon as he snapped out of his trance. But that did nothing to erase the image imprinted in his mind. Not that he wanted to.

She had pulled herself up slightly, as she tried to reach for the towel on the nearby stool. In the light of the candles, her body glowed golden as water cascaded off every curve of her body… down the side of her neck, her shoulders, two perfect globes that highlighted particularly well in the candlelight, perky nipples that had hardened in the water, the beginning of a lustful waist…

He did not hear her step out of the tub, did not hear the rustle of clothes as she got dressed, no. His mind was replaying the same thing over and over again. There was an evident twitch somewhere down his body. He faintly heard something about dinner and changing the water. The creak of the door pulled him back.

“I shall…” His voice was hoarse. “I shall change the water. You may leave.”

The change in his mannerism surprised her but then both his voice and attitude were gravelly most of the time. With a small “alright”, she exited, leaving him to his thoughts.

Dinner was quiet as Geralt tried to suppress the feelings bubbling inside him. He wanted to look at her and lose himself in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Wanted to show her what it meant to unleash months of bridled love that he had been carrying within his entire being. He wanted to…

Gods! There were so many things that he wanted to do. But every time he talked himself into taking one step forward, his reality made him take two steps back.

And so, once again, he retired to bed without telling her anything at all about the whirlwind in his heart.

Geralt woke up sometime in the middle of the night, sensing some movements near him. Once sleep stopped fogging his senses, he realised that it was (Y/N) tossing and turning beside him in her sleep. Not only was she being restless, she was mumbling something incoherent that only got louder with her movements. It hardly took him a couple of seconds to realise that she was having a nightmare!

Geralt tried to wake her up: called her name, shook her. But she was trapped deep in her own head. He thought he heard something like his name but could not be sure. Seeing his efforts go in vain, he took her face in both hands and shouted her name while shaking her once more. He wasn’t sure if it would work but luckily, it did. With wild eyes she stared at him, as if trying to figure out where she was, trying to put up a wall between her horrid imagination and sweet reality. When she finally came around, she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, causing him to tumble to the mattress with her below. Once again, he fought with himself as a wave of relief washed over him, eventually crashing into a strong desire to keep her encased in his arms and caress her for the remainder of the night.

“I dreamt that you were…” she almost sobbed. “That I had…” She couldn’t bring those bitter words to her tongue.

Geralt understood.

“You will never lose me. I shall always be by your side. I promise.”

In the dark veil of the night, in those weak moments, he made her a promise that even he did not know how he would keep, for she would be married to some royalty some day; she would have to go away, leaving him with his solitude and monsters. He could not keep her to himself nor could he watch her be with somebody else.

But that was a worry for another day. Right then, she was in his arms, and no one else’s. Even if for a moment, she was his. He lay on his side and pulled her to his chest. A hand cradled her head, drawing soothing lines through her hair, until her warm breath on his skin had become stable.

Geralt never seeked help or answers from the gods; he did not believe in them. But as he kissed the crown of her head that night, his lips prayed for her safety and happiness, and if possible, for her to be bound to him for eternity.

He knew he was being selfish. He did not know who heard his prayers or even if there was someone who might hear them. But he whispered them anyway, believing that it was the only way to make his wishes come true.

***

[immortalthunderstorm]

Criston Cole and Fandom Perception

There seems to be this idea that Criston's character and motivation solely revolves around Rhaenyra, which seems to be a fandom-wide belief. I won't deny that she plays a part on his development, but even that is more about who he is than what she means to him.

I'll provide my personal interpretation.

The overarching theme for Criston, something that was deeply explored by Jaime as well (who in the books refers to Criston as a man of duality), is that the idea of knightly valour in theory is rarely applicable in practice. A knight in theory is meant to be honour-bound, fearless, principled and chivalrous, obey each of their vows. Their name and the Ser they have earned is a badge of prowess and honour.

Especially the Kingsguard, having sworn off all "earthly" pleasures in order to serve their monarch for life, have a deep sense of focus on this as their duty is a singular one, while also having sworn their knightly vows before their Kingsguard ones. The Kingsguard is seen as this incorruptible, elite force of the very best of knights, a high office to have and the dream of even many of the highborn knights. The societal regard for this office is also very high.

Criston is not highborn. He's the son of a steward, Dornish, and unlike many highborn sons who are trained and fostered to rise the ranks and bring glory to their already established name at tourneys, he had to get there the hard way. The show makes this explicitly clear in the scene where Otto suggests choosing a knight with a good name to the Kingsguard, and Rhaenyra chooses Criston for his real experience (points can be made that she's also attracted to him, or impressed by his tourney feats, but she is not in the wrong here. Most knights at this time have never seen real battle, as Rhaenys says to Corlys)

His vows represent everything he has accomplished for himself "all that [he] has to [his] name" - his entire self worth.

Criston's speech on the boat is not about him being in love with Rhaenyra. He explicitly says he thinks it's the only way to wash the stain off his honour and name. He's desperate and of course it's a bad plan, but it's the only way out he sees with the prospect of death and torture now looming over his head in ever waking hour (see Ser Lucamore the Lusty). That's why he's so jumpy the whole episode and the next. He's paranoid about being exposed, and that's why he's so angry that Rhaenyra simply wants him to be her "whore". She's not in love with him either, it's all just about sex for her while it's a life or death situation for him. That's why he breaks down to Alicent so quickly and almost unprovoked, and confesses and asks for a swift death.

"I took an oath. As a knight of your Kingsguard. An oath of chastity. I've broken it. I've soiled my white cloak. And it's the only thing I have to my fսcking name! I thought if we were married, I might be able to restore it."

His devotion for Alicent also isn't primarily motivated by his dislike for Rhaenyra. To him, she's his second chance to live up to his ideals. She's his "Lady of Honour", the person he sees as the perfect example of a dutiful woman (as fostered by the society they live in) . Her he can chain his own sense of honour to, safely devote himself to without conflicting feelings, and be his idealistic version of what a white knight should be.

I'm not saying his behaviour is logical, knightly hypocrisy is one of the central themes across GRRM's work, but it's a lot more complex than what a lot of people make it out to be (everything is about Rhaenyra)

I'm also tired of this situation being simplified to "he's just an angry Incel" by this fandom. It's much deeper than that and I don't get the absolute demonisation of Criston who's a very complex character.

People just love to look for some ulterior reasons to justify their hatred for a him. It's absolutely fine to dislike Criston if they want, but applying these pseudo-psychological frameworks to him is getting old very quickly.

He is not an incel, he pretty much tells Rhaenyra he's been with at least a couple women before joining the Kingsguard, and it's not like he's angry at her because she doesn't want to sleep with him, on the contrary she pretty much offers him to be his 'paramour' and he gets upset because he doesn't want to be used for sex at the risk of his life. The whole point is his extreme sense of honour and paranoia of breaking his vows.

Similarly the Madonna-Whore complex doesn't check out because this only applies to his dislike for Rhaenyra, not sexually active women in general. Criston hates one (1) woman and that's more for personal reasons than religious extremism - he's very respectful and polite to the prostitute in ep 9, does not treat her as someone lesser or sullied or sinful despite being religious. He pretty much says to Aemond that all women should be treated with respect.

This man insults one woman (who he has personal beef with) once, and immediately apologises for it, yet the fandom seems hellbent on him being some raging misogynistic incel.

(If we want to start throwing stones, Daemon calls people bitches, whores and cunts in almost every episode lol.)

[dinneronvenus]

Doesn’t Matter Now

⭑ Gojo x fem reader

⭑ inspired by the song “doesn’t matter now” by flyingfish (listen to that while you read for max effect)

⭑ tags: ANGST ON 100, description of a jujutsu technique that forfeits the sorcerer’s life, death, a funeral, a hopeless and depressed Gojo goes to a medium, hinted reincarnation

⭑ synopsis: Gojo already lost his only true friend, so he never thought losing a woman could hurt him so badly

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Gojo. You didn’t even know.” Utahime spoke softly, her own pain wanting to break through in her voice. “Nobody did.”

Gojo remained silent, eyes glazed over, a cocktail of negative emotions mixing in his mind. He couldn’t even look at Utahime, whose outfit would remind him of you. They stood in the ruins of the shrine your family had built and ran for generations. It had come under attack by many cursed spirits and you had fulfilled your duty to protect the people who lived and worked there, as well as its secrets. With everyone else safe, it would be rebuilt and restored to its original glory, something that should have been a silver lining.

“It is not uncommon for a high priestess to give her life for her people.” Utahime said, voice breaking at the end. This brought Gojo even less comfort.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I hadn’t heard her say those exact words to me before?!” He snapped, still not able to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. It was Utahime’s turn to stay silent.

In the middle of the leveled temple, there was the evidence of your bravery. A set of heavy stone doors bearing an ancient inscription, left open by whatever you had summoned to walk through them, loomed over the two sorcerers. Gojo already knew they’d be used as a gate to honor your memory and remember your sacrifice. His eyes begged to see any scrap of you in the rubble. Maybe this was just a trick, and you were hiding behind one of the doors.

“What could her technique have been to have killed her in the process?” He whispered to the open air, not thinking anyone could’ve heard him.

“Gehenna Gate, it is a technique with the highest of costs,” A raspy voice broke the unbearable quiet. It was your mother, who despite everything, managed to keep a small smile on her face for your surviving friends. “I am sorry she never told you that properly. She wanted to protect you, in her own way.” Her hand came down on Gojo’s shoulder and the kindness in her touch almost burned him alive.

“I didn’t… I wish she…” Gojo stuttered out, hot tears stinging his eyes. Your mother pulled him into a hug, shushing him like a child.

Five days later, your funeral was to be held at your family cemetery in the mountains overlooking the temple. Gojo had no idea how he would survive that. He spent the time until your funeral looking for someone who could communicate with the dead. Thanks to his power and connections, he found one the night before and prepared himself to have one last conversation with you.

“Welcome, sir. I assume you’re here to see Mistress Takemi?” The young man spoke just loud enough to be heard over the jingle of the bell from the door shutting behind him.

“Yeah, and she knows already so I’m just gonna head back there,” Gojo sauntered through the foyer and down the hall to the back room where a woman in black and purple robes standing over a large glass table was waiting on him.

“Welcome Satoru,” she spoke cheerfully with a deep voice that echoed her years of life.

“Don’t call me that. Can we get started?” The overly familiar attitude irked him. The woman cleared her throat and dropped her cheerful act.

“I suppose we can get right to it then.”

The woman had a technique that essentially made her into a human ouija board. Her hands rested on the glass table and it began to glow a soft greenish-blue. Gojo could see the dark circles and puffiness of his eyes in the reflection, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for being this unable to accept that you were gone.

“Satoru?” His name again, but this time he could hear your voice mixing with Takemi’s voice. He said your name in disbelief, tears of joy in his eyes.

“Yes, yes! It’s me, I wa—”

“You can’t do this, Satoru. It’s against the laws.”

“Please, don’t tell me that right now. You hid so much from me, please just let me ask you one thing.”

Silence. Fearing he’d miss his chance, he went ahead with his question.

“Did you ever really love me?” The depth of sadness and desperation in his voice was unbearable to you, even in your disembodied state. “Why couldn’t you have told me? I could’ve helped you, I would’ve done anything to have saved you.”

“In the mountains where they’ll bury me, follow a trail that begins with pink and white flowers. You’ll find everything you want to know at the end. Goodbye, Satoru.”

“No, no, no,” He wiped the tears from his face and gripped both of Takemi’s shoulders, shouting. “Please come back! I can’t do this again!”

Regaining full control of herself, Takemi pushed Gojo off her and had him escorted out of her shop. The whole world was one hideous shade of grey. He walked for a while with no destination in mind but the grave. He wanted to go find that trail right now but he didn’t have anything else left in him. He wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. Returning home, he set his alarm and went to bed with your instructions in mind.

Utahime and Gojo walked with each other up the mountain to the funeral site. Utahime thought it was odd but refreshing to see him dressed in more traditional clothing. Just one more thing that only you could get him to do.

Everyone took their places, and your father stepped up to the podium. “We are gathered here to send our beloved high priestess to her place of final rest with her ancestors…”

Once the funeral was complete, no one but Gojo, Utahime and your mother lingered too long.

“I’m sorry again for your loss, ma’am.” Utahime said, bowing deeply. Your mother gave her another one of those wise, otherworldly smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve really lost her.” She said before taking a last look around the cemetery and turning to leave. “Why don’t we give him some space?” She motioned to Gojo and Utahime followed her.

Now alone with your memory and your ghost, Gojo began to look for this trail you had mentioned. It took him a while to find it but when he did, his path to the end was quick. It led to a small clearing where the grass was lush, and he was consumed by the smell of many different kinds of flowers and plants. The sight of the small garden was as beautiful as you were to him.

Looking around for anything that could be the answer you spoke of, he saw a faint bit of energy coming from inside a tree. When he got close to the tree, he found it had a hollow spot in it where you’d left a diary. He fished it out and walked to a shaded place in the clearing to begin reading it. Every page was an entry about the two of you together. All of your private feelings from when he was just a crush, and once you had gotten closer, you even glued in pictures you’d taken together.

Gojo couldn’t control his tears or hide his sobs. His body shook against the tree as he held the diary close to his chest. He calmed down enough to continue reading it, with the last entry being dated a week ago.

She knew she was going to die… He thought. You had written about the rise of cursed spirits in the area of increasing numbers and strength and how you felt like it was time for you to fulfill your duty to your people. More than that though, you wrote about how you wished you could have told Gojo. How you wanted to stay with him forever, how he was the only thing you’d ever loved as much as you loved the Gods, and how because of that you wanted to make sure he was safe and didn’t have to fight for once.

It was all too much, Gojo swore he would drown in his own tears right there. The wind picked up and blew the diary’s pages, landing on entry from before you two had met.

6.25 — Training Notes: after a long session of training and studying my technique’s history in my family. I have learned of a way I might be able to circumvent its cost. If I summon a deity of destruction that has the ability to reincarnate, then I will reincarnate too! One of my ancestors did that long ago, although it took 59 days for them to come back.

Gojo couldn’t believe what he was reading. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves furiously and scrambled to his feet. He stored your diary in an inner pocket of his kimono and made his way down the mountains to the temple ruins.

He inspected the gate and found exactly what he needed to be able to accept the loss of the only woman he’s ever loved. Utahime was strolling the grounds when she noticed him in the air, getting a close look at the doors.

“Gojo, what do you think you’re doing? Get down here!” Utahime found his behavior so disgraceful. He chuckled on his way back to earth.

“I was just checking on something. Had to be sure that I wasn’t seeing things.”

His eyes were red and puffy, but his annoyingly cheerful attitude was starting to return. Utahime couldn’t tell if she was relieved or annoyed.

“Checking on what?”

“Eh,” Gojo put a hand over the diary in his pocket.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

[e-dubbc11]

you said you could be persuaded to write about dean sooooooooo what about retired dilf dean? 🤔

My dear sweet Selene, it’s very hard for me to say no to you. 🤣 I came up with a little something for DILF Dean Winchester. I hope you like it, thank you for challenging me, my lovely friend ♥️♥️♥️

Carrying On

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dad Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluff, mentions of readers father’s death, smooches, a little hunter violence

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: You just bought a house in a new state, trying to see if you can move on after your father’s untimely death. Your neighbor introduces himself and already you’re feeling more at home

A/N: So this is my first time writing for Dean, dear god I hope it doesn’t suck. I wanted to write more for this but I still have asks in my inbox for my sleepover I need to get to(I’m trying my hardest to answer them all, I thank you all for your patience.) I’d even be willing to do another part for this because I had fun writing this one! I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The house was at the end of a nice quiet street. Your suitcases were piled high in the back seat, almost too high to see out the rear window but it wouldn’t be for much longer. It will be nice to finally stretch your legs after being in the car for such a long drive.

When you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that the “For Sale” sign had been removed from the front lawn. This was your home now and you were determined to live your life as normal as possible from now on.

After your father passed away, you left the flat lands of Oklahoma for the mountains of Colorado. There was just something about that cool mountain air. But you didn’t want to live IN the mountains, you didn’t want to be alone so moving into a neighborhood NEAR the mountains was a good compromise.

A man and, what you assumed to be, his young son were playing catch in the front yard. The boy tossed the baseball to his father but the man wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking at your car which happened everywhere you went.

You and your father had rebuilt that car and restored it to its former glory. It was your dream car…a 1967 Pontiac GTO in midnight blue. The way the paint reflected the light, the car almost looked purple. It was a gorgeous car.

The car in your neighbor’s driveway was impressive also. It was a 1967 Chevy Impala, black.

“DAD!! You missed!” The boy shouted.

“Hold on, son. You see that car? She must be our new neighbor. Let’s go say hello.” The man said.

Reaching for the sky, you stretched until some of the tightness in your shoulders went away. You then saw your new neighbor.

“Fuck me.” You whispered under your breath.

He was very handsome with medium brown hair, a well-groomed beard, and green eyes. As he came closer, you saw a splash of freckles across his nose and his young son was a carbon copy of his father.

You smiled warmly as they came closer.

“Hi there! I’m your new neighbor. I’m y/f/n y/l/n.”You extended your hand to shake his.

After you introduced yourself, the man had a slightly confused look on his face that quickly disappeared.

He extended his hand for you to shake. “I’m Dean and this is my son Charlie.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” You said.

Charlie interjected himself. “Dad missed the ball because he was staring at your car.”

“Charlie…” Said Dean through clenched teeth.

“Ah, well I do get that a lot. You wanna sit in it?” You asked.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Sure!”

You opened the car door so Charlie could sit on the driver’s side.

Dean pointed at the car. “That is a nice car. ’69?” He asked.

You bit down on your lower lip to keep from smiling. “It’s a ’67 actually, like your Impala.”

“Impressive…I don’t know a lot of women that would know that to look at it.” He said.

“Well, we do exist.” You said, a little sarcastically.

Dean smiled at you and said softly. “Yes, I guess you do.”

When he realized he was staring, he quickly snapped out of the trance he was in.

“Um, yeah so um, do you have furniture coming or anything? I’m happy to help.” He said.

“Oh the moving truck is coming tomorrow so I just have the bare essentials for tonight. Thank you for the offer, I may take you up on that.” You said.

“Well, we’ll let you get settled. Just knock when the truck comes…Charlie!! Come on, let’s let y/n settle in to her new house.” Said Dean.

As they walked away, you heard Charlie tell his dad, “Dad, you were staring at her.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “No I wasn’t…get the ball.”

“Yes you were, Dad. I saw you.” Said Charlie.

You shook your head back and forth then smiled. They both seemed really sweet.

Three Months Later

You had settled nicely into your new home. The final box had been unpacked and you were adjusting to your new surroundings and your new neighbors. Although there was something that bothered you about Dean’s house.

Every so often, not a lot but every now and again, you noticed that the basement light would flicker. It wasn’t all the time but when it did, it was always at the same time, which you thought was strange.

Everything else seemed to be fine so you didn’t look too closely at it.

You really did like Dean and you adored Charlie. They were your friends, so you contemplated, at least telling Dean about your past, how your father really died, and why you left your home state.

One Saturday morning, all of the windows were open and you could hear music coming from their house. It sounded like…Asia – Heat of the Moment.

You giggled a little bit and thought to yourself, “Really Dean, Asia?”

Dean had a deep booming voice.

“Rise and shine, Charlie!!” He said, loudly but playfully.

After doing some housework, you heard a knock on your door. Walking down the hall from the bedroom into the kitchen, you saw Dean standing at the side door through the screen. He was leaning against the door frame.

“Hey there. What can I do for ya?” You asked, opening the screen door.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could tell Charlie, um…well, about us.” He said, shyly.

Charlie didn’t know that about a month after you moved in, you and Dean started to hang out with each other after he went to sleep.

He’d come over for a drink, sometimes a movie, or a lot of the time, the two of you would just talk, and the relationship just sort of happened.

Charlie’s mom had passed away three years ago and it had just been the two of them since then. Obviously you weren’t trying to get in the way of their relationship and you DEFINITELY weren’t trying to replace his mom but you really did like the both of them and Charlie deserved to know the truth…they both did.

You snaked your arms around Dean’s neck, let your fingers run through his soft brown hair, and leaned in to kiss him. The bristles of his beard tickled your chin and you smiled in between his kisses. You really were smitten with him.

“I’d love to…I’ll bring you guys a special dessert.” You said.

A shy smile extended across Dean’s face. “Awesome…oh and I’m not much of a cook so I hope you’re ok with burgers. Alright? Ok, good talk.” He said, as he smacked you on the ass and turned around to walk back home.

You were going to come clean tonight.

Walking over to Dean’s, you remembered the first time you saw the last name on the mailbox…Winchester. Dean Winchester. All hunters knew that name, that family, his brother Sam, their father John, and their mother Mary.

They were famous in the world of hunting. Your family name stayed under the radar. Sure, you and your dad had some pretty big hunts and cases but nothing compared to the Winchesters.

Charlie answered when you knocked.

“Y/n!!!” He said, excitedly.

“Hey buddy!” You replied.

Charlie saw you holding the pie in your hands.

“Oh you brought Dad’s favorite.” He said.

“I did? Well I hope you guys like it, I made it from scratch.” You said.

“Dad’s always eating pie…he’s out back, come on!” He said, tugging on your t-shirt.

The three of you had a nice dinner together filled with a lot of laughs and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie said he was ok that you were his dad’s girlfriend.

The child like smile Dean had on his face as he was about to taste the pie made you smile. Before he could take his first bite, the lights flickered.

He looked up at the kitchen light as it continued to flicker. “Son of a bitch.” He boomed.

“Dad, language!” Shouted Charlie.

“Not now, Charlie.” He growled.

You stood up and backed away from the kitchen table. “Where’s the salt, Dean?” You asked.

“What? How do you--?” He started to say.

“The salt, Dean…NOW!!!” You shouted.

Dean got the bag of salt from underneath the kitchen sink and you had Charlie stand in an open area in the dining room, while his dad drew a salt circle around him. Then he pulled out two shotguns from underneath the couch in the living room filled with rock salt.

“Charlie…buddy, don’t move from this spot, do you understand?” You asked him, looking into his scared eyes.

He nodded.

Standing back to back, holding the shotguns, Dean asked, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

As fast as you could, you explained yourself. “Ok, so I come from a family of hunters too, nothing like yours of course but I left Oklahoma after my father died saving me from a nest of vampires. It was just me and him, my whole life and when he died, I felt like I couldn’t hunt without him.” You said.

Low moans and hisses were emanating through the walls as the lights continued to turn on and off.

“I can’t believe you’re a hunter. That’s why when you introduced yourself, your name sounded familiar to me!” Shouted Dean.

Charlie stood petrified inside the salt circle. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“It’s alright, buddy. We’re gonna be alright.” Said Dean.

Two apparitions came through the wall and headed straight for you when you blasted them with rock salt.

“Are y-you m-mad?” You asked, while trying to catch your breath.

“Mad? I’m only mad that I didn’t get to eat my pie! As far as you being a hunter, well…I gotta say I’m a little turned on.” He said.

In the middle of a life or death situation, Dean managed to make you blush.

“What does that mean, Dad?” Asked Charlie.

In unison, you and Dean yelled, “Not now, Charlie!”

“When we’re done with this, we’re gonna have a talk.” Dean pointed his finger at you.

“But you’re not mad?” You asked with a slight smile.

Dean smiled at you, his bright green eyes looked like fresh blades of grass as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Nah, I’m not mad sweetheart. Now let’s kill these things so I can eat my pie.”

Tagging: @munsonownsmyass @gijos

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

‘realize’ for the word ask thingy!! -galaxy

I see this and I raise you:

Doll!Reader helping Ken realize that horses exist in Barbieland

..........

"You weren't kidding..we really did have horses here all along.."

"Glad you finally realized that, Ken." With a small chuckle, you turned back to your horse, taking the pink plastic brush to her mane as you gently combed through the fluff.

"There you go, girlie...how do you keep getting these knots, hm?" You cooed, to which she snorted in reply, seeming content.

All the while, Ken couldn't stop staring at you both in awe, still trying to process what he was seeing before his very eyes.

A horse in Barbieland.

If only he knew they existed here, too, before he decided to take over everything and reinvented patriarchy.

The one time you decided to come into town....was when this seemingly perfect paradise was rapidly transformed into "Kendom", where the Kens took over the dreamhouses and attempted to rewrite the entire constitution.

They attempted to brainwash you as they did other Barbies into servitude, but since you weren't a Barbie yourself...it didn't really work.

Yet Ken, aka Beach Ken who went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie and returned as a completely different person, tried convincing you to stick around, showing off all the horse-themed stuff he had.

Despite you being a doll literally centered around equine care, he kept talking over you, spouting nothing but inaccurate horse facts and firmly believing he knew more than you.

As far as he was aware..horses only existed in the Real World, where men rode them and owned them and were the ultimate symbols of manhood.

When he made a jab at your job and refused to believe it's your actual profession, you snapped and nearly ripped his horseshoe chain necklace off of him, embarrassing him in front of all the other Kens, before you called out to your horse.

His jaw dropped as he saw her appear out of nowhere, and you mounted her and glared at him, mockingly asking if he still believed they're only from the Real World. Then you galloped all the way back home, refusing to hear his response.

You haven't returned since, and he struggled to maintain his image as a manly and "cool" leader after that revelation was dropped on him like an anvil.

After all was said and done, and Barbieland was restored to its former glory, Ken decided to go look for you. After realizing that patriarchy didn't make him happy, he wanted to make amends (and see your horses, but mostly make amends) and admit that scorning your job was shitty.

He kept rehearsing what he was going to say during the long walk to your home....but ended up faltering at your doorstep, becoming an anxious wreck until you let him in.

You weren't inclined to, at first, although seeing as he no longer wore that stupid mink coat and instead had a tie-dye hoodie that said "I Am Kenough", you figured he finally had some sense knocked into him.

Plus, the fact that he walked all this way was surprising..until you remembered Kens didn't drive cars or use bikes.

Even so, it's obvious that he genuinely wanted to make things right.

So both of you talked for a while, with him concluding that he felt stressed and unsure of what to do with his life now that Barbie's out of the picture.

He felt like he didn't belong anywhere near her dreamhouse, and he wasn't ready to go back to the Real World anytime soon. He just felt...stuck.

You didn't have too many words to comfort him with, given you've never been there and you've never dealt with the complex human emotions he just started experiencing himself.

But you did know how to cheer him up.

So you took him outside to one of the fenced arenas at your ranch, whistling for your horse, and she came trotting over.

Ken was awestruck, watching you tend to the gentle creature as you finished brushing her mane. He stepped closer to the fence, unsure of what to do or what to say...or even if he was allowed to be this close.

However you could see the look in his eyes, and the hesitancy in his body language, and ultimately relented.

You couldn't stay mad at him for eternity.

"You can pet her if you wanna."

He blinked in surprise, before looking at your horse again and cautiously reaching out to her face. For a moment she stared at him, and the abrupt snort made him flinch away.

"I-I...don't think she likes me.." He frowned.

"It's okay, Ken. She only acts like that 'cuz you're reaching for her mouth and don't have any food. Here. Let me help."

You took his hand, ignoring the way he stared at you with a growing blush on his face while you guided him. But eventually his focus shifted back to the horse as he felt soft fur beneath his fingertips, eyes widening as he looked to see his hand resting just above her nose.

Her ears flicked to the side, though besides that..she didn't react in any hostile way.

He was in childlike amazement, gently petting her and brushing his fingers through her mane. And you stepped back, allowing the two to bond, before noticing the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah...this is just awesome. She's nothing like the ones on those stupid TVs we had."

"Nope. They can't compare to her." You chuckled, leaning against one of the posts with a warm smile. "She's the real deal."

[lingerina]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀KINKTOBER⠀//⠀day three

➤ PROMPT degradation ➤ 947 words ➤ vampire!taeyeon x fem!reader ➤ brief mentions of blood, spanking, squirting ➤ exploring abandoned properties can reap severe orgasms consequences.

Goosebumps prick your skin as you cautiously make your way through the dark, massive castle. Your fight or flight senses are on high alert, just like they would be at any severely aged building that’s standing on its last hinges. It’s not because you’re concerned about ghosts like the locals are. You’re more concerned about possible wildlife and random dwellers that may emerge from around the corner.

More logical explanations for the little noises.

You dance the fine line between fascination and delusion. While you’re intrigued by urban legends and run-down places that are off the grid, you wouldn’t definitively say ghosts and cryptids are real.

You would love to believe in them the way locals do because they seem to get an inexplicable high whenever they think they captured evidence of a mythical creature. You want to experience that level of euphoria too, but logic keeps you grounded. Unless you actually come face to face with these “legends”, you will always find a logical reason for what you see. 

But just because you’re logical doesn’t mean you’re fearless.

You’ve heard talks about a haunted castle somewhere past the train tracks. The city has allegedly attempted to restore the abandoned property to its original glory, but never completed the project because reports of shadow figures and eerie noises forced the construction workers to flee. It wasn’t enough to keep them away forever because they would return on multiple occasions to finish remodeling.

That is until a fateful encounter would leave the restoration in ruins, and the workers vowing to never return.

Every little noise draws you to a pause. You would stop in your tracks to scan your surroundings, shining your flashlight in the general direction of the disruption. Every time, you are met with an empty corner occupied by cobwebs and spiders.

The hair on your nape suddenly stands, followed by a chill running down your spine when you reach the third floor. You can only equate the sensation to feeling like someone is watching you from afar. You grip your flashlight tighter and shine it all around you, spinning in erratic circles in one spot to cover all your ground and confirm that you’re alone.

You take a deep breath to ease your racing heart, mildly relieved to see nothing else lurking in the distance. 

That is, until you turn around to continue forward and come face-to-face with a woman standing just a mere foot in front of you, a maniacal grin flashing some fangs and marring her pretty but deathly pale face.

“You humans always underestimate us.”

Catching your breath is difficult when your chest is pressed against the wall and her hand is squeezing your nape. She had torn through your panties, half of the garment draping over your hip in tatters, and worked her fingers into your dripping cunt. Your adrenaline rush only got you so far because despite the head start in your race towards the door, the pretty woman–Taeyeon–seemed to have dashed behind you with inhuman speed.

And now here she is, flexing her impenetrable strength as she fucks you with her fingers. She swears up and down that she’s a 400-year-old vampire who rarely emerges from her dark quarters but you instantly dismiss it. Vampires are not real. She just happens to run at the speed of light, is as pale as a sickly Victorian child who has never seen sunlight, and has the most prominent fangs you have ever seen on a person.

Vampires are not real.

Your moans echo through the abandoned estate as your dripping cunt is at the mercy of her brisk pace, her knuckles brushing past your slick folds with each thrust. Your knees are buckling from the pleasure as you feel her so deep inside you. What began as one of your usual adventures to appease your curiosity took a turn, and the warmth in the pit of your stomach morphed your fear and concerns into a burning need for this “vampire” to bring you to ecstasy.

“Can’t escape now, huh?”

Taeyeon suddenly shoves her fingers in deep. Her laugh rings through your ears, engraving into your memory while the abrupt pause haunts you.

“This should teach you a lesson.”

You yelp after she spanks you. The swats that continue to follow after merges your cries and moans. You can barely focus on her words as she reprimands you through pleasurably painful means.

“You curious humans are a plague,” she hisses, bringing a hand down to your buttock and squeezing it harshly. “Stupid enough to explore these places with no sense of danger. You just can’t leave things alone, can you?”

Your eyes roll back as she forces her way back into you, dainty digits thrusting so quickly and preventing you from adjusting to the intrusion again. You’re relieved to have the wall act as balance because you’d be sinking to your knees right now.

Taeyeon scoffs. “Dumb and a whore. If only you could see how this pretty little cunt is swallowing me up right now.”

“T-Taeyeon.”

“Silence,” she snaps. “You’ve caused me enough trouble. You will pay for your consequences.”

Ecstasy ripples through you in turbulent waves, breaking the dam and forcing you to squirt all over her hand and the wall. One second, you feel light as a cloud. The next, a sharp pinch at the junction of your neck brings you back down to earth, breaking skin and leaving you lightheaded as she suckles on you.

When she’s finished with you, she turns you around to face her. The last thing you see before sinking to the floor is the same maniacal grin, now stained with blood.

Your blood.

[haphazardlyannotated]

Sometimes I think about an AU where Harrow's birth didn't require 200 child murders.

Gideon and Harrow probably wouldn't have grown up in each other's pockets the way they did in canon, with 200 other kids around. Still, having only about a hundred kids in their approximate age range (I'm assuming continued births with a similar frequency here) would mean that they'd know each other at least in passing.

Harrow without the crushing guilt of 200 lives on her shoulders would not attempt to open the Locked Tomb, and even if she wanted to, she would be much less likely to happen to have Gideon's blood conveniently on her hands in her attempt, plus Gideon would probably not be following her around to catch her in the act. Though somebody else might, to be fair.

Bottom line is, Harrow's parents are probably still alive. While I'm not sure about the psychological consequences of this, one change that does seem likely is that they might arrange a betrothal for Harrow. We already know from GtN that the only reason Harrow didn't end up engaged to Ortus is that they didn't want to mix up the Reverend Family's and their cavalier's bloodline. So this AU's Harrow is probably engaged to a man (or trans woman), since the Ninth doesn't seem to have the resources for whichever technological advancement on artificial insemnation gave Camilla two dads.

So considering that, in this AU Harrow might be the one with eighty-seven escape attempts.

As for Gideon, even with more potential friends around, chances are good she still wants to join the Cohort. She would probably not experience the same level of alienation and downright hatred as in canon, since Harrow's parents have no reason to freak out about her, but the general culture of the Ninth just isn't a good fit for her. Since Harrow wouldn't be as desperate to keep Gideon specifically on the Ninth, I expect she could just make her intentions to pay off her indentured servitude in the Cohort known, and that would be considered a perfectly fine choice for her career. I expect she'd still train under Aiglamene, but as part of a regular program for Ninth House children with stabby ambitions this time.

Which would be how she and Harrow end up stuck together this time.

When the summon for he house heirs arrives, everyone takes a look at Ortus and goes "...yeah, that won't do." So Aiglamene suggests replacing him with her star pupil, Gideon Nav, who was about to go join the Cohort, but could probably be persuaded to step in as Harrow's cavalier if you offered her a little improvement on the terms of her indentured servitude.

As expected, Gideon receives the offer and goes "Sure, I can swing around a toothpick while Harrow takes her employment test, sounds like a good gig to me. And besides, 'Cavalier Primary' would look good on my resumée for the Cohort."

When they reach Canaan House, Harrow still hopes to restore the Ninth House to its former glory, but more importantly, she is desperate to escape her arranged marriage, especially since her eighteenth birthday is alarmingly close and Ortus just stopped being her cavalier.

Gideon meanwhile enjoys sword fighting, actual flavour in her food, and looking at hot women.

Harrow: Are you taking this seriously?

Gideon: Of course I am! I get five years off my contract for this! I'm just saying, what's the harm in having some fun while we're here?

Harrow: If I fail to become a Lyctor, I will have to marry Ortus.

Gideon: *shudders* Fair enough.

Overall, the setting is more of a romantic comedy with the projected ending of the Reverend Daughter scandalously eloping with her cavalier- until the first murders, that is.

Due to Griddlehark not having seventeen years worth of reasons to go for the worst faith interpretation of each other's actions, and Harrow being at least a little less paranoid, they're able to work together with less conflict. However, Harrow doesn't have convenient puppet parents at home to help her realise that the Seventh cavalier is a beguiling corpse, so the net result could easily be the same. The biggest potential difference I can think of is that Harrow wouldn't try to send Gideon away with Jeannemary and Isaac. Since I like the Fourth House babies, I'm going to declare two murders less here.

Overall though, I don't see any clear options here that don't end with Gideon dead on a fence again.

The big difference would be her perception of HtN.

In this AU, Gideon's relationship with Harrow isn't tainted with obsessive hate-love masked as indifference on Harrow's side. This AU's Gideon sees her relationship with Harrow as a spicy forbidden romance, and therefore ironically interprets Harrow's lobotomy much more accurately than canon Gideon, who has been joined at the hip to her Harrow for as long as she can remember, and I'd love to see how that would change her character in HtN and NtN.

Canon Gideon gives us the beautiful, heartbreaking "I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it" combined with "She can be in hell for all I care, I just need to know where" for the two hit kill.

This Gideon on the other hand knows that Harrow would have married her given the chance and 'only' has to think about how Harrow might have died to save her.

Which raises the question of where Harrow's soul ends up in a world where she never entered the Locked Tomb. My personal theory is that, with no link to Alecto's body, Harrow is pulled back into her own body after Gideon's soul leaves it. Then we get Harrow stuck on New Rho with Pyrrha, Camilla and Palamedes, and Gideon with Jod and Ianthe, both of them desperately trying to find each other.

When Harrow sees the broadcast, she immediately marches to the Compound, blasts open the door and demands to see her girlfriend.

A few days later, the Ninth House receives another letter from the First, informing them that their Reverend Daughter is not a Lyctor anymore, but will wed the Emperor's daughter as soon as he can stay sober through the ceremony.

The End.

[raayllum]

The Path Trilogy #1: Introduction and A Path Forward — Viren and Karim

So, Callum, Karim, and Viren all have a lot of parallels to each other, right?

Let's talk about 'em.

The basics:

Mage-brother-advisors to a sibling who is an actual monarch. For Callum and Karim, they get points for both being princes; for Viren and Karim, they get points for being usurpers (but more on that note later).

The mage is particularly important, as we know for Aaravos "mages were his prey" and while Karim hasn't fallen into his clutches yet, it is likely that he will, given there's little reason to make Karim a mage as opposed to just another warrior otherwise.

Karim and Viren's belief in destiny ("But destiny favours us, Pharos" / "Please, guide us. Direct us to our destiny") and pre-determination

Viren and Callum (and Finnegrin) all seeking out how to kill their enemies specifically (for Viren, it was Avizandum; for Callum, it's Aaravos).

Viren and Karim both enlist the help of shadowy, imprisoned elves to do their bidding in assassinating monarchs in order for them to take said thrones.

Callum and Karim have loyal partners who come back after perceived/actual abandonments, whereas Lissa does leave (and permanently leaves) Viren.

Karim and Viren both want to restore their people to a former glory, just with very different ideas of what that looks like.

If you've been taking note of the list above, you'll probably notice that Karim and Callum are both walking similar 'paths' to arc 1 (and arc 2) Viren in a variety of ways, but Karim tends to take Viren's political path and Callum tends to take Viren's personal path. That is going to be the bulk of the meta examination today, in addition to parallels (mostly juxtaposition) between Callum and Karim. If you are interested in more of Callum's parallels to Viren, I would recommend checking out these prior metas of mine (compilation here) + their foils tag.

Originally, I intended this meta to encompass all three dynamics of Viren-Karim, Viren-Callum, and Callum-Karim. However, the sections rapidly grew longer than expected (shocking, I know) and I hit the picture limit, so

we're dividing it up into three metas.

This is the First One, and I hope you enjoy!

With all of that out of the way, let's begin.

A Path Forward: Karim and Viren

So as indicated about, Karim and Viren are both very concerned with paths - and more than that, in some ways, they are concerned with strength and weakness.

K: She will forfeit, and they will see where strength truly lies. (4x09) V: If we are strong enough to make the right decisions, humans may finally return to Xadia. (1x06)

K: Humans in their weakness allowed evil to flourish. (5x04) V: But if we are led by a child king... S: He'll make bad choices? V: He will make weak choices. (1x06)

Now, this is unsurprising, in a lot of ways. Both Viren and Karim have a vested interest in becoming king of their respective peoples. Both believe wholeheartedly in symbols ("It's the symbolism, sister!" / "An empty throne is a beacon of weakness"), the aforemetioned belief in destiny, and a strong desire to return to times past. Viren and Karim both want to reclaim lands that were lost because of exile and dark magic, even if Viren is the one who doomed Karim's home in the first place, and Karim wishes for humans to leave (which was the root cause, in a lot of ways, of Viren's subsequent issues - however far removed by history).

These intense desires and beliefs instigate much of their political and general wrongdoings, being subsequently impatient when it appears that other people are not taking things as seriously / willing to wait.

V: Settle down? Can't you see the danger we're in? (2x01) K: [Clucks tongue] We don't have time! (4x08)

This is in direct contrast to the series' idea that things can, and often should, take time ("You say you want to make a difference, to really change things, but that's going to take decades of hard work [...] There's no monster you can slay to solve all your problems!" / "You and I will not live to see this new day?" "No... Nurturing the seed is the work of our lifetimes").

However, Karim and Viren are also fundamentally different people. Karim has watched the crown pass to both his sisters and primarily (it seems, for Khessa) been supportive. He doesn't seem to crave power for himself, even if he is politically minded, and he is focused on conserving something collectively that has directly recently been extremely under threat (his culture and his people's wellbeing). He's a mage but thus far has never shown any inclination towards dark magic (which we see in S5 very much isn't the case for all elves) and was Viren's preferred magical method even when having more access to primal magic. Karim is also friendlier and gets along well with Amaya, which we don't have any indication that Viren ever did.

Furthermore, Viren is far more efficient and can actually know how to be patient and how to try to achieve his own aims than Karim, who fails constantly and consistently. That being said, Karim does undeniably take on Viren's prior political plot line by becoming an

Usurper

and largely for the same reasons that Viren wanted the crown as well, fearing stagnated weakness or integration with their enemies. Both, also, largely following through similar steps of

1) Attempting to converse with their sibling monarch and being shut down regarding their concerns or ideas

2) Calling a political meeting in order to cement their goals that goes very wrong

3) Being arrested and punished for things going by the wayside

4) Only to return - wholly in Viren's case and somewhat in Karim's - victorious the following season after successful to unsuccessful exchanges/betrayals

Last but not least, as a closing (mostly unrelated) note but one I thought was cool enough to mention anyway, Viren and Karim both seek to use archdragons to aid in their takeover coups and world acclimation plans. While Viren wanted to harvest Zym and Zubeia in order to achieve ultimate power, Karim is less concerned with consumption (not a dark mage, after all) and more with collaboration, believing that Sol Regem could be a great and powerful ally.

This is, of course, ignoring the main other relationship in which they parallel one another, which is

Kim'Dael and Aaravos

Kim'Dael and Aaravos, in a lot of ways, have a few parallels beyond just "imprisoned elves who seek their freedom, and team up with power hungry mages," some of which are:

Being, seemingly, the last of their kind — Kim'Dael is the last of the blood drinkers, Aaravos is (possibly?) the last of the Startouch elves

Their own kind as well as the archdragons turned on them

They are both very comfortable and regularly use dark magic for their own ends

Have very specific monikers — the Midnight / Fallen Star and the Bloodmoon Huntress

There is also the layer of how Viren and Karim are useful/appealing to Aaravos and Kim'Dael, respectively, because of their history. Viren is a human mage, like so many of Aaravos' previous victims, and has the Staff of Ziard (one of if not the first thing Aaravos notes about him, and thus knows so much about Viren immediately, I might add), and Karim is tied to Aditi's bloodline, a requirement for Kim'Dael to, well, give a shit.

But the crux of it is how Viren goes to and uses Aaravos' power to achieve his own ends in becoming king and leading a war on Xadia. Time will only tell how effective an ally Kim'Dael will truly be to Karim (thus far it's been a deadly but unsuccessful fetch quest / hostage exchange), but she definitely has the potential, and I think it's likely S6 will see both her and Aaravos being freed from their confines.

I've said before, though, that there's little reason for Karim to be a mage, specifically, rather than just another (less talented) warrior like his sister, unless he is going to become Aaravos' prey by manipulation or proxy in future seasons, given that he preys on mages. However, we'll simply have to wait and see whether Karim will fall into Aaravos' clutches, willing or unwillingly, going into S6.

Misc Notes:

There's a lot to be said about how Viren is the kind of person who would create Karim, a character who is much like Viren in many ways and largely emboldened by the trauma he and his people have suffered at Viren's hands. I think it's one of the show's best "show not tell" examples of how the cycle perpetuates itself unless it is actively stopped, and how tradition and being constantly stuck on the past can sometimes be more of a hindrance than a help, and why Janai's line very much mirrors Harrow's dying philosophy, one that is extremely in contrast to both their mage advisors: I make history. History does not make me. Even if they grew up as radically different people — Viren from a disadvantaged background, Karim as a pious prince; Viren a dark mage, and Karim a primal one; Viren, relatively safe growing up in Katolis with a long standing cold war versus Karim having his culture recently and brutally ripped away from him — one of the worst and best things the Cycle does is create similarity through suffering and trauma response(s).

The parallels between Janai and Harrow go steeper, too, with Harrow's statement of "I'd rather die a king than live as a coward" (which Viren mistakes as pride rather than accountability) and Janai's assertion that she wants to be queen when Karim tries to make her back down. Likewise, we see Karim and Viren justify the actions they take in a similar manner to most of the other mages in the show when it comes to escalating/restoring to violence:

V: I had no choice! K: What choice did I have? You pushed me to this, sister!

There is also, of course, the theme of exchange running throughout both mages once we get to S5. Viren wanted to exchange a soldier's life for Harrow, thinking in exact scales and numbers rather than in the horrific humanity lurking underneath, whereas Karim treated his sister's life as a bargaining chip in exchange for the Sun Seed, and thereby control of his people's future. However, where Viren always sees himself as an active participant in his guilt/decisions, and therefore focuses on self-martyrdom as a justification, Karim still looks externally for signs and gifts to be given, tying back to how he uses his religion and fear of the new to justify his own decisions, making himself more passive but no less dangerous as a result.

One of the biggest differences between Karim and Viren is, perhaps, their choice of partner. Lissa ultimately left Viren after he was further corrupted by dark magic in order to save Soren, meaning that whatever he did was not something she could morally justify/accept or feel comfortable with, even if it successfully saved their son's life. Meanwhile, although Miyana appears to abandon Karim (and more on their dynamic here), he remains fairly faithful in her love for him ("Miyana, I knew you'd come!") until 5x08 and overjoyed when she does end up returning to him, even before the reveal she's brought gifts.

M: Whatever appearances might have been, my loyalty never wavered. K: Your loyalty? M: My love.

Last but not least, we have the interplay with the concepts of truth and blindness running throughout the series.

Viren has always had eye symbolism — pouring literal darkness into his eyes in order to try to see the mirror; Aaravos overtaking and turning one of his eyes white in S3; Viren, upon waking resurrection, having clear eyes — which makes sense, if you want to reaffirm a character is short sighted or not seeing things clearly. It seems Karim assuming that healing Sol Regem's blindness will fix their problems, even when the sun king reaffirmed the opposite. In this way he borrows more from Claudia, perhaps, banking on the idea that fixing physical means fixing the emotional, and that it will give him everything he wants with none of the repercussions or hangups.

Where Viren finally sees the truth, Karim is blinding himself in order to try to heal Sol Regem (and unsurprisingly gets a cut across his eye/eyebrow, courtesy of Amaya) along the way.

Conclusion:

As discussed in the meta above, where Viren progresses past his arc 1 well, arc, Karim largely steps in to fill his political shoes, demonstrating how history and the cycle repeats itself and the dangers of such attitudes and choices. We don't know whether Karim's quest for power and control will end as disastrously or deadly as Viren's, but his army turning into a monstrous one seems likely, given Pharos' lingering Aaravos induced corruption and subsequent involvement. If you are interested in even more Karim and Viren parallels, check out this post for ones that didn't make it into / weren't relevant to this meta (the "cutting your palm open with a knife" is a particular favourite of mine).

Now that we've looked at how Karim is unknowingly walking Viren's political path, the next upcoming meta — The Path Trilogy #2: In the Name of Love, I Would Do Anything For You — will explore how Callum is mostly unknowingly walking Viren's personal path. The final Path meta will focus on additional parallels between Callum and Karim.

Now at the end, as always — thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I'll see you in the next one!

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Garden - NSFW Version

Summary: Six years after the sudden death of your father, you return to his beloved home to restore it to its former glory. A series of strange events leads you to find a friend in a strange horse that appears on your property. Little do you know there’s more to this horse than meets the eye. 

Pairing: Kix x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, kelpie!Kix, minor character death at the start, grief, magic, shapeshifting, loosely based on folklore, cultural differences, no foreplay, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, sex in the rain.

A/N: This is the NSFW version of the fic. It's slightly longer due to the smut at the end, but if you would prefer to read the SFW version, it is linked down below. This was originally going to be a kinktober day but this story got a bit away from me and wound up less...kinky I'd say than I planned. So instead I'm posting it just as a monster/horror/regular smut fic. (though there is a bit of a praise kink at the end 👀)

MASTERLIST | SFW VERSION

It’s a day you’d rather forget. 

Your father had spent hours and hours of his time making the house perfect, making the yard perfect. He wanted everything to be perfect, but he’d never get to see it. 

It happened suddenly. You’d been the one to find him, searching for him in the backyard, in the labyrinth of paths and bushes and trees. You’d found him lying there in the grass  almost like he was taking a nap, but you knew him better than that. The panic that had risen in your throat was like nothing you’d ever felt, your scream heard clear in the house as you’d desperately tried CPR, but it was too late. 

To say it was a shock was an understatement. 

Now you’re sitting in the pristine grass he had mowed every other day without fail. His pride and joy was being tarnished by tents and plastic chairs. You tried to listen as some “mate” he’d had in college spoke about their time together, telling stories you’d never heard, referencing a man who was nothing more than a pile of ashes sitting on a table in front of the begonias he’d lovingly planted for your mother. She was crying into your grandmother’s shoulder, sobs wracking her body. 

But you don’t cry. 

Instead something is rising in you, something twisting, threatening to choke you. There were too many people, most of them you didn’t know, sitting in his lawn and tarnishing it with their heels and their shoes. He would have hated it, the holes in his golf course grade grass, the shoe prints that would no doubt be left imprinted in the grass thanks to the rain the night before. Footprints in the dirt of his precious gardens, trampling his flowers, squishing the only thing that mattered to him in this world beside you and your mother. 

You can’t stand it anymore. 

You don’t care that people stare as you get up from your seat, walking out of the sweltering tent. The sun is high, heating the ground beneath your feet as you take off running, losing your shoes in the process. You don’t care, feet squelching in the wet grass, then the underbrush as you force your way into the trees along the property line. You run through the trees, ignoring the branches grabbing at you, the leaves snagging in your hair, the roots tempting to trip you, tangle your feet and send you to the ground. Tears have blurred your vision now, running blindly, trying to get away from the pain, the...wrongness behind you. 

Finally a root jumps up and grabs you, tangling around your ankles, sending you to the ground. The mud is wet as you hit it, splattering on your black clothes but you don’t care. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, laying in the mud as you sob. You miss your father, you miss his quirks, the things you never appreciated before. The things you never paid attention to that you should have. The things you’d never get to do again, the things you’d never get to hear or see again. All the sorrow wells at once, the numbness of the past few days wearing off. 

A splash near you draws you from your grieving, your head snapping to the side, finding a small lake. You had no idea it was there. Then again, you hadn’t spent much time in the forest by your house. Your father had always warned you of faeries but you’d never believed him. Faeries were children’s stories. 

But the horse head staring at you from the lake has you questioning that. 

It’s black as night, reeds tangled in its black hair. It's submerged up to its milky white eyes, no bubbles appearing where its nose is in the water. You have to be hallucinating. The past few days had gotten to you finally and you were seeing things. That was it. Maybe you’d hit your head when you were falling and this was all just a dream. 

You stay still as the horse begins to move closer, its head rising up out of the water now. A low buzzing begins in your ears, rising in pitch until it almost sounds like...music. You’re entranced, staring at the horse as it stands still. Something draws you towards it, something tells you to touch it, not to fear the water but to jump in and climb on its back. 

The cold lake water startles you from your trance. You hadn’t even noticed you had moved,  kneeling at the edge of the water, wet mud threatening to suction you into place. It’s soaking your clothes but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Your name being shouted through the trees drags you from your thoughts. You lower your hand, realizing it had been reaching out towards the horse. It’s gone, taking all trace of it having been there, not even a ripple on the surface of the water left. Maybe it had been a hallucination all along. 

Arms are wrapping around you, pulling you from the edge of the water. 

“Stay away from there!” A woman is saying, chastising you for getting close to the lake. Your head is swimming, the buzzing still in your ears. “Those waters are dangerous.” 

Something is wrapped around your shoulders, and you find you're shivering despite the warm sun above you. You recognize who it came from, the overwhelming scent of aftershave reaching your nose. 

You're led back to the house and taken inside. Your mother is there instantly, worrying over you. You numbly allow yourself to be led to the couch, Jeffrey sitting you down on it. He lived two doors down with his mother, and more than once had come calling on you with any excuse he could use to do so. You thought he was sweet, but that was it. 

Someone is speaking, someone else is handing you a glass of water. But everything seems distant to you. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were in a coma and this was all some sick fantasy brought on by delirium. 

You know that’s not the case. The brain wasn’t capable of thinking all these people up, all the things that you’d seen, all the people you’d met over the past few days were real. 

Your dad being dead was real. 

You sip the water, letting people fuss around you. Jeffrey is sitting next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders supportively. You’re still wet, the cold water grounding you, but it was also a reminder of what you’d seen. The horse in the water. How you had been so drawn to it, wanting to touch it, willing to walk into the lake to get to it. 

The thought scares you more than anything that had happened the past few days ever could. 

***

Six years. 

Your mother had held onto the house for six years. 

She moved you both to town, unable to stare at the work your father had put in. The constant reminders of him were too much for her to handle and so she’d run from it. You had returned once you had your own car. You had constantly driven past it, pulled into the driveway to stare at it. It looked sad, like something out of a fairytale. The outside needed repainted, the yard had overgrown, starting to take back the house as well. The garden your father had put so much work into and the bushes were all dead. It was like the forest was slowly creeping in, retaking the land as its own. 

Six years and you had finally graduated from high school, gone to college and gotten a useless degree. Six years to work up the courage to ask your mother for the keys, wanting some place to stay that wasn’t the cramped apartment rife with your mother and her sorrows. 

Finally it was yours. 

You start with the house, cleaning it up inside. It was dusty and damp after the six years it had been closed up. You air it out, sweeping and dusting every inch, making it shine, just like it had six years ago. The yard, however, was something else. Its glory was gone, shriveled up and overgrown from six years of neglect. You knew you could never return it to its full glory, but at least you could try. Spring is coming, the days slowly lengthening and getting warmer. You want to get it cleaned up so you can begin planting soon.

A few days go by without incident. You finish fixing up the interior of the house and begin on the exterior. Ivy has made itself at home on one side of the house, and it desperately needs repainting. The roof needs to be cleaned as well, moss growing on the side facing the forest. It truly feels like the forest had slowly been reaching out, trying to reclaim the land. 

For a moment you feel as if you should let it, as you watch the ivy peel back from the side of the house. What was the point of cleaning up the house? Your father is gone. He won’t ever see it again. 

You push the thought away, finishing your work for the day. 

It’s after dark when it happens for the first time. You had been making dinner after closing up the house when a low buzzing had started to sound in your ears. You look around, wondering if perhaps it’s one of the lights. You move around the room, standing next to each one, but the buzzing never changes in tone or volume. 

You flick the lights off, but the buzzing doesn't cease. The moon is out, illuminating the lawn as you stare out the window. Your lips part in a gasp as you catch a shadowy form standing in the long grass. You move closer to the window, blinking in shock. 

It looks like...a horse. 

Its eyes glint in the darkness, reflecting the light of the moon. A feeling of uneasiness washes over you, the buzzing in your ears feeding the fear starting to bud in the back of your mind. Your hand shakes as you reach for the curtain, quickly drawing it closed. The room is bathed in darkness and you fumble for the lightswitch, the buzzing stopping as soon as the light flicks on. 

You breathe in the sudden silence, your heart thudding in your chest. There was a horse in your yard. You turn back to the kitchen, trying to calm the fear gnawing at you. Maybe one of the neighbors had gotten a horse and it somehow escaped into your yard. There was certainly plenty for a horse to eat in the overgrown yard. 

Perhaps you should make a visit to the neighbors again. It has been years since you’ve seen them. You can let them know one of their horses is escaping at night. 

***

None of your neighbors have horses. 

You try to process the thought as you work on painting the exterior of the house. You had visited them the day before, making them known of your return to your childhood home. You had asked briefly about the horse, but you’d gotten nothing but shrugs and one strange look from Jeffrey’s mother. 

Perhaps it had escaped from somewhere outside of the neighborhood then. There were many farms all across the countryside. The horse could have wandered in from anywhere. Hell, the horse could have been a hallucination for all you know. A trick of the shadows. 

For all you know there was no horse at all. 

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, something in the back of your mind prickling. You get the sudden feeling you’re being watched. You turn on the ladder, glancing at the forest behind you. You scan the treeline, but there’s nothing in the thick underbrush. 

Your father had always warned you about going into the forest as a child. Forests are strange places, and while there were no large predators you had to worry about, there were...other things. The trees were tricky and liked to play games, making you get lost on purpose.

And the faeries. 

You had believed him, at least as a child. Then you brushed him off as you grew older. Faeries were nothing but stories and legends. 

Still, you never ventured into the forest. Something about it has always given you goosebumps, making the hair on the back of your neck stand straight. 

You turn away from the trees, resuming your painting. You want to get it done and dry before the weather turns wet with the coming spring. You have a lot to do before then. 

The buzzing returns that night. 

You’re in bed this time, tucked away upstairs in your old room. It hadn’t felt right, sleeping in what was your parents' old room. Some of your dads stuff is still in there, and you don’t feel brave enough to start looking through it. Not yet. 

You had just been drifting off to sleep when the buzzing started, pulling you from the precious slumber. Your heart jumps in your chest, fear buzzing through you almost as loud as the buzzing in your ears. Your gaze turns towards the window overlooking the front yard. What would you see if you got up and looked? Will the shadowy horse figure be there again? 

Your breathing picks up as you hear the familiar creak of the porch steps. The front door is locked, you had made sure of it twice before you retired to bed, but that doesn’t stop the fear screaming in the back of your mind. 

Your legs are shaking as you rise from the bed, slowly tiptoeing to the window. You glance down at the yard, but you can’t see anything. The porch continues to creak, slow, heavy footsteps making their way around the side of the house.

You open your door, glancing down the hallway towards the stairs. You let out a breath, cursing the fact everything you could use as a weapon is downstairs in the kitchen. You tiptoe along the hallway, making your way slowly down the stairs. 

You stare at the kitchen window as you make your way to the bottom of the steps, the curtains thin enough you can make out something moving on the porch in the moonlight. You sink down, making yourself as small as possible as you hold your breath. 

There’s a horse on your porch. 

It’s unmistakable, its shadow illuminated through the kitchen window. You’re afraid, breaths ragged and shaky as you stare at the figure through the window. You wonder if it can see you even in the darkness. Its head turns towards the window, ears flickering. You hold your breath, the buzzing in your ears getting louder. 

It almost sounds like...music. 

A deep, sad song begins to come through the buzzing like a radio picking up a distant signal. Tears fill your eyes as something tugs deeply in your chest. The grief from the last six years comes back to the surface, the house suddenly feeling so large and empty. You want to escape, you want to run out the door. You can’t stand it, being alone. The house was supposed to be full of light and laughter and happy memories. It’s so cold and empty now. 

The creak of a board on the porch snaps you from your thoughts, your body halfway to the front door. You hadn’t even realized you had gotten up. You stumble back, racing for the stairs and back up to your room. You push your desk in front of the door before diving under the covers, putting a pillow over your head to try and block out the buzzing music. 

***

You let out a shriek as you leave the house two days later. 

Standing in your yard is a black horse. 

It’s just standing there, staring right at you, unmoving. Your hand is on the doorknob, ready to rush back inside. There’s no buzzing this time, no song. It’s morning, the sun coming over the hills. The world is damp from how cold it was last night. There’s no hoofprints in the tall grass, no sign of the horse trampling through it. You wonder how long it’s been there. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, feeling stupid as the words leave your mouth. You’re talking to a horse. 

Its ears flick at your words and it continues to stare at you for a moment before it lowers its head, starting to graze on the tall grass. You relax just slightly, your hand slipping off the doorknob. Perhaps it’s just a lost horse, come to graze on your jungle. The other neighbors all keep their lawns well kept, so you can rationalize why a horse would choose this yard over theirs. 

Maybe this was the horse you’ve been seeing at night too, simply making itself at home where there’s plenty of food. Maybe you’ve been imagining the buzzing, the music. Maybe the emptiness of your home truly is getting to you. 

Your foot hits something as you take a step forward, drawing your gaze downward. Sitting on your porch is a silver halter. You glance at the horse, its eyes on you as you bend down to pick it up. The leather is soft and worn, diamonds lining the sides and the nose. The buckles shine like new, and you wonder if they’re real silver. 

You glance back at the horse, finding it staring at you as it chews. You take a cautious step forward, then another. The horse doesn’t move, staying still as you make your way down the creaky steps. 

“Is this yours?” You ask, holding the halter up. 

The horse bobs its head before bending back down to graze. 

You blink in shock. Did the horse just...nod? You take a couple steps forward, closer to the horse. It’s big, tall and strong even with its head bent. Its coat is slick and shiny in the morning light, its mane thick and curly and long enough it drags on the ground when it eats. It’s a beautiful horse, and you can’t imagine someone just leaving it here. 

“Aren’t you...supposed to be wearing this?” You say, holding up the halter. 

The horse rears back, letting out a loud neigh as you approach. You stumble back as it moves away from you, staring at you with a cautious look. Your heart is pounding in your throat, short breaths puffing in the cool air. 

“Okay, okay.” You hold your hand out, your fingers trembling. “You don’t have to wear it.” The horse continues to watch you as you make your way back up the steps. “I’ll just...put it inside so it doesn’t get damaged.” 

The horse is grazing again when you step back outside, almost like nothing had happened. 

You watch it for a few moments before sighing. “I guess if you’re going to help with the yard you can stay.” 

You should put up a poster at the general store in town about the stray horse that’s made itself at home on your property. You go about your day, the horse contently grazing on your long grass, paying you no mind. It’s nice, not being alone, even if your companion is a mysterious stray horse that apparently understands you. You’ve always heard horses are very intelligent, though, so perhaps it wasn’t that strange it was able to answer you. 

You work on repairs outside the house until sunset, tired and sore from all the work you’ve been doing. You haven’t even touched the garden yet. You should pull out the lawnmower tomorrow and at least get the grass trimmed down. Make it look like more of a yard. 

You turn around, nearly jumping out of your skin as you find the horse right behind you. You hadn’t even heard it approach you, not even its footsteps on the stone path to the front door. 

You put a hand on your chest, taking a deep breath. “You’re a sneaky thing, aren’t you.” 

An almost mischievous look flashes in its eyes, so fast you almost don’t notice. Almost. You take a deep breath, calming your racing heart as it stretches out its head, sniffing at your sweatshirt. You hesitantly reach up, resting your hand on its face. Its hair is silky and smooth under your hand, almost feeling faintly damp. 

It blows out a breath, pressing its face into your hand. You scratch its nose, a smile tugging at your lips as it moves its head with your hand. 

“It’s nice, not being alone.” You say, gently patting his head. “Things didn’t used to be this way. But, maybe someday they won’t be anymore.” You pat his head before pulling away. 

He watches you walk up the porch steps, and you take one last look at him before you close the door, locking it. 

You relax on the couch after dinner, your eyes drawn to the halter sitting on the coffee table. You pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hands. It’s heavy from the diamonds, and you just know it has to be expensive. You turn it in your hands, looking at the other side. The leather is worn, which must mean it gets used often. It probably looks good on the horse, the silver contrasting its dark hair. 

On the back of the nosepiece is three letters embroidered in the leather. 

KIX. 

Are they initials? Or perhaps the horse’s name is Kix. 

There’s no other markings, no other indication of the owner’s information anywhere. You run your fingers over the soft leather again before you set it back on the coffee table, heading off to bed. 

***

The horse is standing in your lawn again the next morning. You’re less afraid this time, walking down the steps without pause. It watches you, its tail flicking. There’s something about its stare, those dark eyes watching you with almost human understanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, fear tickling the back of your mind again. 

You shove it aside as you pull the lawnmower out of the shed, sighing as you stare at the expanse of lawn you’re going to have to mow. 

You turn to look at the horse, its eyes on you. “There was a name on the halter.” You say, leaning against the lawnmower. “Kix, I think.” 

The horse bobs its head in a nod. 

“Is that...your name?” 

It nods again. 

A smile tugs at your lips. “Are you...a boy horse?” 

It nods once more, before lowering its head to graze. So that was his name on the halter. You still can’t help but wonder who he belongs to. Surely someone was looking for him. 

Kix continues to graze mindlessly as you mow the tall weeds and grass. As you said you would, you leave a small patch for him to graze on in the back of the house, away from the street and the front door. You know it’s only a matter of time before the neighbors notice your mysterious visitor. You’re surprised none of them have come knocking yet.

The day grows warmer, the sun bearing down on you as you mow the lawn, working your way in a circle around the house. You finish up back by the shed, shutting the lawnmower off before you collapse in the newly cut lawn, breathing heavily. 

Footsteps crunch through the grass before you’re staring upside down at Kix’s nose. His lips tickle your forehead as he sniffs at your head, your hand pushing his nose away. You push yourself up to sit, wiping the sweat from your brow. 

“I don’t know how my dad did this, like, every day.” You say, running your hand over the short grass. “He loved his lawn. He loved his yard. He loved his garden.” You shake your head, staring at the tangled vines and dead bushes, the weeds that have taken over where meticulously planted flowers used to bloom every spring. “Now look at it.” 

Tears burn your eyes. You don’t have the skills your father had, the knowledge, the drive to make and keep the landscaping so beautiful. 

“It deserves so much better than this.” You say, shaking your head. “He deserves so much better.”

Kix nudges against your back, nickering softly. You sniffle, wiping the tear that slides down your cheeks. You knew it would be a lot of work, and you knew you could never restore it to what your father had. You could still try. You could still make it look decent. If nothing else, you could at least clean it up. 

***

Kix is there every day, greeting you at the porch every morning. He hovers behind you often as you begin to work on the garden, snacking on weeds and helping you clear bushes. As soon as you cut one down, he drags it to your trash pile for you. 

You talk to him as you work, telling him all about your family, your dad, your life after you left. You worry about your mom, but you know she’s doing what’s best for her, just as you are. 

Kix seems to understand you, not in the way animals do, but in a human way. It’s a bit unnerving sometimes, the way he looks at you as you’re speaking. You have little experience with horses, though, so you can’t be sure if it’s all that unusual. 

You like having him around. The house feels less empty, even if he stays outside. You haven’t had any strange experiences since he showed up, so you can’t complain. You had begun to question if coming back out here was worth it. Now you’re glad you came back, and you decided to stay. 

You get the garden and the areas around the yard cleared, everything looking so bare now. There were a few bushes still standing, Kix having pushed you away from some of them. You had left them with a shrug, moving on to others that were dead and crumpled. Deciding what to plant was going to be harder.  

You do research, looking at various plants that not only look good together, but also will be easy to manage. You’ll be spending a lot of money, but it’ll be worth it. 

Kix is surprisingly absent the morning your plants get delivered. You don’t see him until the delivery truck is long gone, and you’re hauling plants around the yard to their respective places.

In fact, any time you get visitors, he makes himself scarce, even when it’s the neighbors. It’s odd, but perhaps he’s just shy. You don’t blame him. You weren’t the biggest fan of all of the neighbors, but you’ve known most of them since you were a child. 

Jeffrey’s mother comes to visit one day as you’re working on planting some seeds for flowers. You invite her in for tea, sweaty and dirty but she doesn’t seem to mind. Kix is gone, having disappeared silently before she arrived. Sometimes he moved so swiftly and silently it almost seemed unnatural. 

“How have you been, dear?” Jeffrey’s mother asks you. 

You shrug, pouring the tea. “It’s strange, being back. The house seems so empty.” 

“The yard looks lovely. I’m sure it will be positively stunning come summer.” She says, looking out the window. “Your father would be proud.” 

A bitter smile forms on your face. “I’m sure he would be. I’m not nearly as talented as he is.” 

She turns from the window, her eyes spotting the halter on the table. She gasps, covering her mouth as she stares at it. “W-Where did you get that?” 

You frown, eyeing the halter before looking back at her. “It showed up on my doorstep.” You say. “With a black horse.” 

She rushes towards you with surprising speed, grabbing you by the arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone into the woods again! Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to that place!” 

“W-What are you talking about?” You frown at her. “I’ve never gone into the woods.” 

Her grip on your arms loosens just slightly. “You don’t remember. The day of your father’s funeral. You ran from the service like a sinner fleeing church straight into the woods. We found you out by the lake, right on the edge of the water.” 

Your ears begin to buzz with the familiar sound as images flash through your mind. You remember being angry at everyone for ruining your father’s yard. You remember running from the service, running through the trees. You remember feeling like they were grabbing at you, trying to pull you in all directions. You remember falling, you remember the buzzing sound and the horse in the water. The black horse with milky white eyes. 

“You must get rid of it.” She says, staring at the halter. “Do not go near that horse again. It will only bring you death.” 

You sit on the couch, staring at the halter after she leaves. Things begin to click into place as the memory of that day, the memory of what you saw, the memories of the strange events when you returned replay in your mind. 

Your father had warned you about lakes in the area, that there was a legend about shapeshifting horses that would lure you into the water and drown you. You had brushed him off, just as you had about other things. You know what you saw that day, though. You had nearly been a victim of one yourself. 

And you’ve been talking with it every day for the last few weeks. 

It hasn’t seemed like it wanted to hurt you. But it’s understanding of your words, it’s knowledge, it’s manner, even its eyes tell you everything. You’ve been spending every day with a kelpie. 

***

You leave the house the next day, halter in hand. It’s a foggy morning, colder than it should be. It feels fitting as you approach the dark figure waiting in your yard. You stare at its too human eyes, holding the halter tightly in your hand. 

“You’re no horse, are you?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest so hard you’re certain he might be able to hear it. “It was you that day, wasn’t it? You were going to kill me.” 

The horse blows out a breath, taking a step closer to you. You take half a step back, holding the halter up between you like it might protect you. He takes another step forward, stretching out his neck to nose at the halter. He wants you to put it on him, you discern. 

You’re not sure what will happen when you put it back on. He doesn’t look like that horse in the water without it, but will that change? Will he turn back into the murderous beast he’s supposed to be? He could kill you in this form. A well aimed kick would do the job. Why would he want to be in his other form to do it? Would it be easier? Quicker for you. 

Or perhaps the halter will allow him to communicate easier with you. 

It’s a risk you’re going to have to take. 

Your hands shake as you fit the halter onto his face, having to try a couple times to get it in the right position. As soon as you buckle it the buzzing begins again in your ears. You stumble back a couple steps, Kix shaking his head before he stares at you again. His eyes are milky white, his coat dripping with water as if he’d just climbed from the lake. You stare in horror as his body begins to contort, his bones snapping. 

You stumble back a couple more steps, your feet slipping in the damp grass, sending you sprawling onto your back as he shifts and changes, and suddenly you’re staring at a man. 

He’s tall and strong, rippling with muscles. Your cheeks grow hot as he steps towards you, damp curls falling onto his forehead. He’s naked, tanned skin on display, save for a silver chain around his neck. His eyes are dark, not unlike those of the horse. 

You scramble back as he squats in front of you, but his hand catches your leg, keeping you still. The buzzing becomes almost unbearable, pulsing in your head like a migraine. Cold skin touches yours as you screw your eyes closed, the buzzing beginning to quiet to almost nothing. 

“I apologize.” A deep, accented voice says. “I did not realize you were so sensitive to magic.” 

You crack your eyes open, staring up into deep brown eyes. He’s squatting over you, his hand on your cheek. His skin is cold to the touch, though he’s likely been out in the cold all night. 

“You....you’re...” You stutter out, staring up into his handsome face. He is handsome, his face like what you would expect to find sculpted out of marble in a museum. 

“I am a kelpie, yes.” He says. 

“W-Why....why?” You ask, shaking under him as he stares down at you with a mix of emotions on his face. 

“Let’s get you inside, then I will explain everything.” He says, gently hauling you to your feet. 

It’s possibly dangerous, allowing a kelpie into your home but you’re not in a state of mind to protest. At least this way your body won’t be laying in the yard for days, you think. At least this way you won’t face the same fate as your father. 

He’s shockingly gentle as wraps a blanket around you, sitting you on the couch. He’s still completely naked and dripping water and here he is taking care of you. Your face is still hot despite the chill to your fingers. 

“There’s a towel in the closet.” You say, trying not to stare at him. “A-And some clothes that might fit.” 

He nods, stepping away from you finally. You sink down onto the couch, staring out the window as he digs through the closet by the bathroom. He comes back a few moments later with a towel wrapped around his shoulders and sweatpants covering his bottom half. They were your fathers, the spare he kept downstairs in case of emergencies. 

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch from you, staring at you. You pull your knees to your chest, tucking the blanket tight around you as you stare back. You can hardly believe you just watched the horse you’d spent the last few weeks interacting with shapeshift into a human. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask, wanting to get it out of the way first. 

He shakes his head. “No. That was never my intention. Though, I did consider it briefly when you appeared on the shore of my lake. It is simply my nature.” He shrugs. 

“Why didn’t you?” You ask. 

“I could sense something about you. The deep sadness within you, and something else that I now know is your sensitivity to magic.” He explains. “I was curious about you. I watched you every day until you left. I waited six years for your return.” 

Your heart is still thudding in your chest. “You were on my porch.” Is all you can think to say. 

“Yes.” He nods. “I wanted to see you again. I tried to draw you out, but you were resistant to my magic.” 

“That’s why...you gave me your halter?” You ask. 

He nods, stroking the silver chain around his neck. “It is what gives me my power. Without it, I am hardly more than a regular horse.” 

“So...if I took that off...you’d turn back into a horse?” You ask, eyeing the chain. 

He nods. “Yes, and I could not change back until you placed the halter back on.” 

“Why...why did you wait for all those years? Why did you find me?” You ask. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, a soft look in his eyes. “And I was curious about you. My normal form was too much for you, and I knew I had to gain your trust, so I gave you the source of my power to do with what you wished. I would have remained a horse forever if that is what you wanted of me.” 

Your lips part in a gasp at his words. It sounds so very romantic from someone you just found out is actually a shapeshifting horse. You’ve known him for quite a while, but at the same time, you’ve only just met him. 

“Kix,” You swallow thickly. “I-I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

He scoots closer to you, taking your hand in his. His skin is still cool to the touch, even against your slowly warming skin. “I wish to be with you, if you will have me.” He says, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I will stay with you until you cast me out. If you wish for me to remain a horse, I will do so. You will carry my halter for all eternity, just as you carry my heart.” 

You flounder as you stare at him. It’s all very sudden, though you suppose the courting rituals of supposed mythical creatures is a bit different than a human’s. “This...this is moving very quickly.” You say, shifting so you’re sitting on the edge of the couch. “I...I considered you a friend, as a horse. It was nice having someone around. This place...it’s so...empty and lonely now. It’s like a void when it once was full of life and joy.” 

Kix’s arm wraps around your shoulders. “Let me help you fill that void. I will do whatever you ask of me.” 

***

You keep Kix at arms length as the weeks pass. Human culture and customs are foreign to him, and you find yourself not only having to teach him, but having to move him often. He likes to be close to you, he likes to touch you. It’s strange after years of distance and sadness. He’s eager to do anything you ask of him, sticking close to you almost every hour of every day he can. He only disappears every few days to return to his lake, usually late at night. He’s always back by morning, sometimes in horse form, but usually in his human form. 

He helps you with the yard, eager to mow it as often as you ask him to after you teach him to use the lawnmower. He does it with almost no effort, always leaving a small patch for his horse-self. He helps you with the plants as well, the flowers you’ve planted growing and blooming, and the bushes he’d pushed you away from while you were clearing things out beginning to grow back as well. 

It’s not as good as your father would have done. You still like to think he’d be proud, though. 

The spring rains arrive, bringing a steady downpour for days. It leaves you and Kix mostly cooped up inside for an extended period for the first time since he revealed himself to you. He begins to grow a bit restless, and you hear him sneaking off every night to return to his lake, or perhaps just to run around for a while. You feel a bit bad, keeping him cooped up, but he offered no complaint. He could leave if he wanted, you had made that clear, but he stays dutifully at your side. 

Things begin to change as the rains continue, the dynamic between you shifting. He stands closer again, hands lingering when he touches you. He sits closer to you, stares at you more. 

Things shift even more one night when you’re making dinner. He had been setting the table as you chopped vegetables for a salad when your knife slipped, cutting into your skin. You drop it with a hiss, watching the blood bead along the edges of the cut before sliding down your hand in a steady stream. 

He’s there in an instant, hands cupping yours. He stares at your cut and for a moment you’re afraid he might snap, he might change, his promises might go out the window. Were kelpies like sharks? Would they lose all senses of themselves in the presence of blood? You had done a little reading on kelpies, but sources were varied and contradictory. Of course, you could have asked the actual kelpie in your house, but you’re never quite sure how to broach the subject. 

He wraps the dishcloth around your hand before leading you to the couch. He sits you down before gently unwrapping your hand. The dishcloth is stained and will have to be thrown out. His cool hands close around your injured one, surprising warmth blossoming across your skin as he closes his eyes. The buzzing begins in your ears again, vibrating through your whole being. He brings your hands to his face, whispering something inaudibly before he blows against your hand. 

He slowly removes his own hands, and your eyes widen as you see nothing but smeared blood on your skin. Not even a line where the cut had been. The buzzing dies down to a quiet murmur, where it always was with him near. He wipes the blood from your hand and from his with the ruined dish towel. 

“How did you do that?” You ask, still staring at your hand in awe. 

“Magic.” He states simply, his breath fanning your face. 

You look up from your hand, finding him so close you can see the small imperfections of his face. The light stubble growing on his cheeks, the light smattering of freckles on his nose, the crease between his eyebrows. His arm wraps around your waist as he leans in closer, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours. 

You freeze in shock, stiffening in his arms as his cool lips touch yours. You weren’t expecting it, and it’s a bit forward, but you don’t dislike it. 

He tears himself away from you, jumping up from the couch. He looks horrified, eyes wide and wild like a startled horse. “Forgive me.” He stutters out before he flings the door open, racing out into the rain. 

“Wait-Kix!” You yell, running to the door but he’s already gone, disappeared into the night. 

You glance back at the house before you take off running towards the trees. The rain pelts against your skin but you don’t care, the memories of your father’s funeral fresh in your mind as you break through the treeline, entering the forest. 

It feels as strange as it did that day, the branches and bushes and roots seeming to reach out to you as you run. You call out to Kix, but he’s completely disappeared. You pause to breathe, looking every which way, but you’re not even sure which direction you came from anymore. You’re not even sure he entered the forest at all. 

“Kix!” You call out loudly, starting to run forward again, hoping you’re going in the right direction. “Kix, come back!” 

A root reaches out and trips you, sending you into the mud. The canopy of trees blocks out some of the rain, but it still slips through, misting down onto the forest floor. You push yourself onto your knees, spotting a lake just through the bushes. You crawl through, ignoring the way the bush tears at your clothes and skin.

You stop at the edge of the lake, looking out at the water. It’s alive with the falling raindrops, your hands and knees sinking into the mud as you kneel at the edge of the water.

“Kix!” You call out again, crawling forward until your hands are in the water. “Kix, please!” 

It’s cold, the rain having soaked you to the bone. You’re shivering, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re not even sure this is the right lake. Nothing looks familiar, but then again, you haven’t been here in six years. 

The water begins to ripple, dark ears and milky eyes peeking above the surface. 

“Kix!” You call out. “Please...come back. I-I liked it.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “I’d like you to kiss me again.”

The horse sinks back under the water, your heart still thudding in your chest. A sudden horrible thought races through your mind. Was this even Kix? Was there more than one lake in the forest? Had you just signed your death warrant because of your foolish desperation? 

The water ripples, a familiar curly-haired head appearing from the depths as Kix slowly makes his way forward to the shore in his human form. He drops to his knees in front of you, the buzzing sounding in your ears as he cups your face. His skin is frigid, even against your own chilled cheeks. 

“That was foolish, coming after me.” He says, almost shouting over the pouring rain. 

“Why did you run?” You ask, shivering from the cold. 

“You did not kiss me back. I thought perhaps I overstepped. I thought you were angry with me, that you might throw me out.” 

“It surprised me,” You say, looking up into his dark eyes. “I-I wasn’t expecting it. But I liked it, and I’d like you to do it again.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You breathe each other in for a moment before he’s closing the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His skin is frigid and offers no respite to the cold mud seeping into your pants, or the rain pelting down around you. 

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You’re shivering, fingers and toes long having gone numb in the freezing rain. He moans into your mouth as you bite his lower lip, your tongue slipping in to tangle with his. His hands slide down to your waist, wrapping around you tightly. 

He lifts you, pulling you slightly up the bank before your back meets soft grass. You part your legs for him, his naked body slipping between them. The rain pelts down around you but you don't care, his hands making quick work of your soaked clothes. Despite your nakedness, the chill is leaving you as your body warms with arousal, his cold hands dragging along every inch of exposed skin. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” He says, nipping at your neck as his hands squeeze at your body. “So long for you.” 

“Take me.” You gasp, hands grabbing at his curls, at his body as much as he is yours. “I’m yours.” 

He lets out a content hum, pulling away only to pull your pants off. They disappear in the grass with a wet plop but you don’t care, laying naked in the dirt and rain under him. His cock is hard as he stares down at you, slick and laid open for him. 

Your fingers sink into the mud as he drags his cock along your slit. His eyes are dark as he stares down at you, lining himself up. Your lips part in a gasp as he presses into you, stretching you open. It burns, your hands pulling him down against you. You cling to him, meshing your lips together in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain. He’s so big, stretching you open as he presses into you. 

Your head falls back as he bottoms out, pressed entirely into you. Your body buzzes with energy, fingers sinking into his skin as the sensation becomes almost unbearable. 

“You can take it.” He moans into your ear. “You can take it. That’s it.” 

You clamp around him, a breathy moan leaving your lips. You feel him smirk against your jaw, his hips rolling against yours as he slowly begins thrusting into you. 

“Such a good girl for me, offering yourself to me like this.” He says. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours.” You gasp, walls fluttering around him at his praise. “All yours.” 

A low noise rumbles through his chest as he speeds up his movements, fucking into you faster and harder. The dirt at your back bites into your skin as your body moves from the force of his thrusts. 

“Kix!” You gasp, pleasure mixing with the buzzing under your skin. It’s becoming too much, warmth pooling in your belly. 

“Such a tight pussy, taking me so well.” He groans in your ear, nipping at the shell. “Going to cum for me? Going to cum around my cock?” 

“Yes!” You cry out, back arching against him. 

“Good girl.” He all but growls. “Going to fill you with my seed. Can you take it?” 

Your eyes roll back at his words, your mind hazy and buzzing. “Yes! Yes! Please give it to me!” You cry. 

His hips drag along your clit as he fucks into you wildly, your orgasm slamming into you. You cum with a cry, milking his cock as you writhe under him. 

“Yes!” He groans. “Yes, take it.” He slams his hips into yours, his hot release spilling into you. 

You groan at the feeling, toes curling in the mud as he fills you in the middle of the forest. It’s so carnal and wild, your body streaked with dirt and soaked from the rain. 

He collapses on top of you, his heavy body pinning you down. You wrap your arms around him, the warmth of your skin contrasting the chill of his. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. 

“Ride me.” He breathes against your lips.

You pull back to stare at him. “Didn’t we just-” 

“No,” He laughs. “I want you to ride me.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Oh, right. Okay.” 

He pulls away from you, stepping back into the water before his body contorts and cracks, shifting back into its horse form. He kneels in front of you in the mud and you slide onto his back, not caring that you’re naked. You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands, his hooves kicking up mud and water as he takes off running into the trees. 

You cling on for dear life but you can’t help the laugh that tears from your throat as the rain and wind whips at your bare skin. You feel happy and free for the first time in a long time. 

Taglist:

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[redux-iterum]

man. i really do love the way you’ve handled tigerclaw— he’s still a bastard, but he’s a bastard who GENUINELY thinks he’s doing right by his clan, his family. the shift in motivation from “i want to conquer the whole forest as a tyrannical dictator” to “i want to isolate thunderclan from its neighbors so it can be restored to it’s former glory and flourish” is WAY more impactful, imo. i also think there’s something to be said about how he’s (maybe) willing to exempt fireheart— whose entire character has been about BUILDING bridges between thunderclan and the rest of the forest— from his hitlist and make a hypocrite of himself because he and goldenflower have a fondness for him. i choose to believe that tigerclaw is still proud of the way fireheart stands up for what he believes in, even if it is conflicting with his own goals.

tldr; loving the direction of this so far. thank you guys for all your hard work!! looking forward to my heart continually being broken in the future <3

Figured answering these two together would be ideal.

It’s excellent to hear the enthusiasm and kind words, thank you! I’ve been stowing away this discussion about Tigerclaw and Fireheart for a while, and now I get to blather!

People have brought up that Tigerclaw choosing not to hurt Fireheart is unusual, since Fireheart’s the one that’s soft to outsiders and has been on track to softening the entire Clan as well, and Tigerclaw is against that. The reason for this requires a bit of a tangent.

Tigerclaw initially was a bit emotionally distant with all his Clanmates, save Goldenflower (for the most part). Not in the sense of “I don’t care about any of you”, but more like “I care about you, but I’m not so attached that I can’t kill you to save everyone else”. He’s had the thought in his mind for years that he could be a better leader than the one everyone already loves, that these cats had impaired judgement and couldn’t do what needs to be done, that he didn’t want to commit to having a family because that could get in the way of his silent and righteous crusade. He cared for his Clanmates, but his heart was careful not to get too close to anyone, even, to a very small extent, Goldenflower. What if he needed to put her out of the way too?

And then Fireheart happened.

Initially, Tigerclaw didn’t care about him. It’s some kittypet who has a tiny bit of potential. Big whoop. He was under the category of “to be Handled if he gets too uppity and does the wrong thing”, and Tigerclaw expected he’d stay there forever. That was fine and easy, even if Goldenflower got attached to him. He could kill Lionface if he needed to, why would he be unable to take out a shrimpy outsider just because his mate likes him?

The thing is, Fireheart’s got this annoying little talent of drawing out people’s kindness and affection without even trying. We’ve seen his own gentle, broad love for everyone around him, even those he just met and knows nothing about beyond them needing help from a stranger. He is overflowing goodness and fondness and empathy in a somewhat compact ginger body, and you can’t break that or scare that out of him. And somehow, with that infallible bravery to keep being kind and polite, he manages to worm his way into the core of another cat and soothingly convince them, even unconsciously, to offer a nice word to someone they don’t like, or maybe ask a Clanmate if they’re doing okay when they think they don’t care, or even just blink trustingly to calm a frightened and starving outsider they should be chasing away. It’s difficult to catch him doing it, but as we’ll see in the rest of the series, it’s a gradual, unstoppable infection.

This talent is what made everyone (well, except for Darkstripe, but he doesn’t like anybody) so fond of him, even if they preemptively think he’s just a dumb kittypet who needs to toughen up. Frostfur is a good example: she went from apathy and disdain to offering him silent support when he brought Cloudkit home and actively partaking in conversation with him when he approached her, just over the course of this book. All he had to do was, like I said, be kind and polite, and he gradually broke down even her walls. Charred Legacy, the next book, will go more into this, so I’ll save the details for now, but my point is that Fireheart is really damn good at making his Clanmates and friends care about him and others.

How troubling (and mildly amusing) it was to Tigerclaw to find that he wasn’t exempt from this. And how amazed he was to find that coming to care for this little outsider his mate was eager to adopt opened up a whole new world for him. Maybe having kits wasn’t so bad. Maybe he could be a father and still do what he needed to do, and maybe his family didn’t need to get hurt in the process. Maybe Goldenflower was more precious to him than he realized, and maybe Fireheart was someone he could see as a son, and be proud to do so.

What Tigerclaw failed to account for is that attachment complicates things. You might have to kill someone – but no, now you come up with excuses not to. They’re just misguided, you can fix them with a couple conversations. You don’t have to take them out. They’re your family! And your family is important! Surely you can let them live, just these particular cats. You can change their minds. They’ll understand and appreciate your goal in time. It’ll be just fine, you know it.

And so it went, deeper and deeper, until his twisted mind was able to justify not hurting Fireheart ever, solely because he’s his son, and his son deserves to live no matter what. In the same way he thought of his more “dangerous” Clanmates as a liability even if they didn’t really do anything wrong, he thought of his mate and son as essential to ThunderClan, even if they went against his ideals.

He never did see the hypocrisy in that. And even to the end, he never even dreamed of hurting Fireheart.

That’s his son, you know?