#and then the sun turns into a blazing crown

[wire-smith]

About twenty minutes before totality. Taken with my phone camera through eclipse glasses after a lot of messing around with the settings.

I don't have any photos from totality itself because I was too busy waving my arms like a loon and saying "oh my god, look at it"

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

[mitsuyeaah]

STRAWBERRIES & CREAM

SANZU HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“if i’m dreaming don’t wake, don’t wake me up from you in that sundress, here in that sunset.”

cw: modern au, sundress season with sanzu, fluff, nsfw (mdni), smut, pwp, oral (f receiving), food play, unprotected sex, creampie, clit slapping (brief), multiple orgasms (f), pet names (baby), swearing, sanzu being down bad for reader for wearing a sundress.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: my entry for The #SummertimeMadnessCollab event by @saccharine-darlin !! thank you for this awesome event! happy happy birthday to my one and only, haru <3

The hot summer wind danced around your figure, the smooth fabric of your pink sundress flowing with the breeze. You were surrounded with hues of green and red, the blazing sun in all its glory amongst the vast azure sky—not a single spec of cloud in sight; the buzzing of insects and trees waving at one another filled your ears as you wandered down the never-ending strawberry fields. Rows and rows of green and red stretched across acres of land which brought joy to your heart, like a child discovering a sweet treat for the first time.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed at home.” Your boyfriend hissed, swiping a slender hand across his neck, attempting to wipe away the thin layer of sweat that has formed there. Rosy strands of his shoulder-length mullet uncomfortably stuck to the sides of his neck, his fringe slightly sticking together just above his aquamarine eyes and thick lashes, a slight scowl forming upon his pretty face. You whipped your head over to where he stood, turning your torso as you looked over your shoulder, “Oh, lighten up, would you?” You chuckled from underneath the brim of your straw hat.

Before Haruchiyo could say anything, another tropical breeze danced around the two of you, this time, lifting the hem of your dress a little too high for his liking. He leaned over and jutted an arm out, catching the fabric in his hand and smoothed it down your legs before any prying eyes could wander above your knees— parts of you that only he could see and touch.

You gave him a sheepish smile as you held the fabric against your thighs, he could only shake his head and give a small chuckle, turquoise eyes becoming a shade lighter underneath the sun as he looked up at you. His cheeks were almost the same colour as his hair, a droplet sweat rolling down the side of his face. Feeling sorry for your boyfriend, you grabbed the white strawberry-filled bucket that hung from his forearm and placed your straw hat on the crown of his head.

“We’ll fill this up a little more, then we can go.” You wiped the sweat that rolled down the side of his face with your thumb and ventured further down the field, following the narrow path underneath your shoes.

His heart skipped a beat at your little gesture, the familiar warmth spreading across his sweaty chest as he surveyed the back of your figure. God, you always managed to make him fluster at the smallest things, the two of you have been in a relationship for quite a while now and not once did you not make his heart flutter with something as innocent as that, not that he was complaining though.

You were cute.

He looked at the way your pink sundress swayed around your knees, the fabric peppered with little red strawberries to match today’s activity—strawberry picking. How did you manage to look so heavenly under this scorching heat? Meanwhile, Haruchiyo looked like he just ran a marathon from the way his white polo shirt clung to every part of his torso, pants becoming uncomfortably tight around his legs the more time he spent under the sun.

Haruchiyo hated sweating but for you, he’d endure it.

He knew how fond of strawberries you were and so was he but he’d rather be in the comfort of his own home, eating them without having to break a sweat and practically bathing under the tropical weather. Plus, he loved your strawberries and cream cheesecake—luckily enough, his birthday was tomorrow and you had suggested to bake his favourite cheesecake flavour. Although, he didn’t expect the part where the two of you had to pick fresh strawberries for his cake.

You opted for strawberry picking instead of store-bought ones since it brought joy to you; the feeling of wandering around the endless fields of green and the faint scent of strawberries filling your nose. Even though Haruchiyo urged you to just buy from the store, the experience was still different and plus, it was time to get some much needed vitamin D, per your words—to which he responded by saying you could get vitamin D from another source, earning a slight smack from you.

Nonetheless, it was perfect. The cold dessert was just what he needed after being out in this scorching heat. He couldn’t wait to dig into the sweet treat and feel the coolness of the cake against his tongue, the bursting flavours and strawberries and cream melting in his mouth.

Feeling much better, the two of you sat on a wooden bench under a parasol with the strawberry-filled bucket resting on the table. After picking strawberries, Haruchiyo suggested grabbing strawberry ice cream that the farm had; he’s a sucker for these since they used fresh strawberries from their farm.

You softly chuckled at the man sitting across you eagerly licking at the sweet treat, the slight scowl that he held underneath the blazing sun no longer evident on his face, instead it showed pure content. The breeze was also cooler under the shade, rosy strands no longer uncomfortably sticking to his neck and his shirt didn’t cling to every part of his torso anymore. You met his aquamarine gaze as he looked up at you from under the thick layers of lashes, “Why are you laughing?” Genuine confusion was now plastered on his face, brows knitting together underneath his blush-coloured bangs.

“You’re cute.” Embarrassment filled his whole body, hands ever so slightly tightening around the waffle cone. Haruchiyo was never the one to know how to act when receiving compliments. Yes, he complimented you a lot, endless praises spilled from his lips very easily but when he’s on the receiving end, he doesn't know what to do. In your opinion, that’s what made you fall for him harder—the way his cheeks turn crimson red and his shy turquoise eyes avoid your gaze.

Before he could even process your compliment, you made a small noise out of surprise as you felt the melted pink liquid make contact with your index finger. Haruchiyo watched as you placed the ice cream on your other hand, lips encasing around the digit that was stained with the melted substance. His keen eyes followed the way your tongue darted out to lick a long stripe from the cone and up to the ice cream itself, following the trail of the melted ice cream.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his cerulean eyes following your tongue’s every movement. An action so innocent yet it flipped a switch inside him, rather quickly, even. Hell, who was he even lying to, he has been on edge ever since he saw you in that goddamned dress. The way the thin fabric effortlessly cascaded down to your knees, and the low neckline of it, deliciously exposing your collarbones. Haruchiyo wasn’t worried about other people looking at you because he knew you were his and he was yours. Goddamnit he was the only one hitting that, and no one else.

God, the way the dress hugged your body in all the right ways made him lose his mind. He has never wanted to rip the clothing off of you as quickly as you put it on but alas, you guys had plans for the day. In all honesty, he was ready to go home and take you right then and there, maybe even keep the dress on while he pounds into you; the neckline yanked down to expose your breasts. But, his deepest desire can wait. He’ll have to behave, for now.

“What’s on your mind, Haru?” His heart skipped a beat at the nickname; you always called him ‘Haru’ but his mind suddenly went elsewhere. How cute would you look as you call him by his nickname while his cock is sheathed inside you, and to top it off, your strawberry dress hiked above your hips as he gives it all to you. It may be his birthday today but you deserve all the pleasure he’s about to give you once the two of you get home.

Haruchiyo shook his head and mumbled a ‘nothing’; before he knew it, the two of you were back home, a bag of strawberries in hand. He gently placed the bag atop the kitchen island before pulling you in for a deep kiss. His lips tasted like strawberries, just like you expected. A hand cupped your cheek which allowed him to deepen the kiss, his lips were full of want as it  moved desperately against your own. Haruchiyo didn’t shy away from shoving his tongue past your lips as you parted them to let out a muffled whimper.

You stood there, trapped between his body and the kitchen island, and all you could do was grip the collar of his shirt. “Mhm.. Haru, I still have to make the cheesecake.” You let out a sigh of content as Haruchiyo moved from your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, and down the side of your neck. A light sheen of sweat coated your skin but he didn’t care, he could handle a little sweat. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, earning a small moan from you. “Baby, you can do that later.. I want you all to myself.” Haruchiyo furrowed his brows as you breathlessly laughed at his reply.

“It’ll be quick. Plus, what’s a birthday without a cake?” “Hmm, the cake I need is right here, though.” He wrapped his arms around you to grope at your ass, causing you to yelp. Your eyes widened, meeting his aquamarine ones which were full of mischief. “Haruchiyo.” You lifted a brow at him, the smugness in his face slowly disappearing before defeatedly raising both arms in the air and walking towards the living room.

“I love you!” You called out to him from the kitchen. “Whatever.” Haruchiyo playfully grumbled from the living room. You shook your head and chuckled but before you could do anything else, he piped up again. “I love you.” A smile crept up to your lips, unable to bite it back. He was adorable to say the least, and you couldn’t have asked for more when he gave you his heart.

Throughout the entire time you prepared the cheesecake, Haruchiyo stood by the island counter. Pools of aquamarine never leaving your figure as you paced back and forth around the space. You’ve made this dessert countless times for him but he never fails to watch every single time, and despite watching it all, he has never jotted down a single process in mind. If he was being honest, he was running impatient. His cock grew harder with every passing minute, straining his pants; Haruchiyo couldn’t help his mind wandering to various things he’d do to you once you were done.

It also didn’t help how you decided to keep that goddamned sundress on while making the cheesecake. You were teasing him. He knew how much that dress drove him crazy, how it made him absolutely lose his mind. Haruchiyo watched the way you wiped your finger on the side of the bowl to gather the cream you’ve made and bring it up to your lips, sucking on your index finger. Fuck, the way your lips moulded around your digit, and the way you let go of it with a ‘pop’ pushed him to the edge.

Haruchiyo pushed himself off the kitchen island to make his way to you. You were finishing the last few touches for the dessert, decorating the top with freshly cut strawberries just like how you and Haru liked. Almost dropping a strawberry at the presence behind you, you let out a small yelp as he caged you in between the counter and his body. Haruchiyo placed his hands on your hips, pulling them back a bit just enough for you to feel his clothed hard on.

“‘M getting impatient, baby. Can’t let the birthday boy wait for too long, right?” He dipped his head to kiss the junction of your neck, earning a small sigh from you. Resting your head against his shoulder, his lips wandered further as you gave him more access—leaving trails of maroon and dark purple. “W-wait, Haru. Let me just put this in the fridge–ah!” A yelp slipped past your lips as he ground his clothed cock harder against your ass.

Everything became a blur after the dessert was stowed away in the fridge. Haruchiyo had you bent at the hips, your torso against the kitchen counter as he hiked your sundress up to reveal your ass. “Hmm.. so perfect for me.” He gave it a little slap before massaging the spot, earning a moan from you before nudging your legs wide open. As he kneeled, he yanked your soaked panties down so that your wet cunt was in perfect view right in front of his face. 

A loud whine slipped past your lips as Haruchiyo sucked on your wet entrance—the sounds that came from him were rather lewd given as to how hard he was sucking. The loud erotic sounds bounced off the kitchen walls, and went straight to your ears; it wasn’t like it was your first time being eaten out by Haru, it was just that the sounds never failed to make you flustered, especially with the way he hummed against your cunt like it was the most satisfying meal he’d had all day.

“H-Haru! Aah, slow down!” Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter, legs threatening to give up as Haruchiyo pushed his face further between your legs. “How can I hold myself back when you taste this good, baby?” He mumbled into your bare skin before shoving his tongue past your folds, earning a loud whimper from you. Your cheeks warmed at the way Haruchiyo’s tongue felt inside you, and the way his lips sucked at your entrance—it hit all the right places within you, and you swore you could almost see stars. “Haru! Fuck..!” Your knees buckled at the never ending stimulation at the apex of your legs.

Despite being not much of a talker, Haruchiyo was definitely skilled with his tongue in other ways—ways that would bring tears of pleasure to your eyes without a doubt. Your forehead met the cool marble top of the counter as his fingers rubbed fast, tight circles at your clit; your mouth parted but no sound came out. You could feel your head spinning from the amount of bliss you felt at this very moment; oxytocin coursed throughout your body as Haruchiyo didn’t falter with his movements.

Knees buckling, he tightened his grip around your legs to keep your lower half from meeting the tiled floor. Your stomach tingled, all the way to the tips of your digits as your sweet release was right around the corner—soft pants turned into hard, high-pitched breathing mixed with attempts of crying out Haruchiyo’s name as you neared your orgasm. “Haruuuu~ F-fuck, I’m cumming–ngh! Aah!” Your nails painfully dug into the hard material of the countertop as your orgasm hit you hard; the intense pleasure shot up your spine as your whole body trembled, the blissful sensation engulfing you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you finally let go, cumming around his tongue as the building knot in your stomach snapped. Haruchiyo hummed against your pussy, sending more vibrations up your spine. He rode out your orgasm with his fingers still mercilessly stimulating your clit, and his free hand snaking around your front to play with your hardened bud, pulling a loud yelp from you. He sloppily licked up all your cum, hums of satisfaction leaving his lips as he cleaned you up. Your back arched at the feeling of the heightened pleasure, whining as Haruchiyo pushed you to overstimulation. Reaching a shaky hand behind you, you tugged at his rosy strands, trying to push him off your cunt before cumming around his tongue again.

Haruchiyo laughed at your cute attempts to get him off but he obliged but not before placing a chaste kiss on your throbbing entrance and standing up. He pulled your trembling torso against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your waist before whispering close to your ear, “Hmm.. you know what’s making me act this way, huh?” Shivering at the way his breath fanned at your skin, you shook your head no. You didn’t trust your words at the moment since your mind was long gone and fogged with thick clouds of lust. Nothing else.

Your boyfriend let out a saccharine laugh, his hands snaking around you to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of the sundress. “This. Fucking. Dress.” Haruchiyo harshly yanked down the top part of your dress with every word that came out of his mouth to expose your torso. He pressed his nose against the side of your neck, inhaling you intoxicating sent, “Fuck. I have been losing my mind since this morning. Ever since I saw you in this goddamned dress, I just wanted to bury myself in you right away.. You’re such a tease, huh..?” Haruchiyo skillfully removed your bra and tossed it somewhere in the kitchen, making a soft thud as it hit the tiled floor.

He wasn’t lying. As innocent as you looked in that sundress, he couldn’t help but think of every nasty thought that came into mind—it wasn’t his fault that you looked absolutely stunning with that dress on. You knew Haruchiyo had a thing for clothes that matched his rosy strands, especially if it accentuated your body in all the right ways, bringing out the most beautiful parts of you—though, he thinks that every single part of you is beautiful. He has been trying to keep his cool for the entire time in the strawberry fields. It also didn’t help how the flimsy material of your dress danced around the wind, hiking up your legs to reveal your delicious thighs.

Fuck, if Haruchiyo had the opportunity to take you right then and there back when the two of you were in the fields, he would have. He wouldn’t hesitate, not one bit. You were just so goddamned beautiful that he had to show you how much he loved every single bit of you. Breathtaking, to say the least. Sometimes he’d mentally curse himself for thinking of such lewd thoughts when you’re just standing there looking so innocent, so perfect but he knew you better than anyone. You loved to rile him up, and today was one of those days.

“Mhm—ah! R-really..? I knew you’d love it, Haru.” A smirk crept its way up to your lips, your voice shaky from your previous orgasm. Haruchiyo clicked his tongue, he wasn’t surprised that you specifically wore that dress to tease him. He absolutely loved it when you made efforts to rile him up, it was cute because he knew damn well it worked on him every single time. “Tsk. Wearing this just to tease me? How naughty, my baby.” You let out a moan as he massaged your breasts—Haruchiyo loved the way his large hands easily fit to cup at your mounds, like they were specifically made for your chest. 

Arching your back, you replied to him with a whimper, “Ngh! Well, I have to treat the birthday boy somehow, right—ah!” The chuckle that slipped past your lips abruptly turned into a full-blown moan as he pinched at your nipples, gently rolling them in between his digits, causing goosebumps to form under his lewd touches. “Always so good f’me my baby, aren’t you?” Haruchiyo trailed a hand up to your chin to angle your head towards him to kiss you. You moaned against his lips as he bucked his groin against you, rubbing it hard enough to feel the entirety of his length between the valley of your ass.

He chuckled at your attempts to form coherent sentences after pulling away from his lips, something along the lines of wanting his cock inside you. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth before letting it go to place a chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth. Haruchiyo skilfully turned you around so that the two of you faced each other; his eyes wandered across your bare chest, mouth watering at the way your breasts spilled from the neckline of the dress that’s been messily pulled down.

Haruchiyo marvelled at the way they looked, so tender, and plump from how he had been massaging them earlier. Fuck, he’s always had a thing for your chest. You furrowed your brows as he reached for something behind you, the glass bowl loudly scraping against the marbled countertop as he brought it closer to the two of you. “Since you don’t need this anymore.. Let’s not have the leftovers go to waste, hm?”

You blinked up at his aquamarine gaze, so full of mischief and slyness as he held the large glass bowl in his hand and the silicone spatula on the other. You watched as he scraped the spatula around the bowl, getting every bit of the cream you made earlier for the cheesecake and dropping it directly on your bare chest. A gasp left your lips as you were met with the cold cream against your warm skin.

It was a new sensation indeed but not weird enough to have you recoil. As a matter of fact, you kind of liked it despite knowing how much of a sticky mess it’d leave you—not like you haven’t felt that before, though. You and Haruchiyo were new to this whole thing, bringing food into sex; you never really thought of it as food and intercourse doesn’t sound as pleasing as it seems but now that you were experiencing it first hand, you didn’t mind at all. As long as it stayed away from your cunt.

Haruchiyo’s eyes were practically gleaming as he finished layering your breasts with cream—he was like an artist admiring his greatest masterpiece. “You’re so beautiful..” He let out a dreamy sigh and gave your lips a small peck before eagerly dipping his head below your chin to lick the sweetness off your chest. Your palms dug into the edge of the countertop, gripping them for your dear life as Haruchiyo licked a long stripe between the valley of your breasts, the sweet substance gathering at the tip of his tongue, all while holding your gaze—aquamarine eyes fixated on yours, like it was made just to look into your eyes and nothing else.

You let out a shaky breath as he stood up right, immediately resting a hand on your nape to pull you into a slow, sensual kiss. You hummed in delight as Haruchiyo didn’t hesitate to shove his cream-coated tongue past your lips, the sweetness of it dancing on your tastebuds. The kiss was messy, the sweet substance coating his and your lips which left wet, sticky trails around your mouths. He groaned into your mouth before swiping his tongue at your bottom lip, and kissing the corner of your mouth to clean up the mess he has made.

At this point, your head was spinning. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. The way Haruchiyo took his time to appreciate every single part of you left you breathless—your chest heaved up and down as you stared into his eyes with desperation. He was always like this, worshipping your body to the point where it drove you absolutely crazy; it may seem filthy and lewd to others with how he worshipped you but you loved it. Oh, you loved it a lot. It made your heart sing for his name, and every cell in your body yearned for no one but your lover standing right in front of you.

He placed his hands on your waist—the sundress still clinging to the lower part of your torso as he dipped his head into your chest once again, this time going for a breast. Biting back a moan, you threw your head back at his wet tongue languidly circling your sensitive nipple, rounding your back at the overwhelming sensation of his mouth, torso ever so slightly jerking. You tugged at his rosy roots as Haruchiyo gently bit at the supple flesh of your breast, it didn’t hurt, it was just the right amount of pleasure to send your mind in a frenzy.

Haruchiyo eagerly lapped up every single cream-covered spot on your chest, earning him whines and whimpers from you as you tugged at the rosy tufts of hair. He had his gaze on you the entire time, admiring all your  reactions under his tongue that your body had to offer him. You were cute—the way you let out short, shallow pants as he keenly sucked on your sensitive skin, the way you bit your lip as he swiped his tongue under your breast, and the way you looked at him with such adoration and lust; your brows knitted together in pleasure, lips slightly parted to whisper his name like a prayer.

Your front was left in a sticky, wet mess from Haruchiyo’s tongue; it was so naughty but you loved every bit of it. The way his tongue left messy, wet trails all over your body had shivers running down your spine, and the way his lips circled against the supple skin of your chest to suck it dark red, and purple left you breathless. He kissed every love bite that peppered your front, one so gentle and chaste that earned sighs of contentment from you, a contrast to what he was previously doing before, which pulled shameless moans past your swollen lips.

He turned you around once again, hips pressing against the edge of the marbled counter as he left open-mouthed kisses down your bare back, goosebumps forming under each wet kiss. “Haah~ Haru..” Haruchiyo hiked the dress up to your lower back, exposing your bare ass; he gave it a slap before grabbing the back of your right knee to prop it atop the cool surface of the counter. You braced yourself against the countertop, palms planted on the cool surface and back pressed against his chest. The sound of his belt unbuckling could be heard, the loud clang of the metal part startling you a bit as it met the tiled floor.

Haruchiyo didn’t bother stepping out of his pants as it pooled around his feet, and hastily pulled his underwear down, sighing as his cock was finally freed from its suffocating confines. He hissed as he circled his hand around his throbbing cock, languidly stroking it and using the bead of pre cum from his pink tip to lubricate his cock—it sat heavy in his hand, the way it pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own, so eager and so ready to be buried inside you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, running the blunt tip of his cock along your wet entrance, pulling a desperate moan from you.

A small chuckle left his lips. Haruchiyo figured he’d been teasing you enough, plus, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. The both of you let out a moan in unison as he pushed his cock past your wet folds, his length easily slid inside you due to your previous orgasm—the sound was wet and lewd, the way it squelched as he pushed his hard cock into you, your cum from earlier running down the inside of your legs as Haruchiyo filled you up with his dick. Your hands–which were previously flat against the countertop–balled into fists, nails uncomfortably scraping the cool surface. With your leg propped on top of the counter, it drove his cock deeper inside you.

A string of profanities eagerly left his lips. He let out hard pants like he’s just run a marathon—his face right beside yours as his chin rested on your shoulder. “Mhm..! So perfect f’me.. All mine.” He stilled his hips as the entirety of his length was sheathed in you, Haruchiyo knew you didn’t need time to adjust to him, no—you took him like a fucking champ every single time but he was the one who needed time to adjust. The way your walls hugged him tightly made his head spin, it also didn’t help how you had a habit of clenching around him once he was fully inside you.

He gritted his teeth as your walls clamped down on him for a few seconds, eyes glued shut in pleasure. “F-fuuuck..! Baby—haah! I might just cum if you keep doing that—ngh!” The grip he had on your leg tightened as he let out another moan; Haruchiyo let out a breath he’d been holding as he felt you relax around him, whispering sweet praises against the side of your neck before finally moving his hips. His free hand supported his weight by gripping the edge of the counter, effectively trapping you in between.

The pace he had set was relentless and merciless—just how you liked it. Short, high pitched moans left your parted lips as you closed your eyes shut, focusing on the way the tip of his cock deliciously kissed your cervix again and again. Haruchiyo knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew the certain angle that would absolutely drive you crazy, he knew which buttons to press to help you reach your orgasm quicker.

The sound of skin slapping and squelching bounced around the walls of the kitchen as Haruchiyo’s hips made constant contact with your ass—he watched the way your ass moved with every hard thrust he gave you, jolting your body forward and placing a dull pressure on your hips. He could feel your cum from the orgasm earlier drip down to his heavy balls, making a complete mess as his skin slapped against your own.

Your whole body shook from the way he pounded into you, moan after moan leaving your lips after trying to form at least one coherent sentence. “Shit.. Look at that..!” Haruchiyo let out an erotic gasp as a white ring formed at the base of his cock from how wet you were, this riled him up even more; the hand that gripped the counter made its way to your front, and down to your clit to draw figures of eight with his ring finger. You moaned at the heightened pleasure, arms giving up on you and before you knew it, your front was met with the cool surface of the countertop.

Haruchiyo used your bent figure as leverage to drive his cock deeper into you, standing at the ball of his feet and angling his hips higher. You could feel the back of your eyes heat up as tears threatened to spill, “Ah! Ah! Ngh—aah! Haru..!” Your back arched, deliciously pressing against the counter as he slapped your clit. This caused your knee to buckle, your lower half to almost meet the floor if it wasn’t for your other leg on top of the counter, and Haruchiyo’s arm snaked around you.

He grunted right by your ear with every thrust of his hips, his body molded against yours, his own hips bent as he pressed his chest to your clothed back; he knew how much the sounds he made turned you on—the way his erotic sounds flew right to your cunt to make you even wetter. “A-aah! Shit..! That’s it baby—ngh!” He groaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

It was truly a sight to see. The way your sundress barely covered you; the neckline yanked below your breasts and the skirt of it hiked up to your lower back as Haruchiyo mercilessly dicked you down. It didn’t even serve as an article of clothing anymore, no; now, it just looked like a reminder of what caused your boyfriend to be this crazy about you. It was like some kind of medal that you wore as he fucked you senseless, a piece of fabric covering your middle while the rest left you fully exposed.

The contrast between the pink blush of the sundress, and the strawberries that peppered the fabric and the way Haruchiyo was pounding into you was almost laughable. A piece of clothing, so simple, so innocent yet driving him insane like this—as the saying goes, less is more. Your leg that was atop the counter started to become numb, your foot tingling, and thighs burning as it kept that position but you didn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this good.

“M—aah! C-cumming, Haru..! S-shit!” You moaned, your fingers painfully digging into your palm from the immense pleasure that was starting to course throughout your body. Your boyfriend buried his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo before letting out a heated gasp as you clenched around him. He gave your nape a few kisses here and there, whispering such dirty things against your sweaty skin to help you reach your orgasm. The way his balls messily slapped against your clit, and the way his cock bullied your insides was enough to get you over the edge.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you let out a shameless moan, face contorted in nothing but pure bliss. You trembled as your second orgasm rocked through your body; tears streaming down your heated cheeks, knuckles white from balling your fists, and back arched from the immense pleasure. Haruchiyo did his best to keep thrusting despite your walls tightening around him to the point where it was almost pushing him out. “Ngh—ah! T-that’s a good girl..!” He sucked at the skin on your upper back, helping you ride out your orgasm to the fullest.

High-pitched whimpers escaped you as he pounded away at your cunt, trying to chase his own sweet bliss. Haruchiyo let out one last grunt before stilling his hips and stuffing his cock deep inside you to blow his load. “Aaah~ Ye–eaah..! Fuckin’ take it all—haah!” You gasped as you felt his hot cum paint your insides white, stuffing you to the brim, some of it dripping out and down your left leg, as well as down his balls. Haruchiyo stayed like that for a while, trapping you between his body and the countertop as he came.

Before your body could relax against the marbled surface, your muscles tightened as your boyfriend started to fuck his cum deeper into you. Since the entirety of his length was already sheathed inside you, he gave you quick, shallow thrusts, allowing his cum to reach you deeper while some of it messily spilled out and dropped onto the tiled floor. “Aaah! Shit..” Your body jerked with oversensitivity as his hips didn’t once falter. “Mhm~ That’s r-right.. Take all of me and make sure it doesn’t spill out, huh?” He panted against your ear, kissing it before slowly pulling out of you, earning a whine from the both of you.

“Mmm. Maybe I should keep wearing sundresses like this..” You breathlessly chuckled, stumbling into his chest as you took your leg off the counter to face him. Haruchiyo wrapped his arms around you—his cheeks were tinted pink, hair stuck to his forehead and neck, and eyes blown with lust, god, he looked handsome while fucked out. “‘M not complaining, baby. It is my birthday after all.. Maybe another one tomorrow. I’ll have my dessert then we’ll eat the cheesecake that you made.” He rested his chin on the crown of your head, squeezing you in a tight hug.

It took you a while to process his sentence. His dessert, meaning you.

© mitsuyeaah

[hookhausenschips]

Maybe It Doesn’t Have To {LN4}

500 Follower Special!!!

Masterlist

Summary: Amid the bustling Miami Grand Prix, Lando Norris and Y/N's once-warm connection had cooled to distant, tension-filled glances, a year after their professional pressures forced them apart. As they navigated their strained dynamic in the high-stakes world of Formula 1, both struggled with the lingering emotions and the possibility of rekindling their relationship.

Taglist

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In the charged, vibrant paddock of the Miami Grand Prix, amid the cacophony of roaring engines and bustling crowds, Lando Norris and Y/N found their eyes locked in a fleeting, tension-filled stare. Once, not too long ago, those glances were warm, filled with private jokes and shared secrets. Now, they were cold embers of a fire that had blazed too bright and burned out too fast.

Y/N had joined the McLaren team as a part of their social media squad two years prior, her creativity and spark immediately catching Lando’s eye. Their connection was instant, easy, the kind that promised something more. Late night strategy sessions turned into early morning coffee runs, and the paddock whispers began to swirl around them. But as the spotlight grew hotter, so did the pressures, and what was once easy became complicated.

“It’s not professional,” they’d been told separately in stern, concerned tones by people whose job it was to care about the image and the optics, not the human heart. They’d nodded, agreeing in principle while their hearts rallied against it in private.

The Grand Prix in Miami was meant to be a celebration, a jewel in the crown of the Formula 1 season, yet for Lando and Y/N, it marked a year since the conversation that had ended everything. That night, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the team’s motorhome, they had decided to step back, to refocus on their careers, promising each other it was for the best.

“So let’s ignore each other, try to pretend the other person doesn’t exist,” Lando had said, his voice breaking, eyes not meeting hers. Y/N had only nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, both of them knowing even then how impossible that would be.

Now, as they stood on opposite sides of the crowded pit lane, pretending to adjust their equipment and check their phones, the weight of that promise hung heavy between them. Y/N could feel the heat of Lando’s stare, the way her heart jumped in her chest as if trying to bridge the gap.

She had thrown herself into her work, her posts and stories gaining the team millions of engagements, her professional face smiling and unblemished by the turmoil underneath. Lando, ever the charismatic driver, continued to charm the world on the track, his performances unaffected, yet those who knew him saw the strain around his eyes, the moments his laughter didn't quite reach them.

Their colleagues, once mutual friends, now navigated this new terrain with caution, a dance of diplomacy that often left Y/N feeling more isolated. At team dinners, she would laugh a little too loudly, staying a little too late, trying a little too hard to appear unaffected.

And Lando, he watched from afar, his heart clenching at the sight of her loneliness mirroring his own. In the confined world of F1, where every move was scrutinized, their earlier decision felt more like a sentence now.

As the race ended and the crowd's cheers echoed off the Monaco cliffs, Lando found her on the edge of the harbour, staring out at the shimmering sea. The sun set behind her, casting a golden glow that framed her like a melancholy painting. Approaching her felt like defying gravity, each step heavier than the last.

“I saw you today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were amazing with the fans.”

She turned, her smile sad, eyes glistening. “We were good at pretending,” she replied. “Too good.”

Lando stepped closer, the familiar scent of her perfume making his heart ache. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“No, it wasn’t,” Y/N agreed, her voice steady despite the tears that now freely flowed. “Maybe... maybe it doesn’t have to?”

In the twilight of Monaco, with the stars just beginning to claim the sky, Lando and Y/N faced each other, the world fading around them. What lay ahead was uncertain, possibly fraught with the same challenges as before, but standing there, on the precipice of a new beginning, it was clear that some fires, once lit, refuse to be completely extinguished.

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LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @dhanihamidi

F1 Taglist: @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery

[arminsumi]

Imagine Gojo taking the students all out in Tokyo for the day and the reader goes and buys everyone ice cream and then hands Gojo one and he’s shocked that one of his students considered him and she’s like “because you’re my favourite teacher” 😭😭😭😭😭 I think he’d low-key be so excited

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

A/N: (my lactose-intolerant crying noises in the distance) ahh so cute!! i hope i wrote it as you imagined 💗

Wc ≈ 600

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x gn.reader

Summary: during a day out in Tokyo, you decided to thank your favorite teacher in some small way. Of course, he kept those words you said to him close to his heart for years.

Warnings; a little bit of flirting 👀😳, a little cheesy, i'm pretty sure it's gn but if you catch smth not gn lmk!!

A bright sun blazed in the Tokyo sky. You put your hand to the crown of your head to act as a shield from those blinding rays as you disembarked the train.

The station felt lively; people were buzzing around purposefully on their own little missions, just like you and your fellow students of Jujutsu High.

Gojo towered over you four, keeping a watchful eye from the back of your little formation as you headed out the train station. It was always you and Yuji in front, talking so fast it sounded like a crazy chattering noise to passers-by. Nobara interjected when she disagreed with Yuji. Megumi interjected when he disagreed with you — Gojo silently listened to it all and tried not to laugh.

"Hold that thought — who wants ice cream?" you asked, eyeing out a store that was packed between two others.

While you four argued about the best flavors and bought cups of double servings, Gojo paced around the bright stretching street with long legs, like he was observing the world from behind a film of his memories.

"Gojo!" you called out to him. Your voice brought him back to reality, he turned to face you, hands in pockets as they so often are.

"Y/n!" he jokingly replied with reciprocated enthusiasm. "Enjoying yourself today — ?"

"This is for you." you said, handing him a cup of the biggest serving of mochi ice cream he's ever seen in his life.

He seemed a bit too taken aback at first to register that it was for him, even though you clearly stated that it was.

"For me...?" he asked surprisedly.

"Yeah, for you." you assured. "Do you not like ice cream...? I'll eat it with Yuji if you don't want it, he was eyeing out the mochi but it was too expe — it — uhhh anyways!" you stopped, trying to cover up the fact you spent a lot of money on his ice cream.

He chuckled, "Ah, you shouldn't have blown your savings, I'm right here y'know you could have asked for me to pay."

"But you brought us out here today, I wanted to thank you, and um... I anyways wanted to get something for my favorite teacher." you said, throwing in 'favorite' just to test his reaction.

" 'Favorite' huh?" he smiled teasingly, "That's very cute." his response made you lower your head, cheeks feeling warm, heart racing a bit.

He took the cup of ice cream from you. "Thank you, Favorite Student. Though you're really fueling my sweet tooth."

"I'm sorry!" you laughed.

Roaring Tokyo noises filled your ears, you barely heard a snippet of what he said next — but he also said it so quietly, like a mumble, as if he didn't mean for you to catch it.

Something like... " ... 'got a sweet tooth for you, too."

Your friends crashed the atmosphere right then.

Yuji had stolen a bite of Nobara's ice cream, it was a whole scene. Gojo calmly watched it play out while scooping mouthfuls of ice cream into his mouth.

For the walk back at the end of the day, you noticed that Gojo stuck a little closer to you — when crossing train tracks, in crowded places, through the station, all the way up to the mountain that Jujutsu High was sat on top of.

He was so excited and flattered to know that he was your favorite. You could tell, because he teased you about it for the rest of your life.

"I'm Y/n's favorite." he proudly boasted whenever he could. Oh you just know he especially rubbed it in the other teacher's faces.

Years later, he brought it up to you in the middle of a late-night conversation. "But I'm still your favorite, right? Good, good. No one else better take my place."

[spacebarbarianweird]

Can I request Aasimar Tav headcanons (with astarion)? I barely see anything about Aasimar Tav since it's a mod to get in game

Astarion x Protector Aasimar!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

Aasimar are pretty new as a race and there are three main types: Protector, Scourge and Fallen.

Protector Aasimar is filled with the power of goodness to protect the weak, root out evil anywhere, and stand tirelessly in the path of darkness. From a young age, they receive advice and guidance that encourages him to resist evil.

Scourge Aasimar is filled with a divine energy that blazes within. It fuels a strong desire to destroy evil - a desire at best firm and at worst all-consuming. Many aasimars wear masks to shield themselves from the world and focus on containing this power, removing the mask only during battle.

Fallen Aasimar is touched by the forces of darkness in their youth or turn to evil as an adult. Their inner light has been replaced by shadow. Instead of angelic wings, they have skeleton ones which aren't fit for flying but good for intimidation.

I am going to do Protector Aasimar for you, and later I will do Fallen Aasimar for another request I have. If you want Scourge Aasimar or another vision of the character, let me know in the inbox!

You are born of celestial blood, a descendant of angelic creatures.

Raised among humans, your skin is pale, and metallic freckles scatter over your perfect face.

Your eyes are perfect silver, the glow in the dark.

A ghostly halo crowns your head.

And what is the most important, you have wings.

They are big and strong, you learned to fly before you learned to walk.

Your patron is Myllandra, a cold and distant creature.

Torn between two worlds, you are neither a celestial nor a human.

Not immortal, your lifespan is even shorter than one of a half-elf.

Your patron gives you orders and you have to follow them even if it means you ignore someone's sufferings.

You are given an order - you need to lead the fight against the Absolute.

If it means someone dies in the process, it's not your problem.

But you must not fight the Selunites' wars against the Sharns.

Don't look for the Night Song.

You obey and abide, cold and distant as you've been taught.

But the tadpole cuts your connection with your patron, forcing you to make decisions on your own.

You suddenly can decide whom to help. You can have fun. You can fall in love.

Astarion is absolutely bewildered by you.

An aasimar! A descendant of angels!

And, gods, your wings!

They are wonderful!

Your blood tastes divine in the truest sense.

And Astarion sort of corrupts you, teaching you to be selfish, to cherish material things - everything which was forbidden to you.

But the moment comes and he realizes he can't lie anymore. You are too pure, too honest, it's unfair to play games with you.

He confesses and waits for the divine punishment.

Instead, you hug Astarion wrapping him in your wings.

Corrupted and free, you are still an aasimar.

Now, when you are together, he often caresses your wings in public.

He especially loves cleaning the feathers of blood and gore.

And putting ointment on your back to ease the muscle pain after flying.

You are shocked to see the Night Song.

An aasimar! Just like you!

But why were your patron's orders like that? What is going on?

You act according to your ideals and win the war on your own terms.

When it's all over, you are ready to cover Astarion with your wings from the sun but instead…

He doesn't burn.

Your blood gives him temporary resistance.

But-

Your patron is back.

Myllandra is pissed.

She spares you the details of how much you have interfered with the divine plan and what a horrible creature you are.

As a punishment, she rips your wings off.

The pain is so unbearable you want to die.

Now you are locked in some interdimensional prison, restrained with chains and cursed with never never-ending pain of having your wings torn.

You've lost track of time, your life is only pain and suffering, the divine punishment for everything you did.

The thing is -

You aren't alone.

You hear the distant sounds of fighting, of some cruel battle outside the walls of your prison.

And then your chains are broken with the Orphic Hammer.

"Fuck, what has this bitch done to you", you hear the exhausted voice.

Of course.

Astarion isn't afraid of some angel who thinks too much about herself.

He is here. Along with the Night Song and the Selunites.

It takes you time to forget your imprisonment. The pain. The desperation.

What is worse, is the changes in your body.

You have the chronic pain in your back. Your skin is much darker than it was. Your eyes return to their "natural" grey color and don't glow in the dark.

Though, your blood still protects Astarion from the sunlight.

Even your patron can't take everything from you.

Together, you stay with the Selunites.

You are still Protector Aasimar - and there are plenty of ways to live up to your ideals.

Together, you are a peculiar couple.

A mutilated aasimar and a vampire, both in the Selunites' armor, go to the darkest and most cursed places to be heroes and adventurers.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

The Joker(s) And The Queen

Masterlist

Warning: I write the Reader as female

Pairing: Ace x Reader x Deuce

And I know you could fall for a thousand kings

And hearts that would give you a diamond ring

When I fold, you see the best in me

The joker and the queen

- Ed Sheeran, The Joker and the Queen

They are card soldiers and the duty of a card soldier is to serve his queen - but how could they be asked to do that when they’ve already sworn their devout and unyielding loyalty to you? 

If there was one thing that Ace and Deuce could agree on was that you were the best thing that’s ever happened to them. The otherworldly prefect who entered their lives in a blaze of glory.

It wasn’t no one’s fault that you can both brighten and lighten any room you entered, at how all eyes would immediately turn to you. You were someone whose very existence demanded to be awed and admired and praised. And as much as they were more than willing to do all of the above, they knew that they weren’t the only ones.

They would be fools to ignore how beloved you are by the student body, how you have every single student wrapped around your little finger, how despite not possessing a lick of magic in your body, you had become the most powerful being in school with the way you have the rich, famous and mighty treating you as if you were the reason the sun rose in the morning and set at night. It was clear that you were the object of desire of many - and for good reason. Despite your limitations, you were a pillar of strength, boldly facing every adversity that this twisted school threw at you. Your kind nature saving not only the overblotees but also many other students from a dark and tragic fate. Even with no magical abilities you’ve achieved the impossible and they knew that your circle of friends, which at first were only them, Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, would only continue to grow and grow as more and more of their peers become aware of just how awe-inspiring you are and they are left to wither away in the shadows, left on the cold and dark sidelines to watch as you get pursued by people who are more worthy to bask in your light.

To say that someone like you is a rarity would be an understatement. In this school of villains, of conmen and crooks, tyrants and thieves, of dark beasts that would claw their way to the top through any means necessary, that would lie and stab to achieve their goals, someone as pure and angelic as you was simply unheard of. A celestial beauty so ethereal that even wild animals and woodland creatures are in reverence of you. Your existence was a siren’s call, and like moths to a flame, they are all ready to drown themselves if it meant they could take even a step closer to you.

You have princes, celebrities, men so wealthy that they could buy you an island and consider it pocket money, all ready to give you a life that even fairytale characters could only dream of. You have people with power who could give you anything you desire: titles, crowns, sceptres, the stars and moon. You had the literal world at your fingers and the ability to do whatever you wanted yet- 

Yet you chose them. The objects of your coveted affections, the ones who hold the honour of receiving your tender love and unconditional care, the ones who are blessed with the privilege of calling you theirs - are them. The two foolhardy, act-first-think-second boys who you had to save from expulsion on their first day.

It’s Ace’s eyes you meet from the bleachers of the gymnasium during a basketball match. It’s his name that you’re screaming, cheering and wearing - the bold, block-lettered ‘TRAPPOLA’ on the back of your jersey making it clear just who it is you came there to see. And if there were any fools that weren’t so sure, the breathtaking kiss he plants on your lips after he jogs over to your front row seat in the stands should seal the deal, especially when you reciprocate with fervent enthusiasm.

It’s Deuce’s jacket you wear when you run errands, the oversized black leather that once symbolised physical proof of his shameful past now proudly engulfs your shoulders, the silver ‘Spade’ as clear as day. It’s Deuce who you meet with at the end of his track and field club, it’s his tie that you elegantly loop around his neck and expertly loop into a windsor knot before tugging him towards you and pressing his lips against yours.

It’s them who you open up to, who you let your walls down and tears fall, who you allow to embrace you in your darker moments. It’s them who you run to in your times of joy, who you hug and kiss in elation, not caring who might be watching. It’s them that you praise, that you brag about to others. It’s them who has your full attention. It’s their hands that you hold. It’s them that you invite to Ramshackle and who you snuggle up against late at night.

They showed you the worst of them, from the first day they met you it was clear that they were nothing but trouble: a brash class clown and a violent former gangster yet with all of that, with all the trouble they’ve given you and continue to give you, you still chose them.

Every single day, you choose them. You take their weaknesses and polish them into strengths. You always see the best in them, despite the many instances where you would’ve been well within your right to not. Instead of letting them drag you down, you brought them up, lifting them into the pedestal that was your love. You support them wholeheartedly, in their dreams, passions and pursuits. Never once do you listen to the whispers of others, the ones that call them no-good, tactless mischief makers who would only bring you trouble - instead you’re the one who defends them, who is more than ready to defend them in a blink of an eye.

They know that you’re too good for them, that their reputation is rightfully deserved but please continue to indulge them. Like you are now, with your blissfully sleeping body sandwiched between them, happily snug inside both of their embraces, let them continue to worship you, to covet you like the beloved Majesty you are. Let them continue to hear the words you sleepily whispered to them before you sailed away into the silver mist of your dreams.

“I love you boys”

A card soldier lives to serve his queen so please continue to choose them. They’ll be sure to spend every breath in this life and the next, swearing their hearts, bodies and souls to you in eternal servitude. 

“What do you see in them?” A Pomefiore first year asks you as the two boys are once again being scolded by a teacher for unruly behaviour during class.

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriends, the two that you know without question would stand by your side - the ones that have always stood by your side, since the very beginning - and all you can see is their courage, their loyalty, the fact that no matter how scared you become in this strange, magical new world you know that you have no reason to fear anything if you have those two. 

The only possible answer you can give to your classmate is, “my future.”

How was I to know?

It's a crazy thing

I showed you my hand

And you still let me win

[lilspooky-doll]

True Happiness — pt. 1

pairing — Aegon II Targaryen x Handmaid! Reader

summary — All Prince Aegon wanted growing up with the parents he had was to experience true happiness; not happiness from drinking, not happiness from inflicting insults against others but real happiness you can only experience with someone you feel deeply for. Even at a very early age, he believed he was going to end up drunk and worse than his absentee father until she came along to clean up the pieces.

themes — fluff, aegon is a soft boi, language, blood descriptions, alicent using others to fix her problems, brat! aegon, au! aegon, au! house of the dragon, female! reader, clingy! aegon

author’s note — here’s part 1 of True Happiness. i had to split it into two separate parts. this part is more of the starts of their relationship and part two is more of the “adult” parts. there will probably be ‘themes’ / warnings the next part as well so please be on the lookout for those. please enjoy!

ñuha hūra - my moon

ñuha jorrāelagon - my love

part 2

Looking through the shine of a blazing sun, the Red Keep was a marvelous stronghold that housed Kings and Queens of old, experienced the biggest feasts throughout the Seven Kingdoms and protects the very rulers of said Kingdoms. From the outside looking in, it seemed to be a peaceful day with the usual commotion that the royals and the Council lived in. However, this day was anything but normal.

In the dead of the night previously, the great King Viserys had finally greeted the Stranger leaving only his dear second wife, Alicent Hightower, the witness to such a tragedy. With the King gone from this world, the plans set in place by the Hand and his daughter would get to see the light of day and be pursued wholeheartedly — the plan of usurping the eldest of Viserys’ children from her throne and fitting the eldest son to the Iron Throne. Now upon discovery, There’s only one fatal flaw in this plan. Aegon has seemed to have just vanished, almost as if he never even existed with those hallowed walls.

Searching high and low, through the streets of Kings Landing and even down in Flea Bottom, not a single living soul has seen the prince in almost two full sun rotations. His chambers were tidy but empty of a few worldly possessions and some very homely clothes he had requested be made months ago. This abrupt vanishing had caused the Hand to fervently badger his child for answers as if she would know where he went.

“Father, the Cargyll twins and Aemond have been searching for him since we first discovered his chambers empty of him in the early hours.” Alicent flinched as Otto violently twisted his body in the middle of pacing to make eye contact with her.

“If he is gone, all I have done will be for nothing! Do you understand that? Everything will fall and that whore of a Targaryen will be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Otto screamed into the flush face of the now widow seemingly blaming her for the faults of her eldest.

Stepping back a tad bit, Alicent placed some space between them before trying to look back up at the anger beaming down at her. “Well… Why not fit Aemond for the crown? He’s much more adept and would be a much more reliable King than Aegon would.”

The mere suggestion of Aemond caused the cogs in the Hand’s mind to rapidly turn as he began to place the second son in the spots where Aegon originally fit into his scheme. Slowly, a devious smirk stretched the aging wrinkles on his face as it appeared the prince’s disappearance brought a blessing down from the Seven that albeit was going to be much more successful in Otto’s dark eyes.

“Have Aemond fetched and brought back. I believe we have a more perfect opportunity in seeing the second son be the King.”

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Life at the moment seemed impossible to the Queen. While handling the Council with her father, the Hand of the King and her ailing husband, her eldest son has apparently made it his purpose to deal with his problems. At ten name days old, Aegon has been through at most three handmaiden— each leaving the staff of the Red Keep due to his… antics. Every woman has reported back to her stating that he was the most arrogant brat who had it out for anyone who wouldn’t bring his mother to him.

Granted, Alicent could be blamed for his behavior as she has actively avoided personally handling her son — only seeing him as the end of her friendship with Princess Rhaenyra and the end of her girlhood. On a deep down level, she resented Aegon for what he represented in her eyes since she was only just a pawn in her father’s sick, twisted game. But, she wasn’t the only one to be blamed for why he sought so much attention so often. Viserys had a hand in all of this being that after his second name day, he has refused to acknowledge her boy as the heir to the Iron Throne and has gone to even ignore all of his children outright.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, was all Alicent chanted in her head as she sat in her solar waiting for Ser Criston to arrive with what she deemed her last ditch effort. Picking at the skin around her nails, the waiting made her anxious. She felt guilty for what she was about to do but, she’s at her wits end with Aegon and she hoped that this person would save everyone’s sanity.

A knock disrupted Alicent’s incessant thoughts as she bolted her head to watch Ser Criston open the door and made room for her so-called ‘saving grace’ to walk through. A girl of about two and ten shuffled through between the guard and the door keeping her eyes down at her feet. Once the girl made her way through, she dipped into a curtsy and muttered out a quiet Your Majesty.

Brushing off the imaginary dust on her emerald green gown, the Queen stood up from her seat on her cushioned bench and gracefully walked to set herself in front of the girl. She examined the young child making note of her neat hair that was braided away from her face and the typical clothes that most of the maids wore in the keep: a plain brown dress covered by a sullied white apron.

“Some of the maids tell me that any coin that you have made is sent to your family. Is that correct in their assumptions?” Alicent questioned using her hand to gently guide the girl’s chin forcing her to make eye contact.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispered out hoping that was the answer the Hightower woman was looking for.

“Good. I will be upping the amount of coin you receive but, you will only receive the extra amount as long as you stay on as Prince Aegon’s personal handmaiden. If you leave your duties as such, the extra coin will be revoked. Am I understood?”

A sick feeling of satisfaction filled Alicent’s belly as the young girl nodded and whispered out her affirmation. With a pat on the head, Alicent signaled for Ser Criston to lead the girl to Aegon’s chambers hoping that this all works out in a positive way, not ending in another maid gone from the keep to be replaced.

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Pitying looks could be seen from every servant that passed by the guard and young maid duo as if they all knew what her fate was. They all made it seem like she was on her way to the executioner, not to the prince’s chambers. Even with all the looks, it didn’t settle the feeling in her chest, the closer that Ser Criston guided her through the hallways to his room.

She’s heard all of the rumors from the other women and girls she worked with. She heard that the prince played nasty pranks, spoke in vulgar ways to disturb the maid or just flat out made their job living Hells. It was suspected that he did all of this as a way for the maids to report what he’s done to his mother, the Queen in hopes she would personally come to see him. Behaving like that just to receive some sort of attention from a parent seemed like a very sad way to live and no matter what kind of wealth they had, feeling loved was better than any riches a person could have.

As they rounded the last corner before the hall that led to the eldest prince’s chambers, all that could be heard was the muffled yells of an enraged child accompanied by the splintering of wood against the stones. A shaky breath expelled from your lips in an attempt to calm her down. Even though this became a less than ideal position to have in the Red Keep, all she knew was that the extra coin you would receive would go a long way to help out her family. She’s doing this for them, to make sure they have everything they need even if this could all end badly.

Nearing closer and closer, the racket became more and more clear making her more and more nervous. Now was not the time to let emotions control her; time to regulate and wipe any traces of whatever it was she was feeling off of her face. Getting up close to the door, she began to realize that the behavior her young self was going to deal with was destructive.

Just as they reached the door, Ser Criston knocked on the chamber door breaking the noise into silence. After a moment had passed, the knight opened the way and revealed the scene to them. There he was — young Prince Aegon — arms frozen in mid air holding what looked like a splintered wooden chair leg and surrounding him were the remains of said chair, shattered by the stone that made up the structure of the room.

Shocked to be interrupted, Aegon quickly composed himself brushing his silvery blond hair away from his eyes before he decided to lay into his mother’s knight.

“Where is she? Is she coming to finally speak with me?” Aegon pressed Ser Criston, his voice slowly rising in octave and cracking with emotions. “Why is she refusing to see me? I JUST WANT MY MOTHER!”

These were the ramblings of a child desiring affection from someone— or rather someones —who could not spare them any care or love. It was very evident to every soul living within these walls that the King cared for no other child than his eldest, Princess Rhaenyra regardless of how he behaved during Aegon’s first years as only child to his mother. Moreso, it was very subtle but it was becoming more obvious as the prince grew older that the Queen preferred her other children to him.

Unperturbed by the outburst, Ser Criston cleared his throat before speaking, “Her Majesty has assigned a new handmaiden to you. She kindly requests for you to be more pleasant with this one.”

Red began to seep into the pores of his pale face at the knight’s declaration. How could his mother make such a demand through the guards when she so blatantly avoids seeing him at all costs. If she could just visit him on good terms once, Aegon would stop it all; the pranks, the vicious words, Hells even the drinking that he was beginning to indulge in more.

“I don’t care what my mother wishes for me to do. I do not need a handmaiden, let alone a new one to replace the others. I wish for my mother, the Queen. Why won’t she come to visit me?” argued the Prince hoping to receive some kind of message from his mother that meant she wanted to actually be around him for once.

Using his argument as the prompt to leave, Ser Criston turned around, patted the young maid’s head before dismissing himself from the chambers. An uncomfortable silence filled the air as the maid stood at the door with her eyeline directed towards the ground and the prince’s violet eyes stared her down. There was a burning sensation alight on her exposed neck like the prince’s glare was burning through her head and down her spine.

Knowing her place, she never looked up towards his face. She knew that making eye contact with a royal or anyone of status would incur their wrath and they would punish the worker how they see fit. That was something that she would never do unless she was ordered to do so. Just feeling the prince’s stare on her was enough to break down her composure but now was not a time to be afraid; she needed to be composed and do her job.

With a straightened posture and a deep breath, she began to move towards the mess as carefully as possible. Anyone looking in on the situation would think she was approaching a skittish animal not the eldest son to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. It was almost laughable being put into a situation like this and at the same time, it couldn’t have been more dire of a situation.

Slow in her approach, she brought herself to her knees and one by one, picked up the splinters of wood placing them within the linen of her apron. She was careful to make sure none of the wood sunk into the plush pads of her fingers and careful to not warrant any of Aegon’s wrath. Even with the tense situation, she remained as unbothered as she possibly could be and just did her duties as a personal handmaiden to the prince; keep his quarters tidy, keep his life simple and everything should go splendidly.

It was a little unsettling, watching the maid tidy up the mess piece by piece. Granted, it wasn’t abnormal for a maid to clean but it was when they provided an outright reaction to his behavior. Aegon has seen it all; the older ones would try to discipline him like he was the child and the younger ones had a habit of being too noisy. But, this one was the youngest one yet — well he could only assume — and she was not acting like how he expected she would. He was waiting for something— a snide remark, shifty eyes, twitchy fingers— just something that would allow him to scare her away like he did the rest.

Just watching her collecting the broken wood made something bubble in his belly. Aegon couldn’t place his finger on what that feeling was but, whatever it was, it was not a feeling he wanted to relish in. It was a change to the anger and deep sadness that he has been experiencing and he wanted to latch onto them, keeping them close to his chest. In his deep observation, the young royal began to backpedal away from the center of his room making his way towards his messy bed covered in his plush blankets and fluffy pillows.

Violet eyes stayed focused on the hunched figure in her dirty apron and plain maid’s dress. Each piece of splintered wood being collected was like a piece of his anger being neatly brought back to him in the form of something calmer. The process of focusing on her smooth hands working so carefully yet so diligently caused the boiling rage that exploded earlier to simmer down to an eerie calm; a calm that he feels that he only experiences when he’s blissfully asleep in his cozy bed.

The blazing sun of high noon reflected through the window onto the carpets of Aegon’s chambers decorating the floor in fractured iridescence. After being focused on her working form for so long, Aegon’s anger had calmed into a gentle stream of just peace. He doesn’t remember the last time where he hadn’t felt anger towards his treatment from his parents or sadness from only ever seeing his mother at supper time or even when she came to admonish him. It seemed like forever ago when his mother had begun to push him on maesters, the guards or Ser Criston Cole hoping for their teachings to rectify his bratty behavior.

“Your Grace, allow me to take a look at your hands,” a small voice broke Aegon’s deep seated concentration drawing his attention to her delicate face that was honed in on his clasped hands.

Without so much as a fight, the young boy dropped his hands into her outstretched ones. He could feel how soft they felt brushing over the lines and details of his; he wondered how they were so soft considering all the work he knows that the maids do in a day. Soft twists and turns with feather-light touches brushed against the contours searching for something that marred the skin of the royal.

“May I say something, Your Grace?” Yet another soft whisper answered by a noncommittal hmph before the young maid continued, “I hope I am not speaking out of turn but, whenever anger roams free, it could easily turn into wrath. Never allow your emotions to reach that point… Please try to find a way to redirect it by putting more focus into training. The Queen would be devastated if you allowed this anger to fester to the point where you harm yourself accidentally.”

With the end of her advice, she gently folded the prince’s hand back into his lap before she stood up resuming the position she had when she first came into the chambers. A curtsy to signify herself leaving, out she went with the broken pieces of Aegon’s anger and a scent of delicate flowers lingered in the air.

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Weeks have passed since the first encounter between the new handmaiden and the prince and Aegon has tried relentlessly to see if he could rattle her like he did the others. Every little prank, tantrum, cruel words and even the occasional childish attitude was being met with almost a deadpan expression and an unperturbed Your Grace before she would continue about her duties as his handmaiden.

Aegon’s breaking point came much sooner than he thought when she came to his chambers with his tray of food to break his fast in the ambience of the rising sun. As she filled his cup with fresh water, Aegon decided now was the time to see what her problem was; why she seemed so unaffected by his brutish ways when even some of the knights have cringed at his behavior.

“I have done every little thing that I possibly know to get some reaction out of you other than that dead look you seem to have on your face. Every other handmaid my mother has sent my way would’ve been gone by the second insult or the first prank I have played.” Aegon took a second to catch his breath in his ranting before he continued with, “Why are you still here?”

The trickle of water into the metal cup ceased as she placed the pitcher back onto the tray with the rest of the morning food. Taking a moment to collect herself before facing the prince, she breathed out a deep sigh at his words. Of course she should’ve been gone by now but, honestly, dealing with the foolish ways of the boy made her miss her brothers and the wild activities they would do. If anything, working with Aegon made her feel at home oddly enough. The money she was receiving from the Queen could definitely be a motivator for some people on holding their wits but, the handmaiden started to think that the money was starting to not be a main factor in her staying; she actually was beginning to enjoy the extent Prince Aegon would go to try to torment her.

“I’ll be honest with you, Your Grace. You remind me of home, of my brothers who would endlessly try to startle me or torment me in the ways you have. Yes, some of your words were hurtful but, I quite enjoy being your handmaiden. Dare I say, I am beginning to see you as a friend.” She stopped for a brief second looking up into the violet eyes trained on her. “In our short time together, I have come to believe that you are just a boy who is lonely, who longs for a companion that understands you. I wish I can be that for you, Your Grace.”

At her bold admission, Aegon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone wanted to be near him, to be a friend to him despite all of the awful things that he has done and said to his maid. His eyes began to blur the image of his… friend and waterfalls of tears streamed down his soft, pale cheeks. For once, someone willingly wanted to be close to him and it made the well of emotions in his body overflow. He was feeling too many emotions at once and it overwhelmed him a bit. Happiness at the admission of having someone on his side. Sadness at wondering why it took so long for anyone to see through the misery he often bestowed upon others. Angry that his mother’s plans for a maid almost as young as he is to fulfill any of his tasks had worked. The flooding of feeling had started to fill in the cracks of his broken self.

Without even a second thought, Aegon in his teary state threw his body at his handmaid’s form wrapping his arms around her torso and burying his streaked face into her shoulder. Startled by the physical contact the prince initiated, she was quick to wipe the look of shock from her face before replacing it with a gentle smile. Her woolen sleeve arms wrapped around the shaking form attached to hers pulling the broken prince tighter in their embrace. Soothing whispers were spoken into the silvery-blonde hair tickling her flush cheek. No response to her words needed to be spoken; Aegon’s reaction was proof enough that he appreciated his kind handmaiden.

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After that tear-filled day, it became common knowledge that between the two of them, they could depend on the other. His sweet handmaid began to switch out the ale and mead he was consuming increasingly throughout the days with water or flavorful teas that were much more beneficial to his health. Aegon was quick to pick up on the changes and was ever so grateful to have her at his side as a confidant and his closest – only – friend. He actively sought out to spend time with her in any way that he could whether it was having you mend torn clothes in the training yard when he was there or just peaceful strolls through the courtyard when he had time in his busy schedule.

In exchange, the Targaryen prince made sure she had plenty of newer clothes that fit her much more than the old maid dress she usually wore. If it was up to him, his maid would be wearing gowns as beautiful as his sister Helaena’s gowns but she stopped him before he could even give her one. On top of the new dresses and aprons, Aegon made sure that where she slept in the servant quarters was perfect and that there was nothing that could make her sick and unable to enjoy the fresh air with him. Sometimes, he would sneak extra coins into the letters she sent out making sure whoever received the letters would have all the extra money they needed. He even put aside a few gold dragons for her to spend on herself when needed.

It was obvious to the inhabitants of the Red Keep to the changes Viserys’ eldest son exuded. The change for the servants and the guards was a very welcomed one as they no longer had to hear the words the prince would hurtle at people and the pranks that brought misery to many unlucky participants. The council thought of the change as Prince Aegon had started to mature and was trying to prepare himself as heir to the Iron Throne. But, even though many thought of this change as a good thing brought upon them by the Seven, it was hard to ignore the rumors that were spreading.

Of course, many were witness to the first rumor: the prince was almost never seen without his dutiful handmaid walking beside him. Every person who had been witness to this sight could all testify to the fact that every time the prince and maid were caught together, the prince was animated in talking with her and the maid was listening to him with a soft smile etched into her face. Some people have rumored to see them holding hands during walks when the Keep was too busy to pay full attention to the boy of ten name days and the girl of two and ten.

Others whispered that there was something more nefarious going on between the maid and the prince but no one would lend their ear to hear such conspiratorial ramblings. Those odd few always sounded the same; the young girl is a witch and has come to steal away the Targaryen for whatever dark and evil deeds she needed. It was very strange for such a rumor to spread but in the end, it was gossip that kept the maids giggling and snickering every time she moved past them.

Although there were rumors that could damage their reputation, no one could deny how much happiness radiated off of the two of them.

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For a two and ten name day celebration, it was tiny compared to his first two name day feasts but tiny meant that it would all be over fairly quickly without cutting into his evening schedule. Aegon was anxious to leave the hall and make his way to the Godswood where he knew that she would be waiting there for him.

The feast consisted of mainly his family, the council and any of their family that lived within the stone walls. It was very simple and that made Aegon happy; he didn’t need to have a giant name day feast like his half-sister Rhaenyra gets. Simple was enough for him now. No longer was he the young spoiled brat — even though he’s still very young. Now he’s changed for the better and he’s been enjoying the smaller things in life for the past two years.

After waiting for the perfect chance, his mother, Alicent, announces her leave from the feast giving Aegon the opening he needed to escape the hall. He wanted a few moments after she left the sight of everyone before he took his leave as well except he didn’t announce it like his mother — just a silent slip through the hall doors and out into the corridor. The large doors were shut without so much as a little click as it slid back into place. Once he was out of view of all the attendees, Aegon swiftly made his way through the corridors out into the breeze of the early evening air.

The cool breeze coming off of the sea made the rest of his walk more enjoyable as the prince continued on his way towards the Godswood. Leaves rustling in the gentle wind and light slaps of bird wings filled the air around the steps of Aegon’s boots against the soft natural ground. Soon came the sight he was so anxious to see. His lovely handmaid dressed in just a plain brown dress without her normal apron resting against the heart tree with a book in her lap. This was what made the boy most excited about today; spending time with her as she read aloud to them both and Aegon used the sturdier trees as practice dummies.

“I see that you have started without me, ñuha hūra,” Aegon’s words came out almost too cocky but she knew that he meant to be teasing in his statement. “What tales will we be learning tonight?”

A girlish chuckle left her lips at his responses. “They are not tales as they are more history. I thought it would be very fitting to learn about the first of your name, Aegon the Conqueror,” the girl of four and ten paused for a moment before she started back up again. “I’ve noticed that you have been calling me something other than my name. Will you ever tell me what it means?”

A sly smirk stretched itself across the planes of his pale face. “I don’t think I will. Guess you’ll just have to learn Valyrian to understand it.”

At his statement, the handmaid took his words as a challenge—determined to figure out what he has been calling her recently and to possibly be able to speak the royal language to surprise him. Shaking her head at his antics, she looked down at the book in her lap and pulled the cover off the pages to reveal the title page, The Life and Conquest of Aegon I Targaryen.

While his maid got herself ready to read aloud to the two of them, Aegon reached into the roots of the heart tree to pull out a wooden sword he had stolen from the training yard and positioned himself in front of a scrawny tree that was growing only a short distance away. He was far enough that if the sword or the tree splintered, the fragments wouldn’t be anywhere near her but he was close enough that he could clearly hear her angelic voice speak of bloody history.

Readying himself into the proper stance, Aegon began to slice away at the tree acting as if the tree was like one of the practice dummies used in the training yard, like the ones Ser Criston Cole is constantly making him and his brother work on for the hours they do training. Practicing twice a day like this was his way of getting better hoping one day he could surpass the skill of the kingsguard and of course, it was a bonus that during this time, it was uninterrupted moments of peacefulness with his maid — who he was beginning to think of as more than his closest friend.

With wacks and thuds, Aegon let the melodic sound of her voice and the repetition of the wood put his body into a trance. His mind drifted away to sweeter moments than this one where he would confess his feelings to his beautiful handmaid, where he could see a future outside of his royal duty, where he could be free from the scheming eye of his grandsire and live a life like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. They were dreams that were so far out of reach, ones that would move further away just as he came close to reaching out to them but it never hurt to think of life being more fulfilling outside of the walls of the Red Keep.

From her distance, she had kept reading aloud the passages detailing the life of Aegon the Conqueror finding it all riveting and oh so captivating that Aegon’s form started to blur out of focus from the rim of her peripheral. She was fascinated and consumed that the present Aegon would have to live up to such high standards for his name. It caused a seed of worry to plant itself in her chest just thinking that Aegon had more on his platter purely because he was second of his name and the first was the one to unite the kingdoms. Being so enthralled with this piece of history and her worry, she failed to notice the difference in Aegon’s form; his eyes zoned out and his form was atrocious at best. It appeared that the both of them had the same dazed look in their eyes as their minds drifted away from this reality.

“Ah, fuck!!” A loud curse and the sounds of something shattering broke the dazed states of the young duo. Startled by the noises, she broke her attention from the aged pages and bolted up from her seat rushing over to the prince’s hunched form.

“My prince! What has happened?” she questioned rotating her body to be face to face with him. All she could see was the top of his silver head and his arms tucked into his body.

Looking around, her eyes laid upon the broken practice sword lifeless against the soft, grassy surface. Turning her attention back to Aegon, she gently pushed on his shoulder to reveal his face red with pain and his right hand protectively covered by his left keeping it close to his chest.

“Let me have a look, my prince,” she stated slightly tugging on his hands in hopes for him to reveal the problem.

He resisted shaking his head and clutching his hands tighter against himself. Gritting his teeth in pain and using his hair as a shield, he was hoping she would just leave him alone so he could recollect himself and make himself out to be a man in front of her. Gods forbid if she thought of him as anything other than a man — even though he was in the early stages of changing into one.

The pain was consistent in the deep scratch of his dominant hand after his sword — a pathetic excuse for one — had snapped under his sloppy tactics. So distracted in his painful misery, he couldn’t see that her delicate hands made their way towards his face cupping his flushed cheeks. With her hands lightly clasped around his face, she pulled his head up from his chest and forced him to meet her eye.

Violet eyes met the twinkling stars that appeared to be her eyes. They captivated him on a deeper level like watching the sky light up at night when the moon is hiding out of sight. It was a deeper bond forming between them, a bond that differed greatly to his bond to his golden dragon, Sunfyre. This very moment was working its way to be a pivotal event in their lives and Aegon was doing all he could to soak up her attention and the feel of her hands on his face.

She carefully removed her left hand from his face and used it to remove the protective hold he had over his injured right hand. Pulling apart his calloused fingers exposed a deep gash pooling dark crimson blood around the angry flesh that’s riddled with splinters. The crimson hid the kind of red one would only see when flesh was marred past its original state. Just on looks alone, the wound had to have been painful and she knew that Aegon was trying to be strong about it despite the tears.

Gently and softly, she maneuvered his shaking body towards her previous seat of the heart tree making sure he kept his eyes on her and away from the wound. She helped lower Aegon to the nestling of roots making it comfortable for him as she positioned herself in front of him on her knees. Once she had him situated, she tore a strip of fabric from her underdress ripping it further into smaller pieces; one piece to clean and the other to wrap it until they could reach the Maesters.

“My apologies, my prince. I know this will hurt but only for a short while,” she spoke reassuring him as she placed the injured hand in her lap to pull the tiny splinters out before wrapping it up.

One by one, the pieces were removed being tossed to the soft grassy floor and with each removal, the young Targaryen hissed in pain as he only allowed himself to do that instead of tears.

“Not crying and holding in your pain does not make you a man. Crying shows that you have emotions and are more than capable of being compassionate to others. It releases energy that has been brewing over time.” Her words startled the boy causing him to reveal his unshed tears in his bright, wide eyes.

Wiping his face quickly with his free hand, he snarked, “And who had told you that? Hmm, ñuha hūra? I would presume it was your mother.”

“My father, actually. He would always remind my brothers that crying would never make them less of a man. It made them more of one because they weren’t afraid of being emotional and it helped release anything that was being kept locked away from within,” she retorted, continuing her work seeing as there were only a few wood pieces left before she needed to clear away the blood that kept pooling.

Aegon paused at her words before he sputtered out, “So, you would still see me as a man even if I cried in front of you? You won’t want to be rid of me?”

A giggle broke the delicate planes of her face quickly being replaced by a smile. “Why would I rid you? I feel like you have forgotten that you have cried in my presence quite a few times already, Aegon. You are just a boy in many people's eyes but to me, you are more of a man than some of the men that sit on the Council!”

“Could you say that again?” Lavender fields gazed into starry skies at her words.

“Say what again, my prince? That you’re a man..”

“No, my name. Say my name again. I beg of you.”

Stunned by his declaration, a sigh escaped her lips before she whispered out, “Aegon.”

No longer focused on the pain, Aegon could feel his heart soar like it was flying through the skies and bursting through the clouds. His true companion in life sounded so delectable saying his name. It was an almost tangible taste in his mouth just from her calling his name like that. Of course, the way she initially said it was in every form, an innocent and friendly way but, he’s a growing boy who was beginning to feel the effects of his body turning him into a man. His name was like a drug that now he had a taste of it, he is going to want it always.

A sweet smile contrasted the redness in the whites of his eyes as he gazed at her. “From this day forth, I want you to call me by my name. It’s so lovely coming from you, unlike from everyone else.”

“As you wish, my prince Aegon,” she answered him, causing his heart to soar yet again.

They continued to gaze into each other’s eyes like the sunny day shining down on fields of lavender petals and the stars twinkling in the inky darkness of the night. They both felt a bundle of warmth unfurling in their chests accompanied by the feeling of pure happiness. Being together in this moment made them feel as if they were the only people in all of Westeros and absolutely nothing would tear them apart from one another. In that moment, the friendly love they both shared was blossoming into a love that Aegon was beginning to feel for his beautiful handmaid, a love that she would soon share with him.

Blinking away their locked gaze, a subtle blush graced her cheeks as she brought her focus back down to the wound. She scanned his hand one last time making sure she removed all the splinters that she could find and began to gently gather the deep blood with half of the torn underdress strip. The starch white of the underdress absorbs the sanguine fluid transforming the fabric into its deep seated color. Fully saturated, she removed the cloth, putting it into the pocket of her plain dress and using the other piece to wrap up the exposed injury.

Finished with her work, she sighed out, “Well, we shall make our way to the Maesters for them to fully take care of the wound.”

She stood up from their spot and brushed off the dirt and grass that had accumulated at her knees. Looking at the prince, she could see a dazed look in his eyes and a soft smile that she has only seen him use when she was around — she’s seen peaks of a different yet similar smile when he would listen to Helaena’s bug-related monologues.

Aegon, still dazed and heart thumping hard in his chest, gracefully removes himself from the tree roots standing opposite to her as she lowered herself down again to grab the history book from its nest in the greenery of the floor. Waiting for her to straighten herself out, he held his uninjured hand out for her to interlock their fingers when she was ready to. Even with the wound throbbing in his right hand, all he could focus on was the beauty next to him. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders when she took out the braids she put in it everyday, the light flush that would mark her cheeks when she laughed too hard, or the touch of her soft hands that seemed to stay in its delicate state regardless of the hard work she did.

Interlocking their hands, Aegon refocused his sight on the current situation at hand and started back to the castle slowly making their way back to where one of the Maesters under Grand Maester Mellos could help.

“I do hope you know where we are going, ñuha jorrāelagon. I would hate for us to be lost so late in the evening.”

“Of course, I know where we are going. It’s just a lovely evening to take a slow stroll towards that way, Aegon.” A bright grin filled the lines of her face at her prince’s remark. “And don’t think I won’t figure out what you have been saying to me in High Valyrian. One day, I’ll figure it out.”

In that moment, Aegon was convinced and determined that his amazingly beautiful handmaid would be the only one for him — in life and in death.

taglist

@shesjustanothergeek

@starkillerrr

@fan-goddess

@hnslchw

@imsolence

@audigay

@neenieweenie

@whodis-26

[lendeah]

After the Weave 1.

series masterlist

Summary:

After defeating the Nether Brain, Gale makes a promise to Tav: he will move to Waterdeep and marry her. However, he breaks his pledge when he feels the pull of his former goddess, Mystra, and leaves to forge the Karsus Crown and become a god, which leaves Tav feeling betrayed and alone.

Astarion, now fully consumed by the shadows, offers Tav a new mission. Together, they try to rebuild themselves and move on from their past. As they rely on each other in unexpected ways, they find a new sense of purpose and meaning, and realize that fate will always lead you back to where you belong.

Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav, past Gale x OFC!Tav

Tags: Angst, Drinking to Cope, References to Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Post-Break Up, Tav finds herself again with Astarion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, language.

Also on AO3

Being with him was like being enveloped in a warm, golden glow; his presence adding vibrancy and light to every moment. Even in the bleakest moments, when I felt lost in the chaos of battle, he remained a constant beacon of hope and love. His strong arms always provided support and comfort, our souls intertwining in ways I never thought possible. But every now and then, when the chaos around us subsided and we had a moment of peace, Gale would pull me away from the rest of our troop. We would find a quiet spot, away from prying eyes, and just be together. In those moments, it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just him and me.

"With you, I forget my goddess. I love you" he had whispered in my ear, under a sea of stars. And in that moment, it felt like all of my doubts and fears disappeared. Gale's love for me was real and true; it was something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of war.

So as we stood victorious over the defeated Brain, I turned to the wizard with a triumphant smile and tears streaming down my cheeks. This was what we had risked our lives for, what we had fought and bled for.

"Beloved," Gale whispered, his voice brimming with emotion. "We have faced countless perils together, defying fate itself. Our love has withstood trials and tribulations that most would crumble under. I cannot fathom another day without you by my side."He took a step closer, our bodies gravitating towards each other as if pulled by an invisible force.

The crashing waves and salty sea air filled their lungs as they stood on the decks of the city, overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over our faces. "Let us leave this place," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We should go back home to Waterdeep. We can build a life together, away from the battles and the constant threat of danger. We can find solace in each other's arms, and create a haven where love and peace reign supreme." he took a deep breath, mustering the courage to add, "Let's get married." His words resonated deep within my soul, stirring a longing I hadn't realized was there. Yes, Waterdeep, the city of wonders and dreams, seemed like the perfect place to start our new chapter.

"Yes," I whispered, the word escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. "I'd be honored to marry you, Gale Dekarios."

He took me that same night, slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. As we laid in each other's arms, the the warm body next to mine, our intertwined hands, and synchronized breaths felt like an unbreakable bond, our future stretching out before us like an endless summer day. And through the days following the battle, it did. Helping reconstruct buildings, tending the wounded, and giving food and shelter to those in need; everything was keeping us so busy that I didn't notice the faraway look in his eyes. He still held me close at night, his touch as loving as ever, but something seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind.

One morning, exactly one week after the last battle, when my hand reached out instinctively to the side of the bed where Gale used to lay, I felt coldness that wasn't there before. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, but the silence revealed a very different reality. A heavy feeling settled in my chest as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. My eyes scanned our small tent frantically, searching for any sign of him, but all that remained was a single letter addressed to me. Its edges were slightly crumpled, evidence of many folds and unfolding during long nights. With trembling hands, I opened it and read every word carefully, trying to hold onto every piece of him that I could.

To my love

The crown is somewhere in the Chionthar. If I salvage the stones I can reforge it. Only then can I attain the power to protect us from all harm, my love. We could rule together, you as my goddess by my side as I ascend to godhood. I know I pledged to forsake my past for you, but now I must break that vow. The weight of this curse is too heavy for me to bear alone, and I cannot bear the thought of living with it forever. I need to confront her, to stand as her equal this time. I will do everything in my power to surpass her, to make up for all the wrongs she has done, even if it means leaving you behind. But you must understand that if I am successful, I will return to you and make up for all the time we have lost. Please hold onto hope and know that my heart aches with every step I take away from you.

Farewell, my love, until we can be reunited once again.

My tears turned into a relentless stream, blurring the words on Gale's letter as I read it for what felt like the hundredth time. Each phrase cut deeper than the last, carving painful wounds that would never heal. How could he do this to me? Betrayal and rage consumed me as I struggled to understand how the person who had asked me to marry him barely days before could turn their back on it for the sake of power and vengeance.

After that, everything became a blur. I found myself falling into a rhythm of constant busyness. I would wake up at the crack of dawn and immediately begin tackling the tasks that awaited me. And while it brought me some sense of fulfillment to help those in need, it also served as a convenient distraction from Gale's absence and his quest for power. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't have time to dwell on my shattered relationship with Gale, on the nightmares that plagued my mind with the blood and death I had been through in the last year.

I had become known as the go-to person for any problem, big or small. I made sure to accept every task that came my way, no matter how difficult or time-consuming it may have been. Whether it was helping someone mend their broken roof or comforting a grieving family, I threw myself into each task with determination and purpose. But it wasn't just physical tasks that occupied my time. Many villagers would come to me seeking advice or simply wanting someone to listen to their troubles. And so, in addition to being their physical savior, I became their emotional support as well. For that brief moment when they smiled or thanked me for my help, all the weight on my shoulders lifted and for just a moment, everything felt okay again. Yet, behind my forced smile and empathetic words lay the reality of my shattered existence, haunted each night by the memories of my past as the darkness enveloped me.

Each night, I awoke drenched in sweat, my mind haunted by visions of cruel emperors, slaughtered gnomes, and fallen tieflings. The stench of death clung to me, as if the blood was still fresh on my hands. And the nightmare continued, as I woke up alone in a dirty basement, with no one to turn to. So it became my mission not to sleep; if I was busy and distracted, I didn't have time to think about Gale or death. And if my actions were making other people happy in the process, then everyone won.

However, as the days passed, I could feel myself becoming more and more distant from my friends. With Halsin, Wyll and Karlach gone, Lae'zel busy settling her people in the city, Shadowheart tirelessly rebuilding Selûne's temple, and Astarion retreating into the shadows, I felt completely alone. I found myself longing for their company, for the familiar banter and laughter we used to share. But every time I even attempted to reach out to them, something held me back. Maybe it was fear of being a burden or just not wanting to face my own emotions by confronting theirs. And even on those few occasions I did meet with Lae'zel or Shadowheart, I couldn't bring myself to tell them about Gale's letter or how much it hurt me because I couldn't bear to see their pity or judgment.

"He's just traveling. You know him, always seeking knowledge!" I lied through gritted teeth.

But deep down, I knew that the lie was eating away at my soul. The truth was too painful to voice out loud, even to my closest companions.

So, I buried my agony in feeling helpful, as I always did. I worked tirelessly to provide aid to those who had lost their homes and loved ones. I took on more tasks, stayed up later, and pushed myself beyond my limits. But it seemed like the harder I tried to deny my emotions, the louder they screamed for attention. My exhaustion finally caught up to me, both physically and mentally. One day, as I was helping a family rebuild their home after a devastating fire, I collapsed from exhaustion. The family helped me, of course, but word quickly spread that I had fallen ill. People began to avoid me, their once-welcoming demeanor turning cold and distant. They no longer sought out my help or accepted any aid I offered. This only added to my mounting frustration and despair, until finally, I reached my breaking point.

With nothing but time on my hands, the memories of Gale flooded back with a force that knocked me off balance. All those moments we shared flashed before my eyes in vivid detail – our first meeting on the portal, our adventures in the underdark, where we had first kissed, him asking to marry me... It was like ripping open an old wound that never fully healed. But even worse were the memories of slashing, cutting, severing flesh, of fresh blood and dead bodies. I needed another distraction; and that distraction came in the form of wine and rum. But even as I drowned my sorrows in ale, I knew it was a temporary escape. The sweet burn of alcohol numbed the pain for a little while, but it always came back tenfold once the drinks wore off. Before long, I found myself frequenting taverns more and more often. It was my new coping mechanism, my escape from reality. With each passing day, I could feel myself spiraling deeper into despair and self-pity.

One night, as I stumbled out of yet another tavern, swaying on unsteady legs, the piercing sound of my name being called cut through the fog of alcohol-induced numbness.

"Elara, what-?" The voice was familiar and filled with concern. "Oh gosh... he has left for good, hasn't he?" the tone was gentle but firm.

My dizzy eyes can make up a silver updo and tan skin. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I glance over at Shadowheart. Her usually warm and welcoming expression was replaced by a mix of concern and disappointment.

I let out a bitter laugh before taking another swig of rum. "No shit," my words are slurred and barely coherent. "I can't believe you really bought into that whole traveling bullshit."

Shadowheart's expression shifts from concern to irritation as she leans closer to me. "Don't you dare mock me," she hisses. "You know as well as I do that something is wrong with you."

I smile grimly

"Oh, so now you care?" I say, trying to glare at Shadowheart through bleary eyes. "You have been away for months and it's only now you decide to play the savior card."

Shadowheart's expression darkened at my words, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. But I am too angry, too drunk, to care.

"Well, I'm doing just fine," I continue, taking another long sip of my drink. "So why don't you return to your temple or whatever shithole you came from and leave me alone."

She rolls her eyes.

"Yes. Of course, you're doing fine. You're so fine that I found you lying in a tavern, wallowing in self-pity, drunk off your ass. Clearly the picture of good health and sound mind."

I scoffed, staring at Shadowheart with glazed eyes. "What do you know about me? About what I've been through?" My words slurred together, fueled by the mixture of anger and alcohol coursing through my veins. "You think you can just waltz back into my life and judge me? Well, you can't. You have no idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love."

Shadowheart's brows furrowed, her normally composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I do know" she snapped "In fact, the person I love is all the way down in the freaking avernus!"

The word hung in the air between us, the weight of its significance crashing down on me like a heavy stone. I stare at Shadowheart, the alcohol dulling my senses but unable to numb the pang of guilt in my chest. She's right - I hadn't even considered what she must be going through, separated from Karlach.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, lowering my eyes in shame.

Shadowheart's expression softens slightly.

"It's alright. I know you're hurting." She pauses, choosing her next words carefully. "But drinking yourself to death won't make the pain go away. It will only make things worse."

I struggle to keep my mouth shut, but my stubbornness gets the best of me and I shake my head defiantly. "I don't care," I mutter through clenched teeth, taking another long sip of my drink. But deep down, I know that's a lie. All I want is to forget, but part of me knows that I can't just push these feelings away so easily.

Shadowheart sighs and reaches to grab my hand.

"Listen to me," she says firmly, looking me in the eyes with a determined gaze. "I know how hard this is for you. But you can't give up like this. We need you - your friends need you."

A surge of anger rises within me at her words, and I jerk my hand away from hers.

"Don't talk to me about friends," I snap bitterly. "Where were my friends when I needed them? Everyone left." I choke "Everyone always leaves."

Shadowheart's face creases "We were all dealing with grief in our own ways."

I scoff and take another gulp of my drink.

"Grief? Is that what you call it? How convenient."

Shadowheart's eyes narrow slightly at my accusation, but she keeps her composure. "I never abandoned you," she says firmly."None of us did. We were worried about you."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Sure, you were all so worried."

After a long moment, she lets out an exhausted sigh, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that I will not budge on my decision. "You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into oblivion," she says with a resigned tone. "But just know that when you're ready to face reality, we'll be waiting." Slowly, she turns and leaves the dimly lit street.

----------------------------------------------

Several days later, I find myself in a similar situation, but at a different place. I wanted to ensure that none of the others will attempt to track me down. While Shadowheart's words still hangered in my mind, I couldn't help but feel shame at the person I have become. It was hard to admit that I needed their help. Accepting it would mean admitting defeat and acknowledging that I hit rock bottom. But the hardest part was accepting that Gale would never come back to me, enduring the nightmares without any ale to numb them.

I sit alone at a table in the corner, watching the other clients as they laugh and drink with their companions. I envy their untroubled attitude and wish I could join in on their happiness. But deep down, I know that my grief is consuming me.

A group of rowdy half-orcs stumble over to my table, clearly drunk and looking for trouble. I try to ignore them, hoping they will just pass by. But instead, they stop right beside me and leer down at me with malicious grins.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little present," one of them slurs, gesturing towards me with his mug.

Another one takes a step closer and smirks at my face, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Look at her, all alone and pathetic."

My hands grip the edge of the table tightly as I feel a surge of anger rising within me. If I had my magic... But I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice steady as I respond,"There is nothing here for you."

The orcs, however, don't seem to care about my words as they continue to make crude comments about my appearance.

"All those scars, what are you? A mercenary?" one of them snorts, taking another step closer.

I feel a lump form in my throat as I struggle to hold back tears. Normally, I would have stood up for myself or even fought back, but tonight I am too lost in my own misery to even react. Suddenly, one of them reaches out and grabs my arm forcefully, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Come on, babe," he slurs. "I'll make you forget all about your troubles."

I start to panic, my mind racing as I search for a way out of this situation.

But before things can escalate any further, a strong hand grabs one of the men's wrists and forcefully pulls him away from me.

I look up to see a familiar face - For a second, I think it's going to be Shadowheart again, a flash of ivory hair aprearing in the corner of my eye. But then I realize it's someone much, much worse.

"Leave her alone," he growls, his voice full of authority.

It seems like they want to replicate, but once they take a look at his bared fangs, the half-orcs hesitate for a moment before backing off and leaving the tavern with grumbles and curses. When he turns his head back to me, Astarion has his usual smirk plastered over his face.

"Hello, my dear" His sharp features and piercing eyes send a shiver down my spine. "I see you've fallen quite low since our last encounter."

"What do you want, Astarion?" I spit out through gritted teeth, still shaken. Yet another companion to make fun of my state. Great.

Astarion sits down across from me, still wearing his smirk. "Just curious to see how you were coping without your favorite vampire comrade," he taunts, taking a sip of his drink. "Not very well, by the looks of you." he comments, gesturing towards my disheveled appearance. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I try to smooth out my hair and straighten my clothes. This is not how I wanted to be seen by any of my friends, let alone Astarion.

"Whatever" I reply nonchalantly, "Did Shadowheart tell you to come here?"

Astarion smirks, knowing exactly how to push my buttons. "No, no, she didn't. I just happened to be in the area and thought I'd check up on my dear friend." His words drip with sarcasm.

I scoff and take another swig of my drink, trying to ignore him.

"But really," Astarion leans in closer. "What happened? One minute we're all fighting side by side, and the next, you're drowning yourself in ale."

I glared back at him, feeling defensive. "None of your damn business."

He leaned back with a smug grin. "Ah, but I think it is."

I let out an exasperated sigh and take another swig of my drink, hoping he'll get the hint and leave me alone. But as usual, Astarion seems to enjoy getting under my skin. He reaches across the table and grabs my drink before I can protest.

"Hey!" I try to grab it back but he holds it out of reach.

"No more drinking for you," he says with a mock stern expression. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I say, trying to dismiss the conversation.

Astarion's eyes narrow as he studies me intently. "Fine? You look like you've been through hell." he states bluntly.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair again, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Maybe it's because of everything that has happened in the past few days or maybe it's just the alcohol finally catching up to me.

I glare daggers at him and finally relent with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Gale...he's gone."

"Gone?" Astarion's eyebrows raise in surprise. "As in dead?"

I shake my head sadly. "No...just...gone." My voice cracks on the last word and I have to take a deep breath to compose myself.

A look of understanding crosses Astarion's face and he nods slowly. "Well, it looks like he really went all in on his illusions this time."

I sigh, in no mood for jesting.

Astarion, sensing my lack of humor, leans back in his chair and adopts a more serious expression. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says sincerely, sliding my drink back across the table towards me.

I reluctantly take the drink and give him a nod of acknowledgment, appreciating his rare display of empathy."Thank you," I reply, my voice softening slightly. "I appreciate that."

He nods, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. "Although, you know, at the end of the day it's Gale we are talking about, so is it really that big of a loss?"

I roll my eyes at Astarion's insensitive comment. "He was still a good boyfriend, despite his flaws," I reply pointedly.

"Hmm..." Astarion seems to be pondering this before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, if you say so."

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down before continuing. "Anyway, what do you want from me? You always have an ulterior motive for your visits"

Astarion smirks again, leaning back in his chair. "You know me so well," he drawls sarcastically. "I actually came here with an interesting proposition."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "What kind of proposition?"

He smirks, "You see, even though I excel at pretty much everything, it appears I'm struggling with the... spawn issue, if you know what I mean." He pauses dramatically, waiting for my reaction. "And being the hero that you are," he continues with a hint of condescension, "I was wondering if you could grace me with your whole knight in shining armor wisdom and help me out. Not that I actually need it, mind you. I just think even someone as skilled as myself needs guidance in this kind of situations." He leans back in his chair, with a relaxed smile.

"No"

His face falls dramatically. "What? What do you mean no?"

I roll my eyes.

"I mean exactly what I said," I reply firmly, not breaking eye contact with Astarion. "I have no interest in being your 'knight in shining armor' or helping you with any spawn issues. Find someone else to pester."

Astarion's face falls at my immediate rejection, but he quickly composes himself and leans forward with a suave smile. "Come on, darling," he purrs, reaching out to touch my hand. "Think of the thrill, the excitement of facing such a challenge together."He pauses and adds "just like the old times."

A wave of emotion washes over me at the mere thought. Memories of the past flood my mind, when Gale's presence provided a comforting weight on my side. When our group was at its strongest and most united, standing together against all odds. When everything seemed so easy, so at reach.

I reply with a bitter tone, "Those days are gone for good."

Astarion groans "Gosh, will you stop being so dramatic."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He is one to talk.

Astarion chuckles at my eyebrow raise, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear." he admits. "But I'm serious about this, you know. We make a great team, you and I. And who knows, maybe hunting down vampire spawn will help distract you from your... sorrows."

I sigh, torn between the desire to wallow in my grief and the possibility of finding some kind of purpose again. I will admit, weeping and drinking myself to sleep every night does, while comforting, sounds sad. Plus, Astarion's proposition is tempting. At least that way I will have something other than ale to distract myself with.

"Fine," I finally relent, surprising both him and myself. "But Just because I'm agreeing to this doesn't mean I have forgotten you haven't reached out in months."

Astarion's smirk widens as he raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, I would never dream of such a thing," he says with exaggerated sincerity."But let's just say, I did save your sorry behind from those hideous orcs. So I'd say we're even now."

I roll my eyes at his theatrics but can't help feeling a glimmer of anticipation deep within me. Perhaps there is still some fight left in me after all.

With a clap of his hands, he exclaims triumphantly,"It's decided then, dear Elara. You'll join me at the Crimson Palace tomorrow. I've already arranged for a room for you here," he says smoothly. "And trust me, it's much more luxurious than any tent or tavern room you've ever stayed in."

My brows furrow

"Absolutely not. I refuse to live in that sinister place." I say firmly. "Much less if it's with you"

Astarion lets out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, of course not. Because living alone in a moldy, cramped basement beneath the barracks is much more appealing."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. It almost sounds like he's been planning this for a while now.

"Wait, what? How do you even..." And then, I know. "Shadowheart told you, didn't she? Is there anything she didn't tell you? That damned snitch."

Astarion chuckles at my outburst and shrugs nonchalantly. "She may have mentioned it," he admits with a sly grin."She has always been keen on gossip, after all."

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head.

Astarion grins, his red eyes sparkling with amusement "You can't expect me to trust you to do a good job while out of my sight. I mean, from what I see now, you could scape at any moment to get drunk and pass out in the street. And then, what good would that do to our poor spawn?" He says, pretending to be deeply worried.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms defensively. "Fine," I huff. "You win. I'll stay at the Crimson Palace, but only because it's the best option for the spawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so you do care about the spawn after all? I'm touched," he says sarcastically.

I shoot him a glare, and he relents with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Enjoy your drinking session then. But don't forget, tomorrow we have important responsibilities."

"Ah yes, the joys of parenthood" I say sarcastically.

And to my surprise, I don't even finish my drink before returning to my basement, finally having something to look forward to.

[orangecatty-shiningnikki]

【 Shining Nikki CN+TW 】 Pavilion

【 Shining Nikki CN+TW 】 Pavilion

Turbid water is just tears of darkness, but fire is the eyes of light.

The long thread of memory passes through death and eternal night, allowing the same protective will to resonate with each other.

The blue crescent moon, the ocean tide, the bottomless abyss.

The light dances among the waves like broken silver, accompanying the lonely soul that has been sleeping under the sea level for a long time, until that cluster of "fire" appears.

The sea water never extinguished the "fire".

It turns into a burning butterfly, cleansing away all filth and darkness.

It burns in the sea water and keeps watch for light in the eternal night.

Since then, the sharp edge of the blue crescent has torn the black tide's net,

The sparkling waves ripple on the sea, blurring the boundaries between sea and sky.

In just that brief moment, the waves and the rising sun, the tide and the flames...the long-separated souls finally reunited.

Suit Display ::

Original :: Watching in the Abyss (于海渊守望)

Recolor :: Watching in The Abyss • Comic (于海渊守望·漫)

Designer :: Arionus (阿诺斯)

Collection :: Chronicle

1st Chronicle • From the Depths of Eternal Night

Rarity :: UR

Attribute :: Sexy

Date :: 09—19/11/2023

Type :: Pavilion

🌊🌊 Design Concept • Watching in the Abyss 🌊🌊

Arionus was born in chaos and unknown.

He is the ancestor of water who came from the sea and brought rain to the forest.

However, due to the power of the abyss in his body, he was not allowed to enter the clean and sacred "source" Only Hepheus, like a blazing fire, embraced all His filth and darkness.

This pure memory is woven into the skirt of "Watching in the Tide" that flows like broken silver, and under the crown of clear waves, He is a transparent and pure soul.

the sharp edge of the blue crescent tore through the net of the black tide, and the era of disorder and barbarity in the Sea of ​​Eternal Night ended.

But only Anos knows that the real crisis is still spreading in more secret places. In the end, He decided to use his broken body as a seal to resist the undercurrent of the abyss.

He is not afraid of death, but at least before that, He wants to control his destiny in his own hands.

The surging undertide dyes "The Return of the Tide" a rich dark blue, but the gorgeous color of the skirt is still eye-catching.

This extremely gentle protective will will follow Him and shine brightly in the depths of the sea.

🌊🌊 Design Concept • Watching in the Abyss • Comic 🌊🌊

The abyss invaded Anos's body, but his tears turned into crystal-clear little creatures, like star lamps in the sky, lighting up the quiet sea.

The wandering elves are no longer confused, and the floating lives have gained their souls.

On the sea level with blurred boundaries, [Watching in the Abyss·Comic ] was born.

It contains the joy of rebuilding the underwater kingdom and the hope of ushering in a bright future.

It faces the full moon as brilliant as the rising sun, and the colorful semi-transparent light spots are reflected from the skirt and crown to everyone's sight.

That is probably the color of protection.

.

[leviathanspain]

daemon request please where his sister wife is raped with furious daemon but still soft because he hates seeing her hurt? he vows to not return to her until he kills the nobleman responsible (you can choose if he is a lannister, baratheon etc)

anything for you

warnings: mentions of rape

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: daemon would do anything for you, including killing any man who hurt you.

issa jorrāelagon — my love

ābrazȳrys — wife

avy jorrāelan — i love you

issa dōna hāedar — my sweet girl

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your handmaiden had found you. scarlet blood painted the bottom of your dress. your corset was undone, your hair was tugged, pulled from the surface of your scalp that it had been tightly braided to. you were shivering, almost cold even as the sun was blazing.

“my lady!” she screamed upon seeing you. shea, your handmaiden, had never been one to take note of any abuse from daemon, and certainly not any of this kind of abuse. from what she had witnessed, daemon would never need to take you by force.

you turned slowly, pain running down your spine as you did.

“shea..” you whispered, looking at her before swallowing thickly, “get the maester. don’t alert anyone else.” you demanded, “not the king-“

“but daemon-“ shea began but you shook your head and sharply hissed, “especially not my husband. be discreet, please.” your voice broke on the last word and shea blinked, shocked to see you in this state.

you had been attacked, shea knew that for sure. but shea also knew that daemon would have her head if she didn’t tell him, and you, you would most likely dismiss her, but that was something she was willing to risk.

shea had been lucky to catch both daemon and the maester together, consulting about an old injury of the prince.

daemon raised his eyebrow, “what?” the look on her face was fear, and daemon knew shea was your personal handmaiden.

“the princess. she’s been attacked..” the words felt like an echo, and shea watched as daemon pushed past her, the maester practically running after him.

you gripped the nearby chair and tried your best to pull yourself up. to have to explain this to the maester would be one thing, but to daemon…it would be hard.

the door burst open and you felt your stomach drop to the ground as daemon walked in.

he bent down on his knee upon the sight of you, and reached out carefully to move the hair from your face.

“y/n…” he looked at the state of you and you could see it broke him to even witness it.

“what happened..y/n, please tell me..” daemon had never begged anyone for anything, but this, was something he would bend the knee for. you, you were his everything.

you shook your head and looked down in shame, “i’m sorry.” you sniffled, “he..he attacked me. im ruined, im unclean, im not pure.” you whispered, tears running down your face. you could feel daemons anger rolling off of him, yet he was quiet as he spoke to you.

since childhood, you were promised to your brother, and since then, it’s only been daemon, and now…

daemon shook his head, “tell me who hurt you, y/n. i swear to you, i swear on the crown that sits upon my brothers head that i will kill this man, slice his head clean off with dark sister.”

daemon’s words were far away as you thought. you were in a lot of pain. bleeding, you felt dizzy, the loss of blood was beginning to hit, and you lifted a hand to the maester.

daemon held his up and looked at you, “his name, issa jorrāelagon please.”

“borros.” you groaned, the pain was stinging at your flesh and you were crying now, “borros did this to me. he said this was revenge for father not promising him my hand..” you cried, “finally having his targaryen bitch, he said.” you felt incredibly defeated, and you slumped into the wall.

daemons fury was losing its control, and he stood up from you, snapping the maester to haste as he stood up, leaving you in good care.

days passed. there had been no word from daemon and although you had been up and walking, feeling better now, you were getting worried sick for daemon.

your handmaiden walked into your room and she waited by the door as you turned to beckon her.

“shea, what’s the matter?” shea looked at you and she smiled happily, “the prince has returned.”

you smiled and walked past her and the door and practically ran down to the throne room, where he was being received by viserys.

as you walked in, the discussion between the two didn’t lapse and you listened intently as you made your way to daemons side.

“and why did you kill borros baratheon?” viserys was rubbing his temples as he waited for an answer.

“because he raped me, brother.” you answered for daemon, who looked at you with an unreadable expression. you walked a bit ahead of daemon and stood before viserys.

“i had been alone, sitting at one of the high balconies waiting for daemon when borros came, he assaulted me-“

daemon interrupted you, “ābrazȳrys-“ you held up a hand and daemon quieted.

“i was bleeding for days. the maester said that it would be difficult to conceive heirs, but not impossible, after the damage borros did.” you swallowed thickly, mouth feeling dry, “daemon rushed to my aid, and he vowed not to return until borros baratheon was dead.” you finished your explanation and viserys looked at you, nodding, “my apologies, dear sister.”

you walked back to daemon and interlaced an arm with his, “thank you, brother.”

daemon and viserys shared a nod of understanding and you took daemon away.

as you exited the throne room, you pulled daemon aside and you looked up at him.

“avy jorrāelan, daemon. thank you, for doing this for me.” you grabbed his cheek gently and kissed his cheek.

daemon smiled, “anything for you, issa dōna hāedar.” he kissed your lips now, gently, like you were glass he didn’t want to break.

you understood him, but you grabbed his hands and put them on your backside, and daemon took the hint enough to grip the flesh of your ass roughly, earning a giggle from your mouth.

[marksbear]

Yooo mark. It was pretty fun. I was in cabo for a week so I was just relaxing. And in general my body was just messed up could be allergies but just kept sneezing so could be that. And I found it. Just doesn't pop up when I scroll through your account but just the little recommendations when you finish a fic all the way on the bottom. Kinda weird. But I have a idea for another sub prince steven. So I remember at the bottom of the 2nd fic reader says fucking on the throne. You get where am coming from right. So I was thinking that they take the thrones to go get cleaned and fixed up. And reader and steven are exploring the castle together and they find it in a empty room all fixed up. So reader sits down and starts pretending to act like he is king already. And Steven is standing in front of him saying all the things will happen once they become officially king and king. But then reader gets a idea and start commending steven to take off his clothes slowly and start dancing in front of him. Then once he did that reader says to suck him off so steven can ride him on the throne. And while steven is sucking him off leads to him humping readers foot and then rides reader and reader says how he can't believe how his fiancé is acting and how slutty he is acting for his lover. -50%🐻‍❄️

SUB PRINCE STEVEN GRANT X DOM PRINCE READER

"Oh lords above..." One of the maids breathes out as she looks at the condition of the old thrones.

Groups of maids and guards were inside an old throne room looking at the two thrones that needs to be cleaned and fixed for the upcoming crowning of prince L/n.

"These are the thrones your father requested my lord." A guard says turning around looking at the prince not even questioning why the moon prince was so close to him.

The prince of the sun nodded his head before saying "Yes indeed. Sadly though I wished to have a new one a fresh start."

"My prince, you of all people should know that your father wants to keep every royal piece alongside its memories. And it gives you luck and courage from all the kings who sat on that very throne." The guard says turning back around to the throne taking his attention off the prince.

The son prince turns his head to his secret lover Steven rolling his eyes at the lecture as the moon prince giggles.

"I guess you're right. What about my mothers old throne? Will it grant my future king good luck?" Y/n asks nudging his arm against Steven's.

"That throne will grace him with all the knowledge, consideration and loyalty. The former queens and kings shall be looking down upon you both guiding. The same guard answers causing a smile smile to crawl onto Steven's lips.

The prince of the son leans into his lover kissing him deeply as soon as eyes are off of them. Steven jerks back from surprise but nonetheless a smile still on his face.

The kiss caught Steven so off guard, but he shared the kiss back on the corner of Y/n's lips.

"We shall work on this all day your highness, so it would be about done in noon or so." A different guard says as him and a few other's pick up the throne.

"Very well then. Me and my fiancé shall be leaving you all be." Y/n says taking Steven's arm leaving the room as the servants in the room bow their heads bye.

TIMESKIP

"How can you live with everything being so hot and bright?" Steven questions as him and Y/n walk around the kingdom hand in hand.

Y/n giggles at the question and looks to the side looking Steven in the eye.

"Well, just like animals the royal bloodline and its people adapt to the blazing heat. As well as the bright colors our eyes adapt to that as well." Y/n answers before adding.

"But I wish in the future since both our kingdoms would be at peace and rule a conjoined kingdom together us and our people would enjoy warm and cool weather." Y/n smiles as he moves his hands on Steven's waist pulling him in.

"You always like to think about us in the future..." Steven says as he looks up into Y/n's warm eyes. Y/n closes the distance between them kissing Steven passionately. Steven quickly melts into the kiss wrapping his arms around Y/n's shoulders.

The two princes stay like that for a while in each other's arms swapping kisses back and forth until they need to breathe. Y/n pulls away from the kiss, but he rests his forehead against Steven's.

Sharing one more quick kiss the two princes pull away from each other standing in front of the other with so much need.

"Lets keep moving before we end up fucking in this hallway." Y/n breathes out as Steven lets out a giggle nodding his head in agreement. Steven hooks his arm with Y/n as they continue exploring together.

TIMESKIP

"Is there a room you haven't been in already?" Steven asks teasingly as Y/n opens a new door.

"Ahh- This one." Y/n walks inside pulling Steven inside with him. Steven closes the door behind both of them before looking around the rooms.

"How come the throne is in here?" Steven questions looking at the fixed up king throne.

"My father likes to surprise me. Even though he fails miserably every time. So he changes the location of the thrones to surprise me." Y/n answers already used by his father antics.

Y/n walks up the throne sitting down on it spreading his legs like all the kings have done. "Your king before you had summoned you I order you to come closer." Y/n says as Steven quickly follows his wish.

"Don't you know how to greet your king?" Y/n questions.

Steven bows his head as he moves his arms to his back. Y/n smiles before raising his hand up signaling Steven to ease.

"What business do you have to tell me?" "That we'll win wars side by side once we both become king and king. That both our people would be throwing festivals for weeks in honor of us." Steven says with a smile.

"That we can do anything without people stopping us. And even if they dare to say something I know my king would have their head for it in a heartbeat" Steven adds watching Y/n bite back a smile.

"We'll be the strongest and smartest nations in the land. And that we will be having the best heir of all time." Steven adds.

With that Steven bows his head signalling to Y/n that hes done.

"Strip for your king." Y/n commands. Steven looks into Y/n's dominant eyes, so he knew that Y/n was serious. Steven worked his hands to his vest taking it off drooping it onto the floor, before his hands went up to his shirt uniting the laces to it before slowly moving his hands down to the hem of the shirt pulling it up from his body.

Steven sways his body around dancing suggestively as he takes off his shirt. Once the shirt is gone he moves his hands down to the band of his pants unbuttoning them and taking them off slowly.

As Steven took off his pants the boner inside his underwear stuck out. Steven could feel Y/n's hard eyes staring at his clothed cock as he finished taking off his pants. Steven swayed his hips around showing off what he had.

Moving his hands to the band of his underwear he slowly pulls them down letting his hard cock fly free.

Stepping out of his underwear Steven stands in front of Y/n fully naked.

"Suck me off." Y/n says his next order. Without hesitation Steven kneels down in between Y/n's legs hands already working on his pants unbuckling them and pulling them down.

Steven pulls Y/n's pants and underwear down only to the point that Y/n's full cock is out. Steven looks up at Y/n for permission.

"Have at." Those simple words Y/n spoke made Steven's body burst with energy and pleasure. Steven pressed a soft kiss to the tip of Y/n's cock before leaving trails of kisses down on it.

After Steven decides that it was enough kisses Steven went back up to the tip of Y/n's cock giving the tip a long lick. Swirling his tongue around Y/n's cock before taking the tip inside his mouth sucking onto it.

Moving his head up and down on Y/n's tip he looks up into Y/n's eyes.

Bobbing his head down he takes more length into his mouth. Y/n moved one of his hands off the arm rest moving it on top of Steven's head caressing his hair. Pushing down on Steven's head Steven deep throats Y/n's cock choking and gagging onto it. Steven looks up into Y/n with tears falling from his eyes.

Without even knowing Steven's body takes control as he humps his cock onto Y/n's foot. Y/n pulls Steven head off his cock letting him catch his breath.

A trail of spit followed Steven's lips to Y/n's spit covered cock. Steven began to rut his hips into Y/n's foot faster.

Taking his cock back inside his mouth Steven bobs his head up and down on his length choking on Y/n's cock. Steven moaned around Y/n's cock as he moved his hands to Y/n's leg holding onto it tightly.

Steven could feel Y/n's cock twitch inside him, so he began to lick around Y/n's cock. The grip on Steven's hair grew tighter as Y/n felt his orgasm nearing.

Soon Y/n started to thrust into Steven's mouth as he held Steven down on his cock. Steven's law hanged open as Y/n fucked his mouth.

Moans started to fall from Y/n's lips as he feels the knot in his stomach tighten.

"I'm close! Fuck!~ I'm about to cum." Y/n warns as he moved Steven's head up and down on his cock.

The hold on Steven's hair loosened as Y/n came deep inside Steven's cock. Steven began to choke and gag, but still tried to swallow as much as he could. Steven's own cock ached and twitched as he held back his orgasm.

Y/n pulled Steven's head off his cock as his mouth hung open. As Y/n calmed down from his orgasm he tapped his knee signalling Steven to climb up on him. Steven quickly climbs on Y/n's lap. Y/n used fingers to spread open Steven's hole. Y/n used his other hand to take his cock aiming his cock to Steven's entrance.

Y/n slowly pushed the tip inside before pulling both his hands away laying them back down on the arm rest. Steven held onto both sides of Y/n's shoulders as he moved into Y/n's lap straddling him.

Steven rolled his hips back and forth on the tip of Y/n's cock as he lets out moans.

Sinking down Y/n's cock Steven held onto his breath as he threw his head back from the length inside him. Once Steven was on the base of Y/n's cock he sat there grinding his hips back and forth.

"Can I please kiss you my king?~" Steven questions with a moan escaping his lips.

Y/n nods his head yes before Steven kisses him messily. Steven's hands ran up from Y/n's shoulders holding onto Y/n's cheeks as they makeout. Steven began to litter kisses everywhere on Y/n's face before moving his tongue exploring Y/n's mouth with Y/n's own tongue doing the same. Y/n opened his mouth to speak, but from Steven's eagerness Steven's tongue stayed inside Y/n's exploring every inch.

Steven finally pulls away from the makeout session they just had looking at the mess he made.

"Next time you deiced to kiss me like that make sure your wearing lipstick.~" Y/n teases with a smirk. Steven nods his head yes even though his thoughts is clouded by lust and pleasure.

Steven began to raise up his hips before dropping them back down riding Y/n's cock slowly. Picking up speed Steven bounced up and down on Y/n's cock as he moved his hands back to his shoulders.

"I can't believe it~ My fiancé is acting like this. " Y/n teases as Steven rides his cock.

Steven pulls his hips almost all the way out only the tip staying inside him before slamming back down on Y/n's cock repeatedly over and over again. Y/n began to thrust up into Steven meeting him halfway every time he thrust.

Steven's mouth hung open as loud moans and cries escapes his mouth.

Steven tried to speak, but every time he tried his words didn't form only becoming moans and whimpers.

"Poor boy~ Your king's cock made you so stupid that you can't even think straight." Y/n degrades from Steven failed tries to speak.

Steven started to ride Y/n faster holding onto Y/n's shoulders clawing on the fabric and ripping through some pieces. Y/n deiced to help Steven by moving his hands on Steven's hips pulling him up and down on his cock.

"No one would believe me if I tell them that the youngest moon prince is a slut for his fiancé. How much of a slut he is following every order that his lover gives them." Y/n says as he abuses his hole with his cock.

"Don't you have an event that you and your family are attending today? The common folk would create rumors and question why the prince is walking with a limp." Y/n teases imagining what would happen.

With everything Y/n was saying Steven wanted to cum so bad. But he wanted to hear Y/n to tell him to. No he wanted Y/n to command him.

"I order you to cum with me. We are gonna cum together." Y/n tells him as he fucked Steven deeper with his cock abusing his prostate.

Steven nodded his head yes as he moaned out loudly. With a few more thrust Y/n came inside Steven painting his walls white. Steven lets out loud moans and whimpers as he cums hard right after he feels Y/n's cum inside him.

Steven bounces on Y/n's cock harder as he rides out his orgasm as he dirties Y/n's clothes with cum. From the intense orgasm Steven body collapses down on Y/n holding him with his legs and arms shaking.

Y/n buries his cum deep inside Steven as he calms down from his orgasm.

"Good job slut... You did so well for me. Thank you for waiting for my orders." Y/n praises as he presses soft kisses on Steven's cheeks.

Y/n pulls his cock out and lays Steven down on the throne replacing where he was just sitting. Y/n stands in front of Steven looking at the cum leaking out of his hole and leaking onto the throne.

Y/n takes off his jacket and shirt before using his jacket to clean Steven off as well as the throne. Y/n pulled his own shirt on Steven making it look big on him.

"My shirt's a bit oversized on you, but it's alright." Y/n says before taking his jacket and Steven's other clothes off the floor.

"I doubt you want to put your pants and underwear back on. It will be uncomfortable to wear especially after what just happened. Thankfully my shirt covers all your private parts." Y/n says before hooking Steven's arm over his shoulder raising him up from his feet.

"Wha- what about you? You're shirtless." Steven says staring shamelessly at Y/n's chest.

"No one would bat an eye. Remember your question from earlier? It's always hot so no one would look at me wondering why i'm shirtless. Plus I can simply have their heads for looking at me the wrong way." Y/n answers before holding Steven by the hip leaving the room.

Luckily the hallway was empty.

"We are going to my chambers. So the only people who would see us are my personal knights and maids." Y/n says before walking holding Steven tight.

And Y/n was right it was only knights and maids that were out. None paid close attention only some gazes.

Once the two reached Y/n's room Y/n opened the door walking inside with Steven not even caring that his personal maid was inside the room cleaning.

"Blue bell? Would you please get the carriage ready for me and my fiancé. He has an event to attend in the cloud kingdom that I wish to accompany him in." Y/n asks his favorite maid.

She nods her head yes and rolls her eyes before leaving.

Once she left Y/n laid Steven down on the bed. "I hope you don't think I was done. As soon we step inside that carriage i'm fucking you again." Y/n says before stepping away looking inside his extra closet clothes fulled with Steven's.

"Can't wait to see how long you will be quiet in that carriage." y/n teases.

THE END

[hydropyro]

A Dinner Owed

Prologue

“Until we meet again, I wish thee every possible fortune. Health, wealth, love, and above all, problems worth solving.” The recently unretired God of Death said – a goblet of wine held aloft.

Raphael stood at the edge of the party, just outside the glow of the various torches. Milil had seen him and had given him a polite nod in greeting – returned respectfully by the devil across camp – but no other attention was drawn to him yet. He shifted his weight onto his right leg, leaning against the smooth bark of a deciduous tree as he eyed the merrymakers.

“To you.” Jergal toasted, a cheer rose, and everyone lifted their cups before drinking. Though the mingling continued, a few of the attendants began to depart.

First went the drow. Raphael was surprised that she had even attended in the first place. He had no interest in dealing with her directly but followed her work closely. When the Baenre child enacted her plans to collapse the hierarchy of Menzoberranzan, he knew that a feast of souls and of desperate, haughty drow nobles would await his ever-helpful hand.

The gith girl left soon after, proudly declaring that her war needed her swift return. Gith were renowned warriors but so easily brought to heel by their superiors that Vlaakith’s deceit had continued for centuries. Though the Prince of the Comet had made a great personal sacrifice in accepting ceremorphosis on himself, from what Raphael had heard, little Lae’zel was blazing a path through the Astral Sea on her own. Whatever her might, it would not be straightforward to dethrone the Lich Queen –

He kept close tabs on the warrior. When the time was most opportunous he may be inclined to reveal Gith’s location – still alive in Baator. And, once he ruled the Hells, who better to liaison with for her Great Mother’s freedom?

Next to depart was the wizard. Mystra had forgiven the poor sod – for now. Tabs were kept on him, too, though his occupation as a professor made him much easier to track. Raphael had little doubt that the fickle, cradle-robbing Goddess would tire of her twisted plaything, leaving Mr. Dekarios in desperate need of a savior with enough magic to feed the voracious orb in his chest. Conveniently, Raphael would be able to provide – given a reasonable trade.

Karlach and Wyll Ravengard, now dubbed the Blade of Avernus, would linger for as long as Jergal would allow. He did not need to keep track of them; rather, his troops had strict orders to stay well out of their warpath. They were a mild inconvenience now, and hopefully, they would gratefully fall into their place once Zariel was deposed. They would be welcome to stay in his Avernus if they chose to, but he would not tolerate their massacring his armies.

He had continued work in Baldur’s Gate as he had around the rest of Toril, still gathering souls. The Karsite Weave may not need them, but having the extra power at his force’s disposal was welcome. And, in keeping with his deal with the adventurers, the Crown stayed securely tucked away – still on his person, of course – but not in use when he did what he did best.

In his visits to the city over the few months following the resolution of the Absolute Crisis, he’d heard tell of a nighttime vigilante cutting down the criminals of the city left otherwise free to wreak havoc by the corrupt lawmakers.

The spawn would be getting his warm and fuzzy feelings by playing hero for a time – but Raphael need not put any effort into tracking his whereabouts or goings on. Eventually, likely sooner than most would wager, he would see Astarion again – when the vampireling sought him out in a bid for the sun. The longer he held out, the more likely it would be that Raphael could deliver – and deliver more completely – but of course, the price would also be higher as time wore on and the devil’s power grew. With the first violet hues painting the early morning sky, the night-bound spawn had taken his leave to retreat into the dark.

The Sharran turned Selunite was so low on his radar that she’d apparently left without his notice. Aside from her soul, she had little to offer the scheming devil, and given all she’d already put it through with Shar, he was sure she would be reluctant to wager it.  All he knew of her time post-Crisis was that she and her parents were traveling. As long as they didn’t get in his way, he had no further interest.

The former archdruid also left early despite being well into his cups. Raphael had not returned to Reithwyn since meeting with the band of heroes at Last Light and was truly looking forward to seeing how the land had changed.

Oh, how he had reveled in the perverted shadow over the land and in the many souls he had harvested from the despair it caused. But tragedy was not useful only when the tragedy was taking place. The resolution of tragedy could bear its own bounty of opportunities. The Shadow Curse had laid waste to the region for over a century – and like many wounds, the healing would take much longer than the infliction.

He did not know if the Harper leader would be there, as well, though she had left along with the other druid.

The lumbering Rashimi fighter was keeping the two infernally damned companions busy for the moment. Raphael was sure the hamster had spotted him across the clearing, though it seemed that the rodent had not made this knowledge known yet to the Rashimi nor the pair drinking merrily with him and dancing to Milil’s enchanting music.

This left Raphael’s true target on their own, sitting for the moment, their mind no doubt hazy in their celebratory imbibing. He started toward them, meeting eyes with Jergal, who impassively looked on for a moment, and rested a hand on Tav’s shoulder while taking the half-full goblet from their other hand. Still near the edge of the party space, the remaining companions had not noticed him.

Continue

[lesbianslvt666]

scarlett sun

Demigod!Ellie x Human!reader

The song of Achilles x the first disciple inspired au!

Angst?

cw: major character death, Mentions of gore and war

Ellie never thought about you the way she thought about her path. Obscure thoughts of greatness came like crashing waves on the tormented ocean.

She knew she ought to become more than her mare physical form, she wasn’t like no other human, she was better than them, still, she thought of you as the brightest light in her life.

A light that sent to sleep years of growing pain, years of loneliness. You were the only one for her, greater than the sea, brighter than the sun.

Her only love.

Ever.

But she couldn’t just let it go, the screams of the people, cheering for her after winning the battle, after ending the lives of those who never stood a chance on her presence.

Your heart aching with the same passion her own carried, her fiery veins carried blue blood that came with incredible strength, the fastest state of being, efficient enough for battle.

You loaded the aftermath of those nights. Painful aches all over her, for she had still a human like body, her virtues hurt her bones, teared her flesh and stretched to brake her muscles, there was no way around, everything need a valance and for her, that was pain.

She killed with awareness her mind chased down, crimson mirrors of blood, pools she entered knowing damn well what she was there for.

And damn her for she didn’t wanted to hurt.

Nor them

Nor her.

But mostly not you.

Never the less, the thirst for applause was greater than the torture it meant. Praises of her name rushed to her head, drugging all capabilities of stopping, not turning back.

And so you conform to the agony of seeing her like that, she won't stop.

she can't.

too stubborn to think of herself like the saviour of this people, and even if the tales told her story as the glory of a girl who fought till they win, the end didn’t end with her being praised, the prophecy talked about her clock worked death, chaos and blood would fall heavy and hot upon the ones who spilled crimson tears to each other.

And sorrow would follow her tortured lover.

Her glory would follow after her agonising decay, no human would ever be able to feel that much hurt in such long time, and to purify her for her sins, to sit on the throne above humans, she would endure it.

Her only regret.

She has to lose you, her only, her everything, she was going to give you up.

And you knew.

And she was aware that you did.

But why was you still here with her, mending her wounds, taking her seemingly fragile body in your worked hands, curing her the way only you could.

She hated how much you loved her, how passionately, an intensity that mirrored her own.

But how come a human can feel this deep? This desperately? This immensely?

The intensity of you roaring heart burnt her every time she thought of the end, your blazing love powered by a blinding admiration and understanding, you both lost everyone but yourselves, however, Ellie still found the joy in the blaring people.

And if it wasn't for the fact that you are always there, she would've already choose them.

She would've chosen the earthly glory.

Thankfully you never left, to her dismay, she was horrified for what she would make you go through, but when you hold her like she was all it ever existed, the answer to all unknown, the reality written in the stars she felt real.

She felt human

And when you kiss her like she means more than her future, like she is completely and only ever your lover, her hands can't keep to herself.

She is always eager to return the effort you give her, wondering hands and igniting chests, booming against each other for any ounce of friction.

And in the love filled nights she would only ever think of you, you on her mind, creating only thoughts of you.

It was her favourite moments.

But happiness don’t last forever, and as the sun emerged with her orange colours that tinted all around, so did the ground beneath, red hues crowned the white sand underneath.

When your eyes opened wide in fear for the screams that encountered the heavy scarlet droplets of an unexpected battle.

Ellie was already out.

And so you adorned your body in fabric, no time to protect you with an outside shell.

You ran outside, for something told you this was the end.

And maybe if you could chase her down, scape down the rivers and head to the north.

Hell you might as well scape earth, you would try.

But she won't follow, you thought that the physical scape could free her from a spiritual realm.

And you almost had her, you really did, wide eyes of surprise lightened you with bright desire from the deepest parts of yourself to her.

Like extending her fire to you.

But that fire was choked down, like a wild animal strangled by a boa, your lungs gave in the pain.

A striking force from behind your back revealed a blade as long as an arm.

The sword cut your flesh so easily like a dagger on paper.

And even if she had unhuman abilities, her running to you wasn’t fast enough.

Your life was draining out of you, like a fast poison purring in your veins, it ached your body in ways you had never felt.

But it wasn’t the blade that was tormenting your chest, it was her eyes, her agitated state to get as fast to you as she could.

But she never did.

She almost felt the warm of your skin leaving behind a grey ghost of your body.

But she couldn’t even touch you for the last time.

They took her first, and left you behind by the sea shore.

Salty water claiming your body.

Salty tears exasperating the wrath Ellie had become.

And when she felt you gone.

When the sea took you in peace…

Like you were theirs.

And not hers…

[collaredattachment]

Classroom Blues

Character: Melissa Schemmenti Word count: 3,310 Warnings: Car accidents, panic attacks, PTSD Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters. Every single kid stops what they’re doing. --- It’s never been so frightening to look out the window

“That’s looking great, Noah!”

You smile over his shoulder, and he beams back at you before returning to his crayons.

Second graders are so easy to please.

You walk past him to get a look at everybody else’s paper plate dinosaurs. Nathan’s is breathing fire. Tyrone gave his a little princess crown. When you asked, Jamila said hers is ‘a apatopasaurus’ and that she refuses any further comment.

Fantastic work, overall.

It’s looking mighty fine outside too; the day is stretching into afternoon, and the sun blazes into the art room, etching on the walls the shadows of the easter bunnies the first graders had made last week.

The clock is slowly ticking towards two, and you’re only fifteen minutes away from a hot McVegan — no tomato, and two hours of the Good Place. Jamila lifts her hand as high as she can and speaks before you can even get to her.

“I’m all done,” she says. Her apatopasaurus is made of three plates instead of one, and the legs have pink pipe cleaners for both claws and a tongue. There’s a little tear drawn beneath its googly eye.

“Oh, wow.” You turn it around and smile at the glitter glue spots drawn on the other side. “This is really great, Jamila. You wanna help me put it on the—“

Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters.

Every single kid stops what they’re doing.

“Look!” Samantha yells and runs to the window. Half the class follows her, crowding in a line to catch a glimpse. God’s mercy that most of them are too short to see past the supply shelf. It offers you no such protection, though.

Just by the crossing outside, a black car is crushed against a DHL truck. Must have been going way outside the speed limit; you’re barely allowed to hit 40 out there because of the kids. The left side is completely collapsed around the truck’s hood, but you can see the driver just fine from here.

Dead.

He’s dead.

You snap into action.

“Hey, come on,” you say and start herding them away from the windows. “The ambulance guys will handle it, okay? Let’s get back to work.”

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, like you’re speaking into a bottomless tunnel. The kids don’t seem to hear you either. More likely they’re just not listening because they’re eight-year-olds and most of them haven’t had time to even think about death yet.

They haven’t been to a funeral on a perfectly sunny day, just like this one.

Haven’t hung upside down by their seatbelt in a upended car.

Or seen how broken glass mangles a face.

Stop.

You blink yourself back into the here-and-now. Your knees are already beginning to feel weak, ready to buckle under the slightest strain.

Just breathe. Ten years of practiced technique, honed to perfection. Breathe.

For the kids, if not for yourself.

The minute hand on the clock ticks over to fifty-three. A few kids, the same ones who always put the watercolors back where they belong once they’re done, were kind enough to head back to their seats, but that still leaves you with eight children glued to the glass, watching the driver get dragged out of the car. He’s dropped onto the pavement. Someone’s trying to resuscitate. You can tell from here that it won’t work.

“Okay, I mean it this time.” You try to cover your trembling voice, to apply the gentle authority you’d seen Barbara pull a thousand times. They don’t move an inch. Maybe it’s the gulf of difference in experience, maybe it’s just Barbara being Barbara, or maybe they can tell that you’re afraid.

You sigh and peel the kids off the window one by one and escort them into their seats. Inelegant. Methodical. Your limbs function outside your jurisdiction in a world entirely of their own. When you bring your hand to hover in front of your face, it feels lightyears away, a limb puppeted without its master.

You can still feel crumbled glass embedded between the creases of your palm.

Breathe, damn it.

“Who was that guy?” Jamila asks even after you’ve sat her back down by her dinosaur.

“I don’t know, buddy.” You brush cardboard clippings off her shorts and onto the floor. The fabric is void of feeling under your prickling fingers. “But I’m sure they’ve called an ambulance. They’ll take care of it.”

Sure enough, when you glance at the road, Janine is buzzing around the truck driver, her phone already glued to her ear.

The bell rings at last. The kids yell out in joy and their wave of conversation washes you back ashore for a second. They grab their bags, forget their plates and stickers and markers, and are out the door in record time. They’re so excited.

You can’t tell them to slow down, to stop, even, until the commotion outside is finished. You can’t do anything but stand still and listen as their voices ebb away into just an echo.

Pills. Where are your pills.

You stumble to your bag and search it with trembling, unsure hands, like fingers against a jammed car door, dipping into the seams to tear the whole thing off if you have to. You throw your keys on the table, same as your wallet, your planner, your lighter, and a handful of stray pens; all of them in a heap that slips over the edge and to the floor. You turn the whole bag inside out, but can’t find the pill bottle.

Your chest is getting tighter, heavier, like the spaces between your ribs are stuffed with cotton, like you’re trapped under a ten ton truck careening off the highway uncaring of casualties.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

You can’t breathe, that’s the whole fucking problem.

The room is empty. Your only companion is the sun, and even she’s about to dip behind the buildings on the other side of the street.

You fall to your knees, grasping at the collar of your shirt, your fingers far too stiff, too jittery to undo one single button. You tear them open anyway. One flies under the shelf, like a body clean through the windshield. He said he didn’t need the seatbelt; it was such a short trip anyway. His legs were bent wrong six times over down in the ditch.

The world becomes muffled, stuffs your ears with ringing to keep you from hearing your own scratchy, frightened heaves for air. To save you the fear. The shame. You claw at your throat, at your chest, hoping you might dig out the chunk obstructing your windpipe.

You want to scream. So much. You’re mentally holding yourself by the shoulders, begging yourself to keep quiet. You’re in a position of authority. A child sees you like this, it’ll go down to the parents and you’re in trouble. Abbott’s in trouble. You can’t afford that.

You remember the mud staining your shirt when you’d crawled out, your leg broken and your face dripping with blood. You still don’t know if it was yours. Sirens, nearby. A broken airbag. A broken neck.

Blood.

You back up against the wall and your head bangs into the bricks with a sudden jerk, though the pain is nothing, nothing compared to—

A hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in fright, your other arm flying to shield your face. Something hot drips down your cheek, but you can’t bring your fingers up to check, can’t trap yourself in that knowledge.

“Whoa, okay,” someone says. “No sudden touching. Gotcha.” The voice sinks like a rock into deep, dark water, far off and twisted. You can’t move to see who it is, who’s come to watch you in your weakest, most undignified moment.

“I’m gonna take your hand,” they say. “That okay?”

You nod, but the movement is stiff and thick with tension, just like the neckbrace they’d given you, after everything. You had a rash for weeks.

Your hand is enveloped by another, the touch soft, the fingers a little cold. There are rings right above the knuckles: two of them plain bands and one with a big, sharp stone on it. You squeeze the hand hard, hard enough to make the other person groan a thick, hefty ‘ow’.

“Okay. Think you could try and breathe with me? Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

The person doesn’t wait this time. They take a deep breath, exaggerated enough for even you to hear, and then exhale, like wind in the trees on a stormy night when nobody should’ve been driving in the first place.

Your attempt in following them is sad and broken. The air remains trapped in your throat, refusing to flow all the way into your lungs, no matter how you try to wheeze it in or out.

“Good, keep going.”

It’s not even remotely good, not even passable, but you keep it up anyway. In and out, but it’s more like i-i-i-i-in-in-in and ooo-out-o-ooout. This doesn’t deter the person sitting next to you, though. They keep their breathing even and deep, and you follow them, out of pace and rhythm in a one-sided dance where you keep crushing your mystery partner’s toes.

“You’re doin’ real good,” they say, and a thumb is drawn across your knuckles, soft and soothing, free of crusted blood or thick, soupy mud. “Just keep going.

Ain’t no point in rushin’ it, right?”

You do as you’re told. In and out. Your pained attempts slowly start to resemble what the other person is doing, more of a mirror than a reflection in disturbed water. The locked knots in your muscles start unwinding themselves open one by one, and you suddenly find yourself sagging forwards without control.

Arms wrap around your torso and your head knocks into someone’s clavicle instead of the floor. You’re shifted like a living doll into a more comfortable position and your nose buries itself into the nook between the person’s neck and shoulders. You inhale a lungful of syrupy perfume and papaya shampoo.

The clock keeps ticking. The rhythm anchors you, keeps you safely here on the classroom floor where there’s no cars, no highways, no forgotten seatbelts.

“That any better?”

Melissa Schemmenti moves her hand to your back to draw big, smooth circles into your shirt. You manage a dazed, exhausted nod.

The classroom is swimming back into view, bit by bit, color by color. Chairs abandoned where their occupants leapt out of them, craft supplies all over the floor. Tamir forgot his backpack.

“The kids—“

“Are fine,” Melissa says. Her arm slides off your back and around your shoulder instead. She squeezes you tight. “Janine and Gregory were on herding duty.”

“Ok,” you whisper. The clock ticks on, and your stomach dips when you read the face: ten past three.

“You wanna talk about it?” Melissa asks.

The scenery fades in and out, transforms into the woods by the highway and back into an elementary art class in disarray. A mess, both ways. You press your knuckles into your eyes and watch the sparks.

“I’m not sure,” you say.

Melissa nods and clicks open her phone. She shoots someone a text, though you only realize to look away by the time she’s about to write something to Janine.

“Thanks, though” you mumble into the crook of her neck. Your body is dipping straight past relaxed all the way into half-dead. Your fingers feel like spaghetti noodles.

Melissa huffs a laugh. “It’s no trouble.”

You sniff and wipe your cheeks. Apparently you were crying after all.

“How did you find me?”

Melissa puts her phone back in her pocket and you can feel her jaw tighten. She’s thinking.

“I was coming to check on the kids because, well. You know.” She waves her free hand toward the window. “I saw you go down. Fell right off your feet. Scared me to hell, you know.”

You grimace. “Sorry.”

“Pssh,” she says. “Like I said. It’s no trouble.”

You watch the splotch of sunlight, still persistently on the wall. Another hour and it’ll be gone.

You start to peel yourself off of Melissa, pausing mid-movement to wait for the ringing in your ears to ease up, and lean against the wall instead. Melissa, thankfully, keeps her arm around you for support.

“I was in a car accident,” you say.

Melissa’s brow shoots to her hairline when her head whips around.

“It was bad.” You rub your fingers together; a feeble attempt to get some feeling back into them. “I was sitting in the back and my best friend was driving. Her boyfriend was in the passenger seat.”

Deep breaths. In and out.

“They both died.”

“Jesus,” Melissa says, spits the lord’s name in a way that would make Barbara send both of you to sunday school. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, hoping to buy yourself a second of time to stave off any further admission; words you know you can’t keep to yourself right now but ones you’re embarrassed to admit regardless. “I can’t even watch tv shows about that stuff ever since. Of course it would find me in the front yard.” You scoff. “Figures.”

Melissa sighs, soft and smooth, so unlike your own strained, barely calmed breathing. “Shit.”

You can’t help the smile. “Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?” she asks.

You give your neck a little roll, wiggle your fingers and your toes. “I think so. I don’t think I can walk just yet, though.”

“That’s all right. My dinner plans can wait a couple minutes.”

Footsteps draw your attention to the hall. Barbara appears in the doorway in her light brown jacket, her and Melissa’s purses both slung over her shoulder. She takes a quick look at you and then stares meaningfully at Melissa, posing a silent question.

Heat floods into your cheeks, your neck, your ears. It could’ve been Janine, could’ve been Gregory, even Jacob, but of course it has to be Barbara Howard, the singlemost composed person in the whole world, who stumbles in on you crying into Melissa’s shoulder.

Her divorce papers were recently filed, though, so if anything, she’s probably very familiar with the feeling.

Melissa mimes ‘five more minutes’ at Barbara, and there’s a silent battle of wills between them, a conversation you couldn’t even begin to understand, after which Barbara sighs with a smile on her face, bows her head and disappears back into the hall.

“You gonna get home okay?” Melissa asks you when the sound of Barbara’s heels has faded.

“Yeah. Usually I bike, but I think I’ll walk home today. I’ll be fine.” Melissa’s face dips into a frown as she very seriously doubts you. There’s no escaping that look, and it only takes you a second to start sweating. You wonder how people actually trying to fight Melissa Schemmenti aren’t immediately recuded to cinders.

“I swear,” you say, and draw a cross over your heart. Melissa smacks her lips and tilts her head as she assesses your woozy, bulldozed self. Apparently you aren’t shaking that bad, because when she straightens herself, she says, “Okay. But.”

You want to groan. A good sign. Your feet are a little closer to ground again.

“You text both me and Barb when ya get home. Is that clear?”

You lift your hand in a salute. “Crystal.”

Melissa laughs, a smoke-worn, throaty sound that pulls you another inch closer to reality.

“Keep that up and no Schemmenti leftovers for you,” she says. “Cheeky little shit.”

She somehow drags a laugh out of you, short and genuine and good, and it’s not like none of this happened, but it lets you put a band-aid on the wound at least.

“I think I could try getting up now.” You try putting a little pressure on your foot, and though your leg doesn’t immediately smack right back to the floor, it does tremble a significant amount. Heat crawls down your neck again as you ask,

“Could you, uh…”

“’Course.”

Melissa gets to her feet with a strained groan and a ‘fuck my fucking knees’, but manages to get herself standing. She offers you her hand and you take it, keeping your free palm firmly against the wall as she pulls you to your feet. It’s an unsteady operation, one that leaves you dizzy and winded, and nearly back on your ass more than once.

Once you’re safely standing, Melissa gathers up the contents of your bag and hands it to you, but only once she’s made sure that you can actually carry it. She holds you by the shoulders all the way to the hall, and doesn’t let go until the door has safely clicked shut. You still keep your hand by the wall, though. Just in case.

“I’ll have to come in early tomorrow to clean up,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t even think about it.”

When you look at her, Melissa is staring you down with the intensity of three suns. Whole solar systems, even. You put your hands up in surrender.

“Only if you’re sure,” you say. It is a relief, you have to admit. Especially if you still have to run to the pharmacy to get your prescription refilled.

“Don’t you worry your li’l head about it.”

She walks you all the way to the entrance, where Barbara is still waiting with a paperback book propped on Melissa’s bag.

“All cleared up, then?” she asks.

“Yup,” Melissa says. Short and sweet. Barbara doesn’t ask any further question, though you doubt it’s from lack of interest. At least Melissa has a dinner story to share, if nothing else.

You all slip out the door, but Melissa stops you there. She looks you over, head to toe, her lips pursed and her hands fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“You sure about this?” she asks. “I could give you a ride.”

You fish your keys from your bag and close your fingers around the one meant for the lock on your bike.

“I’ll be okay. And I’ll text you.”

Melissa raises her brow.

“Both of you.”

The idea of sending Barbara Howard a text of any kind outside a professional environment feels like some kind of a breach of protocol, but Barbara herself doesn’t seem phased. Outward, at least.

Janine is going to lose her mind when you tell her about this.

A cool breeze slides under your thin shirt, and your arms erupt in goosebumps.

“I better get going,” you say, but can’t get yourself to walk over to the bike rack just yet. Your fingernail digs into the notches of the key, and you try to figure out something to say, anything that could put into words just how much Melissa has done for you in one afternoon. In the end, you decide to go with something simple.

“Thank you, Melissa.”

She looks amused, truly like she’s done what anybody else would have. Like it’s nothing. You wonder if she’ll ever know how much it means, even if you tried to tell her.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “It was no trouble.”

How perfectly Melissa of her.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, and with one final wave and a smile goodbye, you start heading for home.

Behind you, once you’re definitely out of range, Barbara turns to Melissa.

“What happened?” she asks.

Melissa watches you clear the crosswalk and waits until you disappear behind the Subway.

“I’ll tell you later, hon.” She presses a kiss to Barbara’s cheek. “First we need to eat. I am too fucking hungry to talk.”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” Barbara gasps, “you watch that tongue of yours.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Barb.”

“Incorrigible,” Barbara mutters and heads for the car. Melissa doesn’t miss the smile on her face.

“Love you too.”

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hey lovely! Dropping that quote in here for you!

“may my heart

be the softest place you fall,

may this love

be the wildest place you run”

What clone boy are you thinking of? Let your inspiration guide you! 💕

Of Heartbreaks and Love

Summary: You're the person Omega runs to when she needs comfort the most.

Warnings: teenage emotions, hurt/comfort, parent!reader & daughter!Omega, reader helping Omega through her first heartbreak

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: okay I know you said 'clone boy' but uhhh my brain wouldn't let this one go, so, here it is! thank you @anxiouspineapple99 for the prompt! <3

This is your favorite part of the day, when the setting sun splashes brilliant colors across the vast, cloud-studded sky, when the fishermen haul in their skiffs and drag ashore the bounty of food snared in their nets, when the gulls caw and cry and swoop overhead. Inhaling the warm, salty air, you lean against the doorframe to your small abode, a peaceful smile playing over your lips. Island life suits you.

Your home is perched at the edge of one of the cliffs on Pabu. Overlooking the rest of the island, it affords you some of the best views you’ve ever had in your life. One of them being the cluster of homes below yours, inhabited by a family of clones and their sister. Ever since they settled on the island, nearly a year ago, you’ve found yourself in their company most nights. By day, you work in your parents’ wood shop; at night, you live your life, unfettered by the Empire and unbothered by the memories of scraping a living out of the shithole planet you left behind. 

Just as the wind nudges along the clouds above you, you allow it to whisk away your thoughts and troubles. Exhaling, you turn your face skyward and let your eyes slip shut, basking in the day’s final sunlight. 

You’re just beginning to muse about how peaceful this moment is when the illusion is shattered. The sound of frantic footsteps slapping against the stone walkway has your eyes fluttering open, a frown tugging at your features. What in the blue blazes...?

Omega bursts past the hedge of bushes that screens your house and sprints up the stone steps before launching herself at you. With a surprised grunt, you stumble, arms snaking around the girl’s shoulders. 

Shoulders that shake with heart-wrenching sobs. Her face buried in your chest, she squeezes you, hot tears soaking your shirt. 

“Omega?” you ask, quiet, tentative. 

She keens, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing.

You press your lips to the crown of her head. “Shh, babygirl, I’ve got you.”

Worry and heartbreak settle like duranium in your bones as you smooth her wild blonde curls. For a long time, you stand in the doorway to your home, rocking in place as you hold the girl you’ve come to see as a younger sister—even as a daughter. A million thoughts flash through your mind, a ship hurtling through hyperspace, but you force them to quiet. You need to be present here, for Omega. 

Eventually her sobs subside to sniffles. When she raises her head to meet your gaze, her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, snot drips from her nose, and her face is splotchy with emotion. It strikes you again that despite her maturity, she really is still a child. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, you ask, “What happened, Omega?” 

Tears well again in those big brown eyes, the ones usually so full of sparkling joy and fiery life. Her lips quiver as she suppresses another sob. “I- I- I was supposed t-to meet a- a friend at th-the docks.” 

“Kai, right?” 

She nods, face twisting with anguish. “Y-Yeah. He- He said he l-liked me, and I like h-him, and it- it was supposed to be a- a- a—” A strangled cry rips from her small frame.

Hugging her closer, you rest your chin on her head. “A date?”

She nods again. 

“What happened?” you ask again. 

“He was kissing a-another girl when I- when I got there,” she stutters out. Then she dissolves into tears once more. 

That heavy and cold duranium in your bones liquefies into something molten and searing, demanding in its anger. You want the boy who hurt your little girl like this to learn a lesson, to understand the consequences of his actions—but as Omega cries into your chest, you realize that she came to you, not her brothers. 

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, letting the scent of saltwater and fish and fresh fruit fill you, you gently extricate yourself from Omega’s grip. Her eyes are full of pain as she looks up at you again, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

“Do you want some tea?” 

She blinks at you. You let her process the question on her own time, remembering all too well your own first heartbreak and how muddled your mind had been. After a moment, she shakes her head. 

“Alright.” You try for a smile. “How about some starfruit?” 

Another shake of her head, her curls bouncing. 

“Want to take the ship and go get some junk food from a nearby system?” 

That makes her laugh. “Hunter wouldn’t like that.” 

You hum. “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much.” Cupping her face in your hands, you dry her cheeks with your thumbs, holding her like you would a porcelain doll: gently, reverently. “He doesn’t know, does he.” 

“No,” she says, grimacing. She lowers her gaze. “I...didn’t want him to get all overprotective.” 

“That’s kind of his job, sweetheart.” You try your best not to say it unkindly. “He worries about you. We all do.” 

Nodding, she frowns. “I know. I just...”

“I get it, ’Mega.” You lower your hands to her shoulders and squeeze. “I know that this sucks, and it hurts, and it’s going to hurt for a while. But you’ve got all of us here who care about you and want you to be happy.”

She begins to cry again. 

“’Mega,” you say, lowering yourself to your knees to look up into her eyes. “Babygirl. You’re okay. It’s gonna be alright.” 

Shaking her head, she screws her eyes shut. “It doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Oh, honey, I know.” You slide your hands down her arms to cup her own in yours. “Feelings are never easy. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?”

“I- I’ll try.” 

“Good.” Your press light kisses to the backs of her hands. “There’s an old saying from my homeworld. ‘May my heart be the softest place you fall, may this love be the wildest place you run’.” 

Brow furrowing, she opens her eyes to look at you. “What’s that mean?” 

“It means...” You take a deep breath, nerves jittering up your spine, tears dewing in your own eyes. “It’s something that parents say to their kids after their first heartbreak. It means I’ll always be here for you. It means I want the best for you. It means...it means I love you.” 

She gulps. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” You let out a watery chuckle, blinking away the tears that blur your vision. “You’re so strong, Omega. You’re going to be just fine.” 

“I believe you,” she says. 

You push back to your feet with a soft groan, feeling the joints pop. Tugging her back into your embrace, the pair of you stand there in the gathering dark, the sun finally having set, the gulls finally having gone to nest, the fishermen back with their families. On the faint breeze, Wrecker’s booming laugh carries up to your ears, the chatter of Omega’s brothers too faint to discern actual words, but comforting in their proximity. In your arms, you feel the girl begin to relax, the deep, steadying breaths she takes.

“I was being serious about the junk food, by the way.” 

Her eyes are hopeful when they meet yours again. “Yes, please.” 

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @deejadabbles @blueink-bluesoul @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @moonlightwarriorqueen @idontgetanysleep @mandos-mind-trick @starrylothcat @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @eyeluvmusic21 @523rdrebel @isthereanechoinhere96 @starqueensthings @ladyzirkonia @sinfulsalutations if I missed anyone pls accept my apologies