#but a half burnt castle is still a castle

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

summary: The reader is Aemond’s new bride, a match fixed some time before Viserys’s death. Daemon’s daughter through Lady Royce navigates through a difficult now into a new chapter of being married to the one eyed prince, council and war.

warnings: daemon being an awful dad, Luke’s death, attachment issues, angst, slow burn, arranged marriage

word count: 5.1k

Part 1. Part 2

-

Worlds changed, dragons spew fire, flowers burnt and flowers bloomed, children born and doomed. Y/n, Daemon Targeryn’s first born through Lady Rhea Royce. A child he had despised ever since her birth, just an extension for his hatred towards Lady Royce in the first place. He could never stand her, having been forced to his duties he hated her even more. He was never around for the aftermath of anything, the rogue prince who knew no bounds. The child wasn’t even half a year old when he mercilessly put an end to Lady Royce. The ‘accident’ left the child at the kindness of pitiful wet nurses and the castle staff.

King Viserys however couldn’t stand such tragedy over and over, he generally refrained from interfering his brother’s life. He did regret his decision of marrying daemon to someone against his will but he could not have anticipated such a harsh counter reaction via Daemon. Especially after the babe, Viserys thought the child could perhaps soften the coldness of their relations but it only got worse. The king wished to seek some atonement at least for the sake of the child. Y/n, the princess, away at the grasslands of Runestone. He arranged for her to live at the red keep, a motherless child with an absent father would do better within her present family. The King’s children through alicent were mere babies themselves. The maids, the kind Queen herself, would do well to look after the infant. After all the red keep was her house just as much as it was Daemon’s despite his grievance towards it. Her dragon too was well looked after through the keeps instead of Runestone staff. Her dragon was just a hatchling as y/n too was a baby herself.

Alicent, younger at the time. The keep’s staff, mastered in squalling babies and fussy infants. Y/n wasn’t a bother at all. Not that she were to remember but Queen alicent was kinder to her than the fates had been, she nursed her like one of her own. Such fondness and softness towards daughters, it was nice enough. At least for a while. Y/n was six by the time daemon had come for Rhaenyra’s wedding, then off with Laena. No familiarity between the six year old y/n and her father. Too young to understand her family setting and Daemon still rancour.

Daemon had two daughters with the driftmark princess, viserys deemed him capable enough to raise y/n then. He decided to send little y/n back to her father, viserys wanted his brother to accept his daughter. Alicent had a smaller voice at that time yet she tried to reason with her husband to let y/n be at the keep. Daemon had to accept his brother’s whim anyways so he did. Viserys was as relieved as Alicent was anxious that y/n was in Pentos. King made the decision in good faith, if only he put a bit more distrust in daemon than he did trust. Daemon was still the same, y/n, still a child and he did nothing to make her feel included or at home. She learnt to keep to herself how she had seen Haelena do. Still quite young to comprehend where all such distaste came from, all these different people, different land. She longed to call a place home, her memories of the red keep, Alicent, the others it kept fading because she was but a baby back then. Her father wouldn’t teach y/n how to ride on dragon back how he did with her half sisters. But y/n had taught it to herself. Watching she learnt, she didn’t have to be told explicitly what to do. She fell a lot, on her face and back but she learnt anyways.

As years passed nothing changed between y/n and her father, her half sisters were company enough time to time but she was always in their orbit and not as close. All until Driftmark, they lost lady Laena. Y/n was in her early teens and she tried to be there for Baela and Rhaena. She stood by their side through their mother’s funeral. She understood the gravity of such tragedy, she lived with that grief all her life for her mother who was a stranger she never even met. But she mourned her longer than she’d known her.

Reunited with Alicent, gaining a distasteful look from Daemon. “You’ve grown so much” Alicent remarked as she pulled the girl into her embrace. Both of them looked so much different from when they last met each other. The girl had distant memory of the queen but her warmth was nicer than she had known anyone else’s. Despite the occasion alicent was brought some peace of mind seeing Y/n, she didn’t look her best but at least not the worst. She didn’t have to ask y/n to know if Daemon spoke to her, if she felt at home. She reintroduced y/n to her children, some of them y/n didn’t even remember through faces if not for name.

“She was such a small babe.” Helaena commented as she greeted the young girl. It had been years since Helaena had seen her. Aegon and Aemond just stood with disinterest, Aemond trying to mask it otherwise regardless.

After the tragedy that was which followed Laena’s death upon the nightfall of her funeral. Aemond’s eye was taken and it was a rather gruesome unfolding. A night which left a permanent distance between families. A mark which shaped Aemond for years to come.

As the years followed, dragonstone proved to be just as dreary and awfully lonely for y/n. None of her half siblings were her own or ever treated her as such, unsolicited kindness was all she would get here and there and she had accepted surviving it. Thinking of lives far away, a place where life would begin. But it was perhaps never. As King Viserys’s health worsened the queen and hand took matters into their own hands bit by bit.

The queen, declared that it is but the king’s wish for Aemond to be married with y/n, Daemon’s firstborn. Viserys was asked about it, surely, his decision was firm and wearily elated about the marriage so what does it matter who pitched the thought as long as the king agreed. Aemond was agitated. He did not want it, at all. For the ever present and abiding Aemond he had a rift with the thought of marriage to y/n. But he kept his shortcomings to himself.

Even more so mortified was y/n, she didn’t remember how exactly was her childhood at the red keep but she did recall that ever since driftmark, that family would surely not have a soft heart for her. “Father please don’t-please don’t make me do this” she pleaded Daemon.

“It is the King, my brother’s wish.” Daemon said in a disregard of her wish, surprisingly he was fine with his brother’s second hand wish too. Daemon was aware that the Hightower queen and Otto is who pulled all the strings and his brother was a bed ridden king but this was a decision in his favour as long as he could be rid of y/n.

“You cannot marry me off like this!” She exclaimed, for someone who rarely expressed thoughts to daemon. Something she learnt in all those years with being met with cold shoulder all of life, she had to fight for her life as of now. “Not to Aemond, please father please, I do not know any of them-“

“You do. You have spent most of your childhood at the hip of that Hightower queen you will be just fine.” Daemon scoffed with a bit of condescension in his voice. Indifference as he referred to Alicent.

“I do not remember them” y/n tried to reason, any wet nurse could show sympathy to a high born motherless child she did not account to be in a marriage with that sympathy at this stage in her life. “They are complete strangers, father, please I will stay wherever you ask please don’t marry me off!”

“You are of age, y/n. This is a fitting decision for you!” He exclaimed with growing irritation at this conversation, daemon never paid mind to her moreover chose not to and hence he had expected her to show nothing but compliance.

“For me or for you?” She asked with a bitter huff looking away from her father already losing hope in this conversation, she couldn’t stomach this decision without letting him know her repulsion of it. “You are so eager to wash your hands off of me as if I have ever wronged you, all my life, I’ve never asked for anything-“

“Haven’t you?!” Daemon said loudly, his rage visible in his tone “The fact that you exist is asking too much of me as it is. You are an awful reminder and a mistake. I have been subjected to duty and honour and it is only fair if you are too. It is your duty, if not to me then to the King.” With that the door was slammed as the rogue prince walked out, an ironic vision of her life.

A bitter goodbye and an uncertain life with little to no hope y/n was set for the red keep, glancing back at dragonstone for one last time. She didn’t know if she held any homely softness for that place in her heart but she presumed the life which awaited her would be more dreary than the stone.

The wedding was an intimate affair, a small ceremony but still a lot of strangers y/n had never seen. Daemon refrained from attending but it was no surprise. She was met with warmth and affection from her mother in law and her family but not her husband to be, they were all a strange set of people down here in the south from the maids to the king himself who didn’t even sit on the throne yet made decisions.

Even the most beautiful flowers would wither away at the heavy heart of the new bride of new title, the princess. She couldn’t stand her person she was becoming or moreover the mere idea of what she had to be. Aemond wouldn’t even share the same bad as her, almost every night for the first week. He’d rather sleep on the sofa or some nights he’d just never return from wherever he wandered off to.

Barely getting the grasp of it, small domestic solaces just everytime she was with Halena and her mother in law, tending to her niece and nephew. The only time she felt less alone but she was familiar with the loneliness, that wasn’t the problem. It was the nerve wrecking confusion and uncertainty that followed after, eating her alive every night that she would lay. Within strangers now, she felt a stranger to herself too.

Days passed, circumstances arose: the king fell. Aegon was declared the king, a restless unease of an upcoming war. The hand’s very first decision was passing daemon’s seat on the council to y/n. “What?” She asked wide eyed as the hand and queen pitched it to her. “Why, me? I’m not even that learned…” she trailed off.

“You spend most of your time in the library, you happen to have a knack for reading. I’m assuming you can write too?” Otto questioned, if more number of people on the council were his own to mould and speak for the rule would be so much easier.

“Yes but just letters and scrolls..” she trailed off with a sigh, it was rather strange they would approach her for something as important as the council in the first place.

“We need sharp mind of a soft heart on the council.” Alicent said as she caressed her daughter in law’s cheek, with a smile to put some confidence in her. Despite her father’s motives of having y/n on the council, Alicent believed y/n would prove to be rather fruitful and genuine.

“It is also your birthright, through your father’s seat on King Viserys’s council. It is only right if you were to be a part of it.” Otto added in an encouraging manner. The pieces were being set already, as the blacks were processing their own steps.

They had Aemond set to go meet lord Dorros the very next morrow, with a bribe of the crown’s coin and loyalty. The forces set, Aegon’s coronation done. Just one last afternoon council left. Aegon, riding the high of his coronation wasn’t present in this one.

Everyone took their respective seats, it was an eventful morning’s slow afternoon. The coronation was as eventful as it was unpleasant with the beast beneath the boards. Sending out scrolls to other lords, the council discussed it. Y/n didn’t say anything, just listening. Writing out the needed scrolls, Alicent quietly remarked her beautiful hand at the words.

The door slammed open as Aemond entered, he was enraged at his wife’s seat on the council. “Aemond.” Alicent said as the room stiffened.

“What is this?” He asked with as his brows furrowed, he felt very wronged and partially frustrated that his lady wife had a seat on the council above him.

“It’s a meeting.” Otto declared as he looked back from the board back to Aemond, “Not yet done, what is your business here?”

“What is she doing here?” Aemond inquired as he leant over a chair, more belonging in this room than anyone else. Especially his wife, he thought to himself the other members with an awkward look on their face.

“She has a seat extended on the king’s council after her own father, daemon.” Otto filled him in on the subject, visibly disinterested.

“Daemon’s claim on the council died with my father’s death. She holds no such extension.” Aemond reasoned calmly, very much opposed to the irritation rising inside him.

“I’m still a hand to the king aren’t I? Your mother is on the council. Lord Tyland-“ Otto replied back but was interrupted by Aemond midway before he made his point.

“None of them sworn against Aegon. Daemon has called for the pretender hence his seat on this council holds no significance.” Aemond scoffed looking down at his wife who sat, scrolls lay in front of her and a pen in her hand. She felt overwhelmed with such necessary distaste, the hand to the king and queen mother herself asked her to join the council yet Aemond had an issue. It’s not as if she were to act against the interest of the crown or make big decisions to begin with.

“She is the princess. Your lawfully wedded wife, in the eyes of the gods and all the members of this very council and more. Despite Daemon’s treachery and your incoherent jealousy she belongs here.” Otto said breaking Aemond’s mouth, he knew which nerve to exactly hit. Saying Aemond was jealous, of his lady wife’s seat in front of everyone. It was enough to send him seething back and he was right. With a huff as he stared down at y/n, he turned to his heel at left.

Everyone had their accustomed part with a potential war brewing. Aemond had to leave to meet lord borros next morning. Y/n assumed he would be calculating and supposedly busy with his task at hand yet he found time to cause a scene at the council. Y/n knew that nobody on the council saw her as a threat because they all knew of daemon’s indifference for her. The black sheep. In truth she didn’t owe her father any loyalty either so their calculations were correct, her husband however.

She planned to avoid him regardless, spending the rest of the day with the twins, Helaena talking her ear off about her fixated spider and y/n loved that too. Jaehaera was playing with y/n’s hair, adding her toys into it making improper braids. Jahaerys running in circles and hoarding his toys in y/n’s lap as she enjoyed a conversation with their mother.

Alicent walked in, for a moment just taking in the domesticity of the scene. The serenity, the girls laughing. It was rather rare before y/n to see Helaena at peace like this. She entered with a soft knock greeting everyone and she took a seat next to y/n, “Children you must retire your auntie now, it’s rather late!”

“It’s alright mother, it’s not that late.” protested, Haelena she enjoyed y/n’s company as much as the whining children, Jaehaera caged y/n in her tiny arms from her back to not let her go. However through alicent’s hesitant eyes y/n realised she must have some sort of business to discuss.

“Forgive me my loves I am growing a bit tired…but I’m not going anywhere I’d be back soon enough!” She said with a sigh as she kissed the twins goodbye, both of them a bit protestant but let her go eventually. “Good evening, Helaena.” She smiled and bid her goodbye as well and exited with her mother in law.

After they were out in the hallway, secluded of other ears Alicent proceeded “Are you alright?”

“Yes, your grace” y/n replied with a non hesitant nod, in an instant with a smile confused why would that question come up.

“Mother.” She corrected her stopping on her way to turn to face her.

“-Mother.” Y/n said with a soft smile rephrasing her title.

“After…today’s council. You have been avoiding Aemond?” She asked searching for y/n’s dreary eyes.

“No-that is not the case” y/n shook her head trying to formulate a better answer given she hadn’t asked that question to herself. Because in a sense she was avoiding Aemond. “I—“ she breathed “I am rather anxious.”

“Of what? Does he speak to you in an ill manner? Do you wish for me to talk to him?” Alicent inquired concerned for her hesitation of Aemond’s lashing out or whatever it was she was trying to avoid.

“No-no it’s not that…I just feel guilty. He wants an authority, his opinion to be heard at council level and I get that place before him, we’re not at the best terms to begin with and now he must be cross with me” Y/n explained her worry with a sigh.

“And? It is your right, y/n.” Alicent said as she took her hand into hers in an affirming way, “you must never feel guilty for claims that are solely yours.” She explained, “as of Aemond, he can be difficult sometimes, but I assure you he isn’t malevolent. He loves you.”

The Queen mother’s assurance felt it came from a place of gentle constitution and the motherly naïveté of overlooking some things but y/n was more than aware that Aemond did anything but love her. She was familiar with lack of warmth, affection, just so far from it she could almost find strange ways to dwell in it. It was an emotion she knew for so long, from her father’s house to her husband’s, bricks of her old life and no love.

But she did not tell alicent of her wearies, after all she did not worry about it she was at terms with it. But she was worried meeting Aemond, as of now, she walked the hallway to their shared bedchamber with heavy breaths. Aemond was looking out the giant window, he had a journey to make the next morning to the baratheons yet he wasn’t resting or preparing. Much to y/n’s demise she hoped he’d be off somewhere else. She closed the door behind her as she entered, Aemond never talked to her generally. She never spoke unless spoken to but today silence weighed heavy between the two of them.

“The meeting ran late did it?” Aemond asked without looking back at her, he could tell from the soft stride who entered their chambers.

“No, I was with Helaena…” She trailed off growing strangely anxious because she felt answerable to him. As if it would compensate him and that was her burden to bear. “The meeting was rather trivial”

“Was it now?” He scoffed in a bigger way and turned to face her, “You must have provided the trivial meeting with your other worldly wit and understanding of warfare.”

“Aemond” she said taking in a sharp breath, meaning to tread carefully “I know you are upset. Believe me I did not know beforehand of the planning nor was it offered to me, the hand-queen mother they deemed it as my duty and right and I did not have other choice otherwise I would’ve asked you…”

“Asked me what?” Aemond interrogated crossing his arms as he leant against the stone pillar, her feigning nonchalance and false sympathy irritated him to no end.

“To take my place” she answered. She meant it in a genuine sense because she did not hold the same passion or want for a seat on the King’s council the way Aemond did. It was far from her. “I’d rather you take my place, I have no wish for authority on the council. I could ask the hand to-“

“You truly are the imbecile I presumed you to be.” He said assertively as he stiffened, his shoulders tight. “Are you that naive? Do you think I would need your help to put myself on the council? Yours?” He said as he huffed, berating her was his intention. Y/n remained silent, unmoving in her place no matter however she tried and help him or soften the rift in their marriage he was always imbecile from it. In the meantime he walked a bit closer to her, towering over her given his taller stature he leant forward by a bit to make himself appear intimidating.

“My apologies then.” She muttered lowering her gaze from his because she felt rather scrutinised by him as if she was at fault for something, as if she had wronged him. “Excuse me” she said before he could reply and attempted to retreat away to the adjoint bathroom. Wait out him falling asleep or leaving. The newlywed with their peculiar marriage of indifference.

-

Aemomd’s return from his errand with the Baratheon lord contained of a difficult detour nobody had anticipated. Rather difficult, to navigate such a blow through warfare. The council, y/n merely heard and spoke four sentences on an average, was shocked. No idea of action status not war treading. Circumstance heavy on everyone. Shame and disregard.

Sitting by the burning lamp, late evening, the scrolls and letters were to be written with such urgency after what happened with lucerys y/n had to take it to her own desk. Too busy with the works she barely processed the loss yet, she did not know Lucerys as a brother but an acquaintance who was rather kind to her all those years.

She barely looked up when the door opened, only when Aemond drew closer. Rather too close to her desk, he leant on the table where she was writing. Close to where she was sitting he breathed heavily. Putting the pen down and the scroll aside y/n looked up at him. “What did the king say?”

“The king?” Aemond repeated with a small laugh, he was still getting used to the new titles but referring those even behind closed doors was somewhat strange. “Aegon, he is not the most serious about it. Collateral damage he said.” Aemond repeated the words, he was never fond of the bastard himself but he never planned to take such drastic step. “Grand sire had a lot to say and mother, she is disappointed. Perhaps everyone is disappointed?” He asked emphasising ‘everyone’ referring to her. He did not know of his lady wife’s connection with the Strong boy but his own mother had a dislike for him and yet she was disappointed.

“I don’t know warfare as good as the lot of you, but” she nodded to his previous implication of being disappointed in a way, such loss must be difficult to stomach for those really close. “It is a lot…”

“Do you grieve him?” Aemond asked, his tone non threatening nor interrogative, subtly calm.

Pausing y/n thought about it for a moment, she was quick to side with the hand’s cold and calculative decisions as her mother in law suggested writing Rhaenyra letters instead, y/n herself weighed heavy on practicality as if grief was non existent. In a way it was. “I don’t know” she said puzzled “We were never close but he was kind to me, not all of them and not everytime but whenever he could be…” she trailed off. “He was easily anxious about a lot of things, scared.” Last time she had seen him it was the dinner for King Viserys upon the discussion to heir of driftmark. The scene that followed that dinner was distant in y/n’s mind until now. The same inferior fright was in Luke’s eyes that day.

Aemond did not say anything, her words made him feel guilty even more so but he would never display to anyone. He fought for his life debating to the council, to grandsire that it was an accident however not enough for him to take accountability of it as if he had done something wrong. He knew he had, but he did not show it. He could not. It did not come from a place of sympathy nor altruistic intentions but an ambush of unsolicited guilt. “Is it true?” She asked him.

“What is?” He replied as her voice pulled him out of his thought and his gaze met hers, she still sat on the desk the soft orange hue of the lantern on her face.

“You hold no regret?” She asked him referring to the conversation he had with the council when he was confronted about what happened. He did not owe his truthfulness to anyone, especially not the council.

The heavy silence between the two of them told her more than his words could, her eyes softened as he pondered his unsaid exoneration. Nobody would believe him but she might just, “I did not mean for that to happen, nor did I plan it.”

There was a crack in his demeanour, very different from how he presented himself back in front of everyone else about the the whole ordeal. Accountability seeping in and he should know, “Acting bigger than the situation won’t provide you with the atonement you are looking for.” She told him, forgetting herself when he asked for her advice and she assumed in such delicate state of mind he would rather lash out than listen but he did not. He was present, here to listen. To her? So far he had made it so very clear that he held no regard for her whatsoever.

“I am not looking for atonement.” He said more to himself than to her in a gentle tone and a hint of lostness in his expression. He longed for something, some consolation of some kind but he did not know exactly what and he felt restless with heavy emotions.

“You are.” She answered for the question he did not ask out loud, however the epiphany of it was not lost on him as he looked at her like an open wound. He did not protest her because she was right, she held the answers to herself. She could think for him despite of what he did and it unsettled him in some way because he had never felt such softness of anyone else. To know that he had done something he would have to seek atonement for and…hold regard for him still?

“Do you see me differently then?” He asked, small fright creeping him on the inside if she affirmed his answer.

“No” she replied without hesitation nor enthusiasm, she did see him less ruthless and uncaring than she had previously known him to be but she did not tell him that in this state of mind of his. However the heavy silence and the remorseful tension was too much to bear. She stood up from her chair seemingly to leave and attend some other task, just then realising he stood rather close. Before she could attempt to move away he stopped her. Holding her by her wrist he pulled her close but he was already close enough, the distance shortening this small for the first time since their wedding.

“Do you truly, not see differently?” He asked again with searching eyes. He couldn’t do with her short no however affirming as it was it wasn’t absorbing. It did not feed to his shame and guilt.

Y/n did not know how to soothe his wearies, she never thought her perception would matter to him at all. The walls within their marriage came crumbling down as he held her wrist it seemed, she wasn’t going away yet he kept a hold of her. To ground himself more than her. After staring into his eye for what seemed like an eternity she simply pulled him into her embrace, in a tight embrace. Her arms holding his broad stature the best they could, raising on her toes to bring him as close as she could.

Aemond was stunned to say, for a moment. He could not fathom she would want to tread so gently with him after what he had done he did not expect such, such softness. As he enlaced his arms around her waist, hugging her back as he raised her closer to him. His person. He had never felt such warmth and love of hands that would show soft affection even after knowing his ugly work, he was met with her comfort when he deserved retribution. It nestled his spirit in a serene place, he worried the place would vanish if he let go off her so he didn’t. He kept holding her close to him, closer of it was possible as he buried his face by the crook of her neck.

After a while she pulled away but not entirely, resting her temple against his. His soft breath on her as she sighed closing her eyes. He followed to, until he met her gaze again. His impulse wanted to touch her face to make sure she was real, that this moment was. So he did. Fixing the loose strand of her hair behind her ear he cupped her face. She did not move away, heart racing in such gentle exchange between the two of them. It was a first and he did not want her to extend her boundaries for his sake but he could not stop himself, he brushed his lips against her.

Indulging in a passionate kiss, holding her face in his hands as if she was made of porcelain. It was the first time somebody had held y/n with such fragility. Such affection was very foreign to her all her life, even the kiss on their wedding day felt forced and ceremonial. But this felt real, it was. She kissed him back and held him close, standing in the light of a desk lantern, the moonlight seeping in and lovers who might just be alright.

—

—part 2.

I am sorry if this feels rushed, i skipped season 1 bc i want to do all of s2…please let me know what you think in the comments 💕

If you want to be in the taglist pls comment AND go drink water RIGHT NOW ILY SO MUCH !!!!!!!!

-

[trulyumai]

Landing a Blow

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Synopsis; The tarnished invaded his keep, Messmer on the brink of defeat, thinks of his wife.

But wait, isn't that her pushing towards him and the Elden Lord ?

Warnings: Blood, Fighting, Violence, Anger.

A/N: Wooo boy! enjoy :)

Read with my Messmer playlist ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Lv2RUNKH2voR45QP07ryd?si=WjtWV47iSiywnT7JhADyUg&pi=u-iz0Wfu53T36-

“Gah- Ah,” 

The tarnished, as if to mock the legend of flames, stood proudly above him; with his weapon pointed downward towards Messmer, ready for the final strike, once and for all sealing their prophecy of lordship. 

He followed the roads, the soldiers all the way to the darkened castle. And now, with the last standing relative of the grace; he could begin his reign. For only him could be Elden Lord.

“To fall- to such a- an indictment upon light; a curse to smother beneath mine own heel,” Messmer gritted out, blood falling off in rhythm off his temple and with teeth bared spat red at the man. His vision blurred, trying not to groan; he focused- the figure in front of him was too shaky for his liking, black dots entered his view.  

His opponent said nothing, with a calm but eerie facade, the tarnished raised his sword above Messmer. It shined against the rising fire cascading the surrounding walls. 

He couldn't believe it- to die by such indecent hands? 

Despicable, what would his family think, 

His followers,

His mother?

“O mother,” head tilted down, he could no longer hold the strong appearance, the pain numbed his senses.

His eyes burned, cuts lay waste to his body and his hands- were covered in blood and ash. 

The maroon stains were dry, flaking off with each nervous twitch of the man's limb and his nails scratched at his knuckles in shame. 

The silence of the room, it pissed him off to no end. For the tarnish to have such a stance- such ground before him, it boiled his blood, flamed his knuckles once more and made him bite down with such a pressure that made the bones in his teeth click and grind.

“Do it,” Messmer urged, red brows furrowed. 

“Or is thou such a coward, thy won’t serve me deliverance?” 

The blade began its descent, and Messmer couldn't physically shut his eyes. Memories upon memories graced his presence. 

And it all involved his wife; his beloved. 

Her laugh, the way she kissed him, smiled at him. 

She was so, so proud of him, even through all the bodies that lay wasted upon the fields; she stayed upon his altar. 

“I'm sorry, my love.” With those final words, his form could now relax and with a wobbling lip, smiled. The smell of Erdflowers and apples comforted his last moments as the blade grew closer. 

“Stop! Please!” 

A voice so delicate, so desperate drew the man from his displayed remorse. 

“Wife?” He all but whispered. It wasn’t possible. It couldn't be real. 

And yet there she stood, just beside the pushed open stone hinges- panting and wobbling toward the pair. 

“Stop, please, I beg of you!” Tripping over a fallen piece of debris she cried out. Messmer couldn't help but jolt towards her in response; only to be stopped by a blade to the neck. 

The girl's eyes widened, still laying on her chest adrenaline began to rush through her bones, shaky arms lifted her upper form yet her bottom half lay sprawled out. Too afraid of the sword running across her husband's skin, distance was kept between them. 

However, the flames held no patience; they burnt the wooden beams around the ceiling, every second that passed meant that more instability entered the chambers. Suddenly, a large pillar fell atop the girl, she screamed out from underneath it and Messmer shuddered. Racked with fear he pushed against the blade, looking- wanting to see if her form laid whole. 

It had. 

She stared back at his yellow iris with blood dripping down the middle of her forehead. 

The walls began to  crack under such heat, paintings lay melted upon the ground and more objects fell upon the vicinity with a startling bang. 

Her eyes, how they shined with such a deep remorse- a sadness that Messmer wished he could pluck out. His hands shook, just how was he supposed to protect his wife in such a state of disarray? 

The tarnished so called, “Lord,” did nothing but glance at the woman and her pitiful state.

He felt the need to cut- maim such a pathetic sort in his presence. So with a kick to Messmer’s chest, he acted upon such intrusive thoughts. 

The air plummeted out of the knight's throat, landing on his back he did nothing but cough out the ash that had landed in his windpipe. From the corner of his eye, he saw the movement and how the tarnished gripped onto his sword. 

“No,” with every fiber of his being he lifted his figure, it was hunched and bloodied, but it stood afoot. His eyes, crazed and desperate, looked towards his cowering wife. 

“Halt!” Ignoring the knight's pleas, the intruder quickened his pace. The girl tried to wiggle out from the object atop of her. It burned the back of her skin and she yelled out in fear. 

He had to act. 

Go. 

GO

GO!

“Mmph!” Finally free, his wife leaned back and tried crawling anywhere away from the approaching mongrel feasting upon her delicacy. 

But, it was too late. 

For the lord had gripped her hair and pulled back with all the might he could. Her feet scraped against the ground until she hung up like a rag doll, clinging desperately onto the man's dirtied glove. 

She cried out, tears littered pinkened cheeks as wails left her throat unconsciously.

With his back to Messmer he had to be quick. 

It would be clean; one slice. 

The blade struck against her throat, creating a line of blood that reached down to her ruined dress. 

For it would have been deeper, if nobody had slammed against his backside.

“Augh-” 

“How dare you,” 

Long fingers found their way against the tarnished neck. 

“Touch my wife, with your graceless, vile hands.”

Desperate for air the man kicked- wriggled under the tall flame. 

It wasn’t enough- for the knight was fueled with fire and anger; only to be snuffed out by the revenge he sought. 

His wife did nothing but push her back against the farthest corner, sobs racked her body and the tears flowed freely. 

She didn't hear the plethora of curses,

The kicking of the crazed lord,

Or the stillness that came after. 

Everything went quiet. Only smoke clouded her vision and it began assaulting her throat most viciously. Coughing she looked, she needed proof of her husband, she wouldn't leave without it. Blinking she tried to push past the itching of her face- ash fell atop it gracefully as her nails itched without care upon her features. 

“Mess-” a dry cough

“Mess-mer!” With such a scratchy tone, there was no way to hear her over the roaring of the flames. 

For once, she crumpled. Did nothing but lay wilted against the floorboards as grief seeped into her bones like a plague. 

Eyelids heavy, they sagged against the itchy smoke filled air. She couldn’t find the energy to leave the chambers. 

Finally allowing her lids to fall; she waited. For death to come and pluck her away, away from the smoke and bodies. 

Warm fingers touched her cheeks, the tips reached to her ears and her eyes jostled open. 

It was him, her darling husband covered in fresh blood, with blackened ash clinging onto his frame. His snakes not upon his form, only ripped pieces of armor littered with maroon stains.

Grunting the man pushed forward, with everything he had left he began to lift the withered girl. 

She tried to cry out in joy, cheer on her husband for such a monstrosity of a fight- but the tears ran thick. They wouldn't stop leaking out and falling atop her husband's hair and face. 

Bursting through the doors, Messmer leaned against the wall as he descended down the walkway. 

His wife whimpered out incessant worries, nabbing at his face as the man tried his best to find the way out of such a destroyed place. 

“Wife- Ah, please,” 

Her lips wobbled as the man continued his trek, never once did her eyes strain from his bloodied form. 

Her hands gripped onto his shoulders, his face, neck- anything she could touch- she did. 

Finally bursting through the last set of doors, Messmer collapsed, his knees skidded against the floor as he held his wife up against him. 

She crumpled with the knight, leaned right into his form with a tight embrace. 

“You- Are you hurt?” 

He felt her head shift back and forth. 

“Thou is- ah, sure?”

Another shift. 

His palms rested on her back, soothingly trying to comfort the sniveling woman. 

She jolted back, and Messmer would have been relieved to see her if not for the harsh slap that accompanied her features. 

“You fool!” She bellowed. 

“You- you ingrate, you nobody! You swore to be the strongest- to protect the order- 

“I swore to protect you, darling- stop this,” 

A single hand rose to capture her violent fists. 

“Thou is fine, the order is fine. That pretender? He lays in the flames of the past, my love- 

“Don’t  ‘my love me!’ You could have died Messmer, and what then? Am I just supposed to forget you-us?!” 

“Don't be foolish.” 

No longer interested in such a conversation the man leaned back, he groaned out in pain as his bones once more lit aflame with agony. 

His eyes were on hers, and with the other hand, captured her jaw. 

“Thou remains safe, that's all that matters.” 

She was too tired to argue- after such an event she was grateful to have her husband alive and well, but the fear had been replaced with anger. 

Remorse hit her like a bolt of lightning. 

“I'm sorry.” She whispered. 

“I thought you died.” 

He smiled lightly upon the girl- ever infatuated with the love she held for the man. 

“Mmm,” He hummed. “That’s alright, dear wife.” 

Without hesitation she leaned in, her bloodied forehead molded against his. 

He could do nothing but stare with half lidded eyes- fighting the sleep off with only her image. 

Noticing the blank expression upon him she laughed, it was rough and exhausted. 

“Sleep, my husband. I will watch over thee, hm?” 

Nothing more needed to be said, securing his head against the stone support behind him, sleep took over the lanky man. 

His wife sighed and with an adoring smile, kissed upon his stained lips.

It was her time to watch over and protect. 

Nothing would get between her and the knight snoring tiredly against her body.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt7

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The battle continues at Kings Landing as the dance begins in Harrenhal. When everything seems overwhelming there is a break on the horizon. Rhaenyra sends Y/n and Ben back to Harrenhal after they take Kings Landing to see the outcome. 

Warnings: 18+ battle/war, blades, blood, death, swearing, my version of the battle above gods eye(spoiler for the show bc it’s fr and it’s not cute) - mc but cannon death, beheading, alys spreading info like the gossip she is, after war and gossip oral(f receiving), fingering

Authors Note: hopefully the switching of the povs offers what I wanted it to!!!!, hate cole but i can’t deny he’s a good swordsman and would need at least two ppl to take him in a fight, i tried to keep gods eye minimal bc i can’t stand dragons fighting!!!, also daeron is not apart of this story bc i didn’t want another dragon to be hurt!

Word Count: 5.5k almost half of this is war

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

“Find him,” I sob to Vermithor and his growls shake the walls around the city as Silverwing and I give out an earth shattering cry as we circle the host raining fire upon the Greens. 

Vermithor gives out a bone chilling roar and sprays fire along the Gods gate. I’m turning my head searching for any sign of Ben as Silverwing follows close to Vermithor. I take notice of Vermithors wound but it’s more of just a scratch and the bleeding has already ceased much to my relief. My adrenaline rises to match my fear as my heart pounds wildly in my chest as we continue our search for Ben. 

Vermithor circles around where I last saw Ben and begins to fly down to the ground. He sprays the ground in dragon flame before he lands on the burning men as Silverwing lands us in the center of the fire next to him. The warmth licks at my armor as I watch the flames die around me. As the haze clears I see Ben cutting down men around him in a frenzy. 

I sob in relief as I see him still in one piece and quickly slide off of Silverwing. I slip the sword from my back and go to Ben’s side. My blade becomes an extension of myself as my body goes into a killing calm. Everything around me fades away as I face man after man. As I turn to my next victim I can see the burnt scorpion behind the host. 

Cole emerges from the ruins and bodies offering me a bloody smile. Our dragons step closer to me and bare their teeth. Their low growls and chuffs vibrate the ground beneath us. Ben turns to me and sees Cole walking over to me and quickly makes it to my side. 

“You need two dragons and a whores daughter to stand against me?” Cole laughs to Ben bitterly spitting.

“You will still die in the end.” I hum raising my sword.

“We shall see.” he charges forward with his blade in front of him and I quickly fold backwards to avoid his swing. 

Ben comes from behind and strikes with his sword and Cole barely avoids the metal. I rise once again and try to catch Cole from behind but he is quick on his feet. The three of us dance with our blades as the war continues to wage around us. My nerves start to rise as I see our host getting overwhelmed as both of our dragons are grounded with us for the moment. 

This moment of thought has costed me dearly. Pain washes through the side of my face as blood trickles down my neck as Coles sword slices my flesh. I give out a loud cry and Silverwing screams with me. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The clouds hang low in the sky as the smell of rain on the horizon washes over the ruined castle. The sky is preparing to weep for the dance that will soon take place. Fog begins to roll in from the forest line casting everything in a gray light.  

“You will die here today.” Alys appears through the foggy gates walking to Daemon and Caraxes.

“As long as I take Aemond with me, I care not.” Daemon pulls his helm on and makes sure everything is secure.

“So eager to die before you meet your grandchild?” Alys tilts her head with a small smile.

“They’ll be better off without me.” he mounts Caraxes and shoots into the sky. 

Daemon has had enough of Alys’ mind games and doesn’t even bat an eye at the insinuation of having grandchildren. He never saw himself living long enough to see his children or wife contented. He knows this is the last thing he will be able to give them and he hopes it’s enough to change the tides of the war. 

Daemon circles around Harrenhal keeping his eyes peeled for Vhagar and her one eyed rider. He’s growing impatient but he can feel the promise of death in the air. Caraxes perches on one of the towers as they await their fate. A low grumble comes from the distance and Vhagar comes into view from the clouds. 

Daemon shoots into the sky and lures them away from the castle. He doesn’t much care for this castle but he knows many Lords will ask Rhaenyra for it so it must remain standing. He leads Aemond over the body of water called Gods Eye.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov:

As I rise to my feet Ben is relentlessly bashing his sword into Coles. The metal song promises death. I try to find an opening to help Ben once more but he has a glazed look over his eyes as he slams repeatedly into Cole. I watch on in shock as I’ve never seen Ben fight like this. Some of his men stop and watch on as this one on one continues. 

Our dragons grumble as some of Coles men stand and watch. It seems as if this part of the wall is on a pause as they wait to see what happens. I rip a piece of my shirt off from under my armor and wipe off the side of my face. The cut seems to start just under my eye and travels down to my jaw. The dirtied cloth stings but it helps staunch the blood. Ben lets out a mighty roar and swings his long sword and I gasp with widened eyes.

“Your Kingmaker.” Ben yells as he raises Coles head into the air. 

He dips down and grabs Coles foot and drags it to Vermithor who grabs his leg in his claws. He returns to me still gripping Coles head in his hands and I look to him as he’s breathing heavily. He turns my face and looks at my cut as his nostrils flare.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers as the men begin to look around unsure if we’re to keep fighting. “To Silverwing.” he nods his head and begins to usher me over before he goes to mount Vermithor. 

Vermithor and Silverwing shoot to the skies and give out victorious growls. I look down at Vermithors claws as Coles headless body is being paraded through the air. He slides low to the Green host and they falter as they take on the body hanging above them. 

“Your Kingmaker is dead and your King dies at Harrenhal.” Ben proclaims as we fly along the walls. 

A loud grumble comes from the clouds and my heart stops as I see a large shadow approaching. As the dragon comes into view I squint my eyes trying to figure out who it is. It’s not Vhagar or any other I’ve ever seen. Silverwing chirps and flies to meet the new dragon. I shake my head thinking I must be delusional from blood loss as I spot Rhaena atop this dragon. 

“I figured I would help in the war!” Rhaena calls out as her dragon gives out a fierce cry and I look below as a sob rips through me as I see a grand host from the Vale and the North seeping through the tree lines running to meet the Greens host.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

Caraxes and Vhagar circle each other around the body of water and give out low grumbles. The sky begins to cry as the dragons close in on one another. The Blood Wyrm quickly twists around the old fossil as she barely turns in time for the first snap of teeth. Vhagar gives out a loud cry as Caraxes sinks his teeth into her neck. 

Vhagar pulls away from Caraxes and breathes fire upon him and Daemon. Daemon flies through the flame and straight for Vhagars rider. Aemond dips, narrowly avoiding Caraxes maw. They pull back from one another and the dragons circle above the water once more.

“You have lived long enough,” Aemond calls across the skies to Daemon. 

“Something we agree upon,” Daemon chuckles as he begins to unclip from Caraxes. 

The world seems to hold its breath as Daemon unsheathes Dark Sister and points to Aemond and Vhagar. Caraxes flies quick and hard latching onto Vhagar. Daemon jumps from his dragon to Aemond landing on Vhagars head. He sprints down on uneven feet as Aemond struggles to get his weapon or unclip from his saddle. 

“For my Queen,” Daemon roars as he pierces Dark Sisters through Aemonds one eye before everything goes black.

The dragon’s give out a cry and spiral down to the water. The impact could be felt well over a hundred miles. Blood rain falls from the sky as the false King and the Rogue Prince implode to their watery grave. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

3rd person Rhaenyra Pov: 

Addam has been sent to recruit the small folk and hand out armor and weapons for those willing and able. Rhaenyra has slipped into the castle through the tunnels and has made quick work of finding her loyalists. She makes it to the throne room and lets out a breathy laugh. Alicent and Helaena are brought in and kneel before her. 

“Rhaenyra please,” Alicent pleads from her knees as Rhaenyra holds a blade to her throat. 

“You brought this upon yourself.” she looks down to Alicent with contempt. 

“The Kings are dead.” Helaena speaks softly from her place next to Alicent. 

“Which ones?” Rhaenyra turns her head to Helaena lowering the blade from Alicents throat. 

“All of them.” Helaena shakes her head and Rhaenyras blade falls out of her hand. 

“Ring the bells to let-“ 

“Your Grace, another dragon and a host.” Addam bursts through the throne room doors breathing heavily.

“Who?” Rhaenyra looks at him confused. 

“They say Rhaena with a host from the Vale and North.” Addam takes in the scene before him. 

“She’s done it.” Rhaenyra smiles breathing out a sigh of triumph and relief.

“They also say that Ben and Vermithor are flying around Coles headless body above the host. He carries his head on his back.” Alicent lets out a soft sob at his words. 

“Your son’s are dead. Your Kingmaker has been beheaded. You are surrounded. Ring the bells and save your remaining men.” Rhaenyra looks down to Alicent. 

“The common folk will remember this destruction.” Alicent narrows her eyes at Rhaenyra. 

“They fight your host from within the walls. You have lost.” Rhaenyra tugs Alicent up harshly and begins to bring her to the bell tower. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n Pov: 

My head cranes to the city as the bells begin to toll. All of the dragons surround the city and  give out one last cry before they start to the Keep. As we look down the fighting is slowing and swords are being lowered. I’m in awe as we fly through the city at the amount of small folk that are pushing the Greens out of the gates. 

Baela and Jace come into view and tears start sliding down my face as I see them unscathed and safe. Rhaena comes from behind the Keep with Addam trailing close behind her. Our dragons follow Syraxs call and we land perched on the main gates. 

We all dismount and make it down to the main courtyard. We all look to each other and my siblings take in mine and Ben’s appearance. Their eyebrows furrow as they see my cut and look to our blood and dirt covered bodies. I turn to Ben and see Cole’s head bouncing against his back as he approaches me. Vermithor lets out a low growl and flings Cole’s body to the center of the yard. 

“I see burning people wasn’t enough for you both.” Jaces voice drowns out as me and Ben look to each other. 

“Let’s find a witch to bring him back. I want to kill him slower.” his voice rough as he tilts my chin to look at my cut. 

“I’m okay.” I look up to him taking in the death that remains in his eyes. 

“We will find you a maester at once.” he pulls me with him into the castle. 

“Where are you two going?” Baela yells after us. 

I tug him to the throne room thankful he doesn’t know where the maesters chambers are. I must see my mother. I need to know who rang those bells and what it means. As the doors groan under my hands I behold my mother atop the throne with her crown on her brow. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyra rises taking in my state. “My children,” her voice wavers as the rest of my siblings trail in behind me and Ben. 

“My Queen,” I bow. 

“Call for a maester,” Rhaenyra flicks her head to Jace and he’s out in the hall shouting in seconds. 

I huff as he brings in a maester who sits me on a chair and begins to clean my wound. Ben holds my hand as the maester beings to stitch up my cheek. Rhaenyra is lowly talking to my siblings about how their plans went and she finally turns to me and Ben. 

“I wish to see the head.” Rhaenyras voice travels through the hall. 

“The rest of him is in the courtyard.” Ben rises from my side and pulls the head from his back. He offers her the head holding it by his hair. 

“You’ve done me a great service, Benjicot.” she shakes her head at a loss for words. “What happened to your cheek?” Rhaenyra turns her attention to me. 

“Cole.” I say trying to steady my breathing as the maester pulls the thread in and out of my flesh for his last stitch.

“You fool,” she shakes her head before she leans down and engulfs me in a hug before she turns back to the group of us.

“We’ve done it, gather the remaining Lords so we may start about clearing out the traitors and moving forward.” she turns and nods her head to us. “Ben, Y/n,” she stops us before we exit.

“Yes?” we turn back to her. 

“I have one more immeasurable favor to ask of you both.” she whispers down to us. 

“Say it and it will be done.” I look to her with tired eyes but ready to do what she needs. 

“Go to Harrenhal and see what remains.” her voice barely a murmur as her eyes begin to tear. 

“We will go at once,” I nod my head. 

She walks out of the Keep with us as we take in the dragons and the wall crumbling under their claws. Her head snaps to the rest of Coles body that remains in the center of the courtyard. From beyond the gates we hear shouts and cries of agony from the people who were not as lucky. 

“Fly safe and stay together.” she pulls me and Ben into a tight hug. “Please return to me.” her voice a whisper as she looks to both of us. 

Ben turns to me and we finally have a moment alone to ourselves. I look into his eyes and he seems to be coming down from his adrenaline still. I wrap my arms around him and he holds me tightly against him. I care not of our blood and dirt and pull his lips to mine feverishly.

“I want you to fly with me and Vermithor,” he looks down to me separating our lips. 

“Ben, I’m fine,” I sigh looking up to him.

“I know, but I just want you by me.” his hold on me tightens.

“Then ask Silverwing,” I relent and he pulls away to turn to my dragon as I walk to his.

“You flew valiantly today, my beautiful Silverwing. Will you allow Y/n to fly with me and Vermithor on our next journey?” I turn from Verithors neck and see Silverwing nudge into Ben before he starts towards me.

“Up you go.” he softly tugs me towards his wings and I begin my climb. We quickly settle and take flight. Silverwing flies next to us and they both give out a victorious song to the men below before we coast out on the horizon.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the Riverlands we can feel the great loss in the air. The clouds weep, cleaning off some of our blood and dirt as we make our way to the ruined castle. Our dragons give out low grumbles as we approach Harrenhal and begin to make our descent outside the main gates. 

Ben helps me off refusing to let me do anything on my own. He has a hand pressed against me at all times and grabs my hand for his own once we make it the ground. The heaviness in the air is unsettling while the wind sings an eerie song. 

The castle grounds are silent. We saw no dragons on approach and hear nothing as we look around for any sign of a threat. As we turn my heart goes to my throat as Alys appears. 

“Where are they?” I ask pulling the bone knife from its sheath and pointing it at her. 

“I would think you wouldn’t be so quick to show your child more death and violence. Though, you are your father’s child..” she trails off with a smile. 

“My child?” my eyebrows furrow as I raise the knife even higher. 

“The one you’ve been carrying for a moon now.” she nods to me and looks to Ben. I bring my free hand to my abdomen and try to think of any signs that her words are true. “I may have played mind games with your father but I can’t slip through your bond with the child’s father. He’s very protective.” she chuckles to Ben who is now trying to push me behind him. 

“Where is my father?” my voice wavers as my mind already knows the answer. 

“You’ll find him under the Gods Eye.” her skirts swish as she disappears behind the walls once more. 

“Stay with the dragons and I will go.” he looks down to me intensely. 

“You will not start with this overprotective male dominance now.” I huff as I try to walk past him but he grabs my arm to stop me. 

“Y/n,” he looks to me with pleading eyes as his hand travels to my lower abdomen. 

“After I find my father,” I shake my head and pull him along with me. 

We walk silently to the body of water just beyond the crumbling fortress. Our dragons follow behind us the ground shaking at their heavy steps. As we approach my breath catches taking in the blood splattered around the shores. 

Pieces of the once great dragons are jutting through the surface of the water. I can tell it’s both dragons by their coloring and a sob bubbles out of my mouth. My hand slips from Ben’s as I fall to my knees on the shore looking on at the still water. He kneels next to me and hugs me tightly. 

“I have to go find him.” I shake my head as tears begin to slip down my cheeks. 

I rise and start to walk into the once clear water that seems to now be stained a blush pink. Water licks at my thighs until I begin to start my swim. I swim around the masses in the water until I spot Caraxes. As I dip my head under the water to look for him my stitched cut screams in agony. 

I pull up for breath and begin to move around to see if I can find him anywhere else. I’ve been searching around Caraxes and have found nothing so I relent and begin my search around Vhagar. Ben shouts at me from the shore but I can’t abandon this search. 

As I dip down under the surface again my eyes blurry I spot Aemond in Vhagars saddle. I slip above the water to take in a deep breath before I dive down. My eyes bulge as I take in Dark Sister pierced through his remaining eye. I quickly scan the area and my remaining air bubbles out of my mouth as I see Daemon resting on the rocky bottom. I swim to the top and let out a loud sob. 

“Ben, I need you,” I cry and he’s running into the water and at my side in seconds. 

We swim below the surface and I rip Dark Sister from Aemonds head as Ben begins to lift and pull Daemons body to the surface. I grab on and help him carry him to shore. As we finally make it to the sands I sit silently looking down at his blade. 

“I-“ I shake my head as tears begin falling down my face. 

I let out a grief stricken scream and Silverwing quickly approaches the shores and curls near me. Ben holds me to him as my sobs continue to wreck me. My breathing finally settles and he looks up to me with sad eyes while wiping them away with his thumbs. 

“We need to prepare his body to bring back home.” I sniffle before getting to my feet.

“I’ll go see if there’s a maester or someone,” Ben rises wiping the sand off of him. 

“I told him he would die here.” Alys comes from the other side of the shore. 

“Are you just here to mock me and speak in riddles?” I yell exasperated. 

“I’ve brought this for your cheek. It’ll heal it better than those stitches.” she offers me a cup and I look at the foul smelling paste. “I’m also the only maester, if that’s what you want to call me, and I can prepare his body for your travels.” she offers and I cant tell if she’s sincere or not so I turn to Ben hoping he will deal with this situation for me. 

“What is this paste?” he grabs the cup from my hands. 

“Your dragons wouldn’t allow me to poison the mother of your child. Use it or don’t.” she chuckles turning her head to look at our dragons. 

“I want his body treated with respect. Bound and wrapped tastefully befitting a King. All of his armor is to be cleaned and properly packed so we may travel with ease. We will take our old chambers while you finish your work.” Ben pulls me to his side as we begin to walk to the castle once more. 

Our feet drag up the stairs as we stop in front of familiar doors. Ben pushes them open and escorts me to a chair to sit down. I place Dark Sister next to me and let out a shaky sigh. He kneels in front of me and locks his eyes with mine. 

“I’m sorry,” his words soft as he places the cup with the paste next to me and grabs my hands. 

“I had hoped he would make it.” tears still slide down my cheeks as he pulls me down into a hug.

“It seems as if Alys made you a bath. Let me clean you and help you relax.” he hums standing with me. 

He walks me to the bath and begins to remove my stained armor. I peel off my clothes as he starts to take off his armor. When he removes his shirt I can see small cuts littering his skin and I look at him with sad but thankful eyes that he’s still with me. He helps me slide into the bath and takes a seat next to me. 

The warm water lulls my muscles and I lean back resting my head on the lip of the small pool. I feel the water shift and he starts to undo my braids releasing their tension. I sigh in relief and allow my eyes to drift shut. He brings a cloth and soap to begin wiping my skin as I relax further into the water. 

“Do you want to try her paste?” his voice soft as I crack an eye open. 

“Sure, if anything bad happens Silverwing will eat her.” I shrug as he rises out of the bath. 

“I will kill her myself if she causes harm to you.” his voice trails to me from the couch before he returns. 

He applies a generous amount of paste to his fingers and brings his free hand to my jaw to tilt my head. I look up to him expectantly as he lowers his fingers to my cheek. I wince as the cold paste slides down my face and a shiver travels my spine as I feel the wound dispelling the stitches and doing its own work. 

“It’s healed.” his words almost a question as he tilts my head. He brings his hand up and shows me the black thread that was once holding my cheek. “That means she wasn’t lying.” his hand slides from my chin and he places it on my stomach. 

“Ben,” his name falls from my mouth as I allow myself to finally think about Alys’ words and the life growing inside me. 

“The mother of my children, my Princess, my wife.” his words filled with devotion as his lips softly press against mine. 

I let his lips wash away the day and all that’s come with it. His hand resting on my lower abdomen slides a little lower and I moan into his mouth as he circles my clit. His lips kiss down my now healed cheek and licks around my pulse. 

“I can’t wait to see you growing with our child.” he whispers in my ear as he dips his fingers into my core. “You’re gunna be even more beautiful.” I rest my head on his shoulder as my hips grind into his hand as my pleasure is already washing through me from my heightened emotions.

“Come let’s get you into bed while I find you some clothes. I’m sure we’ve left some behind.” he helps me out of the tub and walks me over to the bed always keeping a hand placed on me. 

“Ben I’m not going to break, I just fought alongside you in a war.” I huff but still allowing him to pull the covers over my body. 

“Do not remind me.” his rage seeps off of him. 

“Don’t work yourself up again.” I roll my eyes chuckling. “Come to bed, let’s forget today for a little while.” I pout my lips trying to pull him in with me. 

“I must find you clothes and food and a drink. Is there anything else?” he rambles as he begins walking to the doors. 

“Maybe some clothes for yourself? I know Harrenhal is empty but I don’t think the ghosts want you walking around nude.” I shake my head smiling. 

He pulls open the wardrobe and quickly slides on some pants and continues to rifle through what we’ve left. He pulls out wrinkled shirt next and shrugs before putting it on. He finds the shortest slip that’s been made in all of the seven kingdoms apparently and tosses it to me on the bed. 

“Now you have clothes.” he nods to himself before slipping out the door. I sigh and slip the piece of fabric on nonetheless. I pull the blankets closer and allow my eyes to rest while he’s off on his hunt. 

“I found some meat and cake and that’s about it.” Ben pushes the doors open jolting me awake. “And water. I’ve also spoken with Alys.” I stretch out wiping my eyes. 

“Pray tell what more Alys had to say.” I sigh as I hold my hands out expectantly for my water. 

“Just that she’ll have everything prepared for us by the morning. I’ve sent a raven to  Rhaenrya telling her that we will return tomorrow.” he hands me my glass of water and sits on the bed next to me with the tray of food. 

“You didn’t deliver the news of Daemon in that letter, did you?” I pull the cup from my lips. 

“No, she needs to see for herself.” he shakes his head. He starts to cut up the meat on the tray and goes to feed it to me. 

“Benjicot Blackwood,” I scold. “What happened to the man who made me and Silverwing hunt for him and his dragon?” I raise my eyebrows as a smile plays on my lips. 

“Shh, I’ll be the man now.” he tries to hide his smile as I accept the meat from the fork. 

“Then that means no more jumping off of Vermithor into the middle of a war.” I narrow my eyes at him as I accept another mouthful. 

“I was wondering when you would yell at me about that.” he says sheepishly. 

“I was so fucking scared. I thought my heart was going to stop. Never do that again.” I furrow my brows. “You did look incredibly fierce doing it though.” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine. 

“Fierce, hm?” he smiles down to me. 

“And fucking stupid.” I push him back as he chuckles. 

“Well let’s hope our child takes after you.” his smile is soft as he sits up. 

“Do you wish for a boy or a girl?” I hum as he starts to feed me cake. 

“I care not.” his smile widens. 

“I hope for a girl, so I think we’ll have a boy.” I chuckle accepting more of the sweet dessert. 

“Then we’ll have as many until we get a girl.” he discards the tray on the ground to bring his full attention to me. 

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” I hum pulling him into a kiss. “Did you not bring any food for yourself?” I pull back looking to him. 

“I ate as your food was being prepared. I wanted to have a different kind of dessert.” his eyes darken and he crawls over me kissing me once more. 

My thighs spread as he settles between them. He licks and kisses down my neck before circling his tongue over my covered nipples. I whine as he scrapes his teeth around them before snaking his way lower. He places featherlight kisses down my slit as I sigh, bucking my hips to his face. 

His tongue juts out and offers small licks to my sensitive bud as I softly pant above him. His lips encase me while his tongue lashes against me quickly. My hand goes to his hair as I grind against his mouth and chase my pleasure. His other hand interlocks with my free hand as he continues with his tongue. 

“Ben, fuck,” I cry as I arch off the bed. 

He licks down my center and pushes his tongue into me as I gasp trying to catch my breath. He brings his other hand to circle along my bud as his tongue laps at my wetness. I explode across his face and he continues licking to clean me off. I sigh as my body melts into the bed as he comes to lay at my side. 

“What of you?” I say my eyes barely open as I go to reach for his length. 

“I’m okay, my love. Rest.” he grabs my hand and kisses my forehead as I curl into him allowing my mind to forget all of the bad today and only think of the good. 

We’ve taken Kings Landing. My mother sits the throne. My cheek is healed. I have a life growing inside me. I have a man who is absolutely devoted to me at my side awaiting the day we can marry and I can’t wait to marry him. I drift off contented listening to his heartbeat. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

Part 8

ik i said 3 more parts 2 parts ago which means only one more after this but that’s just not enough?? and now i want to write abt them being happy and married and with kids wtfff are ppl down for that or do i do a spin off series??? like lmk bc i want more than just an epilogue and a glimpse like no i want to see this man waiting on you hand and foot and being absolutely OBSESSED with you pregnant with his child 

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

if I missed anyone lmk!

[hollowdeath]

Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

pairing: dark!harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person. 

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen. 

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony. 

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

[tasteofthedivine93]

The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Part 1

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/145208599 Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Teen) Category: F/M Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader Warnings: None Words: 952

MASTERLIST // -> Part 2

You're lost on your travels in the Shadow Realm. Rain causes your cart to get stuck in the mud, wheels not moving an inch. Your Torrent Steed is tired from the journey.

You untie him from the cart, abandoning your only possessions, you whistle your steed away for rest and head into the forest for shelter. You walk as much as your legs can carry you. Till the forest edge unveils a large castle in the distance. The blackened stone looking like charcoal, a large staircase darkens from greystone to black towards the front doors.

You walk warily up the stairs and knock on the door to no answer, instead you push your way inside without invitation or greeting. The night's cold air was making your bones shiver, you needed shelter.

The walls inside are lined with candles and paintings, before you a grand staircase. You call out hello, but to no reply, but you shiver - unsure from the cold or from another presence watching you.

You look around the foyer, till a shadow at the top of the stairs catches your attention. You swear you hear a hiss echo through the empty chambers. You call out 'wait' after the suspicious shadow.

You head upstairs, down a corridor, large wooden doors carved with snakes line the walls, sconces with red candles drip to the floor, windows covered by thick red velvet drapes.

You call out again, no reply.

Another shadow catches your attention down what you assume is the Western Wing. You walk down the hall to the end where a large door opens a crack, light glistening out of the door.

You pause for a moment, holding your breath, but as if in a serpent's trance you pull open the large door with a grunt, hinges creak and groan.

Inside, you see a bedroom, however destroyed, scorch marks line the walls, cracked and broken mirror shards glimmer like water, bed linen covered in burn holes, rugs frayed and black. You gasp at the sight.

You tenderly step into the room as if it was still aflame, looking around for any sign of life. Instead you catch a portrait on the wall, half burnt away, but you see a young man with vibrant red hair and a piercing golden eye. Behind the man a red snake fills the frame. The lower section of the portrait is charred and torn as if struck by the lightning.

You step closer, mesmerised by the painting, trying to look closer at the face shredded by burns.

Then out of the corner of your eye, you spot a small table near an open window, the curtains dancing gently in the breeze. On the table floats a crimson flame, flickering gently. As if it was beckoning you, your feet involuntarily begin to walk towards the blaze.

As if possessed, you feel your hand rise from your side and out of your moth eaten cloak. You slowly reach towards the flame, a sinister call hissing in your mind to touch.

You feel no heat but instead you feel cold as a shadow engulfs you, your eyes snap away from the flame to see a monster in the shape of man, skin greying, wrapped in a red cloak, thin long hair flowing down to his shoulders and surrounded by 2 large snakes who hiss at you.

You step back in horror, falling onto your backside as you try and crawl away. Letting out a gasp of fear.

"Mongrel, intruder." A bellowing voice vibrates in your chest. "Wherefore has't thee cometh here?"

You open your mouth, dry as stone and attempt to shutter out your apologies. You continue to crawl backwards on your hands and feet, instead the man, monster, steps around the table and follows you, keeping you in shadow.

"Doth thee not realise what thee couldst has't done?!" He growls at you. The snakes around him grow and slither in the air towards you. Their green eyes never leaving yours.

You again apologise and ask "Who are you?" The snakes stop mere inches from you.

"The master of thine castle." He replies, still deep. "Where thee has't in mine own domain trespassed"

You turn your head away from the monster and begin to sob. You tell him you got lost in the woods and needed shelter, you didn't mean to trespass. You plead with him to spare you.

The snakes hiss at the man as if communicating with him, who responds with hums of agreement. (The snake simply informs that this person could be the one to break the curse, maybe they should stay.)

The monsters shoulders sink at your tears and plea. The snakes retract back behind him and he knees down in front of you. His face comes more into view and you look up at him threw wet lashes. You notice the same golden eye at the painting, glowing like a star against the velvet night sky.

He was no monster at all, but the same man from the portrait, just older. You study him as you wipe away your tears.

"Art thee lone?" He asks, but this time is voice was softer. You nod.

"Thee can stayeth here if thou desires, take shelter for as longeth as thee need" He holds out his hand to you, fingers decorated with golden rings.

You hesitate at first, eyes flickering between his stretched out hand and his newly illuminated soft features. You nod and reach out, his long fingers wrap delicately around your shivering hand. He helps you to stand. You stare up at him, who looks down at you smiling, still holding your hand. You feel a small bloom of warmth in your chest. 

(credits of gifs in description)

[junkh3ad]

Dethklok at the beach and it's just pickles reapplying sunscreen every hour and sitting under an umbrella because he's a redhead and he'll fry out in the sun (he still ends up getting sunburn from the short time he's in the water)

And Skwisgaar also gets burnt and complains about it for a whole week and it's even worse because I'd imagine he'd wear a speedo and so his LEGS are red as shit.

Nathan tans. Like really tans and he's got a sunglasses tan line cause he's a little dumb.

Toki, for some reason ALSO tans? So hes got all these girls fawning over him at the beach because he's buff and tan and he's just building a sand castle half the time.

Murderface does not move from his beach chair and burns on his shoulders and complains the whole time but in the way a father would when you know he's still enjoying himself.

[raayllum]

It's not structurally sound, so Zym walks beside him, one wing tented protectively over his head just in case. At least that's what Soren said, eyes still with a fading yellow hue to them, traces of magic still stubbornly clinging on when Ezran had finally arrived.

The sky was still grey, flecked with smoke and embers, Callum slamming into him in a banther hug before Ez had even gotten his bearings—both sobbing a little, exhausted, relieved. Callum cupping his baby brother's cheeks and brushing away tears, till—Ezran had spotted him lurking over Callum's shoulder, dressed in greens and all too terribly alive.

The shouting match that had followed hadn't been pretty, but—

Opeli had stepped in. Soren had ushered everyone else away.

"He just needs some time to mourn," Corvus murmurs.

Ez had cried at the wedding, and cried on the way home. The putrid air stings his eyes now as he walks amongst the ruins, though no tears fall. His eyes are too full of something else, reconstructing everything around him perfectly. There's where the eastern tower stood before it crumbled into the courtyard. The balcony by the king's chambers where Ez had taken his first steps, toddling confidently towards his father's face. Half the battlements are blasted apart, barracks and weapons in splintered disarray. The rest of the castle isn't in much better shape.

His family's home, his family's legacy, all the precious things he hadn't taken with him to New Aurea, because why would he have? A box of mementos from his mother—the tie from her braid, a pressed flower from her wedding bouquet, a letter she'd written and sealed for him for his sixteenth birthday—buried in ash. Burnt to a crisp.

Every portrait of his father, his throne, his... A lump rises in his throat.

Gone.

It's all gone.

Opeli has the grim work of consulting everyone to make a list of the dead, all the guards and servants and people—families—wiped out. Ez knows there will be names he recognizes. Even worse, there will be names he doesn't, people who lived and died here, in his castle, in his kingdom, and as king, he didn't even—

His vision blurs as he picks his way over charred brick, Zym following dutifully behind him with a tiny whine. He staggers over the collapsed walls, the massive pile, but picks out a spindle of what he knows is a rocking chair, sticking out from the side.

"My mother sat here," he explains to Zym, sitting down slowly on the pile of bricks. It's as comfortable a seat as anything else could be. "When she rocked me to sleep." He sniffles. His shoulders shake. "This was my nursery, Zym."

His Dad had kept it preserved, just for him. For whenever you want to feel close to her. And after his Dad's death, to both of them.

Zym presses his snout to Ezran's arm as they settle together, his castle consumed by dragon fire.

Ezran weeps in the middle of his nursery.

This is where tiny children are supposed to cry, after all.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (23)

23. Harrenhal

MASTERLIST

Summary: You can’t see a way out

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, incest, hinted non-con, involuntary imprisonment, non con adultery, pregnancy, a little injury involving a knife, and blood, death of a character, a VERY GORY ONE, sorry for that I have never written anything like it, war and all that comes with it, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: this came sooner than I even expected... and I have to warn... we are coming close to an end! I hope to drag it out to make it even 30 chapters... but no promises BUT I already have in mind a couple of Epilogues about their lives and the ones of their babies! hehe anyways... here we go

Aemond regretted it

As he gazed at you, he regretted telling you he had murdered Cregan, showing you his burnt cloak he find in the remains of the battlefield

You had become catatonic, dead but breathing, you refused to eat, to speak, you were barely breathing, laying on the bed, it got so bad he released your chains, but you didn’t even try to stand, or run away, you just laid there.

The maids revealed to him you did eat at night when he wasn’t there, that you cried when you believed nobody could hear you

You were still there, but when he was near, you wear dead

Since the first time he had you, he spent two whole weeks making you his, then he flew to the battlefield and completely destroyed the Winterwolves, half of the army, but he took out Cregan, making them dissolve in the Riverlands. 

He returned, you knew something was… different, he didn’t see you in days, hoping to erase all trace of battle from himself, and when he was “clean”, he had returned to you, he spend a month with you. But no matter how many times he had you, and how excited he was that your blood moon haden’t come yet, you wouldn’t let yourself go, you wouldn’t surrender fully to him, and he grew exasperated

So as the received word that the old cunt had taken King’s Landing and he was here, with a reluctant woman - since now you were unknowingly a widow he believed he could marry you once you were with child-.

He lost it

He threw it in your face that as soon as he recuperated King’s Landing, you were going to marry. “That mutt” was well dead and burnt, turned to dust under Vhagar’s flames and he had his cape to prove it. 

That is when he lost you even though you were right there

Another month has gone by, his army went to surround King’s Landing, his younger brother Daeron was winning on every town that was unlucky enough to swear to the blacks 

Aemond sighed when he planned on what to do with you, when he felt arms around his shoulders 

“My love”, Alys whispered in his ears, “I’m here, please”, he released himself from her grasp, and she whine, tired of this, tired of your looming presence in the castle, in her home, “she doesn't want you”, he bit out

“She will”, he said softly, you knew you were a mother, and once he got you pregnant, he believed you were going to react again, become alive, with some meaning, you still had Rickon, Winterfell was still intact, once you had another pup in your belly you were going to recuperate, he was sure of it

“You still have one eye and yet you are so blind”, she said meanly, “I will have your children”, she said, convinced

“Its her”, he said bitterly, and Alys only whined, her dark heart only growing darker, her jealousy burning her like dragon fire

 Maybe rejecting Alys like that was a mistake, but in Aemond’s mind, she was loyal to him, no matter what, he had promised her a life in King’s landing as her mistress, and she had gladly accepted, he was not going to push her away, that was the price, and yet… he somewhat feared her

But his mind was occupied and concerned with you at the moment, no one else

He had time with you, he held you sometimes at night, and you did curled your arms around him, but he believe it was only because he was the only one there and you were only a human, going through a crippling grief and he was the only source of human warmth and interaction 

Things changed one day when he realized something… he placed his hand on your belly, and there it was… A small bump

He almost cried 

“It’s not yours”, you whined, “It’s Cregan’s”, you spitted out, that is the first time you spoke in a month and your voice sounded like a broken bagpipe. Aemond removed his hand like it burned him, he had a troubled face, but he quickly changed it with a wicked grin

“Are you sure about that?”, he asked wickedly, so proud of himself, “you have been here almost three months”

You whined burying your face on the pillow, not even you were convinced, but you had to be, you placed your hand on your belly, it was too soon to be Aemond’s, but also, you haven't been eating much either… it was possible

Aemond left you room smiling so widely, he was so, so happy, it had happened so quickly he couldn’t believe, he was certain it was his, of course, he was of the blood of the dragon just like you, so it was obvious to him it was a strong little dragon growing in your belly.

And his happiness was not missed by Alys, as she watched from the shadows Aemond leaving your room.

She had to get you out of the way, but if she did, Aemond was never going to forgive her, no, it was not his fault, it was yours, you needed to suffer.

And she could already tell, that the best way to get to you, was trough your loved ones

But she wasn’t strong enough to go after Rickon, not without help…

. . .

Cregan woke up hours later, because he couldn’t longer breathe, he had to push his way out of a pile of what it used to be humans, now heavy piles of ashes

He was being pulled by someone, and when he could open his eyes he saw Lord Roderik, he could see he tears in his eyes, he had lost his son, Jon used his own body to cover Cregan’s from the flames, dying instantly

“Roderik”, he whined, as surviving soldiers help him, “Dragonstone”, he managed to say, “Daemon”, before he was lost again to unconsciousness 

Daemon and his dragon was the only one who could go head to toe with Vhagar

Luckily for Cregan, he had loyal men with him, who in his state, an arm burned and barely conscious, they took him east, towards the sea, recuperating on the road

Which was long, and hard, the men were broken, half his numbers had been slain and burned, but that didn’t deter them from attacking all small forces of the greens they encountered as they made their way to the crownlands

They didn’t know the Blacks had taken King’s Landing, but they released the northeast part of the crownlands, as they were making their way to a safe port that could take them to Dragonstone, or Driftmark

And they spread the rumors, that Lord Cregan Stark was dead, they couldn't have the greens realizing they had failed, they thought, for it was a dead sentence on all of them

So the word spread like wildfire, that Cregan Stark was dead and his broken army was set for vengeance , letting themselves loose in the Crownlands

It was in the middle of the night in which she decided to put her plan in motion, he sneaked into your chambers, when she knew Aemond wasn't there 

A sharp knife in her hand, you awakened only when your fac started to burn, you didn’t know what happened, you only woke up with a burn on your cheek and a wet face, whining. You swear you could see two green eyes looking down at you, like those of a cat, as just as quickly as they came, they vanished, and soon you were alone again

You managed to sit on the bed and took your hand to your cheek, the fire lit in the room let you know it was blood, you ran out of your room to the hallway, which was lit up by torches, and some guards were there, shocked to see your face all bloodied

It was only a small cut in your right cheek, but it was bleeding profusely 

Of course one of them went to fetch Aemond and the maester, in that order, and the other help you clean the wound, to see the extent of the damage

You were calm, Aemond wasn’t as much as he paced furiously over the room as the old maester with shaky hands cleaned your wound and gave it a couple of stitches to help it close

You didn’t even felt the needle coming in and out of your skin, you swear you couldn’t feel anything, you only breathed evenly as you placed your hand on your belly, soothing yourself, Aemond stopped his pacing to look at you, worried, but smiling softly when he saw your hand.

You were a good mother, even if you despised him, you were going to be so good with all the children he was going to give to you

But Alys had everything she needed

It was true, babies were very difficult to bewitch, especially yours, having both Valyrian and the first men’s blood pumping through his veins, protected by an ancient energy.

But with the help of your blood, the blood of the own mother of the child, she could become stronger, enough to finish the job she wanted to do. 

she was careful with not dropping the precious liquid until she reached her own chambers, in there, everything was ready, the herbs, a small sacrifice, and the fire always lit up, ready for anything she might want or need to see 

She started whispered as soon as she was in front of the fire, the flames immediately dancing at her command, she top a small vial of wild fire and threw it inside the fireplace, the flames immediately acquiring a neon green color, and a roaring sound could be heard in the room, but only for her ears

She repeated what Aemond had seen, throwing herbs in the fire and chanting in a language that maester believed to be dead. And soon�� in her eyes, it could be seen the far North, the already green grass surrounding the castle of Winterfell, but still the valleys filled with snow, still not melting away despite already being in spring

With further concentration, she came in closer, she could feel the cold air, the crisp wind of the North. Soon, she went through the huge gates of the first wall, then through the drawbridge and then by the next one.

She was not impressed by the castle that had been standing for 8.000 years, instead, she went straight for the huge wooden doors leading to the main castle, across the courtyard, she could see everything, hear everything, and yet, she was on a mission.

The Winterfell corridors and rooms could be a bit like a maze to the unknown person walking through them, but she had done this before, at Aemond’s bidding, she had already done the work of walking all through this walls and passages 

She had already seen where the Lord of Winterfell’s rooms where

And that is where she went

The shadow walked slowly through the stone corridors, by each step she gained strength, she gained material to be able to influence her surroundings, but at this time of night, the castle was almost empty, the sleepy soldiers unaware of the danger.

The monstrous shadow climbed the last set of stairs towards the main corridor where your rooms were, where Sara’s and baby Rickon’s rooms were.

She went first to yours, but it was empty and cold, the baby was not there, so she turned around and back at the hallway, and then walked slowly towards the second bedroom, a smaller room.

The corridor of the main chambers were mostly empty, the main branch of the Stark family consisted in only Cregan, Sara, you and baby Rickon, Alys had to hold in her bitter laugh, for as you naively believed you were going to fill those rooms with children of your own

You will never be able to do that…

her shadowy hand, deformed with big claws, opened the wooden door slowly, she could almost taste the infant’s blood. 

There he was, sleeping peacefully on his wooden cradle, covered in furs, the fire lit up, but barely, she had to be quick or she could be interrupted by some made or guard ready to set the fire up again.

BUt back in Harrenhal, Alys threw more herbs, and then, with her finger, gathered your blood from the blade and let its drops fall into the flames.

They changed from a green color, to a deep red, and then black flames, this was it, the darkest level of magic she was ever going to be able to produce, or manifest

The shadow now became flesh, dust became blood, and to the eyes of the skeptical, Alys Rivers materialized in the room of the heir of winterfell, of Rickon Stark

The same knife that had your blood, appeared in her hand, and she smiled viciously when the baby cooed in his sleep

His dark hair disgusted her, she was disgusted by you, not being able to have a child with silvery locks like your own, she smiled bitterly…

She was not cruel, one stab to the heart will be enough, quick and easy, he was not going to suffer… much… 

But as she raised the knife above the crib… a growl interrupted her, she turned quickly to the side, scared out of her mind, but she sighed, relieved, when the only things she saw was a little pup

“SHUT UP!”, she commanded in a whisper, but the pup kept growling at her, he even barked, and when he did, she kicked the poor pup, who flied a couple of feet into the ground, in whimpers

It was a miracle that Rickon didn’t wake

“I hate animals”, she said viciously, turning back to the crib.

But as she raised the knife, she was interrupted again, by a deep, more vicious growl, she turned towards the door and the only thing she could she was two huge golden eyes staring at her, taller than her, almost the size of the door

By the side of the beat, appeared Sara

“Autumn…”, she called, “attack”

The huge wolf wasted no time in jumping the witch, it happened so fast she couldn't react as Autumn’s jaws closed around her whole head, she didn’t even draw a sound as her paws closed around her shoulders and arms and the wolf’s head moved abruptly from one side to the other, snapping her neck and crushing her skull between her teeth that were as sharp as Valyrian steel

“Greenseer beats blood witch”, whispered Sara as Autumn licked her teeth and her paws. Sara grabbed a sleeping Rickon and cuddled him against her chest, and left the room to cuddle her nephew to her own room, who in turn was protected with another type of ancient magic. Rickon nameless pup soon followed her, moving his short tail 

Aemond, al the way back in Harrenhal went to confront Alys the next morning, he knew she had something to do with the attack on you, and if we are being honest, he was scared for you, he had seen what Alys could do, but only after spending the night with you, he went to her rooms and what he found there made him ran down back on his own steps and throw up in the nearest pot he could find 

Her head was on one side of the room, and her body on the other.

Blood everywhere, in the ceiling and in the walls, and the fire extinguished. 

Aemond had no choice but to burn it all with Alys in it, people will never believe what he saw, no one ever could.

What happened in that room, it could not be explained. 

It took two months for Cregan to reach Dragonstone, only to realize it was empty, the royal family was not there, they had taken King’s Landing, but from there, they could be easily reached, a raven arrived in King’s landing with the news that Cregan Stark was in Dragonstone, desperately wanting to talk to Daemon Targaryen.

Jacaerys was still in Dragonstone, as prince of the seat of the Targaryens., and in the middle of the war, he was commanded to protect it until the threat of the Greens could be defeated permanently, with him was Rhaena and Baela 

The Rogue was securing the rest of the crown lands, and he couldn’t attend the call of the young wolf, but to one month later, as soon as he could 

“What happened?”, he asked, as soon as he had the wolf of Winterfell in front of him, he took of the helmet of his armor and stare at the man

“We were marching South, we were surprised by the Baratheons and the royal army”, he whined, “we fought, good, we were winning, but there was nothing we could do against Vhagar”

“But why would you march on Harrenhal?”, he asked, annoyed, “we explicitly said that…”

“He has her”, he cut his words, and Daemon looked at him wide eyed

“How?”, he asked

“He threatened her when I had already left, she went to him willingly, to avoid bloodshed, to safe our son and Winterfell”, Daemon cursed in High Valyrian, as he paced around the war room

“When?”

“Five moons ago”, Daemon grabbed a wooden chair and threw it against the nearest wall, breaking it in a thousand pieces

“And just now…?”, he faced Cregan

“I didn't know you were not here!”, he fought back, and Daemon refrained from fighting him. But as he thought more about, on a plan to recuperate you… he realized that one-eye bastard had not been in the battlefield, because he was distracted, by you

“With this… she had given us a priceless gift”, he said. Cregan frowned, looking at him

“What gift?”

“Time”

“What do you mean?”, asked then Jacaerys, who was as surprised as terrified 

“He is distracted by her, we lost Harrenhal but recuperated the rest of the Riverlands, the knights of the Vale are crossing the Valley, we are going to storm Harrenhal and he won’t see us coming!”, he said hastily, he then looked at Cregan

“Can you raise another army?”, he asked him

“Already send the ravens”, he said, decisively

“I will take care of the Dragon, you will take care of the Baratheons and the Greens”, and just like that, they were ready to retaliate. 

The blacks were planning the counterattack

More notes: i had never written any magical thing like that, I hope it was bearable AJAJA It even amazed me of how quickly the chapter came, now I'm a short period of vacation and I'm inspired

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[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 3

A/N: Thanks for the wait! The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster for me, and this is the only place I can go to escape. This POV will mainly be from Alucard's perspective.

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Chapter 3

He's glad you don't see his face when he leaves - rushing out with any excuse under the sun.

In his mind, it's a mess, his senses frantic, elevated to a pulsing rush that he can't tell if the rush of a heartbeat is his or hers.

His skin feels alight in almost agony, every step he takes gives him more reason to be rid of the witch he’s allowed into his father’s castle—no, his castle now. He can be quicker than her to get rid of her before she finds any weapon to use against him.

He could make it fleeting the pain- he was not cruel like his father - he was always quick with giving death to those, it was maybe the human part of him who saw it the same way as giving an animal mercy.

She will find some way to boil my blood, he told himself, crush my bones to make powder. He could not stop the frantic part of his mind screaming not to be so kind to her, not to provide her the things any host should.

He couldn't trust humans again - he told that to himself over and over again - not those whom he allowed to understand the knowledge of his castle, even those who had killed his mother had become a bitter memory. Alucard was no fool, it was the same pain his father felt the day his mother left them, but even his pain, grief and rage burnt him into the man Dracula was always meant to be. Alucard was not as certain if he could possess such vengeance on humanity so soon, but he had tried being sympathetic and it had gotten him scored and beaten. It burnt him all the same, and the betrayals would keep coming to him, over and over again.

Maybe it was his human side, the side of his mother, that was telling him to be a good host, to tend to her injuries and give her refuge. She would've done the same if she was here. Though he was not just part human, and if his father had still been living or had she stumbled into any other vampire's home, it would’ve been in the blink of an eye before his father had her innards spilt and hung as decoration, her throat slashed before her fist could make contact with the doors.

It had worked with his mother though, would it be a coincidence if it could happen again?

Human or not, Alucard knew she had been a witch the second she entered his father’s castle. The stench of witches was ancient and as old as the earth itself. It was one of old power, dormant yet ready to strike. It was stronger on her compared to other creatures he had come across.

Alucard was knowledgeable about witches' hatred for most creatures: humans, creatures of the night, and vampires.

They were familiar with their kind, keeping to themselves, sometimes nomadic and travelling until they could find a place they called their own.

But this girl was far from her coven, muddied and riddled in cuts, she looked half from dead by the time she arrived at the doors of the castle. Alucard did not doubt that if she had not been any sooner, night creatures would've found quick work of her body, he would've been little to no help at all at this point.

Running a hand through his golden locks, Alucard sighed heavily, defeatedly, staring off to the side at the portrait, half-covered and drawn from the sight of his mother. Her lovely, kind smile brought him to feel the guilt first, then the resolution. "You will call me harsh," he said aloud, in acceptance of the unfortunate situation, "but giving her one month of refuge was enough-- even Father would have called me brash for such a thing. No doubt agreeing her body would be spiked alongside the others." 

He does not dare look at her in the painted gaze, knowing that despite it being a painting, her knowing gaze is enough to make him feel further shame. He does not regret his choice of words or his apathy. It's rough work to trust again, and he thinks he will never open his heart to a stranger again. He will keep her at arm's length before her final day comes, and then he'll send her on her merry way, never to be seen here again.

He could imagine his friends, even hearing their precise words in the back of his mind, nagging him. "You should be kinder, Alucard." Sypha is first to console with gentle words, but hers are just like his mother's. "You do not know how far she has come."

He thinks and he agrees before he thinks to his other friend's opinion. What do you think, Trevor? He regrets asking in his head, to the exact reasoning, he knows how the Belmont would answer, "I'm not sober enough to be having this fucking conversation."

The Dhampir sighs dejectedly, finding reason to begin with slowly finding parts of the castle to keep to, in hopes of avoiding her.

-

The awkward exchange was enough to make you feel even more threatened than before. Just as you thought you had been able to see the smallest of cracks in Alucard's personality, he shut you out. You didn't feel angered by that though, you knew killing your father was enough to make anyone feel a sense of sorrow to hang for the rest of one's days. 

You decided to clear up the plates and then find where Alucard spoke of the guest bedroom, where, to your delight was a better place to stay than anywhere you had stayed for all your days of living. The room was far too spacious to be one that belonged to perhaps a member of staff, with silken sheets and dropped curtains, the bed looked lavish enough that you feared you would never be able to rise from again if you dared lay on it.

Thanking yourself for being clean before you threw yourself onto the bed, your body screamed in joy when the softness of the sheets hit you, and you were overcome with a smell of light lavender, soothing and sweet. You could almost imagine hitting the pillows right away and having the best sleep of your entire life, but you knew that that had to wait. Exploring awaited.

It was perhaps a blessing that you didn’t run into Alucard as you wandered the long halls, taking in the aged beauty of the castle. You took in the paintings, the décor, the statues that made you know that life once hung in the halls. It hung like doom how the drab ruin and cracks in the walls told you the castle would never be the same. You told yourself that if you were allowed, you could help tidy some of the rubble.

Your gaze caught a painting you hadn’t seen before: caught in secrecy with a red curtain, covering the majority of the oil painting. Taking glances behind you and in front, you drew in closer, pulling the curtain back to reveal the beauty of the canvas.

The two figures you didn’t recognise, but they looked like opposites. Light hair and dark hair. The sun and the Moon. Human and Vampire. You knew the vampire was Dracula: from his dark locks and wine-coloured eyes, he was drawn closely to his wife, whom you now knew was Alucard’s mother.

The woman was comely and time had not taken away her beauty. Her lips were curled in a sweet, soft smile, holding in her arms a buddle of blond curls similar to hers.

You stared as you looked at the babe, his innocent beaming smile had small fangs poking out, his golden eyes were joining his duel backgrounds, and though you feared the Dhampir, you could not help but find the baby version of him to be adorable.

What made you what you are now? You thought.

Continuing from the corridor, you entered the closest room with its door slightly ajar. It was dark when you entered, the tall curtains drawn. You didn’t wish to disturb the room as it already was by pulling back the curtains, you opted for a better solution.

Looking back through the door you came through, you cupped your hands in front of you, speaking a gentle tone, “Ardeo.”

Your flame came with better ease, yet it acted as the needed torch and light to help you see better. You can now take in the room better: amazed by the very sight in front of you.

You knew Dracula was a man of knowledge, but the room you stepped into was one of grandeur no living man would ever comprehend. Despite the mess of some bookshelves, its books scattered everywhere, the room was very much one that left you in awe.

Observing closer, your curiosity got the better of you (your mother always told you that), and walking over to the books you could see. Using one hand, you scanned the spines, taking in the words. Some were foreign to you, others in the language you knew, but were that not even the church could understand.

This… was far more than just common knowledge, and you were amazed by how much any subject could be used. You grew interested in Dracula, which had books on different species, one you had in particular.

Humans, vampires, dhampirs, speaker magic. Witches.

In the face of being so absorbed in the books in front of you, you failed to hear the sound of a door creaking open, the fluttering of a cape, the sound of footsteps approaching with such haste, that you didn’t have time to look-

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” The voice barked, a hand pulled you away from them, and from the small flames in your hand, the face in front of you erupted from fury to fear.

Alucard had every right to be angry at you in this moment: you did after all cross into a room you were not supposed to go in. It was not that that made your heart rate spike, but the fact that his sword was once again by your throat, cold as a kiss of death against your flesh.

He did not speak, but even if you tried to, the blade made it difficult with how it dug into your skin. You cried out, both of you mirroring one another with expressions: horror written in your eyes.

How when you had seen his baby picture as adorable, you wanted to take it all back, now was replaced with the sight of his fangs flashing in front of you, hissing like a feral cat in distress.

You felt his hand leave your shoulder, and the strength alone was brutal in how tight his grip was. He was not as close to you now, only did you see those golden eyes staring directly into the flames you held as if it was a normal phenomenon.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, shaking the fire away as the room was engulfed in darkness once again. Only, you were thankful that you could see the outline of his figure still there, watching you in dread and anticipation for what you would do next. “The door… was open—I’m sorry, I overstepped.”

Alucard did not speak, for it seemed he was struck with a fear you had felt many times before. Only did you direct his attention to the book in your other hand, did he seem not to be so rigid.

Witches: The Natural Guide to Magic, Witchcraft and the Occult

His next act startles you when you feel the blade of his sword loosen just enough to allow you to breathe, and he stares between the book and yourself. “Why would a witch need a book like that?���

You stared at him as if you had been slapped across the face. It seemed only a coincidence you couldn’t cast spells, and him being part vampire would’ve noticed too if you had intent on attacking him.

He speaks again, eyes squinted on you. “You could’ve killed me at this point, a hundred times over.”

“I could’ve, but I didn’t… even with the generosity, you offered me refuge,” you calmed yourself enough to speak the truth. “No, I’ve simply lost my skills.”

Alucard stares at you sceptically, “You’re a witch who can’t do spells?” He motions to your hands, “What were those flames then? Some Parlor trick? An illusion?” Regardless of how for a moment ago, threatened you, his voice is sardonic and light.

You could only laugh bitterly, “You’ll think I’m mad.” But the look he gave you told you he already thought so. He was still hesitant of you, you could tell, from the way he stood, and that he was not afraid to use that longsword, always by his side. Whatever he had faced, he still had the mental scars he could not heal.

If I want to get into his good graces, I need to prove I’m not the crones he’s heard of.

You collected yourself, to tell somewhat of the truth. “The coven I was brought into, they were powerful sisters. They welcomed my mama when she was at her worst, and when she had me, they spoke of my destiny, my worth. I was young when they were all slaughtered—slaughtered by”

“Vampires,” Alucard concluded, and his face did not read with the content of knowing that you may have disdain for him.

“I lost my abilities, my skill to heal, to bring back something from death, that was all gone that day, the day I found my mama’s body, drained of all blood.”

“I do not expect you to like me,” Alucard began, and you noticed the way his sword retracted from your neck, floating by his side. “I have certain books that could help you, to help you when you leave. It is one thing I can offer, the books.”

You remembered his deal, to be here for a month before you were sent on your way: one month to gain as much knowledge as you could, as many things you could remember to do or be taught. It was a chance you could only have once, and you were not wishing to reject it when it was being presented to you on a silver platter.

“You would help me?” You questioned.

“My mother would’ve helped you gain your strength, your confidence once again. She was a healer after all, and helping was her job.” There was that softness you noticed he had when he spoke about his mother, and it ripped your heart in two to think of your own.

“You’re not so cruel as I thought The Alucard would be.” You quipped, gathering the books that had dropped to the ground as you began to help tidy. Unbeknownst to you, the smallest of smiles graced the dhampir’s lips, his eyes glowing with a warming amiability.

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 03

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5278, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Bridges are easier burnt than repaired, and Ominis knows this better than most. Thoughts of the new fifth year still refuse to leave his mind, and it’s time to decide whether he wants to do something about them.

a/n: Part 2 of the pre- library chapters, they really turned out much longer than planned, but I hope they’re still enjoyable.

Chapter 02 || Masterlist || Chapter 04

Chapter 03 - Wheels within wheels

Ominis stood in the Undercroft once again, breathing a sigh of relief. He’d been coming here every chance he got since their argument a few days ago, half expecting to find a certain someone already there, but she never was.

Neither was Sebastian.

There had been a somewhat frosty tension between the two of them in the last few days, and even less conversation than what had become usual for them since the start of term. 

Sebastian had evidently decided that it would be best to give Ominis some time to get over the betrayal. Whenever they didn’t have classes together, Sebastian would be either in the library or he would just disappear. Ominis suspected he was sneaking out of the castle, probably with her, but he couldn’t be sure.

Sebastian wouldn’t mention her anymore, a development that he should have been grateful for, but for some reason was not.

Ominis wandered over to one of the old, battered tables and leaned against it, pocketing his wand. Slowly breathing in the cool, dusty air, finding comfort in the silence, away from the noise of the always busy castle.

Perhaps she was too scared to come back.

He knew he’d been out of line, shouting at her, threatening her, taking all of his pent up anger and frustration out on her, but she was a stranger and he didn’t want her here. That’s where he arrived every time he mulled over their confrontation in his mind, which happened much more often than he felt comfortable admitting, even to himself.

The familiar metallic clanking of the gate made him tense up. He hastily reached for his wand.

Merlin help her if she-

He recognised the footsteps. It was Sebastian. When he noticed Ominis he hesitated for a second, probably debating whether he should leave or stay. “Hello, Ominis. Are you alone?” 

Ominis scoffed. “I’m not the one who started bringing girls here, Sebastian.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

Sebastian crossed the room and hopped up to sit on the table, next to where Ominis leaned back again. It creaked under his weight, and Ominis winced at the noise. “Do I?”

“I told you,” Sebastian drawled with a hint of amused irritation, “she’s my friend.”

Ominis knew bringing it up again would likely result in another argument, but he was still bitter, and not eager to let Sebastian think he’d gotten away with anything. “Where’d you leave your ‘friend’ then? Outside, until you made sure I wasn’t here?” It was needlessly ungenerous.

“Why can’t you try to get along with her?”

“You know why. And am I to believe the resentment isn’t mutual? I imagine she complains about me at every opportunity.” It had been a frequent thought since their argument, and each time he wondered if Sebastian bothered defending him at all. Ominis wasn’t sure what compelled him to bring it up now- it did make him a tad nervous. Would having it confirmed make it better? Or worse?

Sebastian leaned closer. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said smugly, “she hasn’t mentioned you at all. Other than when she apologised.”

Apologised?

The words took a moment to sink in.

When? And for what, precisely?

Ominis shifted his weight uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

“She told me after… you know, our fight the other day. That she was sorry about how things turned out, that she didn’t mean to upset you. She was really worried about you and me falling out over it,” Sebastian explained. “She kept asking about how to make things right, I told her not to worry about it.”

Ominis felt something creeping up inside his chest. Something that felt an awful lot like guilt. “I… I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. Did you really threaten to get her expelled?”

Ominis turned his head, to make sure his friend didn’t miss the annoyed look on his face. “Of course not- I threatened to get her in trouble with Black, but nothing as serious as that.”

“Well, she seems to think that means ‘expelled’,” Sebastian explained, still with an air of smug amusement that was starting to pull his nerves.

“Would you please let her know it doesn’t?” Ominis snapped. Merlin, no wonder she hadn’t shown up in the Undercroft again if she thought her days at Hogwarts were numbered if she did. 

…but shouldn’t he be glad for it? Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

“Calm down, I told her not to worry. I know you better than that, although I still don’t know what exactly she’s done to get on your bad side- you didn’t seem to like her even before,” Sebastian said.  

Ominis had the strange sensation of being sized up, so he did his best to keep his features impassive.

“What sort of ‘trouble’ did you have in mind, then?”

“Nothing. It was an empty threat. I meant to leave it to her imagination, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that’s how she’d take it.” Ominis frowned. Truthfully, he’d always known that she really hadn’t done anything wrong. He knew Sebastian well enough to guess that it would have been his idea to show her the Undercroft and not tell her anything about it until they were standing in it, and what was she supposed to do then? Run away and obliviate herself?

She probably didn’t even know that spell existed.

Ominis really wished she hadn’t lied about it afterwards, but he should have guessed it was Sebastian who’d put her up to that too. She was merely trying to be a good friend, to not betray his trust, and he couldn’t very well blame her for choosing to stay loyal to Sebastian.

She was a Hufflepuff, after all.

Both of them stayed silent for a while. Ominis was fidgeting with his wand, endlessly turning it over between his fingers, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“She was curious about you, you know.” Sebastian’s voice gently broke the silence.

Ominis cocked his head to the side. “Curious?”

“It was written all over her face when we talked about you.”

…it was?

He tried to remember what Sebastian had told her about him, ignoring the little jolt in his chest. It had vexed him to think that she’d paid him no mind at all, but her being curious was not necessarily a good thing. There were a million things about him to be curious about, few of which he liked to discuss and none of which were her business.

“That’s another reason why I brought her here. To tell her about you. I thought that would make it easier.”

“Make what easier?”

Sebastian groaned. “Merlin’s beard, Ominis. I don’t know why, but you’ve had something against her from the very start- I thought if I could get her to like you first, it would be easier for the two of you to get along.”

Fingers flying up to the bridge of his nose again, Ominis didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, as it finally made sense. “So that was your grand plan? Impress her by showing off your secret hideout, and then tell her it was really mine, so she’d… what, want to be my friend?”

“Well…” Sebastian cleared his throat, suddenly sheepish. “More or less.”

Ominis did let out a dry laugh at that. It was a thought he’d always been too scared to dwell on, let alone voice, but he always suspected that he was the reason Sebastian didn’t have any other close friends.

Sebastian paused, and Ominis knew, instinctively, that he was looking at him, waiting for another reaction. When he didn’t get one, he kept talking. “I really was hoping we could all be friends, you know. Eventually. The three of us.”

Ominis’ heart ached.

He hadn’t ever expected to make another friend, nor had he ever spared a thought for whether he needed or wanted one. There was a ‘three of them’, as far as he was concerned, and it didn’t involve her.

No reason to believe she felt any different. She could make friends just by walking into a room, and it was hard to imagine why she’d choose his company over any of theirs. “I’m not sure about that,” he said softly. “What about Anne?”

“Anne would love her.” Sebastian sighed, doing something else that caused the table to groan under his weight again. “You could give it a try, at least? She’s rather forgiving, you know. If you just apologised-”

“If I apologised? She was the one who lied to me,” Ominis replied haughtily.

Sebastian paused. He leaned forward, until their shoulders were touching. “About what?”

Ominis hesitated. “You. The Undercroft. She tried to pretend that she happened to find it by accident.”

“Did she really?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian let out a small chuckle. ”I knew she couldn’t keep it a secret when you burst in to shout at me, but it’s good to know she tried, at least,” he said affectionately.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she just apologised.”

Ominis rolled his eyes in a dramatic display of disapproval. Sebastian showing his obvious fondness for the girl still hurt, although perhaps not as much as it did a week ago.

“See, I told you she could be trusted.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“You will be.” Sebastian said confidently. “Trust me.”

“We’ll see.” Nothing had been resolved, not really, but the talk had done their friendship some good, at least. Ominis straightened up. His backside was starting to hurt from where he’d leaned against the table’s edge, and for the first time in days, he was actually hungry. “Did you have dinner yet?” 

An olive branch, disguised as a casual question, thrown over his shoulder as he made to leave.

Sebastian didn’t answer, but when he jumped off the table to follow Ominis, it was with a spring in his step.

As much as Ominis hated to admit it, it seemed as if Sebastian was right.

Another week went by, and still there was no sign that she ever told anyone else of the Undercroft’s existence. By now, Ominis was fairly certain she never even went back there herself. He’d continued to linger near the entrance, anxiously waiting for someone to enter or to hear someone mention the strange room hidden behind the piece of furniture under the stairs next to Hecat’s classroom.

No one ever did. So he tried to move on, put her out of his mind. It was impossible. Ever since his talk with Sebastian, Ominis hesitated to go to the Undercroft by himself, not knowing what to do if she were to come in- how to face her again, after the last time. Sebastian’s words kept echoing in his mind-

“...she apologised… she was sorry… she was worried… 

…she was curious about you, you know.”

Ominis didn’t know what to make of it. Sebastian had a tendency towards bending and exaggerating the truth when it suited his needs, but even if he’d been entirely truthful for once- her apologies were given to Sebastian, not him. And for Merlin’s sake, he still had his pride. He wouldn’t be the one to grovel before her begging for forgiveness, when she seemed perfectly content to go on as if nothing had happened.

So instead, he tried to make peace with the situation as it was. His friendship with Sebastian still didn’t feel the way it was supposed to, but it had been tentatively repaired. Ominis would just have to accept that from now on, it was something he’d have to share. 

But having the resolve to move on and let go was one thing. Putting it into practice was much more difficult. When he didn’t know where to go or what to do with himself, now that he didn’t have a single thing left that was truly his, that remained of the few years in his life when he’d been truly happy. 

When he still couldn’t go a single day without constantly being reminded of her.

They shared most of their classes- not just Potions and Herbology, as she’d seemed to think.

Had she noticed since? And their Professors were still as eager to give her the chance to prove herself, so there was sparsely a lesson where he didn’t have to put up with hearing her voice.

…at least it was pleasant to listen to.

Even now, as he was sitting in the alcove by the water in the Transfiguration Courtyard, he remembered it was her who repaired the broken statue there. He shifted in his uncomfortable position, already regretting his decision not to go to the library instead. It was one of the last warm autumn days, so he thought he’d make the most of it by taking his assigned reading outside. But the stone floor in the shade was chillier than expected, and he could hardly concentrate on what he was reading- making it halfway through the page, his mind started churning again, and he’d lost track of where he was. 

And he felt an increasing need to use the bathroom.

For the third time in the last hour, he had the urge to just call it a day. But their homework load had become gruelling, now that they were in their O.W.L. year, and though he usually managed to scrape by with passable grades in his worst subjects, this year he was cutting it close. Herbology was bad, Potions was worse and Sharp would have his head if he couldn’t at least deliver passable results in his written homework. 

He shifted his weight again. Then he gave up, cursing under his breath as he threw his book back into his bag and stood up on aching legs to follow nature’s call.

Ominis warily went for the bathroom in Griffindor tower, despite its reputation, hoping it might be deserted at least.

Thankfully, it was.

Usually he couldn’t even visit the bathroom without running into boy talk of how she was ‘easy on the eyes’, whatever in Merlin's name that meant.

He wondered if Sebastian agreed- he had started to notice girls sometime in their fourth year, sneakily avoiding the subject when Anne was with them, but at night in their dormitory the two of them had their own fair share of boy talk. It had always been rather one sided- Ominis was hardly going to notice or care about which girl was starting to fill out which part of her uniform, but they’d always felt like normal and harmless enough conversations. 

Now he found himself wishing he could go back to when he’d be lying in his bed, without a care in the world, giggling in his sheets as Sebastian told him about how much of a blessing it was that Lenora Everleigh had started wearing trousers. He’d jokingly threaten to tell Anne and Sebastian would act scandalised and betrayed, until they both fell asleep. 

Sebastian never mentioned how the new fifth-year looked in her trousers, and Ominis wasn’t going to let her worm her way even more into their friendship by asking. All Ominis knew about her appearance was that she was often seen returning to the castle with dirty robes and random bits of greenery stuck in her messy hair.

Wiping his still wet hands on his robes as he emerged from the bathroom, he contemplated where to go to finish his reading. The library perhaps- or he’d make an exception for once and go to the Undercroft again. Perhaps he-

It took him a second to realise that she’d walked straight past him.

He’d started to recognise the pattern of her footsteps.

Since when?

They were rapidly fading in the distance. He made a split second decision.

Ominis didn’t know why he followed her. Her steps seemed eager, upbeat, purposeful. She was up to something- perhaps he wanted to figure out what it was, by himself for once, instead of hearing about it afterwards from the whispering corridors.

She was headed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower. Then straight towards the Undercroft’s entrance. Ominis’ heart beat faster, he was at once triumphant and disappointed. So he’d been right about her all along. He’d been right and Sebastian had been wrong. She wasn’t even-

“Hello Zenobia, I found all your Gobstones.”

…What?

Oh. 

“Really? I didn’t think it was possible! How ever did you do it?”

“Common sense and basic magic,” she answered dryly.

Ominis huffed a quick laugh. Slinking back against the wall, sinking to the floor, hopefully out of sight, burying his face in both hands.

What was he doing? Why had he followed her?

He’d rarely ever felt so foolish.

Ominis listened to the rest of their conversation with a wistful feeling washing over him every time he heard her voice. She sounded so proud of herself. So animated. So genuinely kind, even with the occasional cheeky comment.

The way their conversation went, he gathered she wasn’t about to be a big fan of Gobstones, or at least the potential stink that came with it. Then he wondered what games she might like playing instead, what she did for fun, if she ever had any free time.

Duelling.

Obviously, but surely there must be something else too.

Getting in trouble. Gallivanting across the Scottish highlands.

Quidditch maybe.

She seemed like the type, but if she wasn’t familiar with Gobstones, it was unlikely that she’d know much about Quidditch, and thanks to Black, she’d have to wait until next year to try it out.

That had been another thing that made Ominis uncomfortable around her, her obvious muggle upbringing. It occasionally made him feel sick, reprehensible for treating her the way he did. A way that random passer-bys in the halls were expecting of him, a way his vile, cruel family would approve of. The Gaunts would be more than proud of him for not wanting to associate with ‘such filth’. The thought made him hate himself, until he managed to shove it deeper into the recesses of his mind.

A part of him was defiantly arguing that he had every right to dislike someone, regardless of their blood status.

Yet another part, an initially small one that seemed to grow with every passing day, wasn’t even sure if he did dislike her anymore.

Eventually she left, taking off again to do something else, but Ominis remained in the same spot for a long time after. Feeling the rays of the evening sun slowly shift through the window, the warmth spreading over his face and disappearing again.

One of the castle’s cats came by at some point, rubbing affectionately against his legs and allowing him to pet its fluffy fur until it suddenly took off, perhaps chasing dust mice, or actual mice. Ominis couldn’t hear any, but then his hearing wasn’t quite as good as a cat’s. And then he realised, with a bout of annoyance, that even the cats were beginning to remind him of her.

He eventually made it back to the Slytherin common room in time for curfew, lest he landed himself in detention alongside Sebastian for snapping at a prefect.

“Ominis, over here,” Sebastian called him. Moving slowly towards his friend near the fireplace, careful not to trip over stacks of books strewn about, he was almost run over by Grace, half sobbing, half laughing as she found Nerida at the opposite side of the room. 

He found himself a place on the sofa next to Sebastian.

“Where have you been?”

“Just needed some fresh air.” Ominis muttered in response. He could do without the teasing he’d undoubtedly get if Sebastian knew what he’d really been doing. “What’s going on over there?” he inquired, eager to change the subject.

“Where?”

Ominis gestured towards Pinch-Smedley.

“Oh, that? She’s over the moon because she finally found someone to get her that astronomy thing from the lake. Just wrote to her parents about it.”

“Someone?” Ominis asked, but he had a feeling he already knew.

“Take a guess.” Sebastian said with an undertone, seemingly reading his mind.

“How could she possibly have time for all this?”

“You’re asking me?”

 “I’d have thought if anyone knew, it would be her best friend,” Ominis said, slightly resentful, and very much hoping Sebastian would deny it.

“So? I’m her friend, not her mother, and no one could possibly keep up with everything she’s up to. Besides-” Sebastian paused, pointedly and very audibly flapping the pages of his book, “I have matters of my own to attend to.”

The silence, shortly followed by the sound of another page turn, told Ominis his friend was not eager to continue the conversation. But he wasn’t obligated to comply. “So is this what she does for fun? Solving everyone else’s problems?”

The question earned him a loud, annoyed exhale. “You know, if you’re that curious, you could ask her yourself. I know you don’t like her much, but she doesn’t bite.”

“I’m not that curious,” Ominis mumbled defensively, absentmindedly fidgeting with one of the cushions. He listened quietly to Sebastian flicking through the pages of his book and Grace’s soft sniffles and laughs among the general chatter.

“How did she do it?” he said softly, to no one in particular, inadvertently mirroring Zenobia’s question from before.

“Hm?” Sebastian answered vaguely.

Ominis tried to imagine what it must be like, diving into the depths of the lake. The water would be freezing cold, even at this time of the year. According to the other Slytherins, it was murky too, the sunlight barely making it below the surface. He’d have to take their word for it, of course, but he’d always imagined it quite eerie. It might look fascinating, perhaps even oddly romantic through their common room window, but he couldn’t fathom what it would be like to actually dive into it.

And for what, for Grace Pinch-Smedley? They weren’t friends. Ominis was sure he never heard them talk to each other before. Smalltalk about schoolwork, perhaps. But certainly nothing that would indicate feelings deep enough to be worth drowning oneself for.

Drowning?

“She could have died.”

Sebastian stopped mid page-flick, letting Ominis know he had his full attention again. “I didn’t think you’d care,” Sebastian teased.

Ominis’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “Did you? So just because I’m not fawning over her like everyone else, I don’t care if she lives or dies?”

“Ominis, I didn’t- what’s gotten into you lately? I don’t even mention her anymore, because it only upset you when I did, and now you’re suddenly interested?”

“Forget it, I’m going to bed,” Ominis snapped, irritated beyond belief because he couldn’t even deny it. 

“Fine,” Sebastian drawled, more than willing to lay the conversation to rest.

Ominis got up, tired and with an all too familiar throbbing pain in his skull, hoping once again that this might finally be the end of it, but knowing better all the same.

She quickly earned a reputation for being the one to turn to if one needed something done, whatever it was.

Retrieving bewitched books under the librarian’s suspicious eyes, solving mysteries behind never before been there portraits, slamming winged keys into cabinets. Quite forcefully too, the first time she’d done it near him, he’d almost dropped his wand.

She’d run up and down the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower several times a day, Merlin knew why, but it happened so frequently that Ominis was now starting to recognise her footsteps even from a distance. And he’d feel anxious on days when he didn’t.

What surprised him most was that she seemed perfectly content being on her own. Once, he would have expected her to end up as the centre of a drove of friends and admirers, like a lantern swarmed by moths, but she was on her own more often than not.

Then he discovered that disapproving of her antics was not his unique privilege.

“Sallow’s in detention because of you. Not a very good friend, are you.”

Ominis’ mouth was open, he caught himself before he realised that he’d been about to defend her. Pointlessly so, as it didn’t seem to bother her. She’d ignored the boy’s teasing as resolutely as she’d ignored Ominis when he made his own snide remarks to her, more than a month ago now.

Again, he tried to tell himself to let it go, not to concern himself with her- until he overheard her agree to save Duncan Hobhouse’s deservedly sordid reputation and had to exercise an absurd amount of self-control not to walk over and drag her away.

He would have liked to pretend that he didn’t know why he suddenly cared, why he felt uneasy every time she walked past him, or why he perked up whenever someone mentioned her name. At some point, in the weeks that had gone by since their confrontation, his view of her had started to shift.

Slowly but surely, the lingering resentment he’d felt towards her had lessened until it was gone completely, replaced instead by a sort of wistful emptiness. Perhaps Ominis did regret shouting at her more than he cared to admit, perhaps Sebastian’s suggestion of them being friends didn’t seem so unappealing after all now, but Ominis had a feeling that he’d rather thoroughly burnt that particular bridge.

She still ignored him, as she had ever since their unfortunate encounter outside of the Undercroft, never spoke to him when she passed by, only giving away her presence with the sound of her footsteps and her scent.

Passing by the stained glass windows, the afternoon sun flooding through, warming his face and small specks of dust tickling his nose, he didn’t know where he was going, only that he’d like to find a way to take his mind off the crushing loneliness that once again kept him company.

Everyone in fifth year had seemed to settle into a new routine, getting used to their classes being more challenging, their professors being more demanding, the OWLs already looming over everyone’s head even though it was still early in the year.

Most of his classmates busied themselves with schoolwork in an effort not to fall behind, a few of the more daring ones taking their quills and parchment with them to the three broomsticks, knowing fully well that they weren’t likely to get any work done. Sebastian was dutifully serving yet another detention with Madam Scribner, and his Hufflepuff friend had disappeared after running through the Defence tower yet again.

Ominis should have made an effort in getting his assignments done himself. They had an essay for Herbology due the next day, which he hadn’t even started to write.

He wondered if she was getting any work done.

Involuntarily, Ominis imagined sitting next to her in the library, her scent getting slightly stronger as she leaned over to him, hushed questions about schoolwork being occasionally disrupted by quick, teasing jokes or a sarcastic remark, followed by comfortable stretches of silence being only disturbed by the sound of her scratching quill and the turning of a book’s pages.

His heart ached just a bit. She probably studied with Sebastian like this, every once in a while, at least. She’d probably drop everything else and come running if Sebastian asked her to the library.

Would she do it for Ominis?

Doubtful. And he wondered why he even cared, but he did.

He leaned against the window, resting his temple against the cool window pane. He listened to the sound of his own breath, felt it as it was fogging up the glass, the sun still streaming across his face. It had gotten colder over the past week. It was almost time for Mr. Moon to take out the pumpkins. Ominis traced the outlines of the window’s intricate framework, his mind a mess yet again.

So was his heart.

Ominis wasn’t quite sure what he wanted himself, only that he couldn’t go on like this. He needed… something. Comfort. Someone to keep him company.

Sebastian?

Perhaps.

Her?

He exhaled deeply, fogging up the glass again.

Would she come to him, if he asked her? Would he want her to?

What was he hoping to gain from it, if she did? A friend? A distraction? 

If he did… he wasn’t even sure he did. But if he wanted to, how would he go about it? 

With Sebastian and Anne, it just sort of happened. Joking and teasing and laughing, at the table in the great hall, in their common room, and he’d been caught in the middle of it until it felt natural. 

Perhaps it could be like that, eventually. It could be a chance to grow closer with Sebastian again, if he could understand what his friend saw in her.

Perhaps he could.

If she’d be willing to give him just a bit of her time.

He dropped his bag, rummaging around in it until he found a spare scrap of parchment, his inkwell, half tipping it over in the process but he didn’t care. Writing with his own hand, not his enchanted quill, and not bothering to look over it afterwards- he knew if he did, he’d burn it on the spot.

It wasn’t perfect, there was every chance he’d live to regret it, but he had to do something.

This was a start.

Standing in it, Ominis remembered why he’d never cared much for the Hogwarts owlery. The unpleasant smell was overwhelming, and it was near impossible for him to avoid stepping into owl droppings. He winced as he felt the crunching of tiny bones under his foot, as he stepped on the skeletal remains of… something.

The next time he wanted to send a letter, he’d go to the Hogsmeade post office again, convenience be damned.

Still, the hard part was done. Fastening letters to owls had always been a bit nerve wracking for him, given the way he’d have to glide his fingers through the feathers to find its legs. He couldn’t help being more touchy than other wizards, and he was never quite sure if or when it would bother the bird, the only give away being a sharp beak nipping at his arm that he literally couldn’t see coming.

He only hoped he’d never be careless enough to try and send a letter with his sleeves rolled up.

There wasn’t much else he could do about it, handling creatures required one to be able to pick up nonverbal cues, body language- something he’d never be able to do. Unlike humans, animals couldn’t simply tell him what they wanted.

Most of them, anyways.

He carefully made his way down the winding steps, concentrating entirely too hard on how annoying he found the whole process of sending letters by owl, because otherwise he’d think too much about how he’d just made an absolute fool of himself. He’d wanted to take the letter back the second the bird had taken flight, fighting a wave of panic and shame that made him consider hexing it out of the air- he’d never have done it, it wasn’t the owl’s fault, after all, but still.

Finally stepping outside, he took a deep breath, his first in several minutes that thankfully did not smell of owl droppings. It did little to calm his nerves, but what was done was done. Either she’d show up or she wouldn’t, and if she did not, that would be the end of it, once and for all, he’d make sure of it.

But it was still there, and he tried to hold onto it as he hurried down the stairs leading back to the castle.

Hope.

more a/n: Unfortunately, the Scriptorium is where hope goes to die, so there’s more angst ahead, but after that I promise this fic will finally have some fluffy, flirty bits again.  “Did you really threaten to get her expelled?”- based on a true story, I genuinely thought he did, until I replayed that part for the fic and realised that he… didn’t. Whoops.  Regarding the whole Undercroft situation, I truly believe Sebastian meant no harm, even if he probably went about it the wrong way. Sebastian really does talk up Ominis the second he and Mc walk into the Undercroft, he genuinely loves him and he’s trying so hard to get Mc to understand. So I feel like Sebastian's heart was in the right place, even if his brain wasn’t.   And Ominis being shockingly well informed about Mc’s whereabouts and little side quests is definitely canon, he has so many lines throughout the whole game that show this (“Don’t get too cocky because you beat Sebastian” “There is such a thing as trying to hard” “Well done at Summoner’s court/Broom trials/Crossed wands” “Glad you fixed the bells” “Ferdinand is so annoying” etc.) and while they’re super judgy and snarky in the beginning, by the end he’s just complimenting Mc. Which is super cute and also the observation that sparked this entire fic. Big thanks to everyone still reading this, and please let me know your thoughts, I’d really appreciate it ❤️And as usual, feel free to point out grammar or spelling mistakes (nicely), I promise I won't bite.

[thlayli-ra]

Punkintyre; a twisted love story (ii)

Welcome to the next part of my Punkintyre ramblings. Last time I spoke about the players and their motives, now I'll be delving into my favourite themes of the ship.

***As always, please note that this is just my own headcanons and are for a spot of fun***

'Look me in the eye when you speak to me, please?'

Punkintyre is all about obsession; mainly Drew's obsession with Punk. Or to be more exact, Drew's obsession with getting Punk to look at him.

He notoriously said 'don't lower those eyes, Punk. Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, please' (and my lower half burst into a million pieces). There was so much to that one line. How it belittled the veteran; Drew was telling him that things had changed in the WWE since his absence, that Punk was no longer the top dog, nor was Drew the young, starry-eyed upstart. He was telling Punk that their roles were now reversed and that Drew was the one making the orders around here now so Punk better damn start listening!

But then... he said 'please'.

And all the power slipped away from his statement with that one, solitary word. Because he wasn't 'telling' Punk, he was 'asking' him. Asking him to look Drew in the eye and give him his attention, his respect. Everything that Punk had denied him their first time around in WWE. Drew is still bitter about it and now he wants that attention more than ever. When the jabs on social media and on-air didn't get the reaction he hoped for, Drew put Punk front and centre at his match at Wrestlemania as a special guest commentator. That way Punk has no option but to look at him at long last.

That should have been enough! But it wasn't, and after winning the title, Drew found himself drawn to Punk, wanting to lavish in the older man's attention up close and personal. Crawling towards him on the table, rubbing the belt in his face, getting to his feet so that Punk has to stare up at him as he insulted him. And for a while, Punk didn't bite... until he did!

Drew finally got what he wanted; Punk's attention. But it was a double-edged sword and cost him dearly. First Wrestlemania, then the no.1 contendership the following night, then Clash at the Castle, then Money in the Bank. The finger on the monkey paw had curled and Drew discovered too late that Punk's gaze is a curse. He'd opened a can of worms and couldn't just cram them all back in again.

Which leads us nicely onto...

Broken Dreams

At the Royal Rumble 2014, Punk had his last match in WWE. He didn't know it at the time - all that he knew was that he was burnt out, jaded and tired. Tired of the constant struggle, the backstage politics and above all, this sickness that had festered inside him for months. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, the medicine he was prescribed was wreaking havoc with his bowels until he'd shat himself on live television and an angry boil seethed beneath the waistband of his trunks.

As he sat in the trainer's room in Cleveland before Raw the following night, suffering from a concussion that he'd picked up during the Rumble, a medic thrust a cup in his hand and told the famously straight edge wrestler to piss in it. It was the final straw and Punk walked away. Some months later, the WWE fired him. On his wedding day.

At the Royal Rumble 2024, Punk had his first match back in WWE in ten years. He didn't need to return - it had taken a lot of pride-swallowing and bridge-mending - and he had already accomplished so much in his tenure with the company. Except... for one. His holy grail. His white whale. The prize catch that had slipped through his hands time and time again.

Main-eventing Wrestlemania!

And it was finally within his reach, all but guaranteed. His name was big enough, his draw undeniable. He ran into the Rumble with a purpose, a rejuvenated spirit and love for his profession.

Until he was caught on the wrong end of a Future Shock DDT...

At Wrestlemania 2020, Drew McIntyre won the WWE Championship. This was a culmination of his entire life's work and dedication, of pushing through the bleakest of times when all hope had gone, of working through addiction, of picking himself back up and igniting that spark again to light his way back through the shadows. At long last, he'd been rewarded for his efforts. Heaving himself up from his knees, tears in his eyes, he clutched his beloved prize and climbed the turnbuckle to show it off-

-to an empty room!

Drew's greatest moment would always be tainted by the presence of Covid-19. Where there should have been crowds cheering, noise and atmosphere was instead an empty silence. It hardly echoed the weight of this victory for him personally.

At Wrestlemania in 2024, Drew won the World Heavyweight Championship. It was everything that his victory in 2020 hadn't been. Dubbed the Biggest Wrestlemania in history, the noise from the capacity crowd was deafening, almost shattering his ear drums. He stumbled to his wife and brother in the crowd, presented them the title he had won, hugged them, kissed them.

Then, he spied CM Punk, sitting at commentary clapping with the rest of the crowd. He could have turned and left, ignored the call of the siren but he didn't...

At Clash at the Castle in 2022, Drew was the Hometown Hero. Well... close enough! It may have been Wales but it was the UK and he was the biggest name in the company from these parts so he was the one chosen to be the face of the PLE and to main-event it. And what a main event! It was Drew's chance to stare down the barrel of the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and hope was high for a de-throning. Drew had pushed Roman to his limits in the build-up and reduced the Head of the Table down to his knees.

But it was not to be. Despite a valiant effort from the contender, the champion retained, though, not without an unfair advantage from the Usos and their baby brother, Solo Sikoa, making his main roster debut. But Drew was given no time to wallow; there was still minutes on the clock and he was forced to pick himself up, put on a fake smile and entertain the crowd until they went off the air, unable to show the world how his heart was breaking.

At Clash at the Castle in 2024, Drew was the Hometown Hero. For real this time! They were in Glasgow, Scotland, his home country, a mere thirty miles from where he had grown up, in the city where he had studied at university, where he had trained to wrestle, where he had cut his teeth and, above all, the city that had welcome him back with open arms when he had failed. It was here that he had reinvented himself, became something bigger and better, rejuvenated his gimmick and, in turn, his career. He returned a conquering hero, at the top of the mountain and ready to give back to the city that he loved so much.

The stars were aligned so perfectly, like a beautiful constellation that could only be witnessed every thousand years. He could finally feel the darkness of the past few months lift, he had a chance for redemption, to become the hero he was destined to be as he pinned Damian Priest to win the championship that had eluded him all Summer in front of his people, his town, his country.

The referee slid into the ring and counted the one, two...

It's highly appropriate that Drew was the one to kick-start this feud by shattering Punk's Wrestlemania hopes considering that his previous entrance music was called 'Broken Dreams'. Since then, it's his own dreams that have been ripped from him time and again by a vengeful Punk who has vowed that Drew will never hold another championship as long as he's breathing.

As the feud has progressed, there has been less focus on this theme, yet it remains the main crux of it and what it boils down to; having something precious stolen away.

Speaking of which...

The Scarf and the Bracelet

There has been a lot of talk of the similarities between Punk's feud with Drew and his incredible feud in AEW with MJF. The psycho-sexual obsession, the wily veteran taking on the younger talent who's now more established, the match where they are literally attached to one another, the ambiguity between who's right and who's wrong, um...whipping... the list goes on.

But one similarity that I like yet I've never seen brought up is that both feuds involved something getting stolen. In AEW, Punk stole MJF's scarf and walked in the following week wearing it around his neck. He said he was hoping it would evoke a reaction from Max, but then he discovered that it was a cheap replica, one of thousands that cost a few bucks on Amazon. It meant nothing. It was a callous way for Punk to call Max hollow, a poser acting like he was somebody important when in actuality everything he did and possessed was empty and meaningless.

In WWE, Drew stole Punk's bracelet.

And it's acknowledged from the start that it's a cheap piece of plastic, worth only a few cents. But unlike Max's scarf, its sentimental value is priceless. It was lovingly crafted by a fan, a gift for her hero and on it, a sequence of little white cubes spell out the names 'AJ' and 'Larry'. The two people who make up the entirety of Punk's world. He's found himself at the bottom, he's cut ties with his biological family, he's walked away from a lucrative career, leaving behind friends and colleagues who have lived in each other's pockets for years, he's been beaten bloody and humiliated on live TV, he's had his name and reputation dragged through the dirt, he's suffered through injury and surgery and injury and surgery.

And through it all, every time he was knocked down, the two people he loves most have been there to help him back up. After his brutal defeat in his first UFC bout, an emotional Punk was asked what his wife said to him after the match. He put down the mic, leaned back, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to compose himself. When he picked the mic back up, his voice croaked as he said 'she said she was proud of me'.

Larry was abandoned, left alone and unloved in a pound. Considered too ugly to adopt. Perhaps Punk saw a little of himself in Larry; a rough, scraggly little mutt with a lot of fight in him and a lot of heart.

It's all these sentiments and more that are contained within the colourful beads of a simple trinket. Drew could have stolen anything from Punk but he went right for the one that mattered most besides his wedding ring. Right for Punk's heart.

His family.

And looking at the way Drew handles it, it's obvious that it means the world to him too. But we'll talk about that next time. Sorry! 😈)

[bengallemon]

okay so its going to be impossible for me to write a full post about isat until after my 2nd playthrough and i have a bunch of notes, but i WILL be insane about how the senses are depicted, especially things siffrin smells, tastes and sees.

(spoilers for the whole game but when i get to act 4/5 ill put it under a cut)

because it starts off normal. everything that's experienced for the first couple of loops is alright, and that's because siffrin's mental state is still mostly the same as when they went into the house for the first time with the squad.

until the text starts commenting on little things, like how the cookies are getting old to the malanga fritters not being exactly the same as how sif is trying to remember, to how whenever they get to the end and talk to the head housemaiden how they smell burnt sugar just before looping back to the start.

the most jarring is the sight. slowly, throughout all the loops you start seeing an image of siffrin standing somewhere, such as in a hallway, before vanishing, and it gets a bit more common the more loops you've been through. it becomes more obvious the more things taste less like anything (and the more the game comments on how siffrin's stomach feels) and how easy it is to miss something new someone says (because you and siffrin are speeding through everything you hear), how quickly his mental state is declining.

(now spoilers for acts 4 and 5 because thats when it gets Real)

during act 4 it's possible (for some ungodly reason), when talking to bonnie at least for the first time in a loop, for the music to cut off and their sprite suddenly be half covered in black. because. why not. (this happened the second time in act 4 i talked to bonnie in dormont and i jumped badly)

the most probable explanation for seeing this is because of how the last moments in act 3 are of bonnie literally being crushed by the king's hand. probably siffrin remembering what happened and it starting to overlay in his vision.

it's probably also why you see other sifs throughout the castle, especially the further along you go. either he's seeing vestiges of past loops, or hallucinating. probably both. their mental state is getting more and more worse.

act 5 shows this even more, with blacked out sprites of the other characters and visions of them in places such as the break rooms, or getting their dialogue when interacting with objects despite siffrin being completely alone in their rampage throughout the castle. most notable is the mirror room dialogue.

how the initial picture you see during act 5 is with the whole family, until you view it and siffrin is completely alone. how the memories of the past loops are overlaying with the current one to the point where his senses are starting to become more unreliable.

during act 5 as well if you interact with any candles they smell sweet. before siffrin either didnt smell anything or it was something he didnt really know.

anyway. siffrin's own senses becoming unreliable reflecting his own deteriorating mental state is a brilliant touch to add to the horror in the story. (even without talking about how his relationship with touch is).

postgame our man absolutely would not be able to trust his sense with how the past looping affected his perception of everything around them.

[darylandbethfanforever9]

My Brother's Keeper

Aemond guided Vhagar to launch herself at Meleys, praying to the seven that Aegon moved out of the way on Sunfyre. Sure enough, Aegon grasped what Aemond intended on doing and pulled Sunfyre back, as Vhagar clamped her jaws around Meleys’s neck, snarling.

Writhing in pain, Meleys screeched in agony as Sunfyre nimbly wrapped his talons into the dragon’s underbelly. Vhagar let out a triumphant roar, Sunfyre mimicking her as Meleys crashed to the ground, causing half of the castle to collapse.

Aemond was about to check on Aegon, when a shrill cry was heard and two dragons emerged from the sky. Caraxes, and Syrax had come to fight them, and he exchanged a glance with Aegon who nodded grimly, his face pale but determined.

"Dracarys, Vhagar!" Aemond instructed firmly, Vhagar roaring as she clamped her claws into Caraxes’s side. The dragon screeching in agony, as he tried to free himself but was blasted in the face with fire from Sunfyre.

'That was for my nephew, the nephew you killed just because you couldn’t kill me. You coward,' Aemond thought vengefully, gripping the reins as Daemon attempted to leap at him from Caraxes, Dark Sister gripped tightly in his hands.

Aemond knew that he didn’t have a chance to defend himself, he heard Aegon shouting frantically at him as he braced himself for the sword to pierce his eye.

"No! No, Aemond move out of the way please!" Aegon screamed terrified, he would not lose his baby brother.

With a roar of pure determination, Aegon directed Sunfyre to slam into Caraxes, knocking him away from Aemond and Vhagar. Daemon screamed in agony, as his skin was melted by the flames of Vhagar and Sunfyre.

He prayed it was enough for Aemond to kill Daemon, while he turned his attention to Rhaenyra. His half-sister looked panicked, now that Daemon wasn't protecting her and Syrax was a lazy, overfed dragon who couldn't fight.

"Dracarys, Sunfyre!" Aegon cried firmly, the golden dragon unleashing golden flames tinted with pink as they burned Syrax's wings. The dragon screaming in pain.

It is as if time has stop, everything moving at a fraction of the rate it should. Daemon has unchained himself from the saddle. He is unsheathing his sword and standing, using what is left of Caraxes's burnt wing as a stepping stone to leap from his dragon to Aemond's. Vhagar shakes hard, like a dog trying to remove a flea, but somehow he manages to keep his footing. Aemond's own hand flies to his sword, moves to pull it from the scabbard, but Daemon has launched himself at him, sword clamped between both hands and raised high above his head. The blade is aimed at his eye and for a moment, Aemond thinks it will find home. That Dark Sister will cut through his last remaining eye, ravage his skull, and leave him a limp corpse chained to his still living dragon. That this is where he will die, here and now above the keep of Rook's Rest.

But then Sunfyre is soaring in from nowhere, wings tucked in that same technique that had rocketed Caraxes across the sky, and he slams into Caraxes's side like a cannonball finding home.

Aemond gripped his sword, as he heard Daemon's screams of agony and saw the man's armor was melted into his skin. The helm having melted into his scalp, and Aemond blocked Daemon's attack, piercing the man's throat and yanking Dark Sister from him.

Daemon gurgled on his own blood, stumbling backwards as he fell off Caraxes. Aemond glancing down to see Daemon's body in the courtyard of Rook's Rest, blood pooling around his body as the body of Syrax crashed on top of him.

He quickly glanced over at Aegon, seeing that he'd taken off the helm and looked exhausted but relatively unharmed. He nodded at his brother, a smile tugging at his lips.

He was his brother's keeper.

The deaths of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaenys Targaryen sent shock waves, throughout the seven kingdoms. With two dragonriders dead and Rhaenyra captured, the blacks had lost the war.

It didn't help that the Velaryon blockade was destroyed by the fleet of the Manderlys, Sistermen, Redwynes and Farmans. The Triarchy had not hesitated in aiding the greens, if it meant destroying Corlys.

What also proved an advantage to the greens, was the marriage of Rhaena Targaryen to Aemond. Aegon and Helaena had both been aware of their brother's feelings for their cousin, and that he had wished to marry her but both Corlys and Daemon had rejected the idea.

The riverlands had quickly switched sides, with House Tully being replaced as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. The title was instead given to the Brackens, and Aegon had severely punished the Blackwoods for desecrating septs and motherhouses.

Samwell Blackwood, his son and cousin were given the choice of the Night's Watch or execution. All three chose execution, perhaps hoping for sympathy but none was given.

Alysanne Blackwood was sent to the Silent Sisters, her face scarred by Dreamfyre's flames. Cregan Stark and his host had been killed by the Lannister forces at the Battle of the Lakeshore.

The final death blow for the blacks, was when Jacaerys and Baela in a foolish, suicidal mission attempted to rescue Rhaenyra but were shot down by scorpions. Baela was crippled by the fall, dying three days later.

A defeated Corlys accepted Aegon's terms that Rhaena would rule Driftmark with Aemond, and their daughter would marry Maelor.

Aemond cradled Aemon tenderly in his arms, as he sat by Rhaena's side. The birth had been slightly difficult with Aemond terrified that he would lose her, but she and their sons pulled through.

Aemon and Aethan Targaryen Velaryon, the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of Summerhall. He pressed a kiss to Rhaena's forehead tenderly, stroking her cheek as he saw Vhagar and Gaelithax coiling outside, a smile curving his lips.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked quietly, sitting down next to him in a chair. Aemond nodded, as the two sat in a comfortable silence.

"Thank you, for saving me that night. You didn't have to," he said quietly, a softened expression appeared on his face. After they had won the war, Aegon had anointed Aemond as Hand of the King and squeezed his shoulder.

"Your my brother, my little brother and I'm your keeper." Aegon said firmly, Aemond smiled as he saw Aegon was holding his and Helaena's newborn son, Aerion.

Aemond was Aegon's keeper, just as he was to him.

Tag list: @arcielee @sunfyredefender77 @blackcat419 @garnetbutterflysblog @ai-megurine @gwenllian-in-the-abbey @asphodelesauvage @ai-megurine @sylasthegrim @mejcinta

[nagito-kissmaeda]

If it isn't real why does the sun still burn?

Chapter masterlist

Summary : Like most people visiting this tag. You have always dreamed of meeting Nagito Komaeda for real, what you would do, what you would say? Things don’t go as planned.

AKA: Reader from our universe ends up in danganronpa and is just trying her best to keep everyone alive. and maybe to make komaeda kiss her.

Contains: she/her pronouns, some mild sexual themes

Read on Ao3

The beach is bustling when the two of you arrive. Pekoyama quickly gives you a farewell nod as she heads off to accompany Kuzuryu where he is sitting in the shallows and trying to make it look like he isn't having a good time. 

You can see Mioda already in the water, chasing Souda around and attempting to throw a handful of seaweed at him. He is screaming. Owari is sitting at the shoreline with her legs in the water, she’s halfway through an ice cream, but still manages to grin widely when she waves in your direction. You return the wave and make plans to head over to her before you notice Tsumiki and Sonia sitting together in the sand. 

Tsumiki’s hands shake as she attempts to round the edges of the sandcastle that the two of them are currently working on. Sonia’s tongue sticks out of her mouth as she, opposite Tsumiki, continues adding a set of perfect flying buttresses to the castle; you are unsure how she has managed this, but have learned not to question these sorts of things.

“You’ve made it!” Sonia says with a wide smile, now beginning to sculpt a collection of tiny gargoyles around the top level of the castle, “I hope you were not too disappointed by my early departure, I just think Mioda-san is often in need of supervision.” You peer up at where she is now trying to toss a starfish onto the top of Souda’s head, “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s okay, I had a nice conversation with Pekoyama-san.” Tsumiki looks up at you, she’s wearing a wide brimmed hat and a loose fitting white shirt over her bathing suit. It makes sense that a nurse would care about sun safely, the hat suits her, she looks very cute, “I-I’m glad you came. I hope you have a good time” She smiles softly, hands now shakily building a drawbridge, “Just be sure not to get burnt this time, I have more sunscreen if you need it, please take care of yourself.” She huffs, “I’ve already had this discussion with Komaeda-san, but I-I think he’s just going to ig-ignore my advice.”

You hadn't noticed Komaeda, which is very out of character for you. He’s in the water, but far enough away from everyone else that he seems excluded. His own doing, you assume. 

“Would you like to help us?” Sonia asks, abruptly tearing your attention away from Komaeda.

You blink, “Sorry?” She laughs, though not unkindly, “Help to build our sandcastle, of course!” 

You look briefly at the perfect replication of gothic architecture somehow sculpted out of sand alone, “Thanks but uh, I might work on expanding the royal empire and build my own castle, if it’s all the same.” Sonia claps her hands together in glee, “Expansionism! How delightful!”

“I-I might swim now, actually.” Tsumiki starts, “I-If that’s okay, Sonia-san?” “You don’t need my permission.” Sonia replies, waving a dismissive hand, “You’ve done a brilliant job, Tsumiki-san, and all castle architects are owed at least one day of allocated time off per castle built, so by all means! You are free to go.” Tsumiki nods gratefully, and rises a little shakily from the sand before heading to the water. 

You turn to Sonia, “Only one day of leave per castle?” She nods seriously, “Oh yes, my father always said ‘any less than that and they start getting rambunctious’. We tried only half a day some years ago, the riots were very bloody.” “Uh-huh…” 

“Anyway! I might go ask Tanaka-san if I can hold one of his Dark Devas.” She stands with utter grace and poise, giving you a brief curtsey before walking away. You are briefly stunned by the utterly dismal working conditions in Novoselic, but shake your head and sit in the sand before you start thinking about it too much. 

You start building the only kind of sandcastle you have experience with, a big pile of sand that is vaguely pyramid shaped. It’s nice to have something to do with your hands, a monotonous task to keep you occupied while the ever turning cogs in your head crunch and grind. You have to assume that Monokuma will bring out a new motive soon, and at this point you can only assume that it will be the despair disease. It’s hard to tell if access to the third island will make everything better or worse, Tsumiki having access to the hospital is a net good, only so long as she doesn’t catch the disease itself, and boy is that disease catching. 

Peering out at the ocean you see that Tsumiki is swimming with Mioda now, more accurately, Tsumiki is treading water while Mioda quite literally swims circles around her. Tsumiki deserves better than she got in the game, so does Mioda. 

You turn back to your castle, attempting to make it any sort of shape other than a vague lump. It feels weird to just be hanging around like this when so much is at stake, but there isnt much that you can do other than socialise and socialising is more useful than doing nothing. Trust is valuable, especially here, even if it’s something you aren’t all that used to garnering.

“Nice pile of sand.” 

You look up to see Komaeda standing above you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He’s still wet from the ocean, his hair clings flat to his head and it makes him look much less intimidating.

“Thanks.” You say, gesturing to your attempt at a sandcastle, “It’s my magnum opus.”

He peers down at it appraisingly and then says, “Could use a moat.”

You laugh, “You’re right.” feeling mischievous, you add, “Your hair looks nice, very drowned rat-esque.”

Komaeda bursts out laughing, hiding his face in his hands. When he looks back up at you again, his smile is so warm, and genuine that it feels like a shard of the sun has lodged in your chest.

“You’re funny.” He says

His expression is too intensely bright, you have to avert your eyes, “Thanks. I try.” you return to working on your sandcastle, anything to keep yourself from staring at him.

“Why aren't you swimming?” Komaeda asks. You peer back up at him, you were honestly expecting him to walk away when he was done mocking you, “Oh um, I just don't really want to?” He gives you a sly grin, “You can swim, can’t you?” That bristles you a little, “I’m a great swimmer actually! I love swimming!” you gesture halfheartedly to where the waves turn to foam against the sand, “I just don’t like the ocean. It’s spooky. There’s stuff in there, and the salt really hurts my eyes.”

His expression turns uncharacteristically soft and he drops to a crouch beside you. You shuffle back from him instinctively, not expecting him to get so close so quickly. For a moment, Komaeda just blinks at you slowly but then his brow creases with contemplation before he finally says, “Swim with me.”

Your heart feels like it come to a stop in your chest, “Uh- I, um-“

He laughs a little, cocking his head to the side, “That would help, wouldn’t it?”

“Um.” You wring your hands together, “I would feel better with company, but that doesn’t mean that you-”

He stands back up and holds his hand out to you, it stuns you into silence mid-sentence, you just stare up at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Come on.” Komaeda says, reaching further forward with his hand, asking you to take it. 

You barely manage to swallow around the lump in your throat as you tentatively take his hand in your own. If the contact is anywhere near as momentous, electric and world shattering for him as it is for you, it doesn't show on his face, but you do catch a near imperceptible bob in his throat that you try not to read too hard into.

His hand is cold, even in the heat of the sun and you can feel just how fragile his fingers are, like if you clenched your hand too hard they would all break. He doesn’t really pull you up from the ground, but holding onto him like this does make it easier to regain your balance on the uneven sand.

The water is warm when you take your first step in, more pleasant than you ever remember the ocean actually being. Neo World Program benefits, you suppose. Komaeda walks in front of you, still tugging on your hand. The back of his head eclipses the sun, its light catching in the white strands of his hair and causing them to shimmer like folded glass. 

“H-How deep are you planning to go?” You ask once the water reaches your shoulders, voice tinged with growing anxiety.

Komaeda looks back at you over his shoulder, “Not much further.”

You notice that the two of you are much deeper out than the rest of the class, barring only Nidai who is off in the distance swimming laps. There is an intimacy to it, the separation from everyone else on the beach. The second you can’t touch the ground with your toes anymore you can feel a nervous churning in your stomach. Komaeda is still walking, head and shoulders well above the water. When an admittedly small wave knocks you off balance, you panic and lurch forward to grab onto his arm. 

Komaeda laughs, but it’s good natured and warm “Aha, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You want to kiss him. 

That thought is not so alarming. You have grown quite familiar with it these past few days, but the panicked and aching desperation of it is completely new. You begin to fear that you no longer have feelings for Nagito Komaeda the videogame character, but instead for Nagito Komaeda the real person. Which is somehow much more complicated and insurmountably harder to reconcile. Now that the water is deep enough, only Komaeda’s head bobs up above the water, and since you are floating in the water yourself, you actually meet his eye line for once instead of staring up at him. He watches you intently, staring so hard that it feels like he can see right through you. “Is there…something on my face?” You say quickly, trying desperately to diffuse some of the tension. He smirks, “Nope.”

Your eyes follow a droplet of water sliding down the length of his nose. Komaeda chuckles, “have I got something on my face?”

You quickly avert your gaze, “No! It’s just, uh-“ you suck in a breath, “Why are you even spending time with me? I’m not exactly working towards ending the killing game right at this moment, so there’s really no reason for you to be talking to me.” Komaeda’s brow furrows, “There’s something about you,” he says, “Ah, I'm not sure what it is, but it interests me.”

You close your eyes, feeling the cold dread filling your chest cavity, “What if I’m not interesting?” You say desperately, “What if it only seems like I am?”

“Hm, I don’t understand what you mean.” He smiles, “Whether or not I find you interesting is entirely up to me.”

“But I’m not . I'm not worth your time, or your effort, I need your help so I’m trying desperately to keep you around but the second you realise who I really am, what I really am, you’re going to hate me. I just know it.”

Komaeda hums aloud, “I suppose, the others are right.”

“What?”

He laughs, “it is uncomfortable being on the receiving end of this kind of talk. I suppose I owe everyone an apology.”

You are suddenly forced to wrestle with the fact that Nagito Komaeda thinks you are laying on the self depreciation a little too thick, “Sorry.” You say quickly, shaking your head “I didn’t mean to just say all of that at you.” 

Komaeda goes quiet for a moment, staring at you intimidatingly, “You would do anything to help the Ultimates defeat this despair, wouldn't you?”

“I uh-” You swallow thickly, “I think the both of us have a very different definition of help , but I will do all that I can to make sure everyone gets out alive, yes.”

“You promised to die for my cause, if your own method fails.” He cocks his head to the side, “Why?”

Your breath grows uneven, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, “Because I won’t fail.” Komaeda chuckles, “Ha. You're confident.” You shake your head, “I’m really not, but I’m the only one who can do it, so I have to.” you sigh to yourself, remembering that even if you manage to keep everyone alive, they will still need to grapple with their identities as the Remnants and the destruction of the world they once knew, “What I do isn’t what’s important though, the hard part comes after and how that resolves is entirely up to you and the other Ultimates. I’m just doing what I can to make sure everyone survives until then.” “How can you say things like that and expect me not to find you interesting.” His eyes are half lidded, and his grin is loose, “We aren’t so different, you and I. We are both working towards bringing the Ultimates to their next exuberant victory, over a despair even greater than the last.” He sighs, “But I have to admit, I’m still just a little curious about how you know all of this, and what comes after.”

You frown, “I can’t tell you. I can hardly expect you to behave yourself if I did.” Komaeda barks a laugh, “Behave myself?”

“Yes. You’ve promised to help me, and if you’re going to, then I need you to behave . So no spoilers.”

“You have a lot of nerve speaking to your superiors that way.” He says, but his expression holds none of the malice that his words convey.

Feeling brave, you reply, “Good thing it’s just you here, then, isn't it?” If anything, his eyes grow brighter at your answer. He floats a little closer to you, and you suck a breath in through your teeth, "If the talentless nobody promises to give me her due reverence, maybe I can promise to behave myself.”

“What, do you want me to get on my knees and beg?”

A visible shiver runs through him, and his smile turns wide and syrupy, “Maybe.” "O-oh.” You reply, swallowing thickly as you rub your thighs together. You had been joking, but the deep heat in your belly makes it clear that neither of you is joking anymore, "As long as you can make time for me in your busy schedule, I’m sure that I can manage something.” The next exhale of his breath is dangerously close to being a moan, “Aha…I’ll make sure to pencil you in.”

[thealphavoidofficial]

So new CRK Au idea, guess what! it’s a SWAP AU! :D

So I still gotta draw the designs down but here is a chart showing all the roles that are swapped:

And here are some fun facts before I make the actual lore and story with them :)

GingerBrave: He has scars and burn marks from his time in the Witches Castle and a Shit-Tom of trauma :), his brother Dozer had died, being burnt alive and eaten in front of him, he has Pyrophobia.

Wizard Cookie: His backstory is kinda similar to Licorice Cookies, and he has OCD

Licorice Cookie: Like OG Wizard Cookie he was baked in the Witches castle, he is rather skittish and rather attention seeking, like his OG counterpart he feels like nobody takes him seriously and always feels like he has to prove himself as a valuable member of the team, he has abandonment issues,

Crimson Velvet (Evil PV): In this Au he went with White Lily to the witches feast and fell into the Ultimate Dough instead of her, however due to mental trauma and slight amnesia from being in a slumbering state in the Void for so long she doesn’t quiet recall it that well.

Pure Vanilla: After falling into the Ultimate dough it had split him in 2, creating Crimson Velvet, after sealing him away he was teleported to the Faerie Kingdom in Beast-Yeast, where he had sacrificed most of his Half-life to strengthen the seal, going in a half-dead comatose state.

White Lily Cookie: She plays a similar role to her OG counterpart and OG Pure Vanilla, like the OG universe she does not have a Kingdom and preferred to wander the land and visit the other kingdoms, she had assisted Pure Vanilla in casting the Dark Moon Magic spell that sealed away Crimson Velvet, getting sent to the Void in the process.

StrawBerry Cookie: Much like OG Pomegranate Strawberry Cookie is very devoted to Crimson Velvet, willing to do anything for him. She also has a slight insecurity when it comes to their looks, preferring to hide her face in her veil.

Pomegranate Cookie: She is rather shy in this Au, like OG Strawberry she was baked in the Witches Castle, she prefers to hide herself in her cloak and rarely takes the hood off.

Chilly Pepper Cookie: She was found and adopted by Crimson Velvet and had her body modified with Cake parts, she sees the cake beasts as her partners in crime and performs several raids with them.

Red Velvet Cookie: After Crimson Velvet exploded The Oven he ran from the Witches Castle and into the world, having to steal to survive, soon meet and befriending a young Cake Hound, whom he named Chiffon, he has trust issues.

Dark Choco Cookie: Like in the OG universe he attack his father Dark Cacao Cookie with the Strawberry Jam sword, however after being banished he abandoned the sword immediately, instead wandering the land as a sort of Vigilante protecting villages from Cake Beasts.

Custard Cookie III: He was found as a mere infant and raised by Crimson Velvet inside of the Tower, although his Healing magic is stronger then his physical Attacks, he can be a formidable opponent in battle, do not underestimate his young and small appearance.

(Also note: might make a Fic of this ;) )

[icarusredwings]

Partically inspired by @giddyaunt425

Went to the pool today and had some thoughts (because I can't escape the brain rot sooo)

What I think everyone would be doing at the

☆Incarnation and Co Pool Party☆

For regulation reasons, only those who are available are attending, including all of the past incarnations due to some sort of freak accident at UNIT that im too lazy to think of right now.

(Feel free to add what else you think these lunatics would be doing! Use the tag #Incarnation pool party)

1 is laying under an umbrella half asleep and complaining that he's going to get a sunburn if he falls asleep.

('But if Susan was here, she wouldn't let me get burnt')

2 has been given a beach ball and is honestly just happy to be playing in the water. He told 1 that he would keep an eye on him, but let's be honest - he already forgot.

(And he missed Jamie. He probably would have mentioned Atlantis.)

3 and Delgado! Master are over in the sand pit, bickering on how their sand castle should look.

(3 says it shouldn't have that many windows, Delgado disagrees, making more windows and claiming that they need the natural lighting.)

4 is in nothing but his scarf and his trunks taking a nap on one of the sun bathing chairs.

(This is probably the best sleep he's had in a long time, but... He pprroobbaallyy has a sunburn now. This is what 1 was worried about.)

So is Yana!Master, who was lucky enough to be prudish enough to only show his forearms and shins, which are now also burnt.

(Despite Donna's constant shouting about sunscreen and how 'You blokes are too pale to be out here with nothin' but your longjohns!' But he is still infact the Master. Which means, of course, denying authority)

5 is in the field portion trying to teach Dhawan! Master, Dan, and Martha how to play cricket. (but is getting visibly frustrated. Seriously- who signed him up to babysit?)

Tegan is watching 5 trying to understand Dhawan's nonsense from the sidelines, smirking.

(She signed him up to babysit)

6 has the most ridiculous looking one piece known to man, sitting on the edge of the pool at the deep end.

(He's kicking his legs in the water and cheekily splashing 7 and Mel)

Mel is on 7s arm in a frilly two-piece, giggling at the fact 7 refuses to take off his hat despite the water being up to his chest.

(He's asking Ace not to drown him, Ace responds, 'No promises, professor' and proceeds to dunk him, which gets them the whistle for roughhousing. His hat is now soaked.)

Graham is talking about processing grief with 9. (The name Grace has come up at least 30 times already.)

9 seems weary of the water. (Sometime later, he's found hugging 10 and telling him about the beach they took Rose to.)

8 is on the other side of the pool, slathered in SPF 80° with a book and regretting his seating choices. He's trying his darndest to ignore his neighbors.

(While also evesdroping each time he hears the name 'Grace')

His neighbor in question is Donna, who is already four margaritas in and keeps shouting at various things at people over the very loud party music that's playing from under her chair's radio.

(Sometimes threatening to drown a specific someone if they didn't stop terrorizing Ainley!Master, who kept hissing for getting purposly splashed)

From 'Do a flip!' Towards Simm!Master, who keeps hogging the diving board, demanding that 10 watch every single jump and challenging him to make bigger splashes than him.

(Donna told Simm that 10 needs babysat and 15 told 10 that Simm needs babysat so now they are both simultaneously babysitting each other)

To 'WOOO! Get'em!' At the game of Chicken going on between a team of 11 and 13 VS 12 and Missy.

12 is complaining that Missy is heavy and Missy accuses him of insinuating something, which in turn leads to 13 insulting 12.

(That he was 'just weak and couldn't afford the upgrade because she can carry 11 just fine'.)

14 is next to her and can't stop laughing at her shenanigans. Sometimes, he tries apologizing to 8 and Roberts! Master (who keeps covering his ears from such loud music and shouting) but, unfortunately, is SEVEN margaritas in.

(So was otherwise just as- if not more- noisy and is now attempting to dance)

S10 Saxon!Master has rolled his eyes at least a billion times by now at the others' antics (smirking at the sight of their hiddeous dancing) and keeps finishing off 14s half drank margaritas.

(You would need a drink too if you had to deal with all this bullshit)

All the way across the pool, Ruby and Yaz are gossiping about their time with the Doctor and their past incarnations. (They're heavily trying to figure out what the Masters deal is too, Seriously- why are some of them chill, some creepy, some insane and some flat out an ass? They had a list as follows;

The sensitive master: Chill + Creepy

The girl master: Chill + Insane

The grandpa master: Chill + Chill

The bitchy master: Ass + Ass

13s master: Creepy + Insane

The master with rabies: Insane + insane

The one master who apprently knows a lot about sand castles: Chill + Ass

The master that kept hissing when you splash water on him: Creepy + Ass)

15 is sat on a life gaurd tower, whistle around his neck, sonic in hand and in an orange speedo, watching everyone like a hawk so that his past selves can heal and enjoy themselves.

(Oh, and did I mention Donna confiscated everyone's Sonic's/Lazers except for 15s?)