#come back already you glorious bastard

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift- Tremble

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Little Gift Masterlist

Beautiful adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: This is your last chance to run.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, NSFW minors do not interact, dark Neteyam, NONCON/DUBCON, spanking, dirty talk, punishment, size difference, etc.

A/N: This one took a little longer than intended with all the life stuff going on, but yay it's here. Also, migt have gotten a little carried away with this part.

The outpost feels like a relic of a different time. One that you have only heard of in stories, but now seeing those worn down bunk beds and the corner of a room that Spider calls his own, it doesn’t feel as glorious. The worst part, however, is how naked you feel around other humans. It’s only a slight comfort that Spider is wearing Na’vi apparel too. 

“Oh and yeah and this is a spear I made in Awalatuu.” Spider says. “But maybe let’s move it out of the way.” He gives an awkward chuckle but it’s obvious that his only concern is you suddenly deciding to use it against him. 

Your arrival at the outpost had been anything but graceful. In hindsight you would have preferred to meet these people face to face instead of over Neteyam’s shoulder. 

“If you want we can uh….watch a movie. Oh yeah I bet I could swipe Norm’s Star Wars collection.” 

You don’t return the smile he gives you, too busy awkwardly sitting on his bed while pouting. You never thought it would feel strange to be back in a place like this but after being around the Na’vi for the past week, the outpost feels like walking into a rundown dollhouse. Everything is your size and nothing is as beautifully crafted as Neteyam’s kelku. 

The awkward silence is slightly painful but you can’t find it within yourself to feel bad for Spider. Not when he hasn’t shown even a morsel of sympathy for your situation. Your own kind and not even they find it important to get you out of here. Not that they could anyways. No doubt Neteyam would view such actions as a betrayal. 

“He wouldn’t let you come along, huh?” You finally ask. 

Spider stops digging through the worn down hard drives. 

“Who?” 

“Neteyam. Didn’t want you coming to see the RDA off either?” 

Spider scoffs at the, leaving the tech behind to cross the small room. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not the one he’s worried about getting into trouble.” 

Spider may not have heightened senses like the Na’vi but you worry that he sees the way your hands ball around the thin blankets.

“So Lo’ak handed the role of babysitter off to you somehow.” You lean back against the cold wall, trying to appear bored by the conversation. 

“Just for today. He was clear that I would only be a substitute.” 

Your brows furrow at that. Maybe Lo’ak doesn’t mind watching over you as much as he lets on. Then again Lo’ak never fails to find your company amusing, and for all the wrong reasons. Some days you wonder if Neteyam would really be cross with you for slapping his brother across the face. Maybe if you batted your lashes and played it off as self defense….

“Well I’m sorry you can’t be there.” 

It’s Spider’s turn to look confused. 

“Why?” 

“Colonel Quaritch is your dad, isn’t he?” 

“That asshole is nothing close to a father.” Spider’s jaw clenches, posturing already shifting to loom over you. He may be human but his six foot frame of striped muscle greatly outweighs your own. 

“Oh trust me, I know. Quaritch has been nothing but a tyrant my entire life. I honestly don’t know how he managed to get back into General Ardmore’s good graces after half the stunts he has pulled. That’s why I was excited for today. Finally see that bastard put in his place.” Spider watches you closely. In some ways it feels like all he is missing he ears and tail of a Na’vi.

“Thought maybe you would want to see that too.” 

You know a good deal about Spider Soccoro. He is a story that is often shared among the recombinants but never in Quaritch’s presence. Many tales have been told of the feral stripped boy that was more trouble than worth. You wonder if the stories would have been different if he hadn’t chosen the Sullys in the end. Still, even with their biased filters you know that they put Spider through hell. 

Kidnapping is traumatic enough without having to watch islands burn and friends cry for justice. 

“I don’t care what happens to that bastard.” Spider huffs before promptly turning around and fishing through the hard drives once more. You’ve killed the already strained mood. 

“Well then you’re a better person than me. Good for you.” Spider doesn’t answer but you can tell he is listening. 

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Hell, I’ve only had to put up with him from a distance and I would ring his neck myself if given the chance.” 

Spider’s fingers fiddle with a blue hard drive, eyes staring down thoughtfully. 

“But I guess I should trust Neteyam to give him what he deserves. Watch that monster tuck his tail and accept his failure for what it is.”  It’s the one cause you consider Neteyam and yourself on the same side of. 

Leaning back, you prop your feet up onto the creaky mattress. 

“Yeah.” He says shortly. 

“Ugh don’t get me started on Lyle though-”

“What are you trying to do?” Spider springs to his feet, glaring daggers down at you. 

“What do-”

“Do you think I’m really that stupid? Neteyam told me you would do this. Trying to spin a story that would allow you to escape.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re startled by the outburst to say the least but at this point there is nothing to lose. This man you only met fifteen minutes ago is the difference between spending the rest of your days here and returning back to Earth. Neteyam’s punishments are far from being enough to deter you from taking this chance. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to-”

“Would it kill you to just stay out of trouble for this one day? For my sake?” The look he gives you is anything but tender in comparison to his words. 

The bitter taste of impending failure is already settling in. You can already feel the immense weight of this dread and it springs you into action. This can’t be the end. 

It won’t be. 

“Can you really blame me though? For wanting to say goodbye to everything and everyone I have ever known?” 

Spider goes quiet, hazel eyes suddenly avoiding your own gaze. 

“Believe whatever you want but the fact is this day will never repeat. This is literal history and…” You voice quivers, blunt teeth sinking into your bottom lip in restraint. The last barrier to holding the words back. “The last glimpse at my old life.” 

You don’t allow the gravity of those whispered words to plant themselves. This is all a ruse after all. Just enough sadness to get Spider to cooperate and yet saying it out loud feels like tying an anchor to your ankle. Truly realizing how stuck you may be from here on out. 

Spider doesn’t say anything for a long while. Neither of you look at each other, letting the silence sizzle between you. 

And then finally….

“We have to be quick.”

“And no touching anything. I mean it, shit out here can be extremely poisonous.” Spider rattles on, listing yet another rule to follow as the two of you venture through the thick terrain. You roll your eyes. You may not be a match for the creatures of Pandora physically but you’ve studied enough to understand what to stay away from.

“We’re there for five minutes tops, got it?” Spider says as he pushes a hanging branch out of your path. 

“Yes sir.” You salute him playfully. Now that you are less than a mile away from Bridgehead a certain giddiness begins to take over. It swirls together with your nerves and apprehension but it doesn’t deter you. This is the closest you have been to freedom in a week. 

Eywa’s mightiest creatures could not keep you from your goal. 

Years down the road when you wake up from kyro this will all be some awful dream that embeds itself into your revenge arch. Starting with Miles Quaritch of course. 

“I’m being serious. Neteyam will kill me if he sees you out here. I’m sticking my neck out for you.” 

“It will be worth it.” You say simply, a skip in your step when you recognize the familiar path that leads back to Bridgehead. This the same one you had carved deeper with every trip you had taken to your oasis. Looking back there is nothing more you regret but the sight of it still makes you smile. 

Spider never stops his stern rambling. Despite the fact that he is built like a Greek God, his speeches do little to intimidate you. Not when you’re used to nine feet of solid muscle and sharp canines. 

There is a bank that overhangs Bridgehead. A spot that Spider deems the perfect lookout for the two of you. You consider trying to convince him to get the two of you closer. After all, what good is a farewell that can’t be heard? Truth is, there really aren’t many people you would bother trying to say goodbye to. Jeremy moved on from you months ago, you have very little friends outside of that and what little you did have can be nothing but traitors by letting you get offered up without complaint. 

It feels like a risky move, however. Spider is sure to catch wind of your deception at the first hints of you disobeying.

“Here,” Spider mutters, suddenly pulling your arm so you stand directly in front of him. This leaves you sandwiched between the cliff’s edge and Spider’s tall frame. 

“Hey!” You snip at him, ripping your arm from his hold. 

“This way I can keep a close eye on you.” He smirks, hands resting confidently on his hips because he knows as well as you that his physical prowess greatly outweighs your own. It’s clear his trust is far from being earned. 

“Well do you have to breathe down my neck? Christ! I could use some space.” 

“No chance.” Spider responds shortly but his eyes are already scanning the crowd of RDA members below. 

“Neteyam doesn’t really take kindly to others sniffing around me.” 

You hate to play that card but it seems to be the only one you have in your deck and if you have any chance of getting out of here, Spider can’t be pressed up against you. A harsh glare is thrown down at you but with knitted brows and a fierce frown, the male takes a few steps back. It isn’t much, surely his presence will still be your first obstacle, but it’s a start. 

Every minute that passes by feels like torture. You watch as palettes of heavy equipment and artillery are rolled along the concrete with Na’vi supervising. Each one packed away is a signal of passing time, another stream of sand that falls through your hourglass of opportunity. The real nerves, however, kick in when the line of RDA members are escorted onto the ship. 

How long is it going to take them to load everyone?

How long until your hopes are dashed?

You spot Neteyam taking his place at the head. He is dressed up in his traditional Olo’eyktan gear completely with a feathered mantle and oval forehead jewelry, but this time he holds a gun. He holds it with confidence, finger strategically placed over the barrel and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His golden eyes spark today like fire. Even from your lookout spot from above, you can feel that darting heat. 

You pray that they never fall on you again. 

Spider shifts over your shoulder suddenly, blonde dreads ticking your neck. You scramble out of his space but instead of jerking you into place as you expect, he takes your spot at the front. Brows knitting together, you watch him carefully as he crawls forward. 

Finally you spot what has captured his undivided attention. 

Colonel Miles Quaritch sternly leads his band of mutants through the crowd. They tower so high over the rest of the Sky People the sight is almost comedic. However, Spider is doing anything but laughing. His mask fogs up as he watches the scene with intensity. 

It’s like he is dead to the world, eyes trained on the man that has been anything but a father to him. 

You expect him to cheer, snarl, anything that shouts of victory. It was promises of seeing karma after all that had bought you this outing but Spider is silent and still. And then there is something else that flashes over his demeanor, a pang of emotion that is hard for you to place. 

Pain?

Hatred? 

Guilt? 

This swirl of tangled feelings is confusing.

Perhaps there is still so much more to learn about Spider Socorro. 

Regardless, this is your chance and you plan to take it. Tension bleeding into the moment you watch Spider diligently while beginning to back away. It feels as if the world’s ambience has been muffled into background noise and the only sound breaking through is the obnoxious puff of each breath through your mask. Neteyam hadn’t given you the serum shot this morning, assuming you would be spending the whole day in the outpost. Now, however, you wish he had. 

Spider is so enveloped in the moment, however, that he gives no recognition of the sound or even branch you clumsily snap when backing down from the cliff’s edge. 

There is no telling how long this trance will last or at what point you will be out of ear shot so you risk it all. 

Bare feet tingling in protest, you race across the forest floor. There’s no sign of an easy and stealthy way down into Bridgehead. Going back down your normal path would risk Spider spotting you race by. That’s not an option but neither is falling to your death. On the east side the cliff shallows out into a grassy hill. If you’re lucky enough you might just be able to creep down it and remain hidden beneath the heavy greenery. 

Upon reaching it, however, you step on loose dirt and the world rapidly spins around you. With neither a hint of grace or stealth you clumsily roll down the hill. Your muscles ache by the time you clunk to the bottom and you’re sure there are other injuries to be found. Adrenaline dulling the pain and panic, you dart to hide in the nearest bush instantly. 

The scene is so much louder now that you are up close. Heavy trucks make blaring beeping sounds while reversing and Na’vi freely let out loose cries of victory and foreign threats. The commotion is just enough to have your presence remain undetected. 

You don’t bank on that lasting for long though.

Your scanty traditional Na’vi attire is sure to draw attention. You need different clothes and you need it fast. Scaling around the outskirts of the chaos, you miraculously manage to make it to that familiar run down door. Sector two-your building. 

Paranoia constantly scraping at your attention, you barely let the room equalize before ripping your mask off. These hallways feel so different than you remember them. Perhaps it is the feel of the metal floors beneath bare feet or the lacking furniture and crowd. It sends a chill up your spine as you sprint towards your room. 

How much time do you have?

They can’t have loaded more than half of the crew by now.

And yet, the sight of deserted halls makes your feet slap against the floor faster. 

Get dressed. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Hide until take off is through and then find a kyro capsule.

You mentally check through this list. 

Piece of cake. 

Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less like a fool’s hope. 

Fuck it. The odds don’t matter and neither do your nerves. This is a necessity, pure survival and that will be enough to keep you going. It will because it has to. 

Your feet slip across the laminated floor when you frantically scramble to go back the way you came. Two tall and ominous shadows wrap from around the opposite corner and you are afforded just enough time to dart behind a wall before Lyle and Z Dawg appear. 

“You’re an idiot.” She says. 

“Yeah yeah say whatever you want but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t rip someone in half for a Big Mac right now.” Lyle defends himself, their shadows now paint the dimly lit corridor, stretching closer and closer to your tucked away spot.

You could run, but these are recombinants. They would pick up the sound of your footsteps in an instant. The wind from your sprint would carry your scent. 

“Sure, but I asked what your first meal back on Earth would be, not what your guilty pleasure fast food order is.” 

“These savages can keep their overgrown weeded garden of a planet. I want some fucking chicken nuggets!” 

As their voices become louder it appears that running will be your only choice after all. 

“I don’t even know why I ask at this point.” She sighs and a short hiss echoes down the hallway. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, feet repositioning as you prepare yourself to run. If you were smart you would have already been halfway down the hallway at this point but some part of you refuses to move. It clings to hope foolishly. 

“Well I’m sure-”

“Shut up asshole. The comm.” Z Dawg hisses and they both turn silent, no doubt listening to the orders on the other end. 

Your hands are shaking now, that tremor traveling up your shoulders as you await their response. 

“Copy that.” Lyle says and then the sound of heavy boots recedes into the distance. 

You can hardly believe your luck. 

That dark cloud of dread ripples away and hope takes its place once more. Maybe you can pull this off after all. 

Your room is exactly as you left it. No one has bothered to pack up any of your things or even dispose of your half folded laundry. This tiny corner of a shared living space has been your own for your whole life, everything you have known. It feels so small now. 

Rifling through the laundry basket you find a loose green tee and a pair of  tan shorts. You originally had a whole outfit planned for this day, something comfortable but nice. Those garments are, however, still crumpled up on the ground. This will have to do. 

As you hastily slip them over the beaded jewelry and tewng you pray to whatever god will listen that this will be enough to keep you incognito. You are barely finished buttoning up the shorts when heavy footsteps ring down the hallway. 

Their echo is soft, no doubt still several halls away but they are progressively getting louder. Now is not the time to take any more risks. This room is tiny and already cramped with scattered junk. Hiding under your bed would not only be idiotic but near impossible with the way your creaky bed  swoopes so low to the ground. There is, however, an old built-in cabinet above that you’ve used to hold your clothes. 

It’s just barely big enough for you to squeeze into so with those footsteps getting louder and your own terror sky rocketing, you push everything out of it and shove your body into the metal space. The door has metal slots with just enough slant to allow your visual through it. 

Your clammy right hand presses over your mouth when the door to the room creaks open.

Neteyam strolls in leisurely, eyes sweeping over the cramped space with interest. With wide eyes and strangled lungs, you watch him prowl through the area slowly. He bends down to run his fingers over the rumbled sheets, the back of his hand lingers over your pillow case. 

He takes his time looking through the various knick knacks and cords littering your night stand. He doesn’t hesitate to ball the old picture of Jeremy into his fists. Its remains are tossed to the side without care. 

Did he toss the real Jeremy like that?

You make a vow to find him as soon as you make it on board. 

Assuming Neteyam hasn’t already hunted him down. 

You could look for whatever is left of Jeremy.

You can’t think about that now, though. Not as your heart is pounding against your ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Not when Neteyam lifts his mask for a sip of air as he plays with your tiny music box. 

He is gentle with all of your belongings, roaming through the area like a man that doesn’t have hundreds of Sky People to threaten off of his planet. Surely, he will have to leave soon. He’s just here out of curiosity, more of his stalker tendencies pushing him to invade your space. 

The music box looks like a Christmas ornament in his palm and you worry that he will accidently crush it. It was a pain in the ass to get and a possession you have always treasured because of that. Neteyam’s ears push forward when he finally figures out how to start the music and that delicate ballerina begins to twirl. 

“Maybe it’s all of your silly trinkets.” He breaks the silence, you startle slightly. He can’t be talking to you, you remind yourself. Neteyam thinks he is alone, just nosing through your old room as he thinks out loud. “Is that what you miss so much? What has you running off and acting naughty, little gift?” 

He’s bluffing. There is no way he could know you are here. Your scent has to be strong in the room but that’s to be expected since this was your living space. Ironically this should be the perfect place to hide away. 

“You know,” He starts, carefully placing the music box back down. “I was planning on letting you bring some of these funny things back to our kelku once you start behaving. A little incentive to be my good girl.” 

The knot in your throat is near impossible to gulp down and when you do, his ears twitch. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You tug your legs closer to your chest as if you can contort yourself into a small enough ball that will magically disappear. 

“But it’s obvious now that you respond better to retribution than reward.” 

It’s a miracle that your lip doesn’t split from how hard your teeth press into it. Neteyam may not be able to track your scent here but the smell of blood would be a dead giveaway. All signs point to being caught but you aren’t ready to hand over the last shreds of hope yet. Neteyam doesn’t know about the cabinet. He’s bluffing about knowing you are here. No one has seen you. 

“We can revisit the idea of a reward system later, pet.” 

The muscles in your legs are cramping beyond relief, begging you to stretch out. You don’t heed these discomforts, too paralyzed by the proximity of your captor. Neteyam on the other hand appears deceivingly content and relaxed, rummaging through your things as if he has all the time in the world. 

He carefully opens your nightstand drawer and those hairless eyebrows raise immediately. The bras are tossed to the side with the same care as the picture but then tiny little lace fabric hangs from his fingers. It’s far from your greatest problem but your cheeks heat anyways when he carefully observes your light purple panties. 

Out of all the drawers to open it seems that Neteyam knows just the one to torment you with. 

“Then again,” The Olo’eyktan smirks. “These are quite cute.” And this time instead of inhaling from the respirator he soaks in the scent from the small fabric instead. Your thighs clench together. 

“Wouldn’t mind having my little tawtute model these for me.” He hums, while pulling out several more pairs. He tucks them away safely in a small pouch attached to his loincloth. “That is, once I finally get rid of this rebellious streak of yours.” 

You allow yourself a small sigh when Neteyam goes around to the other side of the bed, just enough distance for you to breathe properly. 

“Time to come out, little gift.” He squats down onto his haunches, prowling across the floor like a predator on track. He must be searching for you and if that is true then you may still have a chance yet. Neteyam may think you are in here but he doesn’t know where exactly. 

Thoughts race through your mind at a thousand miles per minute. They twist and twirl to find some way that you could get out of this situation unscathed. The doorway is visible through the slanted slits of the cupboard. With the proper footing you may be able to close that distance with a courageous leap. And maybe, just maybe that would be enough to catch Neteyam off guard and give you a head start. 

You make one fatal mistake, however. 

If there is one thing a good prey knows to do, it is to keep sight of their predator at all times. 

Your feet don’t even get the chance to hit the ground, instead dangling and thrashing once you are caught with a strong hold around your waist. Hoping is waning but disappointment sprouts into increased vigor as your nails digging into his arms and legs struggle to kick back at him. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” Your cursing slings into a shriek when Neteyam grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to strongly crane your head backwards. His golden eyes are dilated until only a thin rim of molten gold is visible. The weight of his angry gaze takes your breath away. 

“Enough.” He enunciates the word, like a drawn sword ready to slash. “Listen closely, pet.” The lump in your throat goes down with a strained gulp. “There is not an inch of this Sky Demon hell hole or corner of this planet that you can run to without being drawn back to me. You are mine and I’ve done well to mark my property.” The fingers intertwined in your hair tickle over the back of your neck, no doubt leaving the trail of his scent behind. “You reek of me.” 

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you flutter them closed to avoid his burning attention. 

“As you should.” His voice rumbles as nothing more than a growl against the nape of your neck. 

“I never asked for this!” Your fighting dimms down to nothing more than squirming as gritting the choked words out sucks your energy away. Before you can do anything to stop it, tears blaze trails down your cheeks. “Just let me go! Please!” 

“Quiet, pet.” 

Another yank to your hair and the words die on your lips. It’s clear now that the time for fun and games is over. Neteyam wastes no time in throwing you onto the creaky mattress and covering your body with his own until he becomes a shadow blocking out the fluorescent light above. His thighs straddle your waist, putting just enough weight down to keep you in place. 

“No more tears.” He sighs, with down turned lips, but doesn’t pause his bunching of your tee shirt. “It’s clear I’ve been spoiling you too much.” 

A broken grasp is pulled from your throat when he easily tears the shirt straight down the middle. You’re not sure what you are trying to accomplish as you swat at his working hands. The shirt was neither your favorite nor of great importance but you still try to stop the onslaught of ripping. 

Confused and overwhelmed you squirm as he rips it into wide ribbons of fabric and then without warning you are flipped onto your stomach. You scramble to crawl away but Neteyam’s plants a foot on your ass and that is unfortunately all it takes to pin you down. Your hands are snatched next, forced together behind your back as the ripped stripes of your own shirt are used as makeshift rope to tie your wrists together. 

Something about him using your own personal clothing to keep you bound for him has your legs kicking out fiercely. It won’t do much damage even if you manage to hit him, but there needs to be an outlet for your anger. You need to feel like there is still some wreckage for you to inflict. The last tiny shred of power that you cling to for dear life. 

Neteyam isn’t in the mood to put up with your outbursts. Much like a fresh kill from his hunting trips he keeps you pinned and makes quick work of binding you imobile. The action is so well rehearsed and instinctual in fact that he already moves on to his next task of destroying your shorts. 

Shrieks and small clawing fingers are simply background ambience for the Olo’eyktan as he works. Surprisingly the small tawtute sized Na’vi clothing is not exempt from the male’s destructive hands. They too become nothing more than rolling beads and scraps of fabric falling to the floor. 

Your string of bloody curses are only temporarily interrupted by your own gasp when Neteyam takes a seat on the bed and throws you over his knee in one swift move. Kicking is no longer an option for your rage when he swings one leg over both of yours. Blood rushes to your head but even dizziness can’t stop your violent outrage. 

However, it appears a cracking smack to your upturned ass can. 

The pain doesn’t ripple forward until a few moments after your shock has subsided. Neteyam has always had creative ways of punishing you but this is different. You’d figured that he would never lay a hand on you after all that he has droned on and on about how important it is to protect a fragile thing like you. 

But another hit accompanies the first and this time you can’t hold back your small squeak. 

“Just as I thought.” He spanks you again, his hand mercilessly hitting both cheeks with every strike. “You’ve been practically begging for a firmer hand.” The cry that the next rapid three slaps pull from you is one that you don’t recognize. 

“Pretty little things like you still struggle to remember their place.” 

“Stop! Stop!” You shriek, trapped legs still fruitlessly sprawling for escape. 

“Don’t worry, little gift.” He squeezes one of your pink cheeks after this last spank. “That’s what I am here for. I won’t let your silly little tawtute tendencies keep you away from me.” 

It doesn’t take long for the color of your backside to match your face as the blood drains to your head. Neteyam is persistent, hardly batting an eye at your cries and shrieks. From cursing to death threats, none of your spewed venom makes him flinch. If anything you manage to catch his small smirk when you twist to glare up at him. You don’t make that mistake again when you find this behavior only rewards you with condescending coos from the Na’vi. 

“That’s a good girl. Let all those nasty words go.” He purrs, heavy hand never letting up on your poor bottom. 

It’s this praise that has your mouth clamping shut. You hold back any and every sound you can as your ass takes a beating. Which is not a lot when the Na’vi male has unfathomable strength and your backside already feels like flames could erupt from it at any moment. 

“Oh pet, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re already blushing so pretty for me.” Neteyam hums in delight, hand roaming over your burning ass like an art piece just waiting to be admired properly. 

Hardly even touched you?

Is this just his way of being an ass or are you truly that far from the finish line?

You jolt when one finger slips between the crack of your cheeks, teasing over your hole gently. A sound caught between a scream and whimper erupts from you without thought. Bound hands flatten and flail to cover the untouched area but Neteyam simply chuckles and lets his own hand retreat. 

“Mawey, tiyawn.” Neteyam pats your backside softly, almost in a casual reassuring manner. “Another day.” 

It’s hard to say what is more humiliating. Being bound and turned over the Olo’eyktan’s knee like a naughty child or the wetness trickling from your pussy at the feel of his teasing fingers in a place you’ve never dared let anyone else explore before. 

Pain is a great distraction from your humiliation. So much so that it eventually motivates you to dash pride to the side and begin your pleading. 

“A-ah Neteyam! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…eh-ah I-I’ll be good!” It’s not even clear what you are trying to say anymore. Your mouth runs on autopilot, throwing out any line of remorse in hopes of one doing the job. “I ngh-ah didn’t mean to! I won’t run! Can’t take anymo- ah! Neteyam!” 

He reigns his hits to warm the underside of your thighs too, moving between that vulnerable area and your ass in such an erratic way that it is impossible to anticipate where the next will land. 

Plea after plea is thrown out but resembles nothing more than garbled desperation, nothing that can pass as a full sentence.

However, one call catches his attention.

“Olo’eyktan please!” 

The sound of slapping skin stops. 

Tears continue to plunge down your cheeks even without the constant spanking, your ass burns and tingles in shock. The tuft of his tail poruses over your naked thighs, sending a sensation both painful and ticklish. 

“Repeat, pet.” 

“Wha-what?” You stammer, voice thick with tears. 

“What did you say?” That large hand comes down once more like a crack of lightning. 

“AH! Olo’eyktan O-Olo’eyktan please please please. No more no more!” 

He smooths over your knotted hair, pushing it away from your sweaty temple and tear stained face. It’s tempting to look away from his soft gaze but intuition tells you to let him see the trembling state he has left you in. Let him witness how pitiful and distraught a simple spanking has made you be. 

“I….I’m sorry, Olo’eyktan.” 

Neteyam smiles like one would at a lover, a tender pride lacing his lips. 

“You’re learning, pet.”

Putting batteries in that small remote was a mistake. A ridiculous useless mistake that now leaves you standing on shaky legs. The pink vibrator that has resided in your nightstand drawer dutifully on hand for years is now the source of your torment. 

Well, maybe not the source per say. 

No, the true origin of this humiliation stares back at you with knowing eyes and swatting tail, his large hand making that tiny remote look like a children’s toy. The vibrator buzzes inside of you on the lowest setting, but that relief can only last for so long with the way Neteyam enjoys jumping between the different levels. 

Every last shredded piece of your Na’vi and human clothing lays back on the floor of your old bedroom. The only savior of your decency is Neteyam’s cloak that he had thrown around your shoulders. With the size difference this cloak acts more like a dress and therefore gives you more coverage than you’ve had in a week yet somehow leaves you feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Trembling fingers never stray from the seams of the cloak, keeping it wrapped around you tightly as the crowds of humans and Na’vi continue to pass you. 

Neteyam has left you with one of the other Na’vi warriors but never out of his sight. It’s a miracle that your hands were cut loose in the first place but perhaps that is another sick joke the Olo’eyktan plays on you. He knows that you won’t run. He knows you can’t run. His attention and promised consequences for misbehavior are more than enough to keep you tucked in his pocket. 

That and of course his control over the rippling vibrations that torture your pussy. 

The nearest warrior is sure to be noticing your frazzled state by now. At least he has the decency to hide his interest, unlike another Na’vi that watched from the sidelines. Lo’ak, leaned against one of the hoverships like it’s a random Tuesday afternoon, watches with a small smirk and perked ears. If Neteyam notices, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it because Lo’ak is left unbothered in his ogling. 

The tempo increases, the vibrator now picking a pattern of random pulses that bash against your sweet spot. Bottom lip bleeding now from your biting, it’s a struggle to keep your moans at bay. With the heavy machinery moving and hundreds of Na’vi and humans passing surely there must be enough noise to block out any degrading sounds you make. But you can’t take that risk. You’ve made the mistake of underestimating the Na’vi’s enhanced hearing before and that is what has landed you here. 

Neteyam twirls the tiny remote between his fingers like a fidget toy as another Na’vi warrior comes to report. 

You start to commiserate the loss of that ridiculous human sized loincloth Neteyam made you because at least then there was some fabric barrier to hide your wetness. Now, the thick Pandoran air runs up the cloak and over your soaked thighs and cunt. It reminds you constantly how pathetic you have become as orgasm after orgasm has escaped your grip. Even worse it reminds you how easy it is to carry that aroused scent through the breeze for all Na’vi to detect. At that rate, worrying about your noises is the least of your concerns. 

Lo’ak reloads the machine gun with practiced hands, moving with muscle memory so he can continue to stare and send silent messages your way. No doubt he is theorizing on what exactly his brother has done to diminish you to such a state. His eyes dance with those ideas, the little quirk of his lips telling you just how creative and vial his thoughts have turned. 

Another level up and this time it is Neteyam’s eyes that have you squirming. Your impending orgasm coils tighter and tighter with every passing second and you're so desperate to find some way to release this energy that your bare feet begin fidgeting against the concrete. It’s almost like a little dance, one that has Lo’ak laughing under his breath. 

It stops.

You breathe. 

There is some sort of commotion off in the distance. Not one that you can truly pin down the source of but you do notice the way Neteyam nods as a Na’vi female says something to him. With a wave she is dismissed and then the Olo’eyktan saunters off. Although slightly worried over the trouble, you are grateful for the respite. 

And then a nightmare unfurls before your eyes.

Instead of marching to the issue, Neteyam takes a pit stop to converse with his younger brother. Lo’ak’s tail whips in the wind at whatever is whispered in his ear but the real horror comes when that traitor of a remote is handed over to the younger Sully male. 

You are seconds away from stomping over there and crushing that pink little weapon before the other male can wield it. However, your dutiful guard places a hand on your shoulder after just one step. His eyes remain locked forward but the warning is enough as his hand retreats. You are still being watched. 

With one last glance your way, Neteyam has the audacity to give you, his little pet, a warm smile before leaving you in the hands of his brother. 

Lo’ak swings the gun around to his back in favor of playing with his new toy. Every dark and viscous fiber left within you is channeled into the glare you give him. It should say everything that your lips can not.

Don’t you dare.

Don’t you fucking dare. 

Now would be a good time to look into Na’vi curses, anything you could betrix upon him for what he is about to do, because of course Lo’ak won’t back down. If anything that fire in your eyes lights his own delight and has him sitting down and bracing forward. Forearms resting on his thighs he clocks your every movement.

This is sure to be the best entertainment the bastard has had in a long time. 

He savors the passing moments of anticipation. Never backing down from the ultimate seething looks you give him. Finally a crash sounds and that distraction is right when Lo’ak sets the vibrator to high. From zero to one hundred, pleasure rackets through you like a shock wave. The force is so much that it temporarily makes you stumble on your feet. The other guard wordlessly steadies you back into place. 

Lo’ak’s grin is feral. 

This silent battle slips between your fingers so quickly it is hard to comprehend, because all that can register in your brain is how fast you are hurtling towards an orgasm. After Neteyam’s denial your body is high strung and ready to take any sensation as fuel to push you over the edge. Nails digging into the soft fabric of Neteyam’s cloak, pleasure rockets higher and higher until only the whites of your eyes are visible. 

Knees bowing inward, ecstasy is finally yours. 

There isn’t enough energy left to question why Lo’ak let you reach your high. Instead you focus on riding that wave while simultaneously keeping upright. 

That persistent buzzing against your sweet spot continues until your nerves are short circuiting. The pleasure turns to overstimulation and you give Lo’ak a look that alerts him of this change. 

His amusement tells you that he already knows your predicament but his thumb remains far from the off button. 

Pathetic noises now bubble up your throat without restraint as pleasure ebbs into pain. It switches back and forth until another release is on the verge of consuming your being. The guard next to you doesn’t say anything when he helps to sit on the cold ground. 

The second orgasm has a bitter taste to it but your greedy pussy clenches around the toy all the same. It’s almost too bad that Neteyam decided not to gag you because at least that would muffle your cries as you rock down onto the toy. Lo’ak gulps at the sight, pupils blown wide when the first glimmer of tears scrape down your cheeks.

Regardless, he shows no mercy as he takes in the show with undivided interest. 

Vaguely you register the bustle and commotion around you as different Na’vi and humans rush to and fro, giant machinery finally backing into place but they are only background noise to your third orgasm. 

Your body is caught between delight and despair with every passing second. When you are close to reaching your peak for the fourth time your body is resistant to get you there all the way. The intense buzzing in your pussy is driving you wild but still not enough to drag out another orgasm after being too overstimulated. Despite the soreness that emanates from your wrecked hole, your clit throbs in agony. Begging to be touched. To be licked. Pinched. Flicked. God, anything at this point.

Memories of Neteyam doing just that surface, pushing you closer and closer to another dumbing climax and yet only serve as a reminder of how you are not getting the treatment you so desperately need. Pride is dashed to the side, you’ll worry about the consequences of grinding onto the toy in public later. 

Lo’ak’s hands roughly brush over his inner thighs and it draws your attention. The taunt muscle and smooth skin of those thighs would surely brush over your intimate flesh so perfectly. He would probably help you too, hands clawing at your hips as they urge you back and forth over the area. Even more so, the younger brother would not be able to pass up the opportunity to show his power over the situation, muscles flexing to tease your clit oh so beautifully. 

You’re not sure when Lo’ak became telepathic but he grips his knees and gives you a look that says he knows every dark desire that plagues your brain. His nails press into that soft flesh and drag until there are pretty red marks left behind. If you crawled over there sweetly, would he let you ride? Maybe if you healed those red marks with open mouthed kisses and kitten licks. 

Unaroused you would be ashamed of this train of thought but she is so far gone now. 

The only thing your poor abused cunt is begging for was attention. Anything to get this awful mix of heaven and hell to bleed into euphoric release and rest. 

The only thing stopping you from reaching down and finishing the job yourself is the assurance that Lo’ak would snip all pleasure in a bud at the sight of any touching. 

The area has been cleared of invaders. Na’vi begin to make their way off to the hills before take off but you are none the wiser. Caught in your own little bubble you don’t even notice when a sudden shadow blocks out the sun. That is until, large warm hands slip under the cloak and skate over your spread legs. 

Such a simple touch has never made you whimper more. 

Neteyam’s accent is thicker now, words heavy enough to hardly understand the meaning as he coos at you. “There’s my sweet pet. Little slut just wants to come again, don’t you?”

His fingers force your legs to spread even wider. Lo’ak’s stares as if his glare could heat up enough to burn through that cloak. 

With such delicacy it makes you want to scream, Neteyam uses two fingers to part your pussy lips and expose your pulsing clit. The other hand slithers down to rest on your thigh as you try to buck against the air. 

“Come for your Olo’eyktan, pet,” He growls and with the other hand he begins delivering rapid little taps to your clit. It’s humiliating how tiny the gesture that puts you over the edge is but you paint the toy white regardless. 

When the vibrator finally takes a rest you are too far lost in your own little world. Neteyam swaddles you in the cloak and carries you in his arm as you bury into his chest. And conveniently, when you are tucked back in the forest there is no awareness left in you to recognize the sound of launching ships. 

As always interaction and feedback not only means the world to me but also as a great motivator for writing and updating<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna@neteyamssyulang@tallulah477@criticallybella@sullybrothersmate@lilghostiequinni@chershire23@lala-1516@teyamshuman@yawnetu@puddle-nerd@ratchetprime211@avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark@bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut@witchsprit@heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar@minnory@ikeyniofthetayrangi@ilovehobi101@spicymayyo@v4mp1rr3@nilsavatar@bambithewriter@quicktosimp@itchaboi-itchyboy@thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit@imwutim@crazy4books1@thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction@danniackerman@dayyzlol@justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty @neteyamtesuli @sakurayuki8655-blog @deadpool15 @valeriinee @leaveitbythewave @aqxllo @mxnygn @crazed-flower @crimsonroses666 @property-of-neteyam @rejectedbytheempty

Let me know if I missed you. It's getting a littly tricky to keep track of everyone haha

[holylulusworld]

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (2) - Heatwave

Summary: You end up between two tidal waves.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Soldier Boy

Warnings: banter, arguments, sexism, misogyny (SB), talk about sex, sex pollen, mentions of anal sex (nothing happens yet), talk about eating ass/pussy

Square filled for @jacklesversebingo: "Sign me up"

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy masterlist

Golden Boy vs. Dirty Boy (1) - The base

“So, who wants to get dicked down first?”

This must be a joke. A naughty and hot one. It's still a joke.

Both men stare at you like you’re on the menu. Even if you dreamed of getting eaten out by Steve not an hour ago, you’re not sure if his conscience will let him forget he had to have sex with you to survive.

You're hot, really hot. Your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck,” you step back, keeping a close eye on Soldier Boy. If you must have sex with one of them, you’d go for Steve. You trust him more than the cocky and misogynic bastard eyeing you like his latest meal.

“Yeah, let’s fuck,” Soldier Boy grins wildly. He cups his crotch and growls profanities at Steve. “Come on, Cap. I bet her cunt is dripping for us.” He snickers when Steve throws him an angry look. “I know you feel it too.”

“Shut up,” Steve yells at Soldier Boy. He pants heavily, and his hands are balled into fists. Steve dropped his shield some time ago, to rub his aching crotch. While Soldier Boy is ready to pounce on you and Steve, the Captain fights the influence of the drug. “I can’t abuse Y/N to survive. I’m not like that.”

“Fuck—” You curse under your breath. If only Steve would break first and take you like the whore you’d be for his glorious dick. You saw it once while walking in on him in the unisex showers. (Hail to Tony for his idea.)

“Sweet cheeks, you look a little bothered over there,” Soldier Boy shamelessly runs his hand over the prominent bulge in his pants. “If you want me to help you out, I’m right here. Come over here and let me do you good.”

“Back up will be here soon,” Steve groans loudly as your scent hits his sensitive nose. He curls his upper lip because he can smell your and Soldier Boy’s arousal. “We only need to sit this out. Y/N, you should go to one of the other rooms. Drink lots of water and stay away from us.”

“Aw, you want me to fuck you first,” Soldier Boy’s eyes darken as he looks at Steve. “I knew this uptight ass is good for something. Hmmm…is this perfect peach virginal or did you already take it up your ass?”

“Stay away from me,” Steve picks his shield back up. If he must keep Soldier Boy away, he’ll need all of his strength and his shield. “We cannot give in to the drug. That’s what they want.”

“Is this sex pollen,” you dreamily look at Steve’s crotch. The bulge in his pants tells you he’s about to lose control sooner than later. “Can we even resist the influence? Sergeant Barnes told me one or two things about this shit.”

Steve looks a little flustered at the mention of his friend. He drops his gaze and licks his lips. There is something about his reaction letting your imagination run wild. “I knew it,” Soldier Boy snickers. “You fucked your buddy, didn’t you.”

“Shut up!” Steve yells, making you flinch. But the hardness in his eyes and the anger in his voice goes straight to your aching core. “We have to go to separate rooms and sit this out. Backup will be here soon. We will get a remedy and forget about this.”

“What if,” Soldier Boy slowly steps toward you, a cocky smirk on his lips, “Y/N wants me to pound her needy hole. I could breed the hell out of her. Give her purpose in life.”

“Asshole,” you grunt. If you weren’t so turned on, you’d love to slap Soldier Boy’s face. “If anyone breeds me, it’s gonna be Steve. I do not trust you, but him.”

“You do?” Steve takes two steps toward you. He furrows his brows while watching unzip your tactical suit. “Y/N don’t do this. I can’t fight myself and him.”

“I need you to let me ride that pretty face of yours, Captain,” you purr, and walk past Soldier Boy. Said man grunts, but he cannot deny, he’s turned on by the thought of watching you ride Steve’s face.

“If she rides your face, I’m gonna eat that peach,” Soldier Boy grunts. “Only to open her tiny hole up for me, of course.” You chuckle at his eagerness.

“I sweated like a whore at the church. Do you really want to eat my ass?” You cock a brow at Soldier Boy.

“Sign me up,” he growls your name. “After I ate the peach, I’m gonna fuck it. Quit pro quo, sweetness.”

“Stevie,” you coo Steve’s name while running one hand over his beard while your free hand creeps toward his crotch to cup him roughly. “If you let me ride that beard, you can fuck my pussy. I’m slicking only for you.”

“A whore for us to use,” Soldier Boy singsongs. He roughly cups your ass, kneading your globes. “I will fuck you so hard you’ll not be able to walk for a week or longer.”

“Hands off,” Steve grunts. He pushes Soldier Boy away to make his claim on you known. “If anyone conquers every inch of her body, including her cunt, it’s me.”

Steve doesn’t sound like the charming golden boy any longer. He fights for the right to fuck you first like a caveman. You don’t care. If you don’t get off soon, things will only get worse.

“Oh, Captain,” you cup his face, feeling his beard up. “You’ll get what you give.”

You growl when he tries to pull away. He can’t leave you hanging. Not after he agreed to let Soldier Boy join you on your mission. “You owe me. That asshat dropped the vial. Now I’m burning up from the inside.”

“Let me help you, sweetness,” Soldier Boy pushes against Steve’s shoulders, making the Captain stumble back and land on his ass. “Stay down, Cap. She wants to ride your face, and I want to watch.”

Tags in reblog.

[bonefall]

i know u dont rework arcs untill theyre complete but im very excited to see what you do with a starless clan, theres so much exciting things happening in this arc to work with. do you have any changes you already know for sure you’ll be incorporating?

No for-sures. I don't want to make any for-sures. I have ones I'm feeling but I don't want to call ANYTHING a for-sure yet. I need to find out what the ending is, WHERE this is all going, because I have a strong philosophy in my writing that a story is like a spear;

IT'S ALL ABOUT GETTING TO THE POINT.

But we are 4/6 of the way in, so I CAN start talking about thoughts!

I'm actually leaning pretty heavily towards axing Nightheart as a POV. There's still time for the books to turn around and justify it, BUT HEAR ME OUT

(Saying AS someone who is a Nightheart Enjoyer)

So far I'm really feeling that his character would benefit from us never being inside of his head, or seeing what he's been going through. As much as I WILL stand by that I enjoyed books 1 and 2 and liked his perspectives there, I'm starting to think that it would serve the story a lot better for Sunbeam and Frostpaw to be guessing just as much as we are.

We'd get introduced to Nightheart on the journey for catmint.

Sunbeam connects with him immediately, because she's tossed on this mission while she's in the middle of a swirling tide of drama. With nothing but Clerics and a hardened Rootspring to the left and her ex-bestie (exstie) to the right, he's really her only other choice for companionship. She's chronically unable to stop problems before they get out of hand, the sort of person who becomes frozen by indecision, and then here comes this Glorious Bastard

In her eyes, he's so caring, and bold, and fun! He's the first one to jump headlong into danger, to really be interested in her problems and just let her talk, and his story is so heartbreaking! A mother who's so hard on him... and his Clan is so mean all the time, but he wants to prove to all of them that he's more than just Firestar's descendant... but he was so brave to choose his own name.................

And then, when she follows him into ThunderClan, she learns he fucking lied. She changed Clans based on SOB STORIES

When she first comes, no one knows what he's been saying behind their back. Even if they did, they don't want to start trashing Nightheart right to his new mate's face. But then he LEAVES, and Sunbeam will bring up,

"Maybe it was because you were hard on him?"

And then Sparkpelt tries to agree, just to take blame onto herself and stop all this, but Finchlight's had eNOUGH and ends up setting the record straight;

"No this is DEFINITELY another tantrum. He already ran off once before."

"NO he didn't pick his own name, he stopped the whole ceremony to complain and Bramblestar gave him a compromise"

"MEAN to him?? I had to do HIS WORK because he couldn't STAY ON THE GROUND"

"Oh he's buckling under the weight of his legacy? that must be so hard. I was cat-fifteen when i punched my first fascist and he was wearing the face of my grandpa."

"His mom aba-WHAT?? ABANDONED???? OUR MOTHER WAS EXILED AND HE STAYED HOME!!!!! WE WERE CAT-FIFTEEN!!"

With this false hope shattered, Sunbeam is thrown into a devastating situation where... her mother was right. She was tricked. And now she's stuck in this new Clan without any of her old friends, without this mate who was too-good-to-be-true, the ONE impulsive choice she's made on her own in her WHOLE LIFE turns to ashes in her mouth. She can't go back, either, because Berryheart would NEVER let her live this down.

But... it's okay.

It's a slow shock, to make a choice SO impulsive and SO self-concerned, and find a safety net below her. It's going to be okay. The trials are fair. The cats of ThunderClan interrupt and speak over each other, but, that teaches her to be more assertive. Sparkpelt and Finchlight are not the mean assholes that Nightheart built them up to be, and they'll support her no matter what she chooses to do with her possible mate.

I want Nightheart TO get better, but, in order for that to happen, he has to face, and, more importantly, ACCEPT consequences. He needs to develop the maturity to say, "I acted like a brat and didn't appreciate what I had. and I'm sorry. you don't have to forgive me."

Bottom line being, Nightheart is striking me lately as a character that works best as unpredictable, because we have NO IDEA what's truly in his head. It would be interesting for him to have a novella later, but as it stands, his POV has consistently just been a duplicate since he joined ShadowClan. We gained NOTHING from splitting the Frostpaw Journey of the newest book in half POV, and VERY little from splitting the ShadowClan one into half POV.

I might reduce the POVs to 2, just Sunbeam and Frostpaw, or change Nightheart's to Lightleap. If I NEED 3 main characters, then they should all be a consistent camera on different parts of the conflict.

Again. I do not commit to changes until the arcs are done. Nothing in BB!ASC is set yet.

But here's some other little things I'm thinking,

Bramblestar is VOTED out.

He does not step down. The little "game" he played with Nightheart to create a situation to yell at Squilf, who hasn't been his mate in a long time in BB, was the LAST straw for ThunderClan.

They had sympathy for him before that point, because of what he went through with Ashfur, but his leadership was long and controversial even before the Impostor.

And there's a really strong sentiment that IF Bramblestar had been a good leader... they would have realized he was possessed sooner. So, there are those who partially blame him for the tyranny of the Impostor.

Basically; enough is enough.

Berryheart's hate group has ACTUAL consequences. Someone gets killed; probably Antfur, who survived the last arc to die here.

More fights. This arc has been too bloodless. Already planning SEVERAL sudden, random brawls in RiverClan as tensions boil.

Heartstar is going to be MORE controversial. Not controversial enough in canon imo. I don't like how Leaf and Squilf seem like they have "hypothetical" issues with the invasion instead of being able to point at REAL ones.

riverclan didn't forget how to do the chores they've done their WHOLE lives, no. I'm going to talk about POWER VACUUMS and create ACTUAL factions that begin to coagulate in RiverClan.

if we're going to have a brainless plot about how "Well Ackshually democracy has enough problems to make us reconsider not having unaccountable, tyrannical dictators, because a vote could maybe be called over One Single Issue" then I'll talk about shit like the spoiler effect, mob mentality, and factionalism. Get the hell out of my way ERIN I'll cook

No Smoky. Society has progressed past the need for Smoky. No Smokyng Area.

Whistlepaw should to try and take care of her ALONE, not trained enough to take care of SUCH bad wounds and barely able to keep her trembling paws straight, and Frostpaw realizes that she's making her watch her own friend die.

Is this how her life is going to end? slipping away under the paws of someone she loves, for what? pride? to do what her mother told her-- trust no cat?

As she TRUSTS Whistlepaw? Trusts her SO much, that Frostpaw will force her to be the only witness to her death?

FROSTPAW CALLS THE HUMAN

...which in BB, is a team of researchers. She drags herself to them, and collapses. This is why they just HAPPENED to have the proper equipment on them; they're WILDLIFE VETS.

Not sure how I'm going to handle Frostpaw's Journey though. In BB, the Park Cats are already a foundational part of Clan Culture.

In all honesty, while I HAVE to praise the fact that the Erins have FINALLY created ONE outsider group that isn't malicious or defenseless... I don't much care for them.

sending frostpaw on a side quest to what's essentially a big DOTC reference. Look! It's that group we introduced in the last 5 chapters of our latest glorified recap! cooool.

We're just going to get nothing but fucking founders in every dream from now on. I'm SURE of it.

As a consolation prize to myself though I will be writing cool angel scenes of the absolute BEING that Riverstar has become in heaven.

Riverstar (normal cat): "Elder Bones I'm going out!"

"not dressed like THAT you're not!!!"

Riverstar (the manifestation of the river, the rain in the sky above, and the abyss below, and how through water we are all truly connected as one being): "better?"

I will probably keep the Park Cats and rework them significantly, but I'm leaning pretty heavily towards Frostpaw visiting a LOT of places. A holy pilgrimage.

ESPECIALLY one of the Tribe's three wards; the River Ward. The Tribe of Rushing Water believes (it's even in the name) that water connects all things.

So I think it would be really fitting for Frostpaw to learn from MANY perspectives, starting with this philosophy put forth by the River Ward.

And she realizes-- that's what Riverstar is, as well. As a being. He is mentoring her on this pilgrimage, while barely saying a word. She can feel him wherever she is, because he isn't JUST the God of the River.

He is connection. He is peace. He's water. Too much and you'd drown, not enough and you'd thirst.

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Got You, Little Wolf (Reader x Tywin)

Look man I did my best for this so please cut me some slack, I really do hope you guys like it cause I went through a writers block while trying to do it.

“You are a stark, that’s all that matters to me”

“Father said you were also a soldier, the only woman he is afraid of when she is around sharp objects”

“Good, your father needs to be afraid of something”

“You always speak of the north yet you never say why you came here”

“I was a prisoner sweet boy, I was brought in front of you father by a guard who dragged me in the castle”

“What?”

“Allow me to explain my little wolf”

-

“Let me go you bastard”

The hound ignored the girls empty threats as he held on to her upper arm with an iron grip before he left her to crumble at the floor in front of the king and queen mother. (Y/n) lifted herself up to get on her feet, her hands were tied with a rope already bruising her wrists, still (y/n)s eyes burned with anger as she viewed the young boy that sat on the throne in an arrogant manner.

“There she is, the young wolf, (y/n) stark the twin of robb”

“Did you drag me here to show you know my family history line or are you just surprised you can remember stuff?”

“How dare you speak to your king like that”

“The north knows no king expect the king of the north, my family that you slaughtered”

She spat back, she herself was even surprised they brought her here before they execute her like they did her father, she had made peace with dying when she saw her twin brother lay dead at his own wedding, however she would not go down without giving them a piece of her mind.

“Your treacherous family betrayed my father and you were stupid enough to think you could go against us”

“Were you dropped on your head as a child? Cause certainly there is no way you actually believe that you are so invisible because your fat ass sits on a big chair, useless little boy”

“You will pay for this you bitch”

Joffrey marched at the girl to strike her in his mind he wanted to teach her a lesson for her insults, he had not gotten far when he got interrupted by the doors agape revealing his grandfather, the hand of the king.

Tywin took a few steps and investigated the scene, it seemed like the stark had already caused a stir, her dress was tarnished and she was in much need of a proper bath, mud or smoke staining her skin, what he also noticed was that the stark showed no signs of fear, she held eye contact with the old lion with her back straight in perfect line.

The moment that Tywin came close her face scowled with hatred, Tywin could not remember the last time someone showed their true feelings towards him, it was almost refreshing to see.

“The young wolf in chains, what a glorious sight”

“I am glad you find this entertaining old man”

“Careful now, that is not a way to speak to your future lord husband”

“What?”

Joffrey and (y/n) said in unison. Tywin remained stoic as usual, foolishly and arrogantly Tywin moved his hand up to touch her chin only for him to quickly retreat it to protect his finger from (y/n)s teeth, the wretched Stark tried to bite him. The room roared with Tywins laughter, Joffrey shared a look of worry with his mother, neither Cersei or Joffrey had seen him laugh like this.

“You don’t only bark but you also bite, such a clever girl, you will make a wonderful lady of the rock”

“I would rather pull out my own womb and eat it than marry a Lannister”

“I am afraid you have no choice, marry or die along with your sisters, you may not care about your life but do you really want your sisters to come with you?”

-

Like most tales start, the princess was locked in a tower, sadly the Prince Charming was nowhere near and the monster -in this case the lion- would be taking his place. The fury in her burned her chest, she had tried everything, restrain from eating, threatening to jump off the tower, attack the guards, Tywin was always one step ahead.

Although the lord hand was smart, he was not a woman, to be a woman meant you had the natural skill of landing jabs under the belt, jabs that a man would never consider still they were the ones that hurt the most.

(Y/n) was seen smiling bright at their wedding ceremony, guzzling wine and dancing with every lord that had thrown themselves to dance with the young she-wolf, the dress was an excellent choice and in combination with her hair she looked like the embodiment of a fairytale.

Tywin could not believe his eyes, the girl had offered her time and smiled to every lord except her, he was ready to drag her out of here in front of everyone when the insufferable littlefinger lifted her up in the air by the waist, the bride wooed at the gesture, she was even seen blushing.

Luckily for Tywin, Cersei had stepped up to the Stark girl, interrupting her dance to talk to her new stepmother, a word Cersei would rather cut her tongue herself than say.

“Lady (y/n), welcome to our family, as a stark I would like to know what it is like to be married to a lion?”

“Unnecessary and oddly boring, wolves prefer to stick with their own”

She replied without even sparing a peep at Cersei which infuriated the queen mother, how dare she face the queen mother with such dismissive demeanour

It was bad enough that her father allowed the bitch to live now she took her late mothers place, her new step mother could be her daughter, Cersei always admired her father still she could not wrap her head around the motive behind it.

“I believe it is time for us to go”

“You may go, I wish to stay”

Tywin had allowed her temper to somewhat unleash when it came to Joffrey or Cersei, anyone but him, now his lady wife was dangerously stretching the rope, to play with a lion was as safe as jumping over a fire, he had already extended his kindness by just seeking her out to the dance floor after countless hours and numerous lords being able to touch her, he would not turn a blind eye when she disrespected him further.

(Y/n) yelped when Tywin latched his hand around her bicep as discreetly as possible to force her into walking out by herself, give her the option of keeping her dignity instead of acting the way he truly wanted, she stumbled at first firstly because she was distracted and the other reason was that she had gotten drunk by downing all the goblets of wine she could find since she started getting dressed.

The moment (Y/n) was safely tucked away from the prude eyes of Westeros she protested only to be met by Tywin throwing her over his shoulder, she whined at the impact of her stomach landing on the man’s shoulder with enough force to cause some bruises, quickly the pain was replaced with embarrassment, her face turned as red as roses when she saw servants scurry away while giggling.

“Put me down you old bastard”

She was only met with a smack across her bottom to silence her, instead it caused her irritation to grow, her solution was to start banging the mans back as hard as she possibly could.

Tywin basically threw her across his bed, what he did not expect was for (y/n) to be so quick on her feet and slap him across the face, she was strong enough to make his head turn from the impact, not strong enough to cause more than a decent sting.

(Y/n) rose up to attack Tywin once more, unfortunately for her Tywin was a skilled warrior, he caught her arms and forced her to lay on the bed by putting half of his weight on her.

“I should cut your tongue for that”

(Y/n)s response was to spit on the man’ face, for a split second he considered throwing her to the lions, he resorted with grabbing her by the waist with his one arm and a fistful of hair with the other with her back to his chest.

“Why the hostility little wolf? I offer you a slice of heaven and you throw it back in my face”

“What part of this resembles heaven to you?”

“Our children will rule winterfell, you are the heir of the north, if you kill me war will ensue but if you lean on me and I swear together we’ll prevail”

Winterfell, home. The words made circles in her head as her legs gave up, Tywin slowly let her touch the ground as his hand was still around and the once forceful grip on her hair had gone to a gentle caress of her locks, he had heard of the young wolfs beauty along with her bravery, at the time he had dismissed it, once he heard her bark at Joffrey an act that no one seemed to have the balls to do.

He was mesmerised, such a pretty little thing, the courage she held within her could burn all the seven kingdoms, anyone that had her by her side would be considered lucky, it was at that time that he thought of a wedding with her.

“I got you little wolf”

Call it stupidity or an urge to find home within strangers or just an act of drunkness. (Y/n) peered at the man that held her with such softness, the anger disappeared and tiredness of fighting, of surviving took its place in her heart, she needed to rest, to feel protected.

It had been the first time in years that Tywin was caught off guard by somebody, when (y/n) landed her lips on him he felt like he was thrown into a cold river from the shock, he quickly recovered to respond to her hesitant kiss while he laid her on the ground, Tywin was not known for his patience so it was only natural from him to take out his dagger and rip the gown right in the middle, leaving (y/n)s body exposed.

Tywin caressed her breasts with his fingertips, astonished at how perfect she was, any man would dream of laying with a woman like her, viewing her biting her lip when her hand found his shirt to pull him to her almost felt like he was just dreaming.

They laid on the floor all night, the stark was truly was a starving wolf in all her glory, her thirst and stamina were endless, he had thought she would want to take things at a slow pace, he had been corrected, her temper slowly creeped in as she became rough by the minute.

Tywin relished her when she took the upper hand, she was a delight to watch, listening to her cries of desires aroused him even more, she devoured the man until he had to physically force her to stop, he was certain anyone within the castle would listen to the girls groans and moans of pleasure.

-

“Oh there she is the beautiful lady of the rock”

A young girl approached (y/n) when she sat at the table for breakfast near the garden, to step foot outside your doorstep in the north meant you would have to wear layers of fur, here she could at least enjoy the rays of sunshine with only a light dress.

“It is an honour to meet you lady (y/n), I am margaery tyrell”

“I have heard of you lady margaery, the lady of the roses, it is nice to see another woman close to my age here in the castle”

(Y/n) had waited for the moment she could throw her young age in Cerseis face, her new step daughter was a few steps behind Margaery, the Lannister responded with a tight lipped smile with internal curses directed to (y/n), she was the wife of her father and as powerful as she thought of herself the stark was under the only person Cersei feared, her father.

“Would you mind if I joined you for breakfast?”

“I could use the company, please have a seat, both of you”

The Tyrell girl moved her chair so she can find a seat right next to the new Lannister lady, Margaery expected her to be cheerful especially after the whispers of the couples antics were the servants found the bed covers on the floor, ripped clothing and a dagger laying near by, along with some splashes of blood on the carpet instead of the mattress.

(Y/n) wanted to smash her head against the wall, the wine sounded like a good choice at the time, now her mind was pulsating from sleeping just for a couple of hours, Cersei took the time that (y/n) rubbed her temples with her fingers to examine her.

(Y/n) looked exhausted, she had shrunk in her seat and had even brought her legs up to her chest to shrivel up some more, Cersei never thought she would see the day were another woman made her uncomfortable, the adventurous of her fathers consummated marriage had reached her ears the minute she had gotten out of her bed, she had to hold herself from throwing up at the thought of her father bedding another woman, let alone a Stark.

“Such delicious treats you have here my lady, oh I am parched”

“Not this one”

(Y/n) was suffering from overindulging, thankfully she had managed to master enough strength to act instantly when Margaery went for the small pot of tea (y/n) had specifically requested. Margaery gave a look of confusion to the lady Lannister as Cersei leaned in, what was it that made (y/n) so territorial.

“I’m sorry lady Margaery it is a tea one of house from the north brought for me as a gift, unfortunately the amount was not as grand as it should be, I am savouring it”

“That is alright lady (y/n) it is perfectly normal to be homesick, especially after arriving under such cruel circumstances, I never got the chance to say my condolences”

“Why you honour me my lady, do not beat yourself up over the matter, you are the first and most likely the only one to do so”

Margaerys lips stiffened at the words (y/n) had spoken, instinctively the ginger haired beauty reached to hold the Starks hand, a small sign of alliance and mutual respect, (y/n) was a honourable woman and a defiant character, Margaery had an eye for beauty and a nose for talent, if it was anyone she needed by her side it would be (y/n).

“It is too beautiful of a day to dwell over past events”

“My apologies queen mother, I did not realise my grief over my entire family line would ruin your moment of soaking up the sun”

“(Y/n)!”

You would have to be blind and deaf to not understand that the angry man that was turning over the corner was like a simmer pot overflowing with anger. He had the attention of the three ladies ever since he made his presence known, as he came to the table his first move was to reach over for (y/n)s teapot, (y/n) was the only one that did not move a muscle when the man smashed the pot on the ground, making the liquid spill and stain Cerseis gown.

“Moontea!? You stupid girl, you thought you could ask the servants to smuggle such a herb without me knowing?”

“Leave us”

(Y/n) dismissed the girls and servants, Cersei and Margaery gave them some privacy, leaving the couple right when Tywin walked on her side of the table, with a clean swipe of his arm most of the plates had smashed on the ground and replaced by (y/n), she did not have time to protest when Tywin spread her legs to stand between them, forcefully he gripped her by the chin, their eyes burning holes into one another

“I did what was best for me”

“Is that so? Was that the best choice for your sisters? How long has it been since you saw them last? I suppose the executioner stand could be a nice place for a reunion”

“I will not bring an heir until I am certain you meant what you said last night”

“About winterfell?”

(Y/n) nodded instead of speaking. Tywin sighed while he shook his head in disbelief, Tywin was lord of things but he wasn’t a liar, if she gave him an heir and binds his blood with hers he would stop at nothing for his family, she deserved the seven kingdoms not just winterfell, he did not spare her life just to have her on his bed he could have bought a whore for that, no she was the only person Tywin saw (y/n) as a genuine equal to his intellect.

“My dear wife, you are by far the most annoying person I’ve crossed paths with and ever since you stepped foot in this castle you have been nothing but a pain as you strut with your insufferable attitude and sharp tongue no matter who you talk to you tick them off in a mere seconds… that is what I love about you”

“Everyone has a villain they look up to I suppose”

“I broke my rules for you little wolf, I saw something in those eyes of yours, not only do you have the guts to play this game you might also have what it takes to win it”

“So you resort to filling me up with your seed so we will be tied through our children”

Tywin held his though for a moment, he released her from his grasp as his hand ever so softly caressed the skin of her neck down to gracing over her chest, finally he snaked his arm around her waist that earned him a slight squeal that escaped from the young wolf.

(Y/n) kept her gaze into his eyes, he was a man that was not particularly charming, he was intriguing, something about him slowly lured you in, he was a man so distinguished and with such confidence in himself that you could never forget him nor what he made you feel while being around you.

Tywin thought she was made for him, such elegance with just the right amount of danger, her gaze was full of self reliance to the point that with just one glance she could make you second guess yourself, his new wife was a riddle that made his head spin, she could burn you with her passion while she offered you an unforgettable night or kill you in your sleep, a risk only a man like Tywin was willing to take.

“I will feel you up with my seed for two reasons, in hopes that we won’t only have a son but a daughter that has your thick head so you can understand what it is like when someone is trying to knock some sense into it and second because last night was a glimpse of your many hidden talents I yearn to discover”

Requests are open!

[featheredclover]

September Rain

Chapter Three

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Two> < Chapter Four

“So class, there will be a new student joining us”

“Who changes schools in 10th standard?” Mona whispered.

“Poor thing, I hope she finds it okay” Khushi whispered back.

“Aah here she is,” Madhumati ma’am declared jovially.

All eyes turned comically towards the door.

Khushi looked on as a beautiful girl walked in.

“Thank you ma’am. Hello everyone, my name is Lavanya Kashyap. “

“Well dear” Madhumati ma’am smiled genially, “Tell us more about yourself “

“ I am from St Mary’s. And I was shifted here because my father is moving to London and he wanted me to continue my education in India. “

Her face set in a haughty, bored expression put Khushi off instantly.

“Not such a poor thing after all Khush” Mona smirked.

“That’s nice Lavanya. So let’s see here, Headmaster Manorama has sent a letter assigning you ,your house”

“Red house, you have gained a new member!”

NK hooted, while the rest clapped politely.

“Arnav, please ensure Lavanya gets to see around “

“Yes ma’am “ 

Arnav’s resounding yes grated on her nerves.

“Lucky bastard!” NK laughed.

“Nikhil, I won’t tolerate such language in my class!”

Khushi looked down at her notebook, drowning out the noise.

All she knew was that she didn’t want Arnav to be the one chaperoning the pretty new girl around. Why couldn’t ma’am have allotted a girl? Or some other boy?

“You are going to break that pencil missy” Preetika whispered from behind her.

Khushi let go of her death grip, oblivious to the knowing looks in her friends eyes.

—————

The bell gongs as the class flutters out for recess.

“Twenty minutes NK. Eat what you want in twenty minutes and I’ll see you on the basketball court “ Aman warned as he rushed out.

“Where is he going? Doesn’t he want to eat with us? “ NK frowned.

“He is dating Naina, you dumbo” Mona said.

“Naina Jha ? Our junior ?”

“Is that surprising?” Preetika asked.

“I guess not,” NK mumbled.

From the corner of her eyes, Khushi spied at Arnav standing close to Lavanya.

“Arnav! Aren’t you going to come to the cafeteria? Hi, Lavanya, I am Khushi. You are welcome to join us!”

“Hi,” Lavanya replied coolly.

“Umm guys, Lavanya wants to see the campus and the dorms first. I’ll take her there and will join you, if we get time”

Khushi stood in shock as Arnav grabbed his bag and left.

“What bullshit! They won’t get time to eat, this campus tour will take them at least an hour” Mona grunted out.

“Which man would let go of that opportunity girls,?”

“Excuse me?” 

NK put up his hands.

“Preetika, I am just saying that you don’t dismiss a girl like Lavanya Kashyap. Her mom was a supermodel !”

“How do you even know all this?” Khushi frowned.

“I have contacts”, he shrugged.

“Her dad is the ultra rich Randeep Kashyap. And now her supermodel mom, Sara is divorcing him for a younger billionaire! It is all over the papers. Never heard of a messier divorce “

“Well for that she has my sympathies” Mona sighed.

“I guess Arnav knew about this?”

“Of course! The reds get the news fresh from the oven!” NK said smugly.

“Theatre club is waiting NK, your talents are wasted on us” Preetika giggled.

Khushi trailed behind, her appetite lost already.

———

“Thank you uncle” ,with a smile she collected her change.

Placing her bag of paints in her basket, Khushi was all set to paddle when a sight caused her to still.

Arnav. Laughing. With Lavanya.

Ice clutched her veins, as her stomach swooped in discomfort.

They probably couldn’t see her. But she could see the glorious two, with their ice creams walking across the park.

‘How long is this campus tour going to last?’ Khushi thought bitterly.

With a jolt, Khushi realised.

They look good together.

Arnav was a boy after all. What right did she have to expect him to like her back?

Biting down on her trembling lip, she rode away before she burst into tears.

————

Khushi dumped her bag on the floor.

Crashing onto her bed , she stuffed her head into the pillow. Trying to muffle her tears.

“Khushi?”

Damn it.

“Khushi what’s wrong?”

She felt her mattress dip, and a hand ran through her hair.

She looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I think I like Arnav”

“So? Why cry about it?” Mona asked.

“Because h-he likes L-Lavanya” she blurted out.

She closed her eyes, hating the pity clouding their eyes.

“You know that in one day?” Preetika asked gently.

“I have n-never seen him l-like this,” Khushi sighed with dejection.

“Khushi! Arnav is your friend -“

“I know. I am not going to tell him or anything. It’s not like I can do anything if he wants to date Lavanya.”

She drew circles on her bed absently.

“That’s not what I was saying. I want you to be honest with him rather than be in so much pain”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Mona. Khushi wants him in her life. And it will be better for both of them to not bring this thing into the mix. Especially when she isn’t sure about Arnav’s feelings”

“How cynical of you!”

“And how naive of you!”

“Okay guys stop fighting.” Khushi brushed off her tears.

“I’ll be fine, okay? I don’t want to ask him. Preetika is right. And if he does end up with Lavanya…” she swallowed painfully , “I want to be a good enough friend to stand by him”

She gazed unseeingly into her palms. Everything was changing this year.

Tagging: @arshifiesta

——————-

Next chapter>>

@hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[rosietrace]

“Midnight Waltz”

| Malleus Draconia + Victoria Shard | 🐉 + 🪞 |

✎ᝰ. synopsis : Malleus held out his hand to her, his eyes glowing under the darkness of the hall. There was a strange tug in Victoria's system, somehow urging her — convincing her — to take that step closer and intertwine her hand with his.

✎ᝰ. content warnings : takes place post-glorious masquerade, Victoria's dress description is inaccurate to the event color scheme due to this being written pre-redesign, potentially ooc

✎ᝰ. genre : romance, canon divergence, oc + canon character

( ˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ ) a/n : I have so many drafts in my docs its almost EMBARRASSING ☠️ so I saw that this was already finished among them and decided, “why the hell not?” and boom. I've finally posted it. Good for me ig [ dividers belong to the amazing @cafekitsune !!! ]

✎ᝰ. : reblogs > likes

“And just where do you think you're going?”

Whatever mood Victoria was in prior, it had immediately soured. Malleus Draconia came into view at the turn of her head.

“I'm leaving.” It was an answer, simple as that. It didn't warrant any other explanation; the festivities of Noble Bell had come to a close, and no matter the fireworks, the glimmering lights, and the enthusiasm of their schoolmates— none of it mattered.

It would all become a distant memory, one way or another. Maybe it would be something she could look back on with fondness.

Or maybe she'd forget a moment such as this. Just like so many others that came before it.

Her response made Malleus appear all the more displeased than usual. “Already?”

“It's past midnight, Draconia.”

“And I thought the festivities would finally get you to loosen up, Shard.”

“What point would there be in doing so?” So you could hold it over my head and mock me? She sure as hell wouldn't allow that.

“It's rare for you to not be so… yourself.”

Malleus didn't know how else to phrase it, it seemed. Even the sound of his voice bothered Victoria, almost as much as looking at him and his emeralds for eyes.

“... You're not in your masquerade garb,” Victoria acknowledged. Now all the prince wore was his Diasomnia uniform— complete with the boots and, in Victoria's humble opinion, equally ridiculous hat.

“Is that a problem?” he inquired. His stance militaristic, arms behind his back, head held high like any awaiting king would.

Oh, how Victoria yearned to knock him off that pompous throne. To be the one wearing the crown and staring him down, watching as he groveled.

Well, Victoria, you can't have everything, she told herself in mild disappointment.

It was already late into the night, and the bell at the top of the tower had ceased its ringing when Midnight struck. They shouldn't have been here, near each other, looking at each other.

Malleus spoke again, the bastard. “And what of you?” His hand lazily motioned to her. And for the slightest moment Victoria wished there was one more garment she could wear as a barrier between him and her.

She refused to let that show. “What of me?”

His eyebrow arched. “So late into the night, when everyone is tucked safely into their sleeping quarters…”

“And yet here you are: all dressed in white like a bride left at the altar.”

“Like you're any better,” Victoria shot back with a sneer. “You fancy an unchaperoned midnight stroll, Draconia?”

“The stars are of better company than the likes of you, dearest Shard.”

“How flattering.”

“I should hope so. It's probably the only genuine compliment you could ever get.”

Her eyes narrowed down into slits, her lips pressing together before she said, “Do not challenge my patience, Draconia.” Patience that was hanging by a very thin, very fragile thread.

But Malleus Draconia was a prince not so easily deterred. His eyes wandered. To the large stained glass windows at his right, the moon illuminating them in a strange yet no less stunning disposition of color.

His eyes focused back on her, raking over her from head to toe. How irritating that he remained with an obscured and masked face. Perhaps that was a blessing, Victoria wanted to convince herself.

“Would you care for a dance?”

The question came in a matter of seconds. Straight-laced, firm, not sounding even the least hesitant.

The hesitancy she expected radiated off of her, instead. He chuckled at the baffled expression on her face, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smile.

Naturally, Victoria wasn't quick to accept. She took a step back, one foot forward and the other backward, she folded her arms across her chest.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Then beg.”

“Don't play games with me, Draconia.”

“And what makes you think this is a game, Shard?”

“You don't have a reason to dance with me. Not willingly,” Victoria took another step, this time towards him. “Have you perhaps been spiked with some sort of hallucinating serum?”

Malleus scoffed. “Don't be daft…” yet he didn't say anything to what she'd said before that inquiry.

“Being daft is more in character for you,” Victoria said in a mockingly crooning tone, clasping her hands together and bringing them close to her cheeks, rocking slowly.

“You are crossing a line.”

“I've crossed many bridges, Draconia. All I've done after is watch them burn.”

“Do you only speak in metaphors?”

“Do you do nothing but annoy me for your entertainment?”

To which Malleus gritted out, “A dance is all I ask of you.” It seemed she'd done her job of tugging at his strings well enough.

Her lips curved. “And why do you think I'd agree to something like that?” They stared each other down, eyes blazing in intensity.

Malleus held out his hand to her, his eyes glowing under the darkness of the hall. There was a strange tug in Victoria's system, somehow urging her — convincing her — to take that step closer and intertwine her hand with his.

Malleus guided her to a vacant music room. It seemed to be lacking in actual use, all the inhabiting instruments covered in dust and stained with a spider's intricate cobweb.

Victoria sent him a look. He knew she was wondering how he'd come to discover this room, but he was better off ignoring the silent question for now.

Bringing forth a self-conducted orchestra was as easy as flicking Malleus' wrist. The instruments burst with life, floating mid-air and playing a tune for them to dance to.

With a turn of his heel, Malleus went back to facing her. Victoria, dressed like some ghostly bride, iridescent in a dress so white it bordered on blue.

He bowed, even if it struck a chord in his pride to do so. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, wasn't it?

He heard her release a huff. He kept his eyes to the ground, hand still extended to brush against hers when she finally gave in and reciprocated.

The ends of Malleus' lips ticked upwards as he pulled her close, his free arm snaking around her waist.

Victoria already held a deep scowl in her eyes. It only seemed to deepen in intensity once he'd made that gesture clear to her. “Draconia…”

“And what is it now, Shard?” said Malleus, far too smug for the better of others, or his own.

“Don't act sly,” Victoria sneered, synchronizing with his movements. “You don't look good when you're sly.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “So when I'm not, I do?”

She didn't say anything about that comment. When he felt a sting of pain in his foot, he knew that she stomped on it with her heel.

Malleus was more surprised about the lack of a puncture wound than the pain itself. With how sharp her heels were, he half-expected his foot to start bleeding.

But did that stop Malleus Draconia, prince of the Briar Valley abyss, to move forward and engage in a waltz with her? No. No, it did not.

There was little surprise in the way their movements synchronized; Victoria made for both a formidable academic opponent, so Malleus felt little shock with her formidability on the dance floor.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” stated Malleus, giving Victoria a twirl. “When the celebrations came, I mean.”

“Tsk.” Victoria's footsteps were hard against the floorboards of the music room. “What, did you expect me to rejoice when the crimson blossoms wreaked havoc?”

“With the kind of woman you present yourself as, I would hardly be surprised if you feigned outrage.”

“I don't need to feign it when all I have to do is look at you.”

“How flattering.” Malleus' eyes rolled heavenward. Why should he bother at this point? No matter what he did, Victoria Shard would not take kindly to him being… well, himself.

He jolted, his face grimacing with a sudden hiss of his teeth. Shard…

He looked down at her, at her sapphire-like eyes and the smug look on her face that dared feign ignorance.

“Shard.” Malleus glowered.

Victoria huffed, and he could've sworn she was trying desperately hard not to laugh in his face. “What, Draconia? Already so tired from our dance to forfeit?”

If this were a challenge, Malleus made the immature decision of stepping up to the challenge.

This woman— Malleus thought with gritted teeth after each hard, deliberate stomp Victoria performed directly on to his feet. More likely than not, he'd lost count at how many times she'd done it.

Perhaps at some point, Zenith would give him some sort of petty participation award. Preferably titled, Endured being repeatedly stomped in the feet by Victoria Shard.

“In all my centuries of walking this land, never have I encountered a woman as egregious as you.”

“Then I find myself lucky.”

“You simply can't help but make my blood boil, can you?”

“Oh, Draconia.” Victoria batted her eyelashes with a croon.

“It's my favorite pastime.”

How crude of her. Malleus felt his pride get struck by some arrow. Be it an arrow from Orion, or one by Eros, he could not tell the difference.

He wanted, so badly, to put her in her place. To set his foot down and speak sternly, warning her not to be so bold in any future interactions between them.

But it was difficult. Difficult having to deal with a woman so high on her horse that she's arrogant enough to try and kick him off his; Difficult to constantly maintain order when it became very clear that it was the very thing she didn't want out of him.

Difficult to know that— no matter what he did— he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He dared stared longer than necessary; at her frame, the dress she wore, the choker around her neck, the color of her eyes.

Her lips.

Malleus came to an abrupt halt. In doing so, so did Victoria, as were the instruments that only played at his command.

Victoria nearly stumbled, but the arm around the small of her back kept its grasp secure to prevent her from truly falling, lest her pride be wounded even more after agreeing to this.

“Draconia?” She'd called out to him, with an arch of her brow and a honeyed edge to her voice that made him want to fall apart.

Malleus remained ever still, unsure of what to make of himself after thinking such accursed thoughts. He barely heard her.

“Draconia?” She could repeat his name a thousand times, for the rest of time, and the only thing it would ever do to him was make his heart melt because she was saying his name.

He wasn't staring at her. Not directly. Not at her eyes, or any of her accessories— but at her lips. His eyes locked on to them, his breath uneasily jagged.

A part of him wanted to let go. To give in. To finally reach out and indulge in something for his own sake, and not for the sake of his kingdom, no matter what consequences he may face in the long run.

But he didn't. Malleus was better than that— his pride was better than to stoop to the levels of some desperate loon.

Victoria grew restless, calling out to him once more. “Draconia, speak,” she demanded. “Say something, damn it. I don't care what you have to say, just say—”

A small yelp came out of her as Malleus pulled her closer, their noses brushing. Neither of the two tried to break the gazes they held— though in the case of Victoria, her eyes seemed wide in a manner that, to Malleus, appeared almost otherworldly.

The hand that intertwined with hers broke free of its own iron grip, soon making itself known by caressing her cheek. His thumb brushed over her lips, but this time his gaze never wavered while looking into her eyes.

That familiar, gorgeous ocean-like pool that he'd drown in, for as long as time would allow him to.

Seldom were the visions that plagued his mind. He shan't bring himself to indulge himself. For the good of his people, of his kingdom.

Of himself.

“Save your voice for after our waltz, my sweet villain.”

“... What the hell am I looking at?”

Miren rubbed his eyes a good three times, blinking all the while and even going as far as pinching himself. Anything to try and prove to him that what he was looking at was a dream.

Turns out it wasn't.

There he was, Malleus Draconia — prince of Briar Valley, ruler of the abyss — dancing with Victoria Shard.

“Well this just got interesting,” uttered Rosemi, lightly shoving Miren to the side so she too could take a peek through the barley open doorway.

Miren's eyes narrowed. “Rosemi.”

“Miren.” Rosemi’s voice remained perfectly pleasant, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she maintained her focus on the incredulous sight before her and not the glutton beside her.

“Oho, how scandalous, Miss Shard…”

Miren grimaced. Maybe it was the weird mumbling on Rosemi's part that was getting to him, but a part of him felt… bewildered? Regret? Whatever it was, Malleus and Victoria dancing was the source of it all.

But the moment looked — and felt — intimate. Peaceful. A calm before a storm that Miren didn't know when it could strike.

Yet Miren was no stranger to the obvious look in Malleus' eyes. His lips pursed, unsure of what to think.

Perhaps it was best to keep his thoughts to himself.

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of Character appearances/mentions

Malleus Draconia

Victoria Shard — Me 😈

Zenith Devi — Also me 😈

Miren Lockhart — @authoruio

Rosemi Columbina — Also @/authoruio

@starry-night-rose | @jasdiary | @nem0-nee | @fumikomiyasaki | @sakuramidnight15 | @geminiiviolets | @valse-a-mille-temps | @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm | @twistedsongstressofstarz | @twsted-princess @mystery-skulls-ghost | @absolutelyobsessedkiya | @lueerhythm | @cecilebutcher

[hitlikehammers]

party staples

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, wedding plans, soul-deep love, slice of life, seriously: the softness

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-one: Love is letting him pick the music (@sparklyslug)

look look it's the rockstar husbands' third wedding! ♥️

He wants this for Steve.

Like, it’s all for Steve. Kind of…not in a way that’s, y’know, where Eddie’s not living for himself, but in the way where who and what he is, the life he has: it’s something he’s woven alongside Steve into this tapestry that’s…that’s them and so every breath he takes is from those threads, right, so all of him, all he has and all he feels and all he does: it’s them, because they’re stitched together not so that you can’t tell the difference, but so that you…you can’t unravel them. They’re too entwined.

And it is glorious.

But so, here’s the thing: they’ve exchanged rings? Twice, now. Maybe kinda-more if you want to get technical: they’d asked each other for forever, though, well—

Technically, Eddie thinks they do that every day. So, fine, but—

They have managed two formal-ish proposals. As formal as you can get if one’s the morning after you moved in together and christened the new bed, with a bread-bag twisty-tie, and the other the night after a graduation from community college with an acceptance to the night educators program in hand from IU East, fresh off the most promising label talks Eddie’s had with anybody ever, and they both just felt it, y’know, like they wanted to mark this as always, that they were growing and changing and their lives were moving and the momentum of them both was the momentum of them both, their life together was this beautiful always they were actively taking steps into, and it was just: they were dizzy with it, they were overfull of it, they were so happy and the only thing they could do was stop at a 7-11 and buy goddamn Ring Pops but they’d laughed and they’d kissed so fucking drenched in that feeling and if Eddie’d ripped off Steve’s gown to the point where it was really good they hadn’t rented it?

Eddie’ll forever pretend that was planned in advance.

Point being: Eddie’d worn Steve’s ring—his grandpa’s, who’d loved Steve right and Eddie wished he’d have known him, if only to tell him thank you—and Steve’s worn a cheap ass band Eddie’s tried to upgrade probably every-other-month for a while now but Steve won’t have it, the sentimental bastards still wears the probably-rusting remains of the twisty-tie—but they’re…they’re already married in every way that matters. So the idea of doing it again? Isn’t…isn’t stressful.

It’s kinda…exciting.

Because they’re going to share this with all their friends, their family. They’re going to bring everyone to their little house when the kids are back from school and Robin and Nance can make it in, hell: Jon just left with the intention to spend the next month roadtripping his way from California for the occasion. They’re making real money, now; the band’s doing more than he ever would have expected, Steve’s beloved—of course he is, as he damn well should be—at school, he’s the kind of counselor Eddie might have made it through senior year the first time with, if he’d had someone that invested, showing that much care for him. They’re…they’re in such a good place, and it’s only looking brighter on the horizons to come, all the way into forever: and that isn’t more than Eddie could have expected.

No: that is more than he ever even knew to hope for, it’s…it’s so much bigger than anything he ever knew existed.

But Robin’s going to officiate. Hopper and Joyce, and Claudia too: they nearly squared off for who could stand up for Steve, not to give him away so much as to hold him close and make sure he knows what he means and Eddie could kiss them for it, because the look in Steve’s eyes when they’d asked if they could share the job, it was…

Eddie might just kiss them all for it, when the day comes. Hopper included.

But everybody: Wayne’ll be there, for him, the boys are coming, gonna play requests for a couple hours, which should be fucking hilarious, and then hand it over to a band Steve insisted they hire so everyone could enjoy the evening, and it’s gonna be in their backyard, with the barbecue and a bonfire, just this mastic joyful potluck and—

“You finish the playlist, so we can send it off? I figure we’ll let the three finalists react to the song selection, might make the decision easier if any of them hate it,” Steve’s leaning over his shoulder and he turns, bumps into Steve’s cheek and Steve ducks his head to kiss Eddie’s jaw: because he was supposed to be finalizing the list for the band that would come on to give Jeff, Dougie, and Gareth the rest of the night off. Because Eddie was the musician, here. Eddie would of course pick the songs.

Except…he’s not the only person who loved music, in this relationship. And…he doesn’t know what specifically makes it so strong, and obvious in his chest, but: Eddie…wants this, for Steve.

He wants to dance to the songs Steve picks, he wants his heartbeat to waltz in time with Steve’s, first-and-foremost-and-always, but then find the rhythms Steve likes most to pick up the downbeat, he…

He wants to drown in Steve, in as many ways as he can find.

So he hands the paper over and pops the pen out of his mouth, which Steve only eyes for the movement, doesn’t even bother chastising him for chewing on the plastic cap anymore, knows to pick his battles: but Eddie hands it over, wordless—an offering, and a request at once:

Let me dance to your music, with you in my arms.

Steve look at him for a long stretch of moments, and his lips are plush around the soft smile that settles on his mouth: contented. So wreathed in love.

He leans in and Eddie’s ready this time, tilts his neck so Steve can kiss him full at the neck, wrapping arms around Eddie’s waist so he can squeeze him close and breath against his jaw:

“I’ve got just the thing.”

And then he’s gone, and Eddie stares after him, just…lost in thought except it’s not lost, even inside his head: he knows exactly where he’s at in his thoughts. Same place he always is.

With Steve.

And then the genuine article is back, grinning a little…not nervous exactly, but something, as he walks over to the stereo and pops the cassette into the deck.

And Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, curious, as he reaches an arm out toward Steve, not really an invitation just a knowing, that Steve will come to him and settle in his lap, in his arms.

Which he does. Because that’s who they are.

“Strings?” Eddie asks as the sound fills the room and Steve just grins, a little bashful; huh. “And piano,” because the keys are swelling on the track and it’s pretty, no, it’s kinda beautiful, but Eddie doesn’t know what it…is.

“Seemed appropriate,” Steve mouths next to Eddie’s ear, warm and kinda almost impish.

“It’s perfect,” Eddie whispers close but what is it, I don’t…” but: oh.

Oh: but he does.

That’s…that’s his music. His song. The band, but this is, he’s—

“Stevie?” he asks, a little breathless, a little wondering because, because—

“I’d kinda hoped you might not fill the whole list,” Steve murmurs, lips pressed against his skin so warm, so firm, so…

Perfect.

Perfect, and it sends the most delightful shivers up Eddie’s spine.

“What,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, feels his cheeks start to ache a little as he smiles bigger and bigger because…this is classical, and this is fucking professional, and it’s goddamn Corroded Coffin, in orchestral…splendor.

“Friend of Robin’s is at Berklee, in Boston,” Steve nuzzles against his neck a little as he explains; “studying composition, I asked if she could,” and he sighs a little, the softest little breath and he drags his lips to catch against Eddie’s skin, wanting nothing from it; almost lazy as he exhales: “just if she could arrange some things.”

Some things, he says, like Eddie’s heart—which was already overfull—isn’t trying to burst not just out of Eddie’s chest, but out of its own size and shape, a glorious tender explosion of just, just…

Feeling.

“I thought we could have someone to play, these,” Steve nods toward the speakers; “and then Dustin said he’d play DJ for, you know. Party staples.”

Eddie leans so he can look Steve in the eye to ask the most important question:

“Love Shack?”

He is not ashamed to say he fucking loves when that song comes on at a wedding. Steve huffs.

“Of course, baby.”

“Van Halen?” and Steve grins. “All sorts of Van Halen,” which is as it should be. Steve wooed Eddie too fucking well with Why Can't This Be Love; “also some George Michael,” and that’s perfect, Eddie doesn’t even care, he just loves the sly grin Steve gets when he says it, wants to eat that grin, if he gets to see that mouth look so soft and happy he can sure as hell appreciate some George fucking Michael; “but if I miss anything, you’ll see it before Dustin gets his paws on it, you can add whatever I overlooked,” and he leans in again, this time claiming Eddie’s lips and Eddie gives willingly, gratefully—as always.

And it settles, all around Eddie in that moment: the way he’d wanted Steve to have this thing that’s so him on the outside, but if it is, then it’s them at its core, like all of it is.

And what did this magnificent bastard go and do, but give Eddie his own songs right back as a…a gift; songs that are all Steve, anyway.

He can’t help the laughter, this buoyant thing with its own velocity: he can’t help but let it shake out of him against Steve’s lips as he kisses him harder, deeper, as he tries to get lost in the feeling, in the reality of this man: his husband.

Because wherever he gets lost? Steve’s right there, always and forever.

He’ll be just fine.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[inkdragon1900]

K I actually want to talk about it. What’s with the white favoritism around Lestat?

Like I’m new here. Started watching the show last month. Like I love him obviously he’s a glorious toxic bastard. (Check my blog ie Aaravos from tdp and Ianthe from TLT)

But there’s like…this woobification vibe that some of yall in the fandom have.

And this isn’t about posts like “my babygirl is innocent.” Or “free my man. He was in a silly mood.” Cause like I get it. That’s just me with Armand. (Free my man he did all of it. But you’re honor he’s my wife)

But like…I’m AWARE of Armand’s whole deal. I’m not like “but he’s not that manipulative.” Gurl it’s why I’m into him. He’s a hot fictional bisexual vampire who manipulates like a woman playing 4d chess.

But these freaking takes like “just wait until Lestat can tell the full truth.”

Like I’m sorry but if the white man gets his turn with the talking stick and we get the story from his point of view and the writers make it objectively more factual then 3 freaking POC abuse victims I’m literally out and will not be tuning back in.

And like this is not my first rodeo in a fandom that has an issue with this.

Same problem in the Arcane fandom with the complete disregard and or needless hate over the POC character; Mel, Jayce, Sevika, Ambessa, and yes I have also seen a shit ton of Caitlyn hate or erasure of her being mixed race) and weird micro aggressions about Ekko.

Meanwhile Jinx, Silco, Vander, Viktor, and Vi are Fandom favs.

And the woobification off actually well done mental health struggles. Acting like Jinx’s BPD symptoms wouldn’t have happened if Vi had been a better sister. Or that Viktor is an UwU baby who can’t take care of himself. Bitch he’s disabled he’s not an infant.

And I’m seeing sooooo much of this with these Lestat takes. And as a fellow white person I do genuinely feel the need to call this shit out when I see it.

This like belief that Louis is dragging Lestat’s good name through the mud talking about his abuse and his experiences. Like I’m sorry but during season one I think Louis was a bit too nice about some of that shit Lestat pulled.

Then acting like Armand is some mustache twirling villain getting between Louis and Lestat’s great love??? And all he’s done is exhibit similar fear of loneliness as Lestat and all the manipulation that comes with that???

I’ll tell you what I still haven’t seen Armand do. Beat Louis to a pulp in front of their child then drag him by the chin leaving a literal trail of blood behind. Then draining him and dropping him from miles above the ground.

And I’m what just supposed to disregard all of Claudia’s diaries as well??

Cause I’m all here for the narrative already painted “that memory is a monster.” That we’re all slaves to our memory’s and that truth lies at the abstract of feeling and unclaimed in the middle of a multi perspective story.

It’s what makes this a great show.

Like yes please give me Lestat’s perspective I’d love to be able to see him fleshed out some more. But not at the expense that every single character be made a conniving liar.

[whatheoncedid]

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” He said from his sprawled position. The whole room already smelled like him. I wanted to scream, or faint, maybe cry? “What are you doing here? I said I didn’t wanna see you again.” I said. I dragged my suitcase into the room and closed the door. “Did you miss me?” He asked. Arrogant bastard. I hated him. “Listen it’s not normal, our arrangement got too toxic and…how the hell did you even find me? How did you even get a key to the room?!” I was exasperated. “We went to the same high school idiot. You think I don’t get the same reunion emails?” he stood up and started walking toward me. I knew his feet were sweaty by the smell of the room, but hearing the suction on the floor with each step let me know they were still damp. God what was about him? He’d been my obsession since I was 13. He coiled his arms around me neck. “I said, did you miss me?” He looked me deep in my eyes. Standing this close I could smell every glorious scent coming from his body but my true first love was those pits. He was so warm. “It’s not about whether I miss you. Who dates their bully? It’s fucked in the head. I need to be single until I can be in a normal relationship.” I said. It was so hard trying to fight my instincts, I wanted him to kiss me, stuff me in a locker, hug me, punch me… “that’s where you’re wrong, we were never dating. You belong to me. I belong to you too though. Fuck normal. We’re more than that.” He said. I felt my knees buckling. He rubbed his wet pit in my face, I felt like I was home again. He pulled me into a deep kiss, he caressed my face. Then he slowly began pulling and twisting my ear. My eyes watered, I winced, I was rock hard. “Please,” was all I could whisper. We both knew I wasn’t begging for him to stop… I needed more. He grabbed a handful of my hair pulling it roughly. He pressed his lips against mine. With his eyelids at half mast, he whispered, “I’m Back.”

[sokkastyles]

ATLA LA Ep2 Let's go:

I love that they kept a lot of the original music, but one thing I could have done without is the generic three-note chord to signal a cut to a scene with a villainous character. Those specific notes have been parodied too often for me to take it seriously. It's one thing that always jarred me in the original and it is especially jarring in live action to hear music that signifies a cartoon villain is about to walk on screen.

Zuko throwing things and chewing the scenery my beloved

"He ran! He's a coward!" I do love the angle of Zuko being confronted with the reality of what he thought would be a glorious destiny. There are two reasons Zuko associates not fighting with cowardice. One is because of what he believes about the fire nation as a whole, but also because of what his father made him believe about himself.

I do like that Aang is identifying that controlling the Avatar State is a problem he needs to solve. It gives me hope that the writers are trying to actually flesh out that plot point where the original failed. I don't like that there's been no mention yet of him needing to learn waterbending. Which brings me to...

Yes, Katara, it IS unbelievable that you've learned waterbending in a day all because Aang said some mumbo to you about energy. That's why I don't believe it. Katara does grow fast in the original, too, but it still feels organic. Here it doesn't and once again, it feels like they are giving that credit all to Aang and I hate that. I also hate that this is Katara's motivation rather than the Katara who took it upon herself to make sure the Avatar learned waterbending whether he wanted to or not.

There is something missed by Kanna giving Katara the waterbending scroll. Idk, trying not to compare to the original because I did want Kanna to be more active in Katara's life. But I get the same feeling of loss here as Aang already having Appa's whistle. Those two things in the original were part of a point about the tragedy of cultural attrition, that Aang has to buy back a cultural artifact that the seller does not even know the true meaning of, that Katara has to steal hers from pirates who already stole from her culture. It also begs the question that if Kanna had that scroll the whole time, why didn't she show it to Katara before, who was so desperate to learn waterbending?

Zuko talking about being gone three years, clearly ecstatic at the thought that his banishment will come to an end, while Iroh looks like he's about to send his son to his death for the second time. Kudos to the actors' faces expressing so much in that one scene.

The actor for Sokka is very good-looking.

Aang and Katara playing in the water was cute, but they seem even farther apart in maturity here than in the original. Even that scene comes across as a much older sister honoring a young child. I don't get a sense of Katara as someone yearning to be a child.

She's not wrong about the Avatar bringing connections, but Aang showing off isn't really the best illustration of that concept.

Okay, so, I saw some people complaining about Suki wanting to leave home "because of a boy" and like, that also happened in the original. What feels kinda pat here is that we've also added overprotective mom to the mix, which I don't love. When I said I wanted Suki's mom I meant I wanted to know how Suki became a warrior, I wanted to see more women bonding with other women and women's autonomy being treated as normal. Not whatever this is.

So they don't already know Zhao here? That's less interesting. Also "actual royalty." Another log to keep the "Zhao is a royal bastard" theory burning. Heh, burning.

Sokka is still a prick about girls fighting, everyone can rest easy now. Also his reaction when Suki tries to flirt with him the same way he does with her is exactly how that would play out in real life.

Aang avoiding fighting out of fear of his own power adds an interesting dimension to his character which is only briefly touched on in the original.

Zuko and Katara 1v1 yes!!!

Katara flashbacking to her mom's death during her first real fight is a nice touch.

KYOSHI!!!

Zhao wasn't very impressive until Zuko accidentally gave him a foothold, then that shit-eating grin was great.

I'll hold off on really commenting on this because I haven't gotten that far yet, but I heard that Ozai is more willing to praise Zuko here and it just does not make a lot of sense to me, not only because that is not how that kind of parent works, but also because hearing the news from Zhao, who would 100% play up Zuko having discovered and then LOST the Avatar, would just make Ozai see Zuko as more of a failure for having come close. Unless Zuko does something spectacular in the next few episodes I don't see Ozai being impressed.

[darthstitch]

the professor wet cat fandom

Imagine that you're a Rose Walker fan.

You remember the first time you saw her book Into the Night on the shelves of your favorite bookstore. Let's face it - the intriguing cover art and the title caught your attention. The synopsis on the book jacket and a quick skim of the first chapter made you bring that book to the counter. Something about the story just resonates with you, the aching sense of loss and grief that Briar, the main character, had felt, the headlong rush into adventure that was a means to escape that sorrow, beckoned by the enigmatic King of All Night's Dreaming.

You read that book in two days. And then you read it all over again. Rose has just opened up a universe that you don't want to leave.

Then the audiobook is released. The voice who did the reading is incredible, a voice that's deep and resonant, like the voice inside your head, seducing you into the very heart of Night.

Everyone thinks it's an actor like Richard Armitage or that other guy with the cheekbones whose name everyone just loves to mangle, Betadyne Carrotene or whatever but he's not credited at all. Either way, you're all in agreement about this.

It's the voice of the King of All Night's Dreaming, the voice of the Prince of Stories.

Fine, you and everyone else just fell in love with the antagonist of Rose's novel. He's not really evil, more a neutral entity than anything else. But he was a bit of a bastard to poor Briar, even though you can understand the reasoning behind his manipulations. He's described as beautiful and mysterious and very charismatic.

Of fucking course he'll be internet catnip. Edward Cullen whomst? Tumblr and Twitter are fighting over their new precious blorbo. There's meta and fan art based off Rose's description of him in the novel and yes, you're among those who check AO3 every day for brand new fan fiction.

You end up trying to find all the articles about Rose Walker. She's a lovely young woman who looks around your age and she talks about going back to university and continuing her studies. She's all mysterious about her voice actor, only saying that "he wants to stay anonymous and really, I got him to promise that he'll read the next book for me!"

And everyone in the fandom rejoices because Rose just officially confirms that there's a sequel.

You're among the first to hit the bookstores when the sequel The Prince of Stories comes out. The cover art is gorgeous, somewhat reminiscent of Yoshitaka Amano or Ayami Kojima, a rendering of the Prince in glorious detail - the fantastic costume in black and gold, the wild black hair, the pale skin, the fine features and the brilliant blue eyes.

On second look, the Prince looks strangely familiar.

Rose Walker doesn't disappoint. The sequel is just as good as the original, expanding a little more on the character of the Prince of Stories. There's also a new character joining Briar and her brother in their adventures all over the Land of Night's Dreaming. He's something of a rogue and adventurer straight out of medieval England, charming, mischievous but ultimately quite noble and kind.

You start chortling at his scenes with the Prince, which are so obviously charged with UST. Everybody to kingdom come is going to start shipping those two. You hit Tumblr and already, there's a goddamn ship name. Oh, this is going to be fun.

You scroll through the blog posts, enjoying the fan art, the fan fiction and the meta and then you see this post:

Is the Prince of Stories based on a real person?

And there's a screenshot of a dedication on Rose Walker's book:

For Uncle Dream, our Prince of Stories.

Oh, come on.

So out of curiosity, you do a little more digging. Rose Walker also has a blog, in which she entertainingly talks about the writing process, answers asks with humor and wit and occasionally, she talks about her family. The antics of her little brother are hilarious. There are also stories about her great-grandmother Unity, who she had tragically only known for a short time, and then stories about her recently found "Uncle Dream."

You can see why the other blog poster had started to blur fiction with reality. Rose's descriptions of her Uncle Dream oddly matches up to the King of All Night's Dreaming, with some added extras, because obviously, magical anthropomorphic personifications of dreams and nightmares do not wander around in Real Life.

Apparently, he's also an adorkable wet cat of a man who unfailingly helped her with the writing process, giggled with her brother over his superhero comics and was completely gone on his husband the history professor.

Hang on a minute. Some of the details sound really familiar.

"Uncle Dream" also teaches on occasion at university, keeps a raven as a companion and is known to talk to him like they really understand each other, outrageously flirts with his husband the history professor in Middle English, in iambic pentameter and in Shakespearean quotations, even if said history professor loathes Shakespeare...

You suddenly raise your head up from your phone because your literature professor just walks in, holding on to a copy of Rose Walker's newest book.

Holy shit. No way.

"Professor Murphy, we didn't know you were a fan of Rose Walker," one of your classmates say.

Professor Murphy has a proud smile on his face. "My niece has quite the story to tell. I've been looking forward to reading her next book."

You can't help it and now, hearing his Voice, you're also suddenly dead sure who Rose Walker's audiobook reader is too. "You're Rose Walker's Uncle Dream?!"

Eventually, you all get to explain to Professor Murphy why you want his autograph as well as his niece's on your books. He's still a little confused about that but he's fairly gracious about it.

He's amused and is barely able to contain his laughter when everyone starts asking if the dashing rogue "Captain Gadlen" is based on Professor Robert Gadling. For once, Professor Murphy neither confirms or denies anything.

-end-

[lilac--sugar]

The Party, the whole extended party, is at the Byers-Hopper home. Well, all but Max. They’re all congregated around the kitchen table as Lucas explains his plans for Max’s surprise birthday party. He’s got hand drawn diagrams that he’s pointing to, talking excitedly. He wants everything to be perfect.

“Got it?” Lucas asks and everyone nods, everyone but Steve.

“I don’t get it,” he comments which prompts a few eye rolls and a groan from Dustin.

“Well, essentially,” Eddie starts, nudging Steve’s arm gently and pointing down at one of Lucas’s cartoonish stick figure like pictures.

“We don’t have time for this,” Dustin groans again.

“Right, if we want to catch Max as she’s coming back from the skate park we’ve got to get moving!” Nancy says, grabbing up her purse.

Robin gives Steve a sympathetic pat on the back as she hurries after Nancy. Everyone was divvied up into different tasks and already splitting off. Steve is left standing there with his brow furrowed as he looks down at the pictures.

“Come on!” Dustin‘s waving at Steve and Eddie as he makes his way out the door to Steve’s car. The three of them are on pizza duty.

Eddie quickly scrambles to scoop up all the drawings, “Come on, handsome, I’ll explain while you drive,” he says, slipping his free hand into Steve’s, pulling him along. An action not uncommon between the two of them. Both of them comfortable enough with their little affections, always left wanting more but just never speaking up. Both a little afraid to.

“No, I mean, I get it. It’s just,” he shuts the door behind them as they pass over the threshold, “won’t she know something’s up if all our cars are parked outside the house?”

Eddie stops dead in his tracks, causing Steve to bump into the back of him.

“Steve, you glorious bastard,” Eddie’s breaking out into a giant grin, the kind Steve likes to think he saves only for him, “Dusty buns! Radio the crew and tell them to park down the street!” He shouts.

Dustin returns with a quick, “Rodger! Also! Don’t call me that!”

“Not gonna do that!” Eddie shouts back before turning back to Steve, “You’re so smart I could kiss you,” Eddie says, his grin turning more playful, head tilting as his eyes slip down to Steve’s lips. Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that. He opens his mouth like he’s going to, cheeks blooming vibrant pink. Eddie quickly cuts him off, “No time, however! We have a quest to finish!” Eddie flings the two of them off into the direction of the car.

“Maybe later though,” Eddie teases as they settle down into their seats, Dustin popping his head between them.

“Maybe later, what?” He asks, looking between the two.

“Don’t worry your little head,” Eddie says, flicking Dustin’s hat off to ruffle his hair. When Dustin ducks back to grab his hat Eddie winks at Steve.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” Steve says, throwing caution to the wind. He’s tired of not speaking up, much to Eddie’s surprise, his eyebrows popping up. After a second a devious grin slowly creeps over Eddie’s face, one that would rival that of the Grinch’s.

“Is that so?" Eddie asks, Steve nodding in reply, "Oh, you’re on,” Eddie’s curling his tongue over his upper lip. Dustin pops his head between them once more.

“Promise?” Steve asks.

“Promise.” Eddie confirms. Dustin’s ping ponging his eyes between the two.

“Good,” Steve says simply, starting the car and pulling away.

“Good,” Eddie echoes.

“What the hell is happening!?” Dustin asks, for once being utterly out of the loop.

“Sit back and put your seatbelt on!” Steve quips.

“But-“

“Listen to your mother!” Eddie shoots back and Dustin just rolls his eyes as the other two share a glance and a grin.

[hualianff]

(A/B/O Hualian)

Omega XL diligently collecting (read: stealing) all of the clothes alpha HC gives him to wear to incorporate them into his nest!

And NO ONE is allowed to touch them.

HC is an exception, but sometimes, even he will receive a low growl from XL as he tries to take a sweatshirt away.

(HC holding his hands up in surrender, saying, “Gege, I was just gonna scent this more? Is that okay-?”

And XL will be like 😳😳 “oh, please do continue”)

Often, before HC can enter XL’s nest, he must have an offering ready in exchange. Fortunately, HC’s favorite hoodie cannot compare to the feeling of cuddling up next to his mate in their nest.

Once, HC sees XL visibly replace a shirt that smells like FX with the one HC just offered - which makes HC unbelievably smug.

***

While XL happily wears HC’s clothes, HC proudly wears XL’s marks.

(XL: “San Lang looks so good” 🤤

HC: “yeah?” 😉

XL: “Yeth, he looks like mine”

HC: 😳)

Essentially, XL is a little vampire in bed.

He becomes the biggest tease ever, getting his mouth on his alpha however he can, to the point where HC will flop over in surrender, begging, “Gege, please have mercy!”

(HX: *slaps HC slightly on the back*

HC: *hisses*

HX: “w-wha…”

HC: “don’t ask, j-just don’t”)

Actually, HX finds it insufferable how HC never bothered actively looking for a mate and somehow ended up with someone like XL!? Because HC literally had an “I don’t need a mate to be happy in life” attitude, but now he’s a proper codependent bastard.

At least, in HX’s eyes.

Funnily enough, XL tells HX about all the delicious food HC cooks for him, and HX is like: “???? That dumbass cooks for you willingly????”

Which makes sense but HX can count on one hand how many times he’s had HC’s cooking and they’ve lived together for years before!

Particularly, there’s this one super secret soup recipe HC had developed and only once had HX managed to be sneaky enough to taste it. Now, XL’s telling him every time he goes through his heat HC makes a bowl of that glorious soup for him!?

Again, completely understandable, but at the same time, infuriatingly unacceptable!

It comes down to HX being over at HC and XL’s home at the perfect time to catch a glimpse of soup leftovers in the fridge.

“Oh, what is that?” HX asks the question that he already knows the answer too. Tastebuds already salivating, HX reaches for the soup, only to be steamrolled by HC.

HC, smacking HX with a wooden spoon: “BE GONE”

XL: “oh, that’s soup San Lang made yesterday-“ 🥰

Desperate beyond measure, HX goes full mission impossible mode at night - spy equipment and all - to raid the fridge. Once again, he’s unsuccessful because HC literally set up a camping tent in the kitchen.

HC: “try harder bitch”

XL’s voice from the bedroom: “come back to bed, San Lang” 🥺

HC: “but gege, my soup 🥺”

XL: “San Lang, your mate 🥺🥺🥺”

HX, smirking: “choose your next move wisely, crimson rain”

XL: “tell He Xuan I can make him the soup tomorrow*

HC: 😈 “wonderful, I’m coming back now, Gege”

HX: “…I sense my plans have exponentially backfired”

***

HC is scared of thunderstorms - has been since he was a kid. There were periods of time where he didn’t have a roof over his head, no protection from the really loud and scary thunderstorms.

XL makes sure to hold HC extra close on nights like those. He will maneuver them so HC lays on his back in the middle of the nest and XL will crawl on top to lay his full body weight on the alpha.

Or they’ll switch places so XL can pet the back of HC’s head as the thunder and lightning sound outside. HC making himself as little as he can.

(XL: “don’t worry, San Lang, me and my nest will keep you safe” 🥺)

HC never sleeps well during thunderstorms, but at least he’s warm and safe with XL.

That’s all that really matters.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Aweful Prince - Daemon Targaryen

"You should not be here." You tell the Prince. Daemon throws his head in his neck. He laughs loudly, yet joylessly. "Oh please, as if that has ever held me back." He says. He is a well known sneak and as lustful as any Targaryen has a right to be. But to be climbing into his brother's wife's chambers to make off with one of her ladies in waiting ... That is a risk, even for him.

You are not some handmaid after all. You are a lady of House Connington. You are a lady in waiting for the Queen. You are supposed to keep your virtue. It belongs to the man you are bethroted to. Some lord your father wants to kiss up to. Some bloated fool of house Penrose you have never met.

And here is the Prince, looking at you with abject desire.

"Just don't scream and no one need be any the wiser." Daemon murmurs. "You know that is too much to ask." You reply. He is so good at making you scream. He smirks lewdly at you. "I know." He nods. He is so smug about it, too. You hate that about him.

Daemon backs you off to the bed, drawing open your nightgown. Your breasts spill out. "Beautiful." The Prince smirks. He shoves you down, among the pillows. He looks down at you with pedatory eyes. There is so much greed in those purple eyes. "All mine. You will have my bastards and that Penrose prick can only fantasize of being with you." He grunts.

He undresses himself in a hurry.

You gaze up at him. His phyisique is glorious. He is lean and muscular, with shoulders to put the gods to shame. Seven Hells, you desire him so much.

"Take off your shift." He hisses.

You oblige, but slowly. You know Daemon has no patience. You can see his jaw setting tensely already. But he waits with asserting himself. You discard your shift on the floor and press your bare skin against his. Daemon grins and grabs you by the hips. "Jump." He whispers. You obey, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his hips. "Good girl." Daemon purrs.

He shoves you against the nearest wall, grinding against you. He is so hard! "Oh, Daemon." You moan. "That is right, say my name." He growls, peering into your eyes. "You are mine and mine alone. No one else will hear you say their name in the throws of passion." He growls. His cock twitches against your folds. His possessiveness becomes his arousal.

"Gods, I have to have you, now." He growls. "Not so fast." You feebly protest. But Daemon is already aiming his thrusts to breach your core. You attempt to angle your pelvis away from his, to deny him access, but you are unsuccessful. "No, my pretty, not today. You are not teasing me today." Daemon growls. He thrusts forwards, impaling you on his cock. "Gods." He hisses. You moan helplessly in response.

Daemon carries you to bed.

He doesn't slip out, not even when he lets you fall into the sheets. He kisses you fiercely as he begins to fuck you. He is not pulling any punches. He is fucking you with wicked speed, groaning and panting. You can only moan and hold on for the ride. You scratch feebly at his shoulders. "Gods." Daemon swears hotly, kissing at your neck and throat, his sweaty, bonepale hair, brushing your face. His pelvis slams into yours, over and over again. The sounds welling from your union are beyond obscene and your moans so loud.

It is not a secret anymore that you sleep with him. Everyone in the entire Red Keep can hear. Not that Daemon cares. He takes pride in it.

"Oh fuck, I am gona cum." He growls. He is chasing his high, with no regard for anything else. You are just along for the ride. You cling to him with arms and legs. Daemon groans loudly. His climax is all but impending. His pelvis is stuttering and his breath comes in ragged pants. "F-fuck." He hisses. "Do it." You hiss. Daemon smirks against the skin of your neck. "You want it. You want to be defiled." He growls hotly. "Don't say that!" You tell him. Daemon chuckles. "But I wouldn't lie to you, my love." He purrs.

He spends himself deep inside you, groaning softly.

He leans his forehead against your collarbone, panting loudly. "That was great." He murmurs. "Glad you enjoyed yourself." You whisper. He pulls out and you whine at the loss. "Miss me already?" He smirks down on you, rolling over to lay beside you. "Shut up." You slap his chest. Daemon smirks widely. "Of course not." He purrs, drawing you in for a slow kiss.

[boinin]

Blue Lock Manga

We've been blessed by Chp 218 🙌 It's had a mixed response but I enjoyed it a lot.

Thoughts under the cut.

Previous chapter analyses

The art continues to blow me away. I didn't appreciate it as much when I was bingeing through the chapters, or when I watched the anime 🙃 but gosh it's so pretty. These are my personal favourite panels this week. The one with Barou and Isagi is so evocative. A clear visual explanation of the difference between Metavision and Predator Eye.

Isagi is data scientist AU anybody?

He's SUCH a dork, and I mean that in the kindest sense. Bro's reeling off completely fabricated terms to Niko like he's teaching a class 🥹 I love that he's so keen to pass on what he's learned. He's shown himself to be a voracious learner, going to everyone from Barou to Rin to Kunigami for tips. I want to see someone ask him for instruction!

Also - how cute are Aiku and Niko in this chp?! They're like brothers. I have a draft outline in my writing vault for an Ubers found family fluff fic featuring these two, and this isn't helping me ignore it.

Not everyone has metavision, what a shocking reveal /s It felt heavy handed in delivery, but it shows who Isagi's rivals are in terms of playmaking and predictions. No, Raichi isn't coming for Himsagi's bag yet.

Another amazing set of panels, love it any time they go nuts with the puzzle pieces. Isagi lists only four... but I think Kaneshiro's setting up Aiku to be the surprise fifth MV user. He might not consciously activate the ability as Isagi does, but he's definitely capable.

I had sight of these panels from the leaks when I was writing up the chp 217 post, so I won't rehash the BM v Ubers point. But I like how this visualises their differences. The art is grotesque but really beautiful at the same time. Look at Isagi naming himself at the top alongside Kaiser! That's ego growth for you.

On that note: who's the Game Changer this chapter's talking about? Isagi seems to think it's going to be one of him or Kaiser, or out of Ubers, Lorenzo, Barou, Aiku or Niko. Naturally, it's not likely to be any of these, cos ✨suspense✨

The chapter itself ends with a suggestion that it'll be BM that supplies it...

EMOGAMI PLEASE, DO SOMETHING WITH THAT EDGE OF YOURS, WHAT'S THE POINT OTHERWISE 😭

I'm biased towards my boy Rensuke, but I'll try to be objective here. On the subreddit, people are split 50:50 between being excited that he's getting a moment, or rolling their eyes at that edgy ball steal. I couldn't care less about whether this is an accurate depiction of soccer playing or not (it's a shounen battle manga as far as I'm concerned). But I do think Kunigami's solo run will get shut down next chapter. He hasn't had a lot to do in this match, but I think Kaneshiro will hold back on Kunigami's development for the PXG showdown.

In the last panel, you can see Kunigami's barrelling towards the goal. There's two defenders up ahead. One is Niko, who's apparently well-suited to reacting to sudden threats (i.e. him tackling Isagi). The other is not so obvious... but odds are, it's Aiku. Who's also not done a lot so far and who doesn't have a grudge against Shidou Ryuusei to milk later

My prediction? Kunigami will outmuscle Niko, but get walled by a levelled-up Aiku, leaving a free ball for Kaiser or Isagi to claim.

As for who'll be the true game changer? Said it already, but if Hiori's not getting subbed on for our newly christened royal trash!Ness in the next five chapters, I'll eat my hat. 🐑

No more commentary from me. Just signing off with a glorious narcissistic bastard entering flow 💅

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 5

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Scorned

Notes: Am I posting this to distract myself from proofreading the rest? Maybe. Also feeling sad so distracting myself from that too lol

Warnings: There's a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor's guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +110K

Chapter:  5 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been calm for a while outside the monastery at night, alas, tonight it looked like someone was trying to climb the ivy wall again.

The Monk had pulled the fool from the ivy by the back of the vest before he could get too high.

He shoved the unknown man a few steps back, snarling “Who are you ?”

The startled idiot spoke his identity “Isaiah.”

Oh, this was glorious.

How much of a fool could this man be to come here?

With a smug grin, he interrogated the fool “State your business here.”

The Monk watched the man scramble to find a plausible excuse.

The man proofed more forward and confessed without shame “I am here to see y/n.”

Isaiah actually gestured to the ivy that grew up to the window of your room.

The arrogance of the man to show up here after his betrayal did not sit well with the Monk “Lady y/n has no interest to see you.”

Isaiah’s arrogance only grew “I will hear that from her. Not some monk lurking outside her window.”

As if this bastard had not just tried to climb through your window…

The warning he gave in return was far from subtle “The day I was ordered to protect Lady y/n, I was told to kill anyone that posed a threat.”

That seemed to have hit a nerve in Isaiah “I am no threat to her!”

His hand flexed at his side, prepared to draw the sword as he was taught “If that is true, leave. Did she know you would come here? That you would climb into her room?”

Isaiah gave a shrug of the shoulders “I would explain it to her.”

It did little to calm the fury he felt growing. This man was so entitled that he believed sneaking into a woman’s room at night, after he had betrayed her, was a good idea. Did he think you would just fall back into his arms?

By the way he was already acting so defensive and dismissive over his actions, he doubted it was safe to have this man anywhere near you anymore.

For the first time, he saw it necessary to draw the sword at one of the fools who had tried to come near you “I am granting you a chance to leave. Take it.”

Isaiah did not take the dismissal well, he scoffed “Do you think I was the first? That I took her virtue from her? I was not the first. No. Father Carden’s precious little niece is a whore.”

His fury led him to approach the bastard, if the night ended with his blade tainted crimson, so be it.

The Monk’s eyes went past the man’s shoulder and Isaiah turned to see you standing there quietly.

The disturbance under your window had drawn you outside, but you never expected to hear someone call you this. And this had been the person you once had feelings for ?

The Church considered any copulation outside of wedlock a sin. He had been the second after your first time with someone who had actually been lovely until you grew apart.

God knows how many he had shared his bed with, still you would not have used it against him.

It was a low blow to receive.

To have him taint your reputation on top of his betrayal…

There was a moment of utter silence that must have been uncomfortable for everyone there.

The Monk was clearly waiting for any sort of response or even an order from you. Isaiah was about to try and lie his way out off it, you could just sense it.

Without saying a single word, you took off your shoes.

One was flung right at Isaiah’s head, the other hit his back when he ducked for cover.

The next thing you picked up was an empty bucket that was placed against the wall “You rotten two-faced knave!”

The Monk had taken a step aside, not fully trusting your aim when that bucket flew in Isaiah’s direction.

When there were no projectiles left to throw, you quickly moved closer to the bane of your existence.

Part of him really wanted to let you have your chance to make Isaiah eat his words, but the risk of you getting hurt was not one he was willing to take.

Before you knew it, the Monk was holding you back while you spat insult after insult at the one who had betrayed your trust and insulted you so gravely.

This risked waking up everyone in the monastery, Father could not learn of this “Quiet, Lady y/n.”

Isaiah had wisely fled the place, your anger only increased.

With every ounce of strength, you tried to break free “Let go off me!”

After a failed attempt to break free to go after the bastard, you ended up on your knees on the ground.

He was pleading for you to calm down, to be quiet before your uncle could hear of this happening.

It was out of concern for you, he did not want you to undergo Father’s often ill response to disappointment.

The rage simmered down, gentle arms still held you “I can’t believe I was such a fool and believed in his lies!”

He was firm in his believe, his own anger faintly audible “You were not a fool. He was the one to lie and betray you, he did not deserve the faith you had in him.”

The fight in you had left and it was what finally made him let go “Two…there were only two…”

He did not understand what you were trying to say “Two?”

You scoffed, still shocked by Isaiah’s insult “Two…there have only been two.”

Finally he understood what was meant and knelt beside you “He is a bastard. Your life is yours to live. He had no right to call you such.”

The shock subsided, his hand caressed your shoulder in a soothing manner “My shoes…”

There was a chuckle when he rose to his feet and collected your interesting weapons of choice.

They were handed back to you and while putting them on, you quietly asked “Can you walk me to my room?”

He sounded worried “Do you fear he might return ?”

You got up from the grass “No. I am quite certain that the monk lurking under my window has dampened his will to pursue me further.”

It was barely audible “Lurking…”

With the same eagerness a child could have to hold a friend’s hand, yours reached out for his “So, will you walk me to my room?”

By reflex, he folded his hands behind his back, clasping them together until it was almost painful.

If anyone saw, Father would question why he was seen in the night holding your hand.

And he knew but all too well how Father would respond.

With all the courage you could muster, you got closer and slid your hand along his arm and pried a hand from behind his back “I always get the feeling that you force yourself to keep a distance. You don’t have to treat me like I am some sort of noblewoman…I’m just…me.”

To you, he was still that boy you had wanted to play with.

To him, you were the niece of the man he was raised to serve and protect with his life.

Noble birth or not, he was below your standing. Did you even realize it? Did you even care?

It was a plea “Lancelot…”

He shut his eyes for a second, opening them again when he had made the decision to place the hand on the back of your arm instead “I shall accompany you.”

With an eager nod, you let him steer you back into the monastery and through hallway after hallway.

The silly grin on his face caught your attention “What is it?”

Of course he could not hide the fact that it had been a surprising and eventful evening for him “Why learn to wield a sword when one is undefeated with a shoe?”

The corner of your mouth curved up along with the warning “Don’t make me take them off again.”

The cheeky Monk continued “Perhaps the sword is not the right choice of weapon for you. Have you thought of a flail? No need to go and pick your weapon up after you have attacked someone with it.”

You played along “I could just put nails through my shoes and tie a thin cord to them.”

He hummed approvingly, sending you a certain look you could only decipher as curiosity.

Upon arriving at your chamber’s door, you jested “Maybe you should keep watch by my window.”

The Monk took it as a serious request “I shall keep watch outside. Do not worry.”

Cheekily you clarified “I meant inside.”

Right away those weeping eyes fixed on his boots.

The jest continued “If someone tries to climb in, all you have to do is push them out the window again.”

He understood that you were fooling around “We would have a pile of bodies to remove by morning.”

The laugh you emitted was quickly muffled by your hand.

After calming down, you brushed a hand along his arm, squeezing it lightly “Good night, Lancelot. Thank you for your help.”

He gave an inclination of the head, feeling the warmth of your hand leave his arm “Good night, Lady y/n. Rest well.”

As he turned to leave, you offered “You don’t have to keep watch outside, I know you want to keep an eye out in case he returns tonight, but maybe you could stay here in the hallway? I know you won’t come into my room, but resting near my door might be more comfortable than being outside all night.”

It sounded like a rather good plan, he was closer to you in case of an emergency “Very well. I shall stay near your door.”

You held up a hand “Wait…” hurriedly you grabbed a pillow and a sheet from your bed and pushed it into his hands “For comfort.”

The poor man looked quite timid now and this for just a small act of kindness “Thank you.”

With a smile, you bid him goodnight again and closed your door.

He walked to the wall beside your door while looking at the sheet in his hands, after a quick glance around, he lifted the sheet to his nose.

The scent of you awoke all that he was taught to bury.

All that was forbidden had never felt so hard to resist, so strong to tempt him and so alluring to submit to the sin it could cause.

This could not be, it was wrong.

Father would be unforgiving if he was caught doing this, or caught thinking this…

He needed to have control, to ignore it all and focus only on his duty.

The Monk sank down against the wall, pillow placed behind his head and the sheet draped over his form.

He had never fallen asleep so fast before.

Your scent was over him like a cloak and he’d never felt more at ease.

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 The next morning, a paladin came to inform you that Uncle Carden requested your presence. Upon entering the large room he was in, you saw that the Monk was there as well.

Uncle had a stern expression, the Monk a nervous one.

The priest beckoned for you to approach and you did so with uncertainty.

Uncle was quick to start his interrogation “A rumor has come to my attention.”

One look at the Monk’s face and you knew you were in trouble…

Feigning ignorance was an option you choose “What sort of rumor, uncle ?”

The priest straightened his back, confronting you with what he’d heard “There is talk that you have been going to the village nearby at night and that you were not there alone. Tell me this is a lie, that my own niece has not behaved this outrageously.”

Of course he would see this as a reason to feel shame…he was a priest and others knew you were his niece.

You quietly confessed to it “It is true. I waited until it was dark so I would never be seen. I stopped days ago.”

The Monk kept his eyes on the ground but his ears were focused, listening for the change in Father’s voice that would alert him to what could come.

He knew you were covering for him, keeping him out of trouble by not mentioning his part in letting you go to the village.

Uncle Carden kept his voice low but sharp “Did you… sin with that man ?”

Well, it was considered that by the rules of the Church, it were not your own believes “Once.”

Never… never did you expect what happened next and how quickly it had happened…

Uncle had raised his hand, no one had done this to you before, so flinching from someone you had considered family was not in your reflexes.

But it was in the Monk’s reflexes to prevent the slap from happening.

He had Father’s wrist in his grasp and instinctively stepped in front to block you from Father’s reach.

It had happened so fast, you did not deserve the punishment and he wished to prevent it.

Your Uncle looked enraged by the interference, you had taken some steps back from shock. Was he really about to hurt you?!?

The Monk let go off Uncle’s wrist, the tension between them rose when neither looked away from the other.

Then the slap that had been meant for you was given to the one who had protected you from it.

It was in that moment that you understood why your parents had no longer wished to visit your uncle…

He was not just cruel to the Fey…but to anyone who did not follow his rules.

The sound of the hit the Monk received echoed around your ears and by instinct you rushed closer again.

With a signal of his hand, the Monk quietly urged you to stay back.

He did not look away from Father’s face, covering for you this time “The man was a deceiver, Father. She carries no blame.”

The priest pointed in his face “This is your failure! I tasked you with protecting her virtue as well as her life and you have failed me already. See to it that she remains in the monastery from now on! Now go and fetch your horse, the Holy Father expects us !”

He was still shielding you from Father’s sight “Yes, Father.”

Father turned and began to walk away.

You tried to brush past the Monk, which he partially prevented, to shout to your uncle “You can’t keep me locked up in a monastery !”

Uncle turned to you again, threatening “Earn your shelter in my monastery, or learn to survive alone in the woods with not a single coin to your name.”

With that awful comment, your uncle walked away.

He looked over at you, unable to speak openly when some of his red brothers entered the room.

Tasked to protect you and he would, even if it meant against Father’s violent outbursts.

By the look in your eyes, this had been the first time you had faced this sort of behavior. No wonder you did not even flinch…

Your mouth opened to speak, slightly he shook his head.

Not now, not here, not where others could hear…

An apologetic look was given by him and he left the room.

But you knew where you would find him…

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 Quietly you had entered the stables, finding the Monk readying his horse’s saddle.

Seeing him act like nothing had happened was surreal. His eyes were void of emotion, mind completely focused on the task.

This was that boy from so long ago… the one who did not get to play… the one who was expected to carry the burdens of others and do so without complaining.

He brushed a hand along the steed’s neck while quietly uttering some words of encouragement and praise to the horse.

It came as no shock that the man you had come to know was not the cold person others believed him to be.

You knew so little about him and it was still more than most would ever know.

This man was Fey, he was who your uncle called ‘The Sword Of Light ' and his ‘Greatest Weapon’.

And to you, he was the loyal friend who had shielded you from pain…again.

He must have felt your eyes on him as he suddenly spoke “Fear not, Lady y/n. Father will not remain in a temper for long.”

With a heavy heart, you timidly got closer to him “My uncle must be angry at you too for it-”

The Monk did not seem to care that he had received part of the blame “It does not matter. Better I than you.”

Your hand reached for his arm, it halted before it could touch him, your fingertips hovered close to it “It matters to me. I got you into trouble, you were hurt because of me. This isn’t fair to you.”

Were those tears he saw brimming in your eyes?

His eyes were on your cautious hand, they slowly lifted to yours.

He made it sound so normal, like there was no question to it that this had been the better outcome for him “Y/n, I would rather be struck, than see or have it happen to you.”

Rarely he would address you informally and you were certain that he’d never before openly admitted that he did not wish to see you hurt even if it meant protecting you from the man who had raised him.

He chose to keep you safe…

Because he wanted to…

It left you near speechless, your words came out in a whisper “I don’t want to see you hurt either.”

There was only shallow nodding when he could not meet your eyes in that moment.

Those were words he had never heard in his life before, not even from Father.

At this point, he began to fidget with the saddle more.

Those racing thoughts…

When there came no reaction, you believed he had no interest in conversing further.

Then when you stepped away, his attention snapped to you, a hand curled around your arm “Stay at the monastery, I cannot watch over your safety while I travel with Father. Promise me.”

It was the look he gave you that caused a trembling to start in your legs “I promise, Lancelot.”

From at his side, beneath his cloak, he drew a dagger and turned it to offer you it’s hilt “Take this.”

After accepting, you turned the dagger in your hands and felt the sharpness of it’s blade.

You held it out for him again “I think you will need it more.”

He was ready to refuse “I-”

The stubborn look you gave made him take back the lethal steel, his fingers had just took hold of the hilt when you proved just how unpredictable you could be.

You took hold of his hand that held the dagger, giving it a tug to bring him closer.

It was incredibly impulsive when your lips brushed over the ones of the Monk. Light as a feather, they felt the softness of them and the slight prickle of his mustache.

You should have know that they would feel heavenly, how fitting.

It passed so quickly, a stolen kiss…

He was perplexed by it, those weeping eyes darted all over your face to find an explanation.

And you must have looked as guilty as could be, but not as guilty as you perhaps should have felt…

Your hands folded behind your back, gaze dropping to your feet.

He swallowed audibly, copying the action.

The desire to flee grew, you wished him well before doing so “Travel safe.”

Again the Monk caught your arm before you could get far “What-…why did you do this ?”

The inquiry left you to stammer “I…I just…”

Feeling his thumb stroke your inner arm wasn’t helping you find a good excuse for kissing a monk.

Father’s voice was heard nearby, commanding others outside the stable to be ready.

Right away the Monk let go off your arm “I must go…”

You lightly nodded and watched him take Goliath’s reins to lead the horse out of the stable.

It was the quick look over his shoulder back at you that made you certain that there would still be a conversation about this another time.

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