#i am not holding it against them nor am i blaming them i am just stating that the joke has died

[promiscuousasexual]

bro these comments about oscar and alonso under alpine posts are just boring i’m so sorry like it’s so repetitive

[whimsyprinx]

rn the thing that has me upset and isn’t going away is that the people who have done stuff to upset me don’t seem to care and will probably never care, or they just don’t know, who knows

[luveline]

hiii can you possibly write a poly!marauders x reader who is way too much like sirius 😭 i’m so so so similar to him it’s literally scary and we have the same birthday too??? same everything it’s crazy i think it would be so funny to watch them navigate through Two siriuses 😭

thank you for your request <3 fem!reader

Remus has been in love with Sirius since they were fourteen years old, so falling for you was easy. It was practically already done. 

You’re sitting by the window with a tape player in your lap and headphones over your ears. Pretty mouth turned down, eyes lined with a smudged kohl, you look lovely when you sulk. Remus can’t stand to leave you alone. 

He gives you a moment's peace, of course, but with James and Sirius entangled in a dinner-making argument and nothing left to do, he’s almost forced to sit beside you in the window seat. There isn’t much room, bless, but you don’t argue, leaning back into his arm and continuing your staring out the window. 

“You okay?” he asks. He knows the music isn’t too loud. You loathe being snuck up on. 

“Am I okay?” you ask, turning your head gently to the side, meeting his eyes through the fence of your lashes. Mascara lengthens them, has their ends kissing your brow as you widen your eyes slowly, playfully. 

“Sitting all by yourself.” 

“I’m not,” you say, the corners of your lips curling into a pleased half-smirk. You’ve too much affection about you to be truly smug. 

“But you were.” He moves the headphones off of your ears slowly. 

It’s a good thing Remus is such a flirt. You’d be hard to keep up with otherwise. He does wonder how James survives it; you and Sirius will flirt brazenly, almost darkly, a seduction in the smallest of things. Picking lint off of his shirt, wiping coffee foam from his lip. And Remus is quieter, not as shy as some might think him but without the darling charm (well, unless he wants it). 

You hold his gaze. “I knew you’d come and keep me company, Remus… that’s what you’re doing, right?” 

He laughs in your face, which isn’t to stay he’s laughing at you. He just can’t not laugh. You’re nerve wracking and sweet and his to flirt with. Plus, you hear him laughing and the majority of your facade melts away as you laugh yourself, the tip of your nose bumping against his sleeve. “Jerk,” you say. 

You and Sirius are different in some ways, of course. Sirius can’t stand having air blown in his ear and you love it, shivering with delight as you curl into his arm. 

“Hello. What’s going on here?” 

James is climbing onto the window seat before either of you can tell him not to. There’s absolutely no room for him nor his muscly arms, his shirt getting caught on your knee and rising, an unreadable mess of limbs and fabric. A tan hand uses Remus as a lift. James straddles your lap, bringing his face up to smile at you lovingly. “Hello, lovely.” 

“James, this is rather selfish of you,” you say. “Me and Remus were having a cuddle.” 

“He had you all last night.” 

“That’s not true. Sirius shared me with him. I was like a cherry pit.” 

James makes a horrified, undignified shriek like you’ve jabbed him in the gut. “What the fuck.” 

“You know full well I didn’t, Jamie, on account of my being the big spoon to your little one.” Sirius arrives, and announces his disgust with a wrinkle of the nose. “I can’t believe I’ve just said that out loud. Domesticity is becoming too much.” 

James is a tall, tall guy, and he’s not skinny either. Remus gives up his seat before he’s pushed from it, and at least finds a new embrace in Sirius’ space, a hand behind his back, ringed fingers ghosting against his spine. 

“Aw, Remus, what are you doing? …Come back,” James whines. 

You laugh again. “You’ve stolen all the room.” 

“Can I be blamed?” 

Sirius wraps his arm around Remus' waist. One moment he’s being hugged, the next kissed, silky soft kisses pressed to his jaw as Sirius murmurs, “You could’ve stood your ground.” 

But then Sirius wouldn’t be kissing him.

“Forget him,” Sirius advises, his lips parting over a soft spot near threateningly. “Who needs him? You have me.” 

“It wasn’t like that!” James insists. “I just missed her when I was in the kitchen.” 

“And I missed you, Jamie,” you murmur. 

Sirius scoffs, to Remus’ delight. “What’s funny?” Sirius asks, pulling Remus’ head back by the hair, not rough or anything but intimate enough of a move that Remus probably has hearts for eyes as he answers. 

“She sounds exactly like you, you realise?” 

Sirius narrows his grey eyes. “Well, it’s not a bad way to sound.” 

Remus has had enough of him, really, the flirting is fun but he misses his boyfriend, especially if James is going to steal the cuddle with you Remus had been aiming for. “I want some herbal tea,” he says, sewing his arms over Sirius’ shoulders, as much love in his touch and gaze as he can possibly fit. “Do you want some? I’ll make it for us.” 

In the same moment, James is holding your cheek and asking what you’d like for dinner, whatever you want, honey, so close you can smell his aftershave lingering from the morning and the minty cherry hybrid smell of his favourite chewing gum. His weight rests on your hip. Remus can see you heating up from over Sirius’ sharp shoulder.

You and Sirius are also very alike in that you both fluster at being treated with care. Immediate melting. Cheeks hot to the touch. 

“I don’t mind, Jamie,” you mumble. 

“I’d love some,” Sirius says, ever so slightly hoarse. 

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.5k / 20 / post-apocalypse au, part 1

...

You're injured but moving as fast as you can with your bow slung over your back. Soap is close behind you, giving chase, shouting your name as he does. Doesn't he learn? Doesn't he know you'll pull your bow on him again if he corners you?

He must know, but he's too stubborn to give up the chase. You don’t understand it.

He pushes on, just as graceful and twice as effective as you. You slip through the thick trees and their branches trailing whips of brambles. He shoves past them. You’re injured. He’s not. He's gaining, boots heavy in the soil.

"Watch yourself--!"

Your boot lands on leaf litter that falls out from under you--a pit trap. You’re moving barely fast enough for your momentum to save you from falling in. Your waist hits the edge of the pit. You brace yourself by your elbows, fingers digging into the dirt. The soft underside of your arms drag against something sharp underneath.

Soap grabs you by your coat and pulls you up out of the trap and to your feet before you can scramble out yourself. You're neither surprised nor mollified by his careful handling of you.

"Let me go!"

"Na. You're hurt. Stay still."

"Soap, I swear to God--"

"Shut up. I'm taking a look."

He holds your arm firmly with one large hand and, with the other, pulls your sleeve away from the bleeding gash. You grab his wrist with a pained curse. Whatever caught your arms—the rough wood and metal at the trap's edge—tore you bloody. Soap glares at the gash and then at you. He's close.

You could reach for your bow or for the dagger on your hip. But you know for a fact he's armed. With guns. A sniper rifle on his back and two sidearms at his belt. He knows how to use them, too. If you fight, he wins. But you know better than to back down quickly. The world is crueler than it used to be ever since things went to shit. People who show weakness don’t survive.

"Why are you following me?" you growl, your grip on his wrist tightening.

His grip on you loosens in turn when you speak. "You know why. I'm lookin' out for ya."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Aye, but you still needed it."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Soap," you retort, trying to pull your wrist away. "It's every person for themselves. Stop following me."

"That's no way to live. The world may be a shithole, but there are still folk around who'll lend you a hand even though they don't need to. Soldier or no'."

You can't get out of his grip when he's determined to keep you there, and he is. As much as you'd like to give him a matching wound for being so goddamn stubborn, the rational part of your brain--the part that makes sure you survive--knows better than to expend energy struggling when it's not strictly necessary.

"Nobody lends a hand unless they want something in return," you mutter, glaring down at your wound as he bandages it. "Even if they're pretending otherwise."

He knows you speak from experience. You're a woman, and that means you're nothing but a resource to the worst of whoever’s left. He can't blame you for being guarded. Then again, you wouldn't be making such heated statements to his face if you really thought he intended to hurt you. You're just... defensive. Hiding under all that anger. That's what he tells himself. So he ignores your grumbled protests.

"That's how you'd look at it," he finally replies as he finishes dressing the wound. "Seein' as you've not met the right people. But some of us don't expect anything back."

"You don't expect it because you think you're better than asking. But you still want it."

"Might be so." His voice is soft, gravelly, but you can hear the steel in it. "But am not asking, now am I? So stop your fussin'. You're safe. Nae need to worry." He releases your bandaged arm.

"You run your hand along the wrapping, checking it. "Fine. But I'm... I'm not coming back with you."

"Can't promise you'll be safe out there. Where do ye plan to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Aye." He rubs his jaw, examining you with flint in his blue eyes. Pressing you for an answer would be pointless. Not that you seem to be lying—but you're not telling the whole truth. The short history you share with him is just enough that he can tell. But he also knows trying to change your mind would be pointless. If you won't listen, he'd have better luck bashing his head against one of these huge, mutated oaks.

"Am nae stoppin' ya. But these woods are full of treacherous paths. If ye run into trouble—when ye run into trouble--my boys and I, we know these woods well enough to dust you off and send you in the right direction. Cannae promise to find you before somethin’ else does, though."

You're fairly sure he's not lying. His boys, as he calls them—his old squad, you think—they've made their home in these woods. It's perilous living—bears, wolves, muties, and terrain just as hazardous as the wildlife. And still those men are the most dangerous things in here.

The offer is tempting. You consider it for longer than you should, looking down at your bandaged arm again. But then you step back, shaking your head slowly. "No, thanks. I have to get going."

It tears him up inside. You're making the wrong choice. If he lets you walk away, he's letting you walk to your death.

He looks at you for a moment. You can tell he's got something more to say. But he changes his mind, stepping back as well. He pulls something from his belt and holds it out. A handgun, scuffed and black, grip held toward you. You stare at it for a second before looking back up at him. He's serious?

"I'm not gonna take that--"

"You're damn well gonna take it." His voice is low and insistent. "You think I don't know you'll run into trouble out here? Don't be a fool. I have spare. Take it."

Your one rule is don't owe anybody anything. How the fuck are you about to owe this man twice?

Fine. Whatever. It's not like you have to use it. Could just barter it. Not like you’re going to see him again. You take the gun, biting back a retort.

He nods his approval. The steely look in his eyes softens, though he still looks dismayed. "Mind where you point that. And when you pull it. Biters'll hear it for a mile and come running. Survivors, too. The curious ones." He glances at your bandaged arm one more time. Then he adjusts the bag over his shoulder and turns his back, walking away from you. Back to camp. "Am expectin' you to keep yourself alive with that," he growls. "Or else it's a lot of good time and material I wasted on ya."

"I didn't ask you to waste your breath," you retort, practically snarling at his retreating back in your irritation. You watch him go until he's disappeared into the trees. You need to make sure he doesn't plan on doubling back and following you.

Then you set off on your own. You take a winding path to throw off any trackers. Never can be too cautious. The gun in your pocket is heavy against your thigh, and you try not to think of it as a comforting security.

You came here to get Roach back, and you don’t care how long you have to wander this Godforsaken forest. You’re not leaving without him.

…

Soap feels your eyes on him until you disappear.

He wants to divorce himself from this, but he’s on edge. People who strike out on their own here come to a nasty end. But he’s not going to take away your agency by deciding what's best for you. You were right about him not being a soldier, after all. He doesn’t have the authority to herd you back to his squad’s campsite. Your life is in your own hands.

He just hopes you live to do better than he believes you will.

That night, he sleeps restlessly. Which is why, when he hears a cluster of gunshots in the distance, he wakes up instantly. It's you. In trouble.

The night watch—Gaz tonight—is already there, tossing Soap's gun to him. "You were right," Gaz says.

"Course I was," Soap says with a lopsided grin. "Owe me a ten-piece in the next poker game, aye?"

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more Soap / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[unabashedly-so]

Knots

Elliott x gn!farmer, SFW, soft little romantic character study, barely proofed, 1k words, drabble.

content warning: alcohol mention, nothing else I can think of.

This is dedicated to 3 posts in particular that got me thinking the other night: pizza, Elliott Scrap, and be gentle carrying me home.

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

Like a knotted skein in loving hands, there's a slow unraveling.

The largest knots get attention first. You find one in his hair, incidentally—after the first night Elliott stays over, accidentally. It was winter and wrapped in warm flannel and a warmer embrace, the farm could wait. He’d come over for dinner, excited to share the latest rounds of edits over some a fresh catch of tuna and your first batch of wine from the farm. When the gentlemanly hour came to leave, the door wouldn’t budge for all the freshly packed snow. You bid him stay, and for the first time, he did.

Chastely—not for lack of interest but for an abundance of intimate moments that might have been stretched too thin if pushed too far: he fumbles taking off his tie and his hands shake unbuttoning his jacket. He folds them, sets them just so on the dresser. He exhales—a sigh or a steadying breath?

He turns, asking what kind of hairbrush you have. You didn’t know how to answer that question—or any question at all, really. It was the first time you’d seen him simply dressed in just his white button-down shirt, and more importantly, one of the few times you’d even seen him look sheepish. This, the same man that an hour ago only let you out of his arms to twirl you to the music, wrapping you back in even tighter than before, filling your head with lovely words in murmured baritone.

And it doesn’t escape you how his fingers absently run over the embroidered hem of his jacket when you manage to say there should be one on the bathroom counter that he’s welcome to use. Nor how his leg bounces as he sits and pours over his manuscript while you change. Nor how he seems to look anywhere else but at you, blushing, once you’ve changed into your most unassuming night clothes.

It’s so quiet but for the crackling fire place and the occasional rushing wind from the blizzard outside. You’re not as good with words as he is, but you have to try. You walk over to him, bare feet quiet against the cold wooden floor. “Elliott?”

It’s slow, but he looks up from his manuscript, at you. “Yes… darling?”

“I know it’s not ideal or perfect but… I’m happy to have this time with you, just…” words fail, and you gesture vaguely at the blizzard, your frayed pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirt, and… him, “just as we are.”

His shoulders lower, slowly, a tension loosening. He exhales—a sigh, this time you’re certain—and sets the manuscript atop his neatly folded clothes. He rises to standing, and meets your gaze with a tired but truly mirthful smile. “As am I.”

Elliott’s hands reach to cup your face, his finger tips brushing against your jaw, hesitating, waiting for permission. You lean your head into his touch, and there’s another exhale—an airy, loving laugh—before he cups your face and leans down to meet your lips. He’s so warm tonight—blame the wine, the fire place, but certainly not the blush—as he holds you and kisses you still.

His freshly brushed hair tickles your cheek when he pulls back. It tickles your neck, shoulders, and lips too, in time, as you share in each other’s body heat throughout the cold, cold night.

You’re dozing, and you’re almost certain he is too when you hear, heavy with sleep and soft with love, “Thank you, my dear.”

“…for what?”

“This.” He says, with a kiss into your hair.

And in the morning while you lay cozily in his arms, slowly combing your fingers through his silky auburn hair as he sleeps, it’s there you find a knot. Nestled above the nape of his neck, it snags and bids you pause. It’s not a matter of how, but a matter of trust—would it be a step too far?

Under loving hands the largest knots are made pliant to reveal the stark truth: it’s never one, but several smaller bundles huddled and wrapped around one another—cornered nestlings shivering at being seen.

The trembling hands, clinging to an ornately embroidered shelter, avoiding your gaze until you offer reassurance…

You withdraw your hand, instead placing it on his chest, where his plain white shirt, albeit wrinkled now, is so…

…so soft.

You’d come to find many more knots in his hair, but that was the last time you saw him sheepish.

It’s autumn now—not the autumn of your wedding, but the autumn of your anniversary. You’re playfully sick of picking his discarded ties off the foot of the bed. The sound of the microwave beeping at 3am wakes you to the sight of him partway through a slice of cold, leftover pizza. (He cooly, lying, insists you dreamt such a thing.) Elliott eagerly and openly makes his plans to get fully “sloshed” on pumpkin ale and asks that you still claim him at the end of the night and be gentle carrying him home. The next day he vows that was a horrid idea he’ll never repeat, and in the autumn after your first child is born, he does it happily again.

There’s a barbecue stain on one of his white shirts, and despite both your best efforts, the ghost of the stain persists. It’s now accompanied by speckling of other stains from being worn and worn out as he helps you on the farm. Originally a “house shirt”, he no longer has need for that, as it turns out sometimes an oversized t-shirt and frayed pajama bottoms will do the trick just as well.

And you still doze in on winter mornings. Combing your fingers through his hair, delighting in both the sun-kissed copper and moon-kissed silver strands, when you hit a snag, you know it’s just a simple knot. One that will come gently, surely undone under your patient, loving hands.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Hey honey love your work, I was wondering if you could do what the boys (so'lek, nor, eetu and whoever else) would be like as dad's (hcs preferably) if that's okay, ofc when you can 😁

Here you go, my dear 🥰 Hope you enjoy!

Characters: So'lek, Nor, and Eetu

Fandom: Avatar Frontiers of Pandora

Warnings: Short. Headcanons?? Fluff?? Idk poor warning labels lol

Taglist: @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter @neteyamsyawntu @awesomenessfeet @mooniequeen

~~~~~~~~~

So'lek:

Any child of his will have him wrapped around their little fingers. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

He is their personal jungle gym.

You know how male lions play with their cubs that also helps them create social and survival instincts? Yeah, that's So'lek.

Once those kids get older, it's easier to say "no" to them, and he's easily labeled as the Strict Parent.

He secretly loves the "new baby smell". His mate might not catch a break between children just from this alone.

I see his children growing up to be rambunctious and playful, the opposite of their father. I just think it's a nice contrast. He's gotta have a little bit of sunlight in his life, ya know?

Anyone remember Bambi's dad? The Prince of the Forest? That's So'lek. Go watch Bambi 2 and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Nor:

He's very unsure. Has no idea what he's doing. Poor guy just GOT here.

He will constantly ask other Na'vi around him, "Am I doing this right? How do I-? Wait, shouldn't I try-?"

This makes him the Helicopter Parent, unfortunately for any mate of his that will have to deal with that 🤣

Any small jump those children make off of even the TINIEST of steps will send Nor into a small panic attack.

LOVES holding babies against his chest. It's so warm and fulfilling. Everything else that was once so horrible about his life immediately melts away.

As the children get older, Nor is constantly hounding them about safety. He always needs to know where they're going and how long they're gonna be gone. Sometimes, if they're running late, he's immediately ready to start a search party. You can't exactly blame the poor guy for being paranoid.

Eetu:

The Fun Parent.

Eywa help any mate of Eetu's because they will have to simply accept the fact that he will be the fun parent to their children. No matter what.

Have you ever seen that viral video of the gorilla dad who constantly steals his child away to play while the mother chases him? That's Eetu.

Nefika has always insisted that Eetu should learn to slow down and teach younger Na'vi by telling them stories and warning them of the dangers of hunting. And now, he finally does. While he is still the fun parent, having kids has taught him to slow down.

His children and other Aranahe children LOVE his stories as well. Nefika grins like a cat who got the cream whenever she finds Eetu sitting still, surrounded and trapped by children, eager for more stories.

If Etuwa has kids as well, she and Eetu with take their little ones and go flying together. Flying is a must for any children of Eetu.

~~~~~~~~~

Rules

Request

Main Masterlist

[oleander-nin]

Yandere rottmnt Donnie & Yandere rottmnt Leo.

Action prompt: 21- Donnie and Leo are chasing m/c after they make an escape attempt.

Verbal prompt: 21- said by either Donnie or Leo. Donnie or Leo say the line after recapturing m/c.

Mood: Not too dark or angsty, but not comforting either.

A/N, not important: I'm exhausted and a bit mentally drained, so I'm sorry if this isn't very good. I tried to even it out, but I'm not sure it worked. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: kidnap mentioned, arguing, breaking leg, needles, chasing, yandere, dark themes, bad writing

Words: 3389

Prompt(s) requested: 21a(Chase) & 21v("You can't run from my love.")

Summary: Donnie and Leo argue a lot, maybe you could use it to your advantage.

I lean against the wall I was tied to in annoyance, frustration bubbling in my chest as I watch the two argue. They had been going like this for hours, and it was starting to get more irritating than frightening. I roll my shoulders, trying to fix the discomfort I felt. I watch as Donnie clenches his fists at his side, his eyes narrowed while he stares down the slider in pajamas. “It’s MY night Leo! We agreed to the schedule, so we have to stick with it!”

Leo groans, leaning back against the wall dramatically. He pouts, trying to make his eyes

go big and doe looking to appeal to the empathetic side of his unimpressed brother. "But you got them all day yesterday!” Leo whines as he sinks down the wall. Donnie glares at his older brother, his face twitching. “It’s only fair I get them tonight!”

“It’s not my fault you broke dad’s favorite mug yesterday. I just kept them company while you were out finding a new one. It is fair.” Donnie’s face holds no sympathy for the slider, simply staring down his brother. Leo avoids Donnie’s gaze, staring at me instead. I shrink a bit, the metal rattling while I wilt under his watchful eyes. Leo frowns, his cheek sucking in as he chews on it in thought. I watch them both, staying quiet. I wasn’t sure what to do. I just wanted to leave. I had been here in the lair for months, and it was always the same. I was tired of being chained as they argue. I was tired of being hurt. I wanted to see my family. I wanted to go home. 

Donnie’s words make Leo huff again and they both continue their arguing, Donnie stomping his feet with each word that comes out of Leo’s mouth. Despite Leo’s nonchalant nature, it was clear he was getting frustrated as well. Their words got louder and the arguing got more physical, Donnie looking as if he was about to strangle his older brother. I turn my head to the door, the heads of the oldest and youngest brothers looking through the door. Mikey smiles gently at me, waving. I scowl, looking away from him. He acted like he cared but I knew he would turn me over in a heartbeat if he caught me trying to leave. No one here cared about Leo and Donnie’s problem, their behavior written off as nothing more than teenagers doing dumb stuff. My life being written off as nothing more than an afterthought, my person being written off as nothing more than a toy for the slider and softshell to break.

Raph wasn’t much better than Mikey, but at least he didn’t pretend to care about me. I refused to trust either, their loyalty was to their brothers despite the heroes they claimed to be. Neither Donnie nor Leo notice Raph walking in, annoyance on his face. I watch in slight amusement as Raph picks up the arguing brothers and shakes them slightly, making them both shut up.

“Why are you yelling!? It’s one am in the morning!” Raph’s voice was a harsh whisper, his face painted in tired anger. It was clear he was trying his best to stay quiet, not wanting to wake up their sleeping father. I watch Mikey leave, slipping away from the door where he was standing. I don’t blame him. I would have loved to leave too. I finger the chains around my ankles, watching Raph yell at his younger siblings. The arguments were common, but always terrifying. It was rare Raph stepping in soon enough to stop the two from getting violent. Hopefully now was one of those times.

“Donnie won’t let me have (Y/n) tonight!” Leo complains, crossing his arms as he glares at the softshell. Raph rolls his eyes, not finding Leo’s reason good enough for the loud argument they were having.

“Tonight’s my night! We agreed on a schedule!” Donnie’s retort makes Raph shake them both again, the younger turtles quieting.

“How about this,” Raph starts, tired frustration seeping into his voice. “You both sleep with them tonight. In the living room. Then you both get them and it’s not a problem.” Raph sets them down after he says his part, clearly expecting them to listen and agree.

“Scoff, why do you get to decide?” Donnie says, frowning while he crosses his arms over his chest. His forehead wrinkles in the place of his eyebrows, the scaly skin knitting together. I watch silently, trying my best to not draw any attention to my person in case they try to make me choose. That happened once before, and the anger of the one I didn’t pick was enough to make me know to never choose favorites again. Donnie pokes Raph, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not the leader anymore. Leo is.”

Donnie seems to immediately regret his words as Leo grins brightly. They turn their backs to me, a sigh of relief leaving my chest. Leo swings an arm over Donnie’s shoulder, a smug grin on his face. “You’re right, mi hermano! I am the leader. And as leader, I get (Y/n) tonight.”

Raph scowls at them both, separating the arguing brothers by grabbing the back of their shells and lifting them into the air. Leo bonks Donnie on the head and sticks his tongue out while Donnie tries to bite at his hand, Raph glaring at them both. “Both of you get (Y/n) tonight or neither of you get them. And leadership only matters during missions, not petty arguments. I’m the oldest, my word is final.” The threat is evident in Raph’s voice, his usually soft tone a dangerous growl. His anger was starting to boil over at his two middle brother’s nonsense, tired of their night time squabbling. 

Both turtles quiet down at his threat, grumbling quietly. Donnie crosses his arms, rolling his eyes as he looks back over at me. “Fine, we’ll sleep in the living room.”

Raph eyes the younger turtles suspiciously before nodding, putting them back down. He watches closely as Leo moves over to me, carefully unchaining my binds while Donnie looks stunned, grumbling at his blue-coded brother. “What are you doing?”

Leo glances at the genius, holding up the chains and waving it at him. "Untying them? What does it look like?"

Donnie’s frown deepens, moving to try and push Leo off. Raph takes a step forward in warning, both younger turtles stilling for a moment. I immediately try to stand when the chains fall, but Leo grabs me, throwing me over his shoulder so I bend at the waist. I groan in discomfort, the lip of his shell digging painfully into my stomach. Raph steps out of the way, tilting his head towards the door to signal their leave.

Leo sticks his tongue out at Donnie in triumph, much happier with the arrangement than his genius of a brother was. Donnie grumbles as he follows, looking at me as Leo carries me into the living room. A flash of emotion crosses Donnie’s eyes, one I can’t quite place. His scaly hand cups my face, thumb rubbing my cheek as he seems to inspect me. I try to shrink back slightly, but his grip on my face tightens as Leo and Donnie walk. Donnie mumbles something under his breath before pulling his hand back, watching unimpressed while Leo shoves blankets onto the floor.

Leo sets me down on the nest of blankets, throwing another over me before I hear his feet pad away to his room. I pull the blanket off my head, flinching back slightly when I see Donnie’s face right in front of mine. I hesitate for a moment, his blank face close to my own. I lean back a tab, trying to put space in between us both. Donnie frowns, kneeling in front of me and grabbing my hands. I freeze, glancing in between his hands and his face in worry. The softshell notices the way I tense, his hands flipping mine over and gently massaging my palms. I look at him, not sure how to react. 

Donnie looks into my eyes, his hands yanking me towards him by my wrists. I fall against him, trying to push myself off, grimacing as I feel the softshell’s arms wrap around me and hold me tight. I wince when I feel his face near mine, his cheek pressed into my own. “You were supposed to be mine.”

Donnie’s words send a chill down my spine, my hands continue to press on his shoulders while I try to escape. Donnie huffs, frowning at my struggle. He squeezes me in warning, a small kiss pressed to my temple. I stop moving, sighing in defeat. My head perks up when I hear Leo’s feet padding through the room, his arms full of blankets and pillows. I see the scowl on his face when he notices how close Donnie held me, how tight his arms were around me. Leo drops the blankets next to the nest, reaching down and hooking a finger in the collar of Donnie’s pajamas. Donnie glares at the slider, using an arm to try and bat Leo away. 

With the opening he created, Leo hooks an arm around me and yanks me out of Donnie’s grip. The blue-coded mutant lays down while hugging me close to his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. Donnie grumbles, but lays down on the spread of blankets as well, looking sourly at his older brother.

The two turtles continue to fight as they hold on to me, their whispered threats growing louder by the second. I grimace, Leo’s arms tightening around my midsection as he harshly tugs me closer to him. Donnie retaliates by pushing Leo’s face into his shell, tugging me closer to himself by my arm. Their voices grow louder as I close my eyes, grimacing. Donnie’s whispered shout makes me wince, his voice closer to my ear than I would ever want. “Let go! You’re hogging them!”

Donnie’s words make me frown. I hated being treated as nothing more than a stuffed toy and I was worried one of them might hurt me during their tug of war. They never seemed to care much for my well being, both claiming to ‘love’ me, but neither interested in me unless they can rub it in the other's face. Leo sticks a tongue out at his brother, his grip tightening more around my midsection. “You’re just mad they want to be closer to me.”

I did not, in fact, want to be closer to either of them. I try and wiggle out of their tight hold, both of them going still at my movement. Donnie shoots me a glare while Leo rests his chin on my shoulder, grinning down at me. “Where you trying to go, wiggle worm?”

Donnie and Leo both grip me closer while waiting for my answer, neither moving their staring eyes from my own. I open my mouth to stay something, my hair raising on end from the adrenaline that started to pump through my veins, my mouth dry. I sigh in relief when Raph's loud voice booms through the lair instead, Leo and Donnie recoiling slightly. "I can still hear you!"

Leo sighs dramatically, hooking one leg over mine as he settles down some. Donnie huffs rolling his eyes, but also settles down. Neither seemed interested in fighting anymore, fatigue and exhaustion shining through their faces. Leo presses his face into my neck, a shiver going down my spine while I gag slightly. His skin was rough, his plastron pressing harshly into my back from his grip.

Donnie wasn't much better, but he wasn't as attached to me. His hand gripped mine, his three fingers laced with my five as laid on his side, silently staring at me. I look at him, not sure what to make of his relentless stare. He says nothing, choosing to just squeeze my hand gently before closing his eyes. 

I hear Leo's light snores behind me, his chest rumbling slightly as he sleeps. My breath hitches slightly as I feel Leo’s grip loosen in his sleep, excitement and hope growing in my chest. Would I be able to get away while they slept? My eyes move to Donnie’s figure, waiting for his breathing to slow, for him to indicate that he was asleep. If they were both asleep, could I get away? The only thing keeping me down was their holds on me, and Leo was a deep enough sleeper for me to slip out. Hopefully. It was Donnie I had to worry about. After being here for so long, I had learned their sleeping patterns, learned their habits. When Leo went to sleep, he slept long and deep. He wasn’t the hardest to wake, but he was slow to do so. He never stirred at soft movements, his brain too at ease to wake him immediately. 

Donnie however was usually drunk on caffeine, coffee running through his veins instead of blood. The caffeine made him jittery, easily startled. He claimed it didn’t do much, but the effect was obvious. Especially when it was paired with multiple all-nighters. Donnie had already drank enough coffee to supply a village and hadn’t slept yesterday. He would wake easy, his body on edge as it tries to recuperate while he sleeps. I was glad he wasn’t as clingy, wasn’t as touchy. If he was wrapped around me the way Leo was, I would never be able to even consider leaving. But he wasn’t, being too overwhelmed to do any more than hold my hand. I smile softly, closing my eyes in case he checks on me as his mind tries to calm. I could wait.

***

It takes a few hours, my mind running slow as sleep fights my will to leave. My brain tries to coax me into a slumber, my adrenaline fighting with my fatigue. Donnie’s breathing had finally slowed, his grip had finally slipped. I carefully slip my hand out of his own, chewing on my cheek from the anxiety. I pause when his face twitches, his eyelid spasming slightly. I wait a moment, watching closely before continuing. He stills once more, a quiet breath coming from his chest.

I take my now free hand and carefully roll my shoulders, loosening the blue sleeping turtles grip even more. His arm falls at his side, a loud snore escaping him. He shifts in his sleep at my movement, falling to the side and now laying on his back. I almost cry in relief, completely free from his grasp. I carefully push myself up, sitting on my knees as I pop my back. I look down at them both, completely unbelieving of my luck. I stand up, making as little noise as possible as I back up. I watch them both, all exhaustion leaving my body, quickly being replaced by pure euphoria. I was free. I could run. And so I did.

Moving quickly, I start to make my way out of the lair. I dodge the furniture and strewn about objects, trying to stay as quiet as possible. My feet thud quietly and I wince, my walk turning into a run as I continue. The subway the Hamato’s claimed as their lair was large, my hands shaking slightly as I look for the exit. I never used it. I wondered if I could even find it.

My blood runs cold as I hear Leo shout, his voice panicked. I run into the garage, relief flooding me when my eyes land on the large opening that leads to stairs. Stairs that lead to a tunnel. A tunnel that leads to light. Light that means freedom.

My legs pump as I dash up the stairs, crashing and yells sounding behind me. Neither had entered the garage, neither knew where I was yet. I had the advantage. I push myself to go faster, my heart hammering in my chest. My brain muted the world, my vision tunneled on the stretch of concrete in front of me. I ran and ran, dodging the hand that sticks out of the bright blue portal. My heart nearly stops when I see more portals dot the tunnel, Leo and Donnie appearing out of one. I dodge Leo’s outstretched arms, run from Donnie’s spider-esque claws. Warning bells thundered through my head as my face went ashen, Donnie and Leo yelling words I couldn’t understand.

I avoid their uncoordinated attacks, running as fast as I can. I don’t notice them stopping, don’t notice the way Leo grabs Donnie's shoulder, the way they start to plan. I skid to a stop when the tunnel shines bright blue, a large portal covering the entire length of the tunnel. My blood rushes to my head at my sudden stop, my heart loud in my ears.

Two hands land on my shoulders, the cool metal of Donnie’s claws sting my wrist. I take a step back, thrashing in their grip. Leo’s arms wrap around me, lifting me slightly in the air. His hold is tight, his plastron pressed firmly to my back once more. Donnie enters my vision, his face a hard stare. Leo’s chin rests on my shoulder as I shake, still thrashing around in his grip. Donnie grunts in pain when my foot makes contact with his chest, trying to push the turtle back. Donnie grips the limb in hand, his grip harsh around my ankle. I try to yank my foot back, yelling incoherently at the two. Donnie looks behind me, Leo’s chin pressing further into my shoulder in a quick nod.

I struggle for a moment more before a sharp pain erupts from my ankle, a scream ripped from my chest. Donnie drops my broken ankle, moving closer to cup my chin. Leo's chest rumbles against my back as he laughs, tears starting to well in my eyes from the agony Donnie caused. His hand grabs my chin, holding my face in place. He glares into my eyes, his face set in a cold anger. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

Donnie’s statement brings a snort from me, the pain and anger mixing together into a defiant. Leo grips me tighter, nuzzling his face into the nape of my neck. “Plans change.” I grit out, my ankle still throbbing. I do everything I can not to cry out in pain when Donnie reaches down and squeezes the damaged ankle.

“You can’t run from our love,” Leo states, anger bleeding into his otherwise cheerful voice. He was holding back his anger, trying to not lash out. He squeezes tightly once more in warning before loosening his grip a small amount. “You can’t run from us.”

Donnie rolls his shoulders before a long metal arm appears from his battle shell, a small needle on its end. I start thrashing again, screams and shouts escaping me. Donnie forcefully tilts my head to expose more of my neck, Leo whispering small nothings into my ear as he holds me still. I try to kick Donnie again, panicked shouts and cries reverberating around the concrete walls. The needle seamlessly enters my skin, injecting whatever Donnie had into my veins. I let out a strangled cry as the needle pulls back out, Donnie nodding in satisfaction.

My limbs grow heavy as my eyes start to close, trying my best to fight the injection. Donnie and Leo start talking, my brain too heavy in my head to understand. My head hangs low, Leo shifting me in his grip until he holds me between both arms, one arm at the back of my knees and the other across the back of my shoulders.

My head falls limply on his shoulder despite my desperate attempts to pick it back up, to fight the sleep rapidly taking over my person. A flash of blue shines through my barely opened eyes, the turtles taking me back to the lair once more. I feel a small peck on my forehead before my body gives out, the serum winning over my will. A last flood of anxiety fills my veins when my eyes close, my heart never quitting its endless hammer. My captors smile as I finally sleep.

[sunnyswide]

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

��

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

[janumun]

Being the brand new omega roommate for alpha Alhaitham and alpha Kaveh, who were both carefully looking for a needed extra to fill in the space in their housing near Port Ormos, purely for important research purposes Alhaitham claims.

And conveniently, they were also looking for another proper lover (Preferably an omega) for their alphan pod for their upcoming ruts, both of which just so happen to be right around the corner.

Poor sensitive alpha Kaveh, and absolute buster alpha Alhaitham, are both equally slick and suave in pursuing what they desire. Once they put their mind to something none can ever stop them from achieving their appointed goal.

Kaveh is more romantically obvious than Alhaitham, but that doesn't mean Alhaitham won't have his fair share of aces up his sleeve to properly convince you to join them in their pack. And with their ruts coming up alongside the brand new omega moving in, time is short and ever increasingly fragile.

Surely you will be so kind as to aid their little predicament?

OBLIGATORY NSFW 🔞 BREAK

Before we dive pussy first into this, I’ll have you know that your Ask was what took me out of commission for this long, Nonny. I had to sink back into the sofa and just stare into space for the next several weeks. 🤣

While I would’ve really loved to write something more cohesive for this (I am so, so insane for the ABO AU), the ideas I had would’ve ended up spanning a multi chapter fic, which I simply could not afford to work on, at the moment xD You are so ✨big-brained✨ for this, though!

If you’ve read a couple of my stories, you might’ve noticed I prefer romance dashed spice over hot, sweaty, sexy spice (very good on you if you prefer the latter!).

I’m currently working on a story where Traveler (/my MC) lives with the Akademiya duo and part of their dynamic might be reflected in these few headcanons I’ve got for Alpha Hai/Ω Reader/Alpha Kaveh.

I cannot believe this is nearly 1k words of ABO thirst because I simply hold no control over myself.

Al-Haitham’s fond of you. It isn’t quite what he intended — nor the direction he intended it in — when he divulged the fact that he was interested in you.

Perhaps, it is your unconventional ideologies, only on par with Kaveh’s naivety, or perhaps the way you seem to have Kaveh so domesticated (he was at Al-Haitham’s ear for weeks for daring to point out how the two of you seemed to get on like a house on fire, worded perhaps in less kinder terms) it’s an amusing sight to witness.

Or your unwitting genius, when you come across Al-Haitham on days he’s going through new texts, and strike up a debate regarding the contents of the author’s mindset and the degree and quality of said research.

He isn’t quite as obvious as Kaveh; ready with his smiles and clear affections worn across his sleeve.

…Nor is he quite as lacking as his former friend in self-discipline, when it comes to reigning in his instincts as an Alpha. Finding himself against you at the weakest callings of an approaching rut, or the siren call of your heats. Al- Haitham supposes you too are to blame, for spoiling Kaveh as you do; you never turn the man down and try as Kaveh might, to be a gentleman and spare you, it is always you giving him the go-ahead to fuck you as he pleases, wherever…

And later on, whenever—

His ruts are close at hand, Kaveh finds it physically intolerable to have you close and not bury his entire body into yours, threading his limbs about your body and sinking his face into the soft heat of your breasts.

He started off gentle and slow at the beginning of your arrangement, and he remained determined to follow through his resolve to relieve himself on your scent alone. The idea of tackling you down like some sort of… beast every time a rut hit, seeking you out for mere physical relief — despite your arrangement — didn’t sit right in his heart.

But you are a curious and fascinating creature, and Kaveh did not quite bet on being as infatuated with you as he is; you seem almost crafted to complete a whole of him. And you are… unfortunately, incredibly persistent.

And—

Incredibly tight, he gasps. When Kaveh finds himself buried up to the hilt within you, he’s blind to all sense except the feeling of your wet heat, the burn of pleasure streaking up his length and knotting into his abdomen with the force and desperation of his thrusts. Close, the need to have you closer burning at the back of his throat and gnawing with the bite of bitter teeth into the swell of his lip.

“K-Kaveh.” Before you scold, and he complies, immediate; love-stricken, lust-driven, clenching his teeth into a bite at your shoulder and moans deep and long, mirroring the intensity of his release into you.

Nosing at that spot against your neck in post coital euphoria and overwhelming protection. Uncharacteristic burst of an intolerable instinct to bite into you and mark you his.

When Kaveh and Al-Haitham have their ruts coincide on the rare occasion—

The Scribe does not shy away from availing his privilege of several days of paid leave, off his roster of scarcely used holidays, when his ruts are near carnal, and certainly not when they happen to fall upon the same cycles as Kaveh’s (perhaps a natural result of bonding with the same omega). He needs the entirety of a 24/7 workday and more, when he is forced to share your body, pleasure and time with Kaveh. The latter not ceasing to whine and huff, even as he moans at Al-Haitham about positioning her right, going slower so she can concentrate on us both.

Taunts usually he answers with silence, or on occasion, when Kaveh is unbearably loud,

“Perhaps you aren’t pleasing her as well as you seem to think yourself able, if you believe she cannot concentrate simply because I am “harsh” on her.” Punctuating his statement with a particularly firm thrust, your quivering moan breaking along with Kaveh’s fumed sputtering.

Your tightening, at the punishing pace Al-Haitham sets for you both, dragging their orgasms from the Alphas at the same time, flooding you to the brim with their hot seed. Their knots traveling up and lodging into your pussy undoing your own vehement release from how large the stretch is, all of a sudden, and you see stars as you collapse against Al-Haitham, his low grunt burning at your ears from how incredibly hot you find him, so undone inside you.

Squeezing around them on instinct, pulling a collective groan from the two men. Al-Haitham raises his head, his gaze inspiring a fresh wave of nervous anticipation inside you, from how he looks at you as if he has no intentions of stopping until he has you well and truly bred. A man of spare words but the intensity of his lust and emotions once unstoppered, is enough to have your legs aching for days after.

A shudder creeping up your body from where he treks a gentle thumb against your cheek and just before he kisses you, a whisper of one, “Well done,” has your heart soaring within your chest.

And if Kaveh’s soft brushes of kisses against the crown of your shoulders, venturing just shy of your glands, is anything to go by, you know he too, is far from done yet.

[neonlight2]

Jaehaera Targaryen (oc)

Masterlist

How did everyone react to her growing up and becoming more… scandalous? (Part 1)

Warning: small intervals of absolutely filthy smut— you’ve been warned.

Post “brothel incident”

Viserys

Where to begin…

The man man was absolutely belligerent when he found out about the small “trip” Daemon had taken Jaehaera and Rhaenyra on.

I think we all know that Daemon would get the brunt of it. He gets banished, as we know, and Rhaenyra is given the moon tea— which Jaehaera witnessed.

The banishment she did not. She would find that out later, early in the morning.

No, she was with Rhaenyra all the way through. As Viserys chewed into his heir more viscously than he’d ever before. I’m fact, Jaehaera may have even viewed him as a threat; the feeling would nullify not to long after however. She sat back, out of respect and some fear by the hard glare her father had given to her when she tried to argue for Rhaenyra. There she sat, until her father left— without a word said to her— and she watched as a cup was placed in front of Rhaenyra by one of the maesters.

Thus her hatred for them intensified ten fold.

She saw the way Rhaenyra’s eyes welled up with tears, and Jaehaera even offered to toss it out the window.

“No one need know Nyra. Just ask me so and it’ll be done.”

Rhaenyra shook her head and downed it in one gulp. A single tear trailed down the girls cheek, flicked off by the soft pad of Jaehaera’s thumb. She kneeled before the other princess, holding her face close to her own, whispering sweet nothings and hymns in valerian. It only took a few minutes for Rhaenyra to fall asleep, like putty in the magical girl’s hands, and that’s when Jaehaera bid her goodnight with a kiss.

Jaehaera would then seek out her father, pinning the growing knot to the depths of her stomach. This would be one of the moments the girl had ever felt truly scared after being rescued. Treacherous thoughts bubbled at the surface of her anxiety like clockwork.

You’ve done it now.

You’re spoiled goods.

You’re repulsive, and there’s no getting your reputation back.

He’ll toss you aside now.

He finally sees you as you are.

She simply swallowed them back the best she could as she twisted the door knob of the hidden entrance, leading to Viserys chambers, tight enough to tame the tremor in her hands.

“Father I know I have shamed you, I come to apologize. Please do not blame Rhaenyra, she would not have gone if I had not agreed, and Daemon—,”

“He’s been banished.”

Jaehaera would be taken back by the information, but then thought she should have known. She’d stare at the back of Viserys head, for he would not look at her. So she did the only thing she knew. She groveled, and she pleaded.

“My king, I understand if you wish me gone. Just order me to do so and I’ll be gone by daylight. All I ask is that I be allowed to take Shrykos with me. We’re bonded, and I’m afraid of what she might do if separated from me—,”

“What in the seven hells are you talking about child?!” Viserys would suddenly be in front of her, eyes wide, eyebrow furrowed, and mouth agape in disbelief to what he was hearing.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I swear I would never use her or any other dragon against the royal family—,” Jaehaera carried on, misunderstanding his expression for outrage due to her request.

“You’re family,” Viserys interrupted, grabbing the girl by the arm to hoist her up, “You are royal. You are a dragon. You are a Targaryen— my daughter.”

His nose would scrunch up in disgust. Not at her, never at her, but at himself. Had he truly made her think such a thing? That he would give her up? After all this time, he’d at least thought he made it clear how much her cherished her.

“I am merely angry my dear,” he scoffed, “and truly not even for your actions, nor Rhaenyra’s. You’re both children and wild, so was I. I am angered by your reputations being questioned, and so easily at that. I was only hard on Rhaenyra because she is my heir. Her reputation being at stake puts her hold to the throne at risk.”

Viserys would spend hours trying to convince Jaehaera that this would mean nothing. That this event would go by, that all would be well, that she would need not worry about leaving or being asked to do so. He’d continue to remind her that this was her home. Her family. Until the sun rose, he’d tell her that. It was only when she fell asleep at his feet, after fiddling with a new wooden project, that he realized that it was himself he was trying to convince.

Were his words enough.

Viserys would from then on put a warning on Jaehaera’s name. The first time someone else questioned her honor after that day, they were dismissed, dismembered, or disappeared. This brought a hushed whisper when the princess was brought into conversation at court. But she could feel their eyes. Jaehaera just chose to ignore them, later finding it funny to wink or bite jokingly at them— making most of them flinch either way.

And when it came to favors or requests… well Jaehaera had never been denied before.

It was rather easy to have Edeline become her private maid. (The princess had offered ladyship, but the girl refused, wishing to not take part of court. However, Jaehaera forbid her from actually ever working without getting paid.)

Otto

Holy shit this man would not get off Jaehaera’s back.

Spies would always try and follow her around, find out information on what or who she was doing. Key word being try.

Jaehaera knew about them of course. You can’t exactly sneak up on a shadow. They were playing her game; they were bound to lose.

So— naturally, Jaehaera took this as an act of war, and she did what she did best… making Otto Hightower look irrelevant.

Whatever he knew, she knew first. Whenever he was conjuring up a scheme, she was there to stop it. And if he even dared to whisper in the kings ear in order to persuade his opinion— let’s just say Jaehaera was standing on the other side of her father, listening, and laughing at his audacity. Particularly when it came to the affairs of her beloveds.

“You’re majesty, you’re brother is far to rash, even if he wins the war what would stop him from creating another one from within these very walls—,”

“I could always go.” She’d suggest, practically scaring Otto out of his skin.

“To war?” Both men would ask, their tones differing greatly.

Calming the smugness threatening to rise up her cheeks, the princess nodded. “I’ve enough skill in strategy, and I’ve bested every soldier you’ve put in front of me. This is a small war as well, it should be a great one for me to begin with.”

“We’ll that would be preposterous—,”

“Very well.”

Otto almost lost his eyes due to shock that day. A woman— a princess was allowed into battle, to accompany the Rogue prince, and then proceeded to win AND rekindle the peace between the two siblings.

He was livid.

Oh and how he hated as she got closer to Alicent. His daughter had always adored the younger girl, finding no flaw. She would not here of any slander, not even from her father. Which only grew worse after he pushed her to marry Viserys.

He’d hoped that this would have put some rift in the girl’s relationship, it had with the other, Princess Rhaenyra. But no matter how hard he tried to place wicked thoughts of doubt into Alicent’s head regarding the raven haired dragon, she would become deaf to his words. She drifted from his control, became more independent. More defiant.

The only thing that brought him ease was the thought of his grandson succeeding the throne. But Jaehaera seemed to kill that dream as well.

“Perhaps if the princess were to marry… prince Aegon?”

A gagging noise came from behind him and Viserys, who also looked disgusted by the notion. Jaehaera quickly wrapped her arms around the back of her fathers chair, “The boy is barely two! That is foul.”

Viserys would hear no more of it.

All of this only egged Otto on to take revenge. And he only knew one way to do it.

He went for Jaehaera’s cherished handmaiden, Edeline.

He thought it would be the easiest, for she were a mere servant.

First, the plan was simple. Expose the true nature of the princess and the maid’s relationship to court, that way Viserys could no longer turn a blind eye, and he’d have to banish the girl from the grounds.

Yeah that didn’t work out to well…

Their breathing was haggard, filling the palace hall’s shamefully with desperate whines and the slapping of skin. Lords and Ladies passed by with burning cheeks, while others simply stopped to watch as the couple pleasured themselves— in their own room. The door was left open, inviting any onlookers to watch as the princess tossed the girl around like a rag doll. She held her thighs firm to the mattress as she ravaged her maid, before pulling away and turning her over to show the audience her weeping cunt. Or she’d bend her over the mattress, slapping the same sensitive area, then fucking her relentlessly with her fingers. Only to flip her over once again, after she had cum for the fifth time, to ride her Edeline’s face, making sure to make a good show for Otto’s spies— who had in fact opened the door (not knowing that she had left it unlocked for that very reason).

Let’s just say, she wasn’t reprimanded— and Viserys had Otto’s spies trialed.

Since that didn’t work, Otto thought he’d have someone — paid off knights— harass the poor girl instead until she finally left on her own accord.

Yeah… those guys ended up dead.

And it was only until a certain incident that he’d be able to hurt Edeline. That would also be the day his death sentence was written.

Rhaenys and Corlys

Literally could not give a shit. I stand by my statement that Corlys is an ally. He had a rough patch at first but as time past, let’s be real— he’s an ally. (He is in my story cause I said so)

Man believes in equal chances, so if men get to sleep around, then so do women. Simple as that. (Unless if they’re married and have promised to be loyal— not a Laenor and Rhaenyra situation— cause he doesn’t fuck around with infidelity.) I swear if Daemon had cheated on Laena, all hell would have broke loose.

Anyway— his son is also gay, and Laena is bi, so at this point he just has to expect that fruitiness is in his genes. And he treats Jaehaera like a daughter, so it’s not that big of a deal.

ALSO he hates Otto. So does Rhaenys. Because Jaehaera definitely talks shit about him to them all the time. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has in fact just traveled over to see them to vent and rant about how much of a pain in the ass Otto has been.

Oh, and they both know Edeline– everyone does let’s just clear the air. Corlys is kinda neutral about his feelings toward the girl. He doesn’t think anyone is good enough for Jaehaera, but Edeline makes her happy so he likes her in that since— and is kind to her/protects her when he can because Jaehaera cares for her.

Rhaenys, however, more of a love-hate relationship. No matter how hard she tries the only fault she can find in the girl is that she wished Jaehaera to be with Laena more. Selfish reason she knows. But she ships hardcore. But she definitely wouldn’t go out of her way to be cruel to her either.

(We’ll get more into that later.)

Daemon

He loves it… kinda.

Daemon revels in Jaehaera’s mischief, chaos, and numerous of scandals, which only grew after the whole brothel incident. But what he loved the most is when he’s apart of her shenanigans.

When he was banished, in the beginning he would live for the stories of what Jaehaera would do. However, as time passed and the tales grew wilder, Daemon became restless. Soon what had become fun and humorous was now something he envied and longed for.

And he promised himself that after he won the war, he would never be without the girl for too long.

Although, he didn’t expect her to appear in front of him before the battle began.

“Have you missed me, my Prince?”

The way he would have RAN to her.

It didn’t matter that she was now his height, or that she was clad in armor— begrudgingly due to her father’s request. Daemon was simply elated and showed it by tossing her in the air, before engulfing her in a hug.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” She’d joke, petting his head like an excited dog. “You know this would not have been a problem if you would simply stop getting banished.”

“I might have to take your advice.” He whispered, laying dozens of kisses along her neck, cheeks, and finally her brow.

“Would you kindly unhand my dear friend, Prince Daemon?” Laenor would interject, only earning a glare and a shove from Corlys. “What?! We need her to debrief!”

Oh and during the battle he’d gossip like a young lady in court, wanting to know if all the rumors were true.

When he returns to court, he keeps his promise and doesn’t get banished. He leaves on his own accord, often after Jaehaera would leave as well. He couldn’t stand being in court without her. Everything always seemed rather…dull. He had Rhaenyra of course, but she felt like forbidden ground. No matter how much he wished, Daemon couldn’t bring himself to go to her. He thought he was sparing her, taking away the temptation. As if he did know what went on between her and Sir Strong. Nor did she seem to acknowledge whatever relations he had.

Speaking of relations… Daemon and Laena.

That incredible ship is also thanks to Jaehaera.

The night of Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding, that obviously went to shit, Jaehaera danced with everyone she found pleasant. Yet she saved the most for Daemon and Laena. She had caught the looks shared between them, and found herself intrigued. It wasn’t long before Jaehaera left the cloak that had been wrapped around her frame go, revealing a dressed made specially from this very occasion— a gift from her father.

It was rare that the princess wore a dress, and for most a once in a life time opportunity.

The silk hugged her body until it reached the end of her spine, flowing out enough for it to take up a third of the floor when she spun. It was scarlet red, to no surprise, and accented with the finest gold, highlighting the glided plates covering her breasts. She look like a temptress, ready to plunge her sword into your heart if you dared to come too close.

This caught the attention of almost every lord or lady, and Jaehaera couldn’t help but grin as she watched Daemon and Laena’s gaze flicker between her and each other. Therefore, it almost shocked the girl when Lady Laena was the first to move, making her way toward the princess with those flirtatious eyes.

Gods she was gorgeous.

And if Jaehaera hadn’t cared for Daemon, she may have simply stolen the lady away to have her all to herself. That did give her an idea though.

In between the midst of a feverish dance, the eighth of the night for the inseparable trio— where touches had grown all consuming and more persistent in nature— Daemon finally relented to the constant teasing Jaehaera inflicted on them both. He halted their movements when it was his turn with her, whilst she kept an eye on their prime target of infatuation.

“What are you playing at Issa jaesa?”

“Why? Do you not wish to play anymore?” She asked with a teasing look.

Growing increasingly more restless, Daemon gripped the back neck to cease her wandering gaze. “I don’t like being left out of the rules.”

“Aw Dae,” she cooed at him like a child whilst running her nails through his recently cut hair. “You should know by now that there’s no rules.”

She’d escape his grip with a quick, hard tug of his hair, sliding under his arm to retrieve the Lady Laena. The daughter of the Lord of Driftmark giggled as Jaehaera pulled her close, swaying to music with playful sensuality. Soon the Princess would shift their feet in a new direction, disguising it with twists and twirls, and in a few seconds the girls had escaped the frenzy of the lively dance floor.

Daemon watched closely as Jaehaera led Laena away, hand firm on her waist while continuing to whisper in her ear. He didn’t miss the wink she sent him before they made their exit however.

It too him longer to make his way through, another way for the gods to punish him once again, because every lady of age wished to seduce the rough prince who was free of engagement. And every othe lord w wanted to congratulate him on his successes or talk his ear off for a proposal.

When he finally broke free to, one might say he was running out the door. The Prince walked furiously, keeping his ears open for an either of their voices— until he noticed a crack in the wall.

Sneaking his way through the small, practically unnoticeable, entryway, Daemon finally heard them. And what he saw matched the obscenities he had been imagining all afternoon.

Hidden in the darkness of the secret passageway, Laena was pressed against the cold stone walls. Her skin was flush, matching her shallow breathing and mewling whispers muffled by the back of her own hand. Small spots of red and purple decorated the top of her breast— low enough to hide later but not now when they pressed firmly against her bodice. Whilst her dress was bunched up at her hips, which were being pinned down by Jaehaera as she ravaged the girls wetness as if it were the elixir of life.

All of this was no shock to the Prince; he knew that that the fellow dragon’s hunger battled his. Yet he couldn’t help but laugh at the position she had contorted the Lady in.

It would seem the Princess would kneel for nothing other than her duty or honor, for rather than stooping to devour Lady Laena’s cunt, she simply elevated her lover. She held the woman firm to the wall, legs laid atop her shoulders, as she held her hips and the plush of her ass. The sight drove Dameon mad with lust, and he could feel as the blood rushed to his cock, leaving a bulge for both the women to notice as proof.

“Isn’t she wonderful Daemon?” Jaehaera asked, humming each word to make Laena’s head rush with ecstasy. “Look at how she quivers against my tongue.”

Daemon did as he was told, watching as Jaehaera’s tongue pressed and prodded against Laena cunt, before answering in a low tone. “You’re both magnificent.”

Laena let out a cry at the sudden sting against her swollen bud, looking down at the princess with pleasing eyes.

“He gave us a compliment, Issa gevie nymph. Be a good girl and thank him.” My beautiful nymph

Daemon groaned at the order, rubbing himself shamelessly through his pants. And he swore under his breath as the lady followed it without hesitation.

“T-thank you my prince, you are en-enchanting as well.”

“Oh look at her Daemon,” Jaehaera cooed with a patronizing tone, “talking like a proper lady. As if she isn’t getting herself off by riding my tongue as you watch.”

Her point only being proven as Laena whines and bucks her hips up as Jaehaera pulled her face away.

“Oh don’t act like a brat now,” she said, pushing two fingers into the Lady’s mouth for her to suck on. “Not when you’re doing so well.”

At some point Daemon couldn’t take it anymore and rid of his pants, stroking himself at the filthy sight. Glancing over at him, a sinister smile makes its way up the princess’s face.

“Don’t worry Daemon, you can have fun with her after I get another one out of her.”

Another one. Daemon hand stopped at the base of his cock, knowing he would cum just at the thought if he didn’t pace himself.

“She’s already cum?” He asked, just to torture himself further.

“Yes,” Jaehaera purred, testing Laena by pushing her fingers even farther back, until she was satisfied. “She’s rather sensitive Dae, it was only seconds before you joined us.”

Removing her drenched fingers for Laena’s mouth she spread them, watching as threads of spit spread across them. “Well done love, I suppose you deserve your reward now.”

Without a seconds notice the princess curled her fingers into Laena’s warmth, watching intently as her eyes were level with the woman’s sex.

“Lo ao lua bona bē nyke’ll spill isse issa ondos.” If you keep that up I’ll spill in my hand. Daemon spoke in an array of grunts and moans as he kept fucking into his fist.

Paying no mind, Jaehaera responded simply. “Umbagon.” Wait.

Her tone didn’t help at all.

Mercilessly, Jaehaera continued to curl her fingers just right, attacking Laena’s place of pleasure just right until she could barely think for herself.

“Do you fancy Prince Daemon?” Jaehaera asked with genuine inquiry. “I saw the way you were staring at him,” she glanced over at the him for a moment as well, “and you know he fancies you.”

“Yesyesyes—,” Laena sputter as Jaehaera pressed the pad of her thumb against her clit.

Smiling adoringly at the answer, Jaehaera nodded, making sure to drive the lady before her dumb with pleasure. “Would you like to marry him?”

The question made Laena and Daemon glance at each other before looking at Jaehaera with the same confusion.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. It would be great for the both of you,” she commented with an unfamiliar twinkle in her eyes, “Daemon wouldn’t have to deal with constant annoyances, and you would be married to someone interesting rather than a simple, mediocre lord.”

Jaehaera lifted her up farther, as if she were a feather in her hand, and used the leverage to thrust her fingers into her faster, harder. Laena’s eyes went white.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes!”

“Dameon?” Jaehaera question with a the same smile he saw that day during the festival as she danced with him for hours. “I am quite fond of her.”

He couldn’t say no.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t too long after that Laena came, her body quivering against Jaehaera’s, and whimpering as she felt her fingers leave her empty.

“No need to cry Issa gevie nymph, Daemon’s gonna take care of you now,” Jaehaera comforted her, caressing her thighs and face as she lowered her down. “And he’ll stuff you full again, if you want him to.”

Daemon’s jaw practically unhinged as he threw back his head at the idea. The most he had expected was for her mouth wrapped around him, but it would seem Jaehaera had other plans entirely.

“Is that what you want?” Jaehaera asked with a softer tone as Laena’s head bobbed incoherently. “You want him to fill you up? That way the King and your father would no longer have a choice but to wed you.”

That’s exactly what happened.

Jaehaera held Laena from behind, teasing her breasts and clit as Daemon fucked her relentlessly. He became crazed by the sight of the two women, as one crumbled between them, and the other touches were Daemon and Laena’s bodies merged. And in the end, all three shared a kiss of their own, and the two dragons helped Lady Laena become presentable once again.

When they returned to the banquet, both escorted her to her seat, whispering sweet nothings in her ear along the way. Laenor was the first to notice, and he couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

Later he would come up to Jaehaera as Daemon and her split ways after what seemed to be a intense conversation, and she returned to the festivities. He would pull her arm over to his side of the table with drink in hand, letting out a yelling-whisper.

“You sisterfucker!” (He would call her that from then on whenever they were bickering.)

And… we all know the rest of the night went to shit.

Daemon would also know of Edeline, and he liked to keep their interactions to a minimum because he knows how much Jaehaera cares for her. Which means to keep his jealousy at ease, he distances himself from the trigger. Not to mention… she kinda terrifies him. Jaehaera is extremely protective of her, and he didn’t want to at the wrong end of her fury… as Otto had.

Rhaenyra

✨Jealousy✨

Sorry but it needs to be said. Like don’t get me wrong, Rhaenyra wouldn’t be too obsessive or anything, but she would get jealous easily. Especially when she’s younger, first few times seeing Jaehaera sweet talk women and actually mean her flirtations— it would drive her crazy and most of the time she would just take it out on the Ladies by disregarding them in court and refusing their friendship. Don’t even get started on Edeline.

She hated the way she was constantly by Jaehaera’s side after the brothel incident. Rhaenyra was already a bit emotional after the scene because of the confrontation with her father, so seeing this random girl suddenly appear out of nowhere— who became Jaehaera’s prized, personal maid in a fortnight— really sent her over the edge. Now she had to deal with Alicent and this girl named Edeline, and Daemon was banished so she had no help to cope.

However, one could call it a little melodramatic because Jaehaera gave her the most attention between the three without any coercion.

But Rhaenyra couldn’t get over how Jaehaera began to pull away from her during the night. She would begin to not share her bed more and more frequently, until Rhaenyra inevitably married Laenor. Then she stopped sharing it entirely.

Something else that also irked the Princess a bit was when Jaehaera started to push Rhaenyra toward Sir Harwin’s advances. Of course, this wasn’t because Rhaenyra didn’t like the night, quite the opposite actually. She had fancied him before she did Sir Criston, and only Jaehaera knew. She was the only way for the two to send each other letters or gifts, yet as Jaehaera became more occupied by Edeline or someone else who caught her eye, she seemed to approve of the pair even more than before. And while Rhaenyra would pursue the relationship further later on, she thought this was Jaehaera’s way of further distancing herself.

Harwin, after the he and Rhaenyra became more intimate, would later discourage the thought. He knew them both well enough, and Jaehaera had always been honest if nothing else. So he insisted that Jaehaera simply wished for Rhaenyra to be happy as she was.

Innocent and helpful in his mind, but in Rhaenyra’s it just seemed to confirm her own paranoia: Jaehaera was drifting from her and to make up for it she gave her Sir Harwin as a substitute.

And it didn’t help that Jaehaera began to leave, or voyage more frequently after she got married— not to mention Daemon had left and married Laena, who Jaehaera adored as well. (But it’s canon that Rhaenyra also really liked Laena too, because I will have no Laena hate in this universe.)

Again— here’s where the babies come in.

She noticed after she had Jace that Jaehaera spent increasingly more time at Kings Landing when she had a baby, which she did not do for Alicent’s children— which filled Rhaenyra with delight. A tiny victory in her eyes.

Although, no matter how hard she’d try to seduce or captivate Jaehaera’s full attention—

By unabashedly flirting with her, and holding her in private or public it mattered not.

“Rhaenyra!” Jaehaera would whisper loudly in playful scolding, as the other Princess’s hand had snuck its way down to squeeze her ass as they walked down the corridor.

Or

Giggling maniacally, Jaehaera asks, “What’s gotten into you Nyra?!” She squeals as Rhaenyra kissed her where she were able. All while she stares directly at Alicent who sat only a few feet away from the pair, next to Viserys.

Oh and the “innocent” favors she asks for…

“Thank you for doing this Issa qēlos,” my star Rhaenyra said with a relieved sigh as Jaehaera’s hands massaged into her naked skin.

She was laid out bare, covered in the finest oil breast to thighs, while Jaehaera stood a over her skimming across her skin. Rhaenyra had asked her to massage where she had collected stretch marks from pregnancy, and she didn’t hesitate to help.

“Why don’t you have your handmaiden do this?” The raven haired girl mused, hands moving up and down her thighs— threateningly close to where Rhaneyra wanted her to touch the most as she ghosted passed to her stomach.

Gulping, the princess answered with a short laugh. “Their hands were to dainty.”

“Oh?” Jaehaera asked, squeezing harder below Rhaenyra’s breast— making her squeal.

One time she talked Jaehaera into bathing with her, leading to her making a whole hot spring for the two of them to enjoy while she was there for a month.

“Isn’t this fun?” Rhaenyra asked as the two women washed each others hair.

Humming, Jaehaera nods. “Reminds me of when we were younger. We were always with one another.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between the two, both reminiscing the past with fondness while brushing through the others hair. Something else they would often do in their youth, refusing all others who wished to do their hair.

“Don’t go.” Jaehaera stilled her movements, glancing back at Rhaenyra, who was already staring at her. “It could always be like this if you stay, so just don’t go.” She begged.

“I have to Nyra.”

“Why? Because father said so? You know he’d change his mind if you were to ask—,”

“Rhaenyra,” Jaehaera hand cupped her cheek, her voice growing firm. “I am going.”

Leaning into her touch, Rhaenyra looked at Jaehaera in confusion. Why would she leave me..if she knew she could stay?

It wasn’t long until her thoughts consumed her, and all she could think to do was press her lips against Jaehaera’s quickly. Maybe then she would see? She thought to herself, holding Jaehaera tight so they were chest to chest, mouths intertwined with every ounce of passion Rhaenyra could give.

And when she noticed that Jaehaera made no move to stop her, she only continued. Within seconds their bodies were entangled, making the heat almost unbearable. Eventually, Rhaenyra would find Jaehaera losing herself as well— pushing her tongue passed her teeth to battle her own. Never had Rhaenyra been so happy, never had she felt such excitement residing in the pit of her stomach, traveling to her core.

Soon, her hands began to travel, and all was well before she reach between Jaehaera’s legs, pressing her palm flat against her sex.

That’s when it all ended.

“No—,” Jaehaera tore herself away from Rhaenyra’s feverish lips. “Not yet.”

Shaking out a disappointed sigh, the princess whispered, “When?” As her lips hovered so close to the ones she had longed for, for years.

“When everything is done.” Jaehaera answered softly, a small smile putting Rhaenyra to ease, even when she had no idea what she was speaking of.

However, the next day, Jaehaera had left— three days before she had told Rhaenyra she would leave. And suddenly, Otto was banished, and Rhaenyra was told of the horrible tragedy that took place mere hours after they returned back to the palace.

Jaehaera didn’t return for a long time, only making a brief appearance at Laena’s funeral, then to leave before Rhaenyra and Daemon married.

Only one letter seemed to bring her back, mentioning of treason, and that Otto had returned. And she came back with a new vengeance in her eyes.

Laenor and Laena

To start off.. I put these two together because first, Laenor is the reason Laena knows of Jaehaera’s scandalous behavior, before she meets her of course. The man can’t keep his mouth shut, especially if he’s drunk. Plus— he’s a gossip girl, and super close to his sister.

So Laena had heard of Jaehaera’s silly antics, chaotic mischief, and promiscuous activities. And in the beginning she’d be lying if she didn’t say she was a little skeptical about meeting her. But after a while the idea of meeting the princess made her antsy.

Which brings me to this— Laena did NOT meet Jaehaera at the wedding. Just to clear the air. Jaehaera might be forward, but she also understands boundaries. And as charismatic and charming Jaehaera is, Laena would not put out on first meetings.

They would have met one of the many times Jaehaera visited Driftmark, whether it be just to visit and rant or rave, or to chart a course for a new voyage Viserys had ordered or let her envoy.

At first they’d be introduced by Rhaenys, who practically pushed them into each other every chance she got. Then it would lead to flirtatious stares, inside jokes about Laenor or one of their other family members, and talking for hours through the day into the night whether it be about literature, philosophy, or even strategy (which intrigued Laena to no end). Later the two would often sneak off together, and could be found jumping into the sea together with little clothes on, perhaps feeding the other fruit as the other read aloud. And they would ride dragons together all the time.

Oh, and during all of this (post brothel obvi), Edeline was with them. And Laena could care less. In fact, she was rather fond of the girl, and not just because Jaehaera was.

Unlike most maids, Edeline was aloud to speak her mind freely— Jaehaera had forbid anything less. (Which was another reason a lot of people didn’t like her *cough cough* Otto *cough*) Which meant when the girls discussed philosophy or topics of politics, she joined in immediately. Laena always found her perspective as a “commoner” to be refreshing and eye opening. And she loved how honest she was without feeling pressure. Edeline never even amused being interested in strategy or anything to do with combat. So whenever Jaehaera began to ramble about it, she’d simply sing out a tune Laena heard Jaehaera hum every now and then and braid the girl’s hair.

Then, if she had already finished using up all the hair she could— and Jaehaera was still going on about it— she say, “As attractive your passions make you My Highness, if you don’t stop soon I will be as dry as Kings Landing.”

Laena went into a fit of laugher after that.

Laena could never quite figure out why Edeline had become so vital in Jaehaera’s life, but in the end she didn’t need a reason. She grew to love them both, and was content in both their company. (She’s definitely the most civil of the bunch.)

And second, Laenor finding out that Jaehaera slept with Laena on his wedding night was honestly ironically funny. BUT he would be shook after hearing from his father that Daemon was to be wed to Laena because well— he knew for a fact Laena was in love with Jaehaera and he thought his bestie felt the same way.

He’d burst into Jaehaera’s chambers and yell something along the lines of:

“UM EXCUSE ME BUT YOUR UNCLE IS TRYING TO MARRY MY SISTER— YOU JUST GONNA LET THAT HAPPEN OR WHAT?!”

Then she’d tell him that she knew, and she’s the one that set them up.

Jaehaera would explain what their plan was, because Laenor would be a confused mess, and he’d finally be like: ohhh, that makes more sense.

Sir Harwin

This man>>>>

Jaehaera, Laenor, and Harwin are besties. The best trio I WILL HEAR NO ARGUMENTS

First of all, he’s definitely a feminist. So Harwin is all for Jaehaera getting her some just like the other lords of court. He would for sure be her wingman, and they would have a game to see who could get a girl to blush the fastest. (They both thought it a fair competition because he was an man, which went with the Hetero normative, but she was royalty so it kinda evened out the scales.) They would also have a ton of inside jokes about status and social norms.

“Oh fuck off!” Jaehaera would shove his arm off of her, laughing as she tried to walk away.

“Please be more specific your highness, I merely wish to abide by your commands properly.” Harwin would retort back in a prim and proper voice, bowing jokingly to her.

Or..

“Seven hells you’re a terror.” - Harwin after she jumped on his back because she didn’t want to walk down the stairs.

“Better than being a proper lady of court.” She’s remarked, not caring that people would gawk at the pair.

“Yes, I don’t think you have the temperament for it.”

Jaehaera hummed, “That and any lord I’d be sold to would feel inadequate after seeing how much bigger my co—,”

He’d also find everyone’s reactions or whispers about Jaehaera’s behavior hilarious. And he would probably tell her most of them, and they’d laugh together about it.

BUT— even though he knows she can take care of herself— I do think Harwin fight a bitch if they ever said anything that went too far. Once he heard a lord say call her the “common whore of the realm”.

Man lost his shit.

I will say that these two had a small moment when Jaehaera first started training with him, but from that moment on they were like, “You’re hot but no thanks.” (Plus Rhaenyra) And decided to just be friends.

He definitely knows about how Rhaenyra feels about Jaehaera, because let’s face it she’s not exactly subtle. However, he doesn’t feel intimidated by it because he knows that Jaehaera’s the very reason they can be together for the time they are. Not to mention, she cares about both of them, so she wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.

Oh and he pretty much knows everyone she’s slept with, because bro talk. (Laenor too)

Which brings me to Edeline.

Much to Rhaenyra’s disappointment, he’s friends with her. There’s no way he couldn’t be because if Jaehaera’s with him 9/10, Edeline is to. Plus, they definitely tease Jaehaera together; they have all the dirt.

They definitely had this conversation though:

“You do know if you hurt her I’ll have to kill you.” -Harwin as they watch Jaehaera train a young Aegon.

“You as well.” Edeline replied, sewing up a shirt Jaehaera had managed to rip right in half.

Raising an eyebrow he’d ask, “Oh? And how do you plan to do that?”

“There are more ways to kill a man then a sword,” she’d say, grinning to herself.

Basically, Harwin is the best and deserves better than his ending.

Alicent

Low key hypocritical.

Alicent would defend Jaehaera against anyone, even her own father. If her actions were deemed scandalous or promiscuous then she’d blame the other parties, or say that she could do whatever she pleased because she was royalty and it was her right.

“She’s a disgrace to the royal reputation.” Otto muttered, watching as Jaehaera stood in a corner of a banquet— letting various ladies lean, hold, and practically grope her frame, and she did the same as well.

“They are the ones to blame father,” Alicent practically hissed, unable to decide if she was more mad at her father or the ladies. “They’re very purpose is to be looking for a husband, not fraternizing with the Princess. It is their own doing.”

And at the same time, she’d shame Rhaenyra for having an affair with Harwin and producing “bastards”.

Her reasoning was simply, Jaehaera wasn’t bound by marriage or duty to produce heirs, and the King— her husband— permitted her the same right as a Prince. Not to mention, she brought good fortune to the kingdom everyday through her excursions, battles, treaties, voyages, good political standing with nobles and great social status amongst the commoners.

However, if she were truthful, Alicent would say that Jaehaera was gifting their kingdom by merely breathing in it.

And sometimes, when bold enough to allow her mind to wander, she’d dream of what life could have been if it were Jaehaera she had married.

It would have been no question if Jaehaera were a man, and Otto could have very easily made the argument to place Jaehaera as heir. In another reality, Viserys may have done so. Yet, even if Jaehaera were a man, she’d never rule.

Alicent knew that.

No matter how hard she tried to weasel the thought into Jaehaera’s mind, praising her intellect, her strength, and her popularity— the princess would not hear any of it. She refused the notion as if it were a plague, a fate worse than death. The first time Alicent did it, the young dragon merely brushed it off. Then, several times more she let her off easy because she was a dear friend, but finally, she lost her patience.

Nudging her chin upward, Jaehaera held the sides of her jaw— it didn’t hurt, but she gripped hard enough that Alicent could feel the pressure in her bones— and crouched low so they were at eye level. Her body, almost twice the size of Alicent’s in stature and muscle, looked over the young queen enough to send a tremor down her spine as her back pressed into a tree. They were in the garden this time, taking a stroll, when Alicent hinted at legitimacy again. She could see— feel, that was a mistake.

Alicent’s eyes were wide as she stared up at her friends, feeling weak in the knees at this new aura. She had only ever been treated with kindness; she only knew the sarcastic, flirtatious, yet sweet part of Jaehaera. Never had she been subjected to this. Not even that time when Jaehaera saw her in Viserys room for the first time.

“Wha-what are you—?”

Tsking at her like a child, Jaehaera placed her finger against Alicent’s lips. “Don’t play like this with me Ali. I am not in the mood, and this oblivious façade doesn’t suit you.”

Gulping back her nerves she nodded, her gaze flickering between the tall girls eyes, hand, and lips that were close enough for her to feel her breathing.

“Thank you,” Jaehaera said in a more genuine tone, removing her hand from Alicent’s mouth— almost making the young queen the whimper— but remained still to cage her between the tree.

“You know,” she let her eyes travel, followed by her hands, “I really hate when you do this Ali.”

“I don’t like it when you let yourself be so easily manipulated,” Jaehaera twirled one of Alicent’s free curls with her fingers, before finally looking back at her with a ferocious expression. “So stop talking like him.”

To the present, Alicent felt herself quiver at the memory, and she didn’t know why. Or rather, she just didn’t want to admit that she did.

Later on as she develops more as a queen, and has her children, she becomes more possessive. Her and Rhaenyra are similar in this aspect. Oh, and don’t think she doesn’t notice how Jaehaera would dote on Rhaenyra when she was pregnant, and how she coddled her children.

To be fair, she acknowledged that anytime Jaehaera was home she made sure to give Aegon and Aemond as much attention as she did Jace and Luke.

However, her emotions were more selfish in a way. She wanted the same treatment Rhaenyra got during pregnancy. Maybe more.

She wanted Jaehaera to be with her throughout her days, and most night, as she went through the stages. She wanted to be doted on, coddled, given plentiful affection, and even babied at times.

Jaehaera would literally break her back to do everything for Rhaenyra when she’s pregnant. Alicent envied that to no end. And one day her temper got the best of her, and she asked.

“Why do you only stay for Rhaenyra’s pregnancies?”

Jaehaera coughed, setting the cup of tea back on the table before she could make a bigger mess. “That’s one way to clear the air Ali.”

Blushing profusely, she looked down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I asked that I just—,”

Tilting her head to look down at the woman, Jaehaera let out an abrupt laugh. “You’re mad at me.”

Snapping her head up Alicent’s immediately rebuttals. “No! I am not! I just—,”

Chucking at her friends sputtering, the princess leans back in her chair. “You’re actually, genuinely mad at me. Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I am not mad at you!” Alicent argues with growing aggravation.

“Then why are you yelling?”

“I’m—!” Alicent sighed, “I’m sorry, but I’m not mad at you. I just find it odd.”

Humming, the dragon nodded. “You wonder why I hadn’t been there for yours? Is that right?”

Alicent licked over her lips, placing her own cup down to not show her shaking hands. “Yes.”

“Well, for one, you’ve never asked.” Jaehaera stated rubbing her palms against her spread thighs. “From what I heard you wanted no one in the room with you for Aegon. So I assumed Aemond was be the same since you didn’t send for me. And I sadly wasn’t here for Heleana—,”

“Rhaenyra didn’t have to ask.” Alicent said bluntly, taking Jaehaera by surprise. “And I would have never asked you to leave.”

Sighing, Jaehaera gave her an understanding nod. “You’re right.”

Alicent furrowed her eyebrows. “Then why?”

“If— if you had asked I would have been there. But,” Jaehaera huffed, “You are my father’s wife.”

Alicent felt her heart stop.

“I do not hold you to it as a fault. I am glad that you have brought each other some semblance of happiness, but,” Jaehaera winced, “he is still my father. And you are still my childhood friend. I cannot tell you why, but it is different. It feels different. But I still have all the love for your children, my royal siblings.”

Alicent would also never forget that.

She feel contempt, though she would not know who to aim it at, so she found the easiest target. Someone that was in the way of what she truly wanted, and that could easily be disposed of.

Marching into Otto’s room, Alicent was practically fuming, breath shaking, face bright pink, and eyes watering. And before her father could get a word of question out, she simply said…

“I want her gone.”

Looking at his daughter in confusion, Otto raised a brow. “Who?”

“Edeline.”

***

A/n: Younger ones will be in part 2, which is pretty important because it has Edelines key parts in Jaehaera’s story, and what the whole “event” was that made Otto get banished and Jaehaera to leave for a while, and Alicent being Alicent.

Make guesses in the comments, I’ll tell you if you’re close.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Headcanons for Clive Rosfield with gn s/o reassuring him that he's a good man who does his best to help people despite everything he has gone through, they're proud of him, and they love him so much? With hugs and kisses too!

Clive Rosfield had to be one of, if not the most strongest man you’ve ever met in your life.

Yet you’ve found that the stronger the man, the more broken they seemed to be in due to certain circumstances that happened within their past.

A past that could still be felt to this very day as it clung onto your beloved’s soul, it’s claws digging in deep into him that you worried that you’d deal him more damage if you were to pull them out raw.

You wanted nothing more then to help your exhausted lover and thankfully a time did come where Clive needed your comfort and sweet words and even sweeter reminders the most in the aftermath of a nightmare;

‘What if I’m an omen of death, destined to leave a trail of dead bodies, friends and foes alike in my wake?’ Clive admitted to you under starry skies. Yet despite how ethereal the sight above was…the topic at hand was anything but. ‘What if by the end of this I wouldn’t have had you gravely harmed, whether it’d be by my hand or others because of me.’ He adds sombrely, clutching your hand when he felt it involuntarily twitch.

‘I don’t want to have to watch that day come to pass.’ Clive was whispering now as though if he raised his voice any louder then something awful would take place, and it wouldn’t even matter whether the inherent danger were to take place five minutes from your conversation or even going as far as five weeks.

For as long as Clive could sense danger, he would always on a subconscious have himself somehow incorporated into it one way or another. He truly felt the one to blame for every wrongdoing that was committed no matter the scale of it, he just felt as though all bad things tie back to him in even the most minuscule ways.

‘Clive,’ you gripped his hand tightly, ‘not everything bad is inherently your fault.’ You told him but you weren’t finished yet. ‘You’re a good man, regardless of what the past speaks of your character. You’ve done a whole lot of good since those dark times and done a whole lot of good for the people who felt as though they had no hope to hold onto, Who felt like they too were deserving of the wrongdoings that have happened in their pasts because they felt as though they didn’t deserve better.’ You raised his hand and pressed a dozen kisses against the skin there as you decided to hold his hand close to your chest.

‘You’re a good man Clive Rosfield and I will not stand in hearing you slander yourself on the pretences of lies and falsehoods.’ You said as you tug him closer so you could bring your arms to hold him against you as you began to speak your words against his ebony locks. ‘For the Clive Rosfield I know is a brave, strong man of many talents, and he’s a beautiful man with a gentle, kind and caring heart.’ You felt Clive relax further into you, as though attempting to drown himself in your warmth and your scent with how he noses it’s way from against your collar bone, and upwards until his head is firmly flushed against your neck where he would then find comfort in your pulse point as his eyes began to drift off at the sound of your soothing voice.

A voice Clive would rather die then to never hear again, whispering sweet enchantments that you call encouragement into his ear.

‘And I am proud, so very proud of my Clive that neither words nor any form of expression can begin to accurately convey of the magnitude of how proud I am of him.’ You whispered sweetly, pressed kisses now and then again his hair or any form of exposed warm skin that was within your lips reach to douse in a plethora of kisses, leaving not a spec untouched by your lips, and even as you pulled away, you could feel Clive’s body writhe as it began to desperately miss your lips; considering how determined your beloved seemed to press himself further up against you, you’d think that he was trying to imprint himself onto you in some form of way.

‘His demons may want him to claim otherwise but I wish for him to remember that he isn’t what they say he is, Clive Rosfield isn’t a monster, nor a death omen, but I know my Clive Rosfield and my Clive Rosefield is anything and everything but those words. He’s generous, brave, bold, and yes I do have to admit, a little stubborn and hardheaded.’ You admitted, chuckling as Clive removed his head from your neck to give you a look. ‘But, even though he may often claim that he’s putting me in danger just for loving him.’

You pressed your forehead against his, nudging your nose against his, smiling when he wordlessly reciprocated the action. ‘I’ve never felt more safer then I ever have then within his arms.’ You muttered against his lips before closing the gap and kissing every ounce of love and affection you held for Clive into that kiss in hopes it’d make its way to his soul. Humming in delight as you felt him practically bruise your lips with the force of his kiss that burned with a fierce passion that at some points you felt as though you couldn’t keep up with him.

You knew Clive had a whole lot of love to give to the point where it became overwhelming and consumed every action he did, from the way he protected others, to the way he was currently holding onto you as though you were the last flicker of light in his life; which you might as well be. His grip was firm and strong but while also being gentle and cautious as not to bring you bodily harm, because god knows Clive would never forgive himself if he was the main reason you were hurt, as proven multiple times where you had gotten hurt saving his ass and you’d awaken up with Clive at bedside, holding your hand within his larger and warmer ones; it felt as though your hand was trapped within the depths of a campfire. Comforting and warm.

‘What have I done to deserve you, my love?’ Clive whispered against your lips upon pulling away but consciously choosing to stay within proximity of you in hopes that your words and love would continue to rub off on him like they have for as long as you both been lovers. You smiled, bringing your hands up to his scruffy jaw, enjoying the prickly sensation that kissed the pads of your fingertips deliciously. ‘You were just yourself my star, I was just merely captivated by your beauty and the way you treated others as equals and fell deeply in love ever since.’

‘What about now?’ Clive asked you.

You pecked his lips, ‘I’m still falling my star, I’m still falling.’

[doxypsychlean]

Hey! I was wondering if you still accept requests about Aegon? I will make it clear that English is not my first language, I am from Brazil. A request involving a relationship similar to the couple (if and what you can call that a couple) with Catarina the great and her husband Peter the great. From the big series. But once I apologize for my scratching English. I love your work, kisses from Brazil.

You are not capable of love

Aegon II x Targ!Reader

Warnings: ?

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Yep, still accepting requests! Tho I sure as hell take my time w posting the results... Anyway, here's this one! Hope yall like the results. Not that sure if I got it right tbf, but meh... Oh, and here's some info on this one- Rhaenyra steps down as her daughter marries Aegon, leaving him to be crowned King. In reality, she sees that her child is the one that holds the power. Yep, that's about it. Cheers!

She cringed at her husband's question. He'd been asking her the same thing for so long now, it was getting tiring.

"What's it going to take? I've given you all I have! All I fucking am!"

"Aegon..." She sighed in annoyance as she stood up, shaking his hands off of hers. "I do not have time for this."

"No one ever has time for me. Not you, not my mother or father, not my siblings. No one." Prince Aegon whispered, eyes glued to where his wife had been sitting.

He'd been in search of someone that would all his life. The hope never died, even when the news of his betrothal to his niece were made public. Aegon wasn't stupid, no. The prince knew his sister and mother had only agreed to it, so they could mend the fences between the two families. So the Greens and the Blacks could have at least one reason to not strike at eachother's throats.

And yet, he still hoped. Even after she pushed him away on their first night together as husband and wife, sending him out of their shared quarters. Even after the Queen started avoiding him, turning her back and walking the other way whenever she saw him in the halls of the Red Keep. Even after she'd drag his name through the dirt to anyone that was willing to listen.

In his search for her love, he'd allowed her to sit at the small council meetings and make the big decision in his name. He even surrendered the Iron Throne to her, leaving the Queen to sit upon it herself as she did as she wished. His father's crown on her head. Aegon never protested. Never said a word against her. Agreed with her, even when he thought she wasn't right. Took all the humiliation in silence. Sat through all the jokes without saying a word to defend himself. As if he had any right to. It was all true. He'd given everything he had to his name away, only so he could see her smile as she took it.

One would think the young king would've come to his senses, once he caught his beloved in bed with his own brother. All Aegon did instead, was mutter a weak "Excuse me" as he made his way out of the room. Aegon didn't get mad at her on that night. Nor did he on any night that came after it. Instead, he got mad at himself. It was obvious- he just wasn't enough. She needed a strong man. Stronger than he ever was. He understood. His wife wasn't at fault. Who could blame her, just look at what she'd been made to marry.

And his brother... That damned one-eyed bastard was everything he wasn't. Aemond was strong, intelligent. Aemond was a skilled warrior. He rode the biggest dragon in the world. Who was he, compared to his younger brother? No one, that's who.

So Aegon swore he'd get better. Be better. He read all the history books. And this time payed attention to what was written in them. He trained, harder than he'd ever had. He even managed to defeat both Ser Criston and Aemond at the same time, knocking the two down to the ground. But his wife didn't reward him with a proud smile. No. Instead she ran over to Aemond with a worried look on her face. Instead of wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, she wrapped them around his younger brother as she helped him get back on his feet. He still wasn't enough.

"I am fond of you." She said once she noticed the defeated look on his face.

"But you don't love me."

"No."

It got easier with the years. They'd found a way to coexist, hardly ever getting in eachother's way.

"Is he better than me?"

"Hm?" She asked without words, her naked body shining with sweat as her chest heaved.

"My brother...Is he?"

"I honestly don't remember, Aegon."

It was his turn to let out a confused hum, his brows furrowing.

"I haven't been with your brother in years. You didn't know?"

"What? Why?"

"I don't need him." The Queen smiled softly. Her delicate fingers traced mindlessly over the skin on his naked chest. Aegon looked at her with searching eyes, hand reaching up to stop her as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"What do you mean? Who then?"

She huffed as she threw her head back, hand tearing free from his grasp.

"Who do you think?" The woman asked as she laid on his chest, her head finding place under his chin.

"With the risk of repeating myself for who knows which-"

"Yes, Aegon. I love you." She laughed out, the sound finding its way through skin, flesh and bones, untill it reached his heart and wrapped around it tightly.

The moment of bliss was interrupted by a small voice that came through like a foghorn.

"Mother, Aemon won't give me my toy back!"

"You or me?" She whispered.

"I'll deal with them, you stay here." Aegon said as he got up, wrapping one of the sheets that were now in a ball at their feet, around his waist. "I'm not done with you for tonight, wife."

Before he swung the door open, her voice came from behind his back. It was barely above a whisper, as if the words weren't meant to reach his ears.

"I've loved you for so long now..."

[bookishwithathought]

ACOSF Bonus Chapter Breakdown Part III - Azriel and Rhys

Part I - Azriel and Elain: https://www.tumblr.com/bookishwithathought/749493410186117120/acosf-bonus-chapter-breakdown-part-i-azriel-and?source=share

Part II - Azriel and Elain: https://www.tumblr.com/bookishwithathought/749514748072263680/acosf-bonus-chapter-breakdown-azriel-and-elain?source=share

**This is just me, analyzing the life out of the bonus chapter and all the possibilities. My thoughts and no one else's. If you agree, great. If you disagree, love it. If you want to share why you disagree, love it even more. If you are disrespectful while disagreeing, I kindly request that you move along, and if you insist you will be left to argue with yourself**

I just have one word for Rhys: hypocrisy

He sighed as I finished one foot and started on the other. “Am I allowed to request that you not play matchmaker? Let them sort it out.” I rose, bracing my hands on my hips. “I would never meddle in someone else’s affairs!” He only raised a brow in silent challenge.

I just wanted to point this out.

Azriel has been caught and is aware of what's coming from a conversation with Rhys and is not looking forward to it.

"This was a mistake"

Possibilties

He forced himself to say it because his conscience and reasoning are again in control

Because Rhys interrupting has helped him really grasp the wrongness of the moment

Because he simply got caught

"Hurt and confusion...I'm sorry":

Possibilties

Elain is questioning all the signals she thought were there from Azriel

She feels rejected and it stings because she's been rejected before by Graysen

Elain allowed herself to finally be vulnerable and open herself up after grieving Graysen and all she lost from that severed relationship

She apologizes because she feels as though she is to blame for the moment, as though she led Az into this moment

"It's I who should":

Possibilties

Azriel realizes how his words impacted her and doesn't want her to feel guilty or ashamed

Azriel truly believes he's to blame here and Elain shouldn't share the guilt

"His shadows whispered":

Possibilities

Azriel asked the shadows to give him an update of Elain's location after he left

The shadows wanted Azriel to know Elain was not waiting for him, ending any possibility of continuing what had been interrupted

The shadows simply volunteered the information to make Az aware

It seems the author used this as a closing of sorts for the moment. They have parted ways with Az saying it was a mistake and Elain apologizing. There's a sense of finality here.

Yes Rhys, indeed Azriel was out of his mind. He was acting on emotions, reason and conscience and consequences be damned.

Frozen mask: the sadness of this statement is worth noting. Azriel was a child in his father's dungeon. A child who had to learn to bury his emotions beneath layers of disconnect, detachment and avoidance because of the brutality around him and directed at him. To survive. To lessen the brutality. To keep himself together as much as possible.

"If you don't feel you don't hurt."

"If you don't feel you don't suffer."

"If you don't feel they can't break you."

Or know how close to breaking you got.

Interesting that Rhys is only focusing on Az here. Instead saying "I'm talking about you and Elain, about to kiss" he emphasizes "I'm talking about you"

Azriel's visceral reaction to Rhys's mention of Elain's mate:

My analysis: Azriel has wanted and waited for the bond for 500 years and can't understand why he seems to be the exception. He's not necessarily upset that Elain is mated, nor does he have anything against Lucien. It has everything to do with his own want for his own mate.

Note on exposing his rage to Rhys: Rhys seems to be the friend he knows he can go to who will hold him accountable. Who will love Azriel by being honest, by holding up a mirror to him when he can't face himself. A true friend who can see his worst and not balk or cower, instead encourage and challenge.

"What if Elain is meant to be my mate?"

"Why are you thinking this when you thought Mor was your mate for 500 years?"

Questioning the Cauldron:

Possibilities

Azriel is questioning his belief system

Azriel is trying to justfiy or excuse his actions

He's trying to appease his conscience by pushing back and pointing the blame somewhere else

Azriel feels entitled to a mate and can't understand why he hasn't gotten what's his.

See above on questioning the Cauldron.

We see throughout the series that the IC always lets Azriel to himself, his feelings and thoughts. Azriel is never pushed to work things through out loud, which leads to ruminating and internalizing. When it comes to negative or strong emotions and thoughts, it's never good.

A possible interpretation of Az's comment:

"I thought Mor was my mate. I'd waited 5 centuries and was willing to wait for longer, then 3 human sisters were chosen to become Fae, and 2 of them happened to be bonded to my brothers. The only reasonable explaination as to why the bond never snapped with Mor is because Elain was meant for me. But the bond snapped between her and Lucien. The Cauldron must've made a mistake."

Based on what we know of the mating bond and pairs that are wrong for each other, it is always a matter of personalities being incompatible. I am not sure this applies to Lucien and Elain, as they are compatible in many ways.

This points to Azriel clinging to whatever reasoning he can to justify or excuse his feelings and actions.

There's a sense of entitlement here.

Rhys's face blanching: could be because there are many male Fae who believe their mate is their property, and Rhys is concerned with the line of thinking Azriel is following here.

Deserve: sense of entitlement here.

Azriel proceeds to give other reasonings that are not aligned with his previous questioning. He went from questioning the Cauldron to saying Elain's mate isn't good enough (yet Azriel himself doesn't deem himself worthy of her) to then saying Elain doesn't want him "anyway".

"So what does it matter?"

Points to Azriel clinging to whatever reasoning he can to justify or excuse his feelings and actions. Almost tantrum-like

This might be applicable here

Az in a nutshell

To be continued...

[swanmaids]

She visited her son’s empty grave on his birthday every year, and the following day she would spend mostly in bed. Her husband was always loathe to leave her when the night fell then, but the Star of High Hope had no choice.

And so, twenty years after the death of Elros Tar-Minyatur; on the morning after what would have been his five-hundred and twentieth birthday, his mother recieved a visitor.

Turgon greeted Elwing with a fierce embrace.

"Granddaughter," he said simply.

"Grandfather," she replied, "I am glad that Eärendil sent for you to come."

She was. Her husband had always spoken of his grandfather fondly at Sirion, and when she had met him after his rebirth, partway into his service at Alqualondë.; she found that she liked him too. As a girl, she had opened the gates of Sirion to the remnant of the Gondolindrim in exile in spite of whatever deeds they may have committed before, and as a woman she did not find it difficult to apply the same logic to their former king. And it was good to have company on this most painful of anniversaries, if only to force her to leave her bed.

Turgon brewed them each a mug of black tea, the slightly misshapen mugs a gift from Finrod, and they sat side by side to drink them on the stone steps of the tower.

"It is not his choice which hurts the most after all this time," she said abruptly, after several silent minutes. "My husband was close to choosing the same. All that I have heard from Númenor tells me that he was a wise and beloved king, and that he was unafraid of death, and I believe it. No- it is that some days I feel as though I failed him, as his mother."

There was no judgement in her grandfather's face. She continued.

"I look back on that awful day, and I do not know what I could have done differently. When the minstrel came to me with the Fëanorian terms, Sirion was ravaged. He did not bring my children before me, and I thought them slain already when I jumped. And most days I do not blame myself for our sundered fates, but on days like today it pains me, knowing that I sought to die while my sons still lived, and that almost all of their lives I missed." She spoke quietly, and her voice did not break, but her eyes misted over all the same.

Turgon nodded slowly, as though gathering his thoughts before he spoke. When he did, his voice was steady.

"When I lost my wife to the Grinding Ice, the next night I left Idril asleep in our tent and walked out into the snow. I sought to die, and it was only by the grace of Aredhel and my brothers, who heard me leave and sought to drag me back, that I did not.

"For a long time, I believed myself evil for such a thing. My daughter had just lost her mother, and now I sought to take her father from her too. It took me a long time to accept that she held no grudge against me for it. When my city fell and I saw the scope of my failure, again, I set my mind to fall with the tower, and I did. You know that I was longer in the Halls than many. I could not bring myself to accept the forgiveness of my people, nor my daughter.

"I think we have both known despair, granddaughter. Perhaps we have known it better than many. I would not have you hold yourself evil for it. Elros was accounted wise among his people- I am sure he would not wish for you to think such, either."

Elwing managed a watery smile, at that. She leaned on her grandfather's shoulder, and they waited together for Eärendil's ship to come in.

inspired by @arlenianchronicles amazing and very painful art of Turgon and Fingon after Elenwe's death.

also fits the @spring-into-arda back to middle earth month prompt 'embrace'.

[sweetmage]

Happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! How about: "Please don't leave me" from the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompts for M!Hawke/Anders?

Hi!! Happy Friday! Thank you so so much for the prompt <3 After much waffling on it, I decided to do a little bit of Hawke fearing losing Anders since I haven't done that as much!

Please Don't Leave Me - M!Handers

@dadrunkwriting

TW: Parental death, grieving

Words: 1220+

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, angst

Summary: After losing so much, Hawke doesn't know how to cope with the loss of his mother nor the fear of losing what little he has left. Anders tries his best to comfort him.

Full fic below the cut!

The room was quiet, as it so often was, but on this night it only served to exemplify what was missing. Who was missing. 

The scent of blood was still fresh in his nose, the feeling of rot hadn't left his fingers, nor had the loving tingle where she'd held his hand until hers went limp in his.

Hawke was utterly devastating beyond what he could put to words. 

Anders had long since stopped trying to soothe him with words, instead threading his fingers through Hawke's hair while he laid up against his feather pauldrons. 

It felt wrong, almost, grieving for a mother he'd had the privilege of knowing for nearly three decades while wrapped in the arms of a man who had been denied that right. He knew Anders hadn't meant it that way when he called him lucky, but it stuck like a stone in his chest.

Sharing what he felt was hard, but some things could not be masked with humor. Sometimes things could not even be masked with silence, for as much as he tried. 

"Can I get anything for you?" Anders asked, breaking his long silence. 

After a moment, Hawke shook his head. "No," he said, voice hoarse from disuse and the lump in his throat.

"You're not thirsty? Hungry? You haven't had anything all day." 

Losing a loved one wasn't exactly conducive to an appetite, but he understood Anders's concern all the same.

He shook his head again, though Anders still moved, still slid from beneath him. The sudden absence was like a blow, and he sat up quickly.

"Anders," he called, but he gave him no time to react before he was on his feet and grabbing for him frantically. "Don't. Please don't." His tone came harsher than he'd meant it, and he hated the way Anders tensed up at his tight touch.

Hawke loosened his grip on his arm, but he didnt let go. He couldn't. "I'm sorry, I'm not—I don't mean—"

"Love, I was just going to—" Anders said, soft, gentle, and turned around in his hold.

"Stay," he pleaded, not letting him finish his thought. "I don't need anything else. If you leave I'll just think and I... can't. I can't."

He chastised himself for how childish he sounded, how selfish and demanding. 

He'd blamed himself for his father's death, for Bethany's, for Carver's mishap in the deep roads. He blames himself for denying Marian her last moments with their mother, for squandering them by making Leandra spend her last breaths comforting and reassuring him instead of the other way around. Were she to see him now, she might very well tell him the same.

Yet for all he was able to convince himself he was to blame, he could not stomach the idea of losing Anders's comfort. Of losing Anders, period.

That was what it really came down to. Losing him.

Anders's hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb smoothing over his beard in slow circles. He met Hawke's gaze with a cocked brow as if searching him, looking for a sign that his touch was unwanted or unwarranted. 

"I'm here love," Anders murmured.

There was no judgment, no anger, no impatience. How was he so good? How could anyone be so unreasonably understanding?

Hawke pulled him into a tight embrace and buried his face within his hair. "For how long?" He asked quietly.

"What?"

"I've lost everyone," he whispered. "Mother was supposed to be safe here. Tucked away in the estate, living a comfortable life. But it didn't matter. I couldn't even keep her safe, how am I supposed to protect you? How long until someone gets to you?"

He felt Anders shift within his hold, just enough to bring his lips near his ear.

"I won't lie to you. I can't promise that won't happen. But it won't be because you didn't do everything in your power to protect me. There is no place safe for an apostate, but being with you is the closest thing I've ever had."

While the truth was harsh, he found it preferable to platitudes and unkept promises. Still...

"You could be safer elsewhere. I'm not sure I can protect you or keep you safe," Hawke said. "You deserve better than this."

Anders wrenched himself free of Hawke's hold, and for a moment he feared his words to be misconstrued as rejection or doubt.

He was about to correct himself when Anders faced him with the fainted crooked smirk upon his lips. "I've fed you every line about how you should leave me, find someone better suited to you, how I'll only end up hurting you or worse. But here you are. You're not the only one who's stubborn. I would do anything, endure anything, to keep you at my side."

It was no surprise that Anders would feel the same, not after all they'd seen together, yet somehow it still caught him off guard.

It was strange to be the one needing comfort, he was so accustomed to nights spent wiping tears from pains long past, allaying fears of a future uncertain and, in those simple acts of assurance, finding his own comfort and healing. Now he felt so vulnerable and exposed, caught beneath that sympathetic amber gaze.

"Love?" He spoke again, when Hawke had yet to respond. His hand came to rest on Hawke's jaw, his thumb swiping tears he hadn't meant to let fall.

"Sorry, sorry. Maker, I'm such a mess." Hawke muttered and leaned into his touch.

"You're hurting," Anders said. "And that's okay. You don't have to apologize. I just... I wish there was more I could do. Or say... something. Anything."

Hawke leaned forward until his head was on Anders's chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart. It was so comforting he almost forgot that he'd yet to answer him. "This. You're doing enough."

"If you insist," Anders said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and carding his fingers through his hair. "Do you... want to lay down? It might help..."

"If you want," Hawke murmured.

"Do you?"

Hawke nodded. "Please."

He stepped back but didn't go far, pulling Hawke in close as he sat on the edge of their shared mattress. He swung his legs up and patted the space beside him where Hawke followed and rested his head upon his chest.

"Can you... stroke my hair again?" He asked quietly. "When I was small, Mother would—"

Warm fingers slid into his hair as if they knew, finding the right rhythm with ease, evoking another time.

"My mother, too," Anders murmured, one of the very few times he'd spoken of his past unprompted.

Hawke scooted up a bit within his arms, burying his face into his neck and bringing his hand up to Anders's hair as well. He loosed it from its tie and ran his fingers there, trying to recreate what had once given him solace and safety.

He knew now why he didn't speak of her, why it had to have been difficult, so painful. But he hoped Anders could feel the love behind the gesture, informed by his own Leandra's loving hand, just as Anders shared with him a touch from long past.

Things weren’t alright, may never be, but they had each other and their ghosts for now, and that was enough.

[theheirofthesharingan]

All the Uchiha clan ever wanted was to live freely without any restrictions just like the other clans. The higherups weren't ready for that. Danzo and Hiruzen cut off their salary (up to 30%) , though there weren't any reason to do so. They were relocated to the outskirts of the village. Children like Itachi and Izumi were bullied due to this suspicions and accusitions. That's why they had come up with the coup, to regain their own rights. Also, they wouldn't have been dead or would have lost, definitely not if Itachi joined with them. There weren't strong members in the village(Minato was dead,Jiraya wasn't the village, Kakashi was too young). Literary no one would have been able to stop the clan. The clan had Itachi, Fugaku and police force. So, they would have won. There wouldn't have been any war, the last time in Nine tails attack even when village was in that pathetic situation no village tried to take advantage of it. So, why only this time they would attack and start a war?

The clan wasn't simply up to kill all the people village, they wanted to change the unethical and brutal leadership. Indeed they were brutal to shove the responsibilities to the Uchihas and innocent Naruto, just so people wouldn't suspect them and they could rule efficiently. The Uchihas demands were only about freedom. Despite all this Itachi still chose the village. The Uchihas wouldn't have caused a war and only the leaders would have been thrown off. Itachi still had a choice to not to confront the village leaders and say that the clan was planning to take them down. Things would have played out differently if so. But he just directly killed his clan. I mean, ofcourse he was to young to handle such problems, but how come he couldn't understand his clan's sufferings and chose the 'village' or more specifically 'village elders'(since the people wouldn't have been hurt even if he chose the clan anyway)? All of the burdens he had to carry were unnecessary if he could simply understand his clan and could come up with a objective solution. He could have forced his father for diplomacy or negotiations. But he didn't do any thing as such. His sufferings were unnecessary if he didn't foolishly come up with the solution of unethical cleansing of whole clan. Why did he chose this decision when he had all the better alternatives?

(I don't hold any grudge against Itachi nor I am an anti-Itachi, but I simply don't understand why many favour Itachi and the village despite whatever they did are clearly wrong)

I don't honestly understand why anti-Konoha, pro-Uchiha, pro-Sasuke fans think we Itachi fans are even remotely pro-Konoha. I'm as anti-Konoha as much one can be, but I don't believe in the 'Konoha needs to be nuked' bullshit as much 'Konoha needs to change on the whole so that no other Uchiha massacre ever happens'.

[Pro Itachi content ahead. Haters, no need to go any further.]

If you've been on my blog, you'd have known I never blamed the clan for their demands. Just because there's a conflict doesn't mean one side essentially has to be wrong. I'm pro-Itachi and also pro-Uchiha. I sympathize with the clan for the reasons you mentioned and I empathize with Itachi because he was the worst victim of this conflict between the clan and the village.

Since you're quoting the bits from the novels, I'll take them into account to answer this question.

Itachi didn't hate the clan, but he didn't agree with the clan mentality. If he were a Hyuga, he'd have felt the same about them. Since he's an Uchiha he feels so about the clan he's a part of. He wanted to be a Hokage, but not necessarily only for the clan's sake as much for the village and to end the wars on the whole, which would have solved the clan vs village issue too. Though if I remember correctly, he wanted to be the first Uchiha Hokage, so that he could be the bridge between the clan and the village. I'll have to check the book for this.

When the nine tail attack happened, other countries didn't attack because it was only after a year since the third world war had ended. Attacking a village/nation while they were themselves recovering would be a suicide for any country and village. If you think Danzo was going to let go in case Itachi sided with his clan, you don't understand this man. He was a manipulator, terribly persuasive, and would have had multiple backup plans to counter this situation as well. Itachi, with his pacifist and a bit naive ideology, was an easy target to him. Just because Itachi with the help of Obito carried out the mission in secret doesn't mean it would have been a secret any other way. Clans care about their honour too much in the Naruto world. Uchiha are no different and neither is Itachi. He knew the news of the coup would trigger extreme reactions in the village, not only because the village didn't care about the Uchiha, but also because they feared them. Danzo and his men wouldn't have been able to keep the coup a secret had they been on their own. The rest of the Shinobi of the village would have joined, resulting in the civil war.

A civil war would be different from the nine tail attack or Orochimaru's attack because it would create the rift among the villagers themselves. In-fighting would weaken the village defenses worse than the previous attacks did because there would be no unity among the people. Obito had told Sasuke that he was also anticipating war. With his involvement in provoking the clan for the coup (manipulation of Yashiro Uchiha), you think he'd sit quietly and not have done anything? Itachi was very well aware of his intent. In case you're wondering why didn't he just kill Obito or tell anyone about him, here I've written about it too. The clan clearly wasn't planning on starting the war, that was never their intent, but the coup also never had anything positive to offer, ESPECIALLY to the clan itself. The moment it happened, a lot of bloodshed would have followed as well. Not just that, the clan from then on forever would be remembered and known as the clan that went against its own village, whether they lost or won. No one would care they were oppressed or their demands were justified. If they lost, all of them would be dead. If they won - where was the possibility of that? The odds were against them from the start.

The Uchiha had every right to be angry. They had every right to demand justice. They had every right to want to be treated with respect and as equal citizens. But coup was not the answer.

Furthermore, they themselves could have reached out to the government, more so after Shisui's death. Neither the clan nor the village made any effort to solve this issue diplomatically. Itachi tried one last time to convince them against the coup and warn them of the disastrous outcomes it could have, but the clan ignored him. He was already seen as a traitor and an outsider by that time. Danzo knew Itachi wouldn't have agreed for the massacre, this is why he dragged Sasuke into it. Either Itachi kills the Uchiha or Danzo's men will do it, with Sasuke being their first victim.

He could have forced his father? Like his father didn't know already what was going on in his son's mind? Fugaku knew Itachi wasn't happy with the idea of the coup. He knew it when he apologized to Itachi before dying. He knew his son had condemned himself to a lifetime of hell with his final mission. He apologized for not being a good father to him.

It's strange that you quote stuff from the novels to put your stance but also keep repeating 'he chose the village' because anyone who's read the novels will know he resented both Danzo and Hiruzen and knew the village was a shit place. He was going to kill Danzo but was threatened/manipulated out of it. He was saddened that Hiruzen didn't even try to reach out to the clan even though he was a Hokage and that Shisui's death was for nothing. You also ignore how both the clan and the village treated him like shit. The clan was desperate, so it's understandable why they went to the extent they did, but it doesn't change the fact that it left him completely alone and with no one to put his trust into, and that played a major role in the massacre as well. Shisui's death broke him emotionally and mentally and destroyed his entire support system. Shisui had been the one handling the situation because he was not only older but also had his MS by that time. Shisui was going to stop the coup using Kotoamatsukami. Itachi was the one helping/supporting him, not planning things. It's his death that came to him like a brutal blow and left him paralyzed. Diplomacy should have been grown ups' business to tackle, who, on both the sides, treated him like a tool with no feelings and with no emotions. Instead of reaching out to talk and diplomacy, both the sides left their fate in the hands of an 11-year-old kid. Around the time of the massacre, Itachi wasn't even 13. Clearly, he was much younger when Shisui died, when the clan and the village started to put the heavy responsibilities on him.

In the massacre, the village was the only culprit. The clan had every right to be mad, but Itachi was still the worst victim of it. I've written more about it here, although it's focused on his treatment towards Sauske, but still understanding his psychology is important because all of it is interconnected. Apparently, in this fandom, whenever someone is analyzing Itachi's actions, his experiences, feelings, trauma, pain, guilt, regret, and sufferings are never taken into account, like you too dismissed it with a simple 'he was too young but he could have done xyz thing'. People will take every other character's feelings and emotions into consideration to analyze Itachi, but not his own. His trauma of witnessing the war played the most important role in how he came to view the world afterwards.

When you pin the whole blame on Itachi only, you're exempting Danzo, Hiruzen, the wars, Shinobi world from their responsibility that refuse to see kids as humans.