#me: oh. *descends to the underground*

[itadorey]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐏? — wriothesley

pairing: wriothesley x reader summary: after months of pestering, wriothesley finally gives in to charlotte's request for an interview, only to be surprised when you arrive at the fortress of meropide in her stead. genre: fluff, strangers to romance, kinda love at first sight, slightly awkward interactions notes: inspired by that line where charlotte says it's impossible to get an interview with the duke, i think wriothesley is def ooc but i also think he would be a decent flirt idk he has those vibes like he can definitely tease wc: ~4.2k

a shiver runs down your spine as the elevator you're on descends deeper underground, and you waste no time in exiting when you finally come to a stop and the doors open.

you carefully step out into the large hall, intuitively following the path as the elevator doors close behind you. the air feels even colder now that you're actually in the fortress of meropide, and you do your best to ignore the curious glances sent your way as you finally approach the front desk.

"hello! can i help you?" the receptionist, monglane, asks with a friendly smile. you take a moment to answer, too busy studying your surroundings as you lean forwards against the desk.

"um, yeah," you begin to say, pausing to shake your head lightly and give her a smile in return. "i'm with the steambird. i'm here to see the duke."

the receptionist's smile tightens considerably, and you manage to catch a glimpse of the mildly annoyed glint in her eye as she turns to shuffle some papers. "i'm afraid the duke doesn't have time for interviews today. you can always try requesting an appointment some other time."

"oh no!" you say hurriedly, waving your hands in an attempt to catch her attention. "i actually do have an appointment."

the skepticism in monglane's eyes is as clear as day, and you find yourself shrinking back when she studies you closely.

"so," she begins, hands dropping the papers she had previously been holding. "if i were to go get the duke and ask him if he has an appointment with the steambird today, he'd say yes?"

"yes," you respond confidently, tilting your head up slightly in a silent challenge. monglane sighs at your words, her lips parting to say something before someone else interjects.

"are you the reporter from the steambird?"

both you and monglane turn to face the newcomer, and the first thing you notice is how shockingly blue his eyes seem to be. you shift in place as his eyes trail over your form, studying him in return and barely registering the half-hearted smile he sends you before turning and giving monglane a nod. she nods once in return before giving you an apologetic smile, holding out her hand to press a visitor's pass into your palm.

"i am," you finally say, standing awkwardly as the man continues to stare at you. there's a slight clearing of the throat from monglane, and the soft noise seems to snap the man out of whatever thought he'd been lost in.

"you're not charlotte," is all he says, curiosity tinging his words as he motions for you to follow after him. you give monglane one last wave before trailing after him, reaching for the pen in your pocket as you introduce yourself. he repeats your name quietly, and you find your cheeks growing warm when you notice the look he sends you as he does so. "that's a pretty name. i'm wriothesley."

"it's an honor to finally meet you. charlotte sends her apologies," you say, choosing to dismiss his comment in an attempt to remain professional. you're scared a flirty remark might leave your lips otherwise. "she's recently fallen ill and asked me to go through with the interview for her. she walked me through all the acceptable topic and she also sends her thanks. she's aware that you're a busy man and both her and i want you to know that we're incredibly thankful you finally gave us the opportunity interviewing you."

"i thought it was about time," he says in return, shooting you a teasing grin as he leads you out of the tunnel. he sighs to himself as he wonders if you're deliberately ignoring his compliment, or only doing it to preserve your professionalism. the way you flush at his smile suggests that it's the latter. you remain silent as you finally step into what seems to be the center of the fortress of meropide, pausing in slight shock as your eyes take in the large structures around you.

the large tower in the center immediately catches your attention, and you let yourself turn in a slow circle, your eyes tracing the upper levels and taking note of the tunnels that seem to lead in and out of the central hub. you straighten up when you finally notice wriothesley standing in front of a door, his arms crossed as he watches you with an amused smile.

"may i take some pictures?" you ask sheepishly, tucking your pen back into your pocket before grabbing your kamera. you gesture vaguely to the room around you, unintentionally doing another turn and drawing out a soft chuckle from wriothesley. "i'm sure some pictures would only help people realize that the fortress of meropide is quite different from what they expect it to be."

"sure, knock yourself out," wriothesley says, nodding as he leans against the door behind him. you give him a smile in return before snapping a few pictures, doing your best to imitate charlotte's style of photography and capture images you think she might like. by the time you finish, wriothesley's eyes are still on you, and you find yourself unable to do anything but give him a sheepish smile.

"don't worry, i made sure that you're not in any of the images," you say quickly, nodding firmly as he gives you an unreadable look. "i know that was one of the interview requests."

"i don't mind," wriothesley blurts out before he can stop himself. he does his best to refrain from slapping his palm to his forehead as you give him a pleasantly surprised look, and he hopes that you don't notice the way he inhales sharply as you give him an excited smile. "i mean, as long as it doesn't end up on the front page."

"well then, may i?" you ask, fumbling with the kamera when he nods. you step forwards to position him in front of the door, making sure there's enough light to get a good picture. you're quick with your work, and before you know it, you have a picture of wriothesley standing in front of heavy metal doors, his arms crossed and the hint of a smirk on his face as he looks at the kamera.

it's a good picture, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks in it. you're half tempted to disregard his words and put him on the front page anyways.

"shall we continue?" wriothesley asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. you nod softly, following after him as he finally pushes the door open and immediately being engulfed in cool air. you thank him when he holds the door open for you, stepping into a smaller room and waiting for him as he shut the door behind him.

there's a brief silence as the two of you stare at each other, and you're suddenly very aware of the fact that you're alone with the (incredibly handsome) duke of the fortress of meropide.

"shall we continue?" you repeat softly, causing wriothesley to clear his throat and nod before going up the stairs. you follow after him, holding on tightly to the railing. the staircase lead to another room, and you take note of the bookshelves lining the wall behind a large desk, which seems to be covered in scattered papers. you avert your gaze as wriothesley darts forwards to gather them all up, placing them neatly into a drawer before gesturing towards the sofa.

"we can take a seat over there," he says calmly, taking note of the respectful way you avoided looking at his documents. he follows after you as you make your way towards the couch, settling into the comfortable cushions before bringing your pen and notepad out. a shiver makes its way down your spine as you make yourself comfortable, and you find yourself absentmindedly wondering if the entire fortress is as cold as wriothesley's office.

"are you cold?"

you let out a distracted hum, turning to face wriothesley as he looks down at you with a soft frown. a slight shake of your head is all you give when you finally process his question, only to receive a disbelieving look in return.

"it's okay," you reassure him, flipping your notepad open to the questions charlotte had prepped in advance. "nothing i can't handle."

"i can make us some tea, if you'd like?" he asks, reaching for the teapot sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

"oh no!" you protest, shaking your head as you reach forward in an attempt to stop him. your hand closes around his forearm, and wriothesley finds himself frozen in his spot as you smile up at him. "i wouldn't want to be a bother."

"i assure you it would be no bother," wriothesley says in an attempt to reassure you. he reaches forward with his free hand, picking up the teapot as you let him go with a quiet apology. "if anything, it would make sense to chat over a cup of tea, would it not?"

"well, if you insist," you respond softly. a comfortable silence ensues as as he busies himself with preparing the tea, his movements smooth and almost graceful as he feels your gaze on him the entire time. you're half-mesmerized, watching him as he prepares everything and ends up with a pot of steaming, perfectly brewed tea.

he almost stops in his tracks when he turns around and immediately meets your gaze, the sparkle in your eyes almost causing him to lose both his confidence and his grip on the tea tray. he hurries towards the couch to avoid any potential embarrassment, smoothly pouring out two cups of tea before settling into the couch.

you flinch slightly when he half-accidentally, half-purposely lets his thigh press up against yours.

"let's get started?" you ask after taking a sip of your drink. you take the opportunity to scoot a bit away from wriothesley, trying to maintain your composure as you set the teacup down and reach for your pen and notebook. you flip through the pages until you reach charlotte's neatly written inquiries, and you inwardly cringe at the thought of marring the page with your slightly messier scrawl.

you angle yourself in wriothesley's direction, raising an eyebrow in silent question when you don't receive a response. he nods his head hastily when he realizes he's been silently staring at you, and he puts his cup down next to yours before making himself comfortable. your mouth goes dry as he sinks back into the couch, and you avert your eyes when he casually throws one arm across the back of the couch.

"so," you begin, clearing your throat before leaning back against the armrest. "to start us off: what do you think makes the fortress of meropide different when compared to other prisons?"

there's a moment of silence as wriothesley ponders your question, and he tilts his head to side as he tries to come up with a good response.

"to begin with, i think people tend to forget that prisons aren't just made for criminals to serve out their punishments," wriothesley says slowly. you nod along to his words, glancing up at him every so often as you try to jot down everything he says. "people are sent here to serve out their sentences, yes, but this place also serves as a type of... rehabilitation, if you will. as you could probably tell, there has been a community established over the years. people do what they can to contribute and earn credit coupons and it's become a place where they can feel like they finally belong."

you hum in acknowledgment as you scribble down his response, the scratching of your pen filling the silence between the two of you. wriothesley takes the opportunity to observe you more closely, taking in the way your hair shines in the dim lighting and the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration. he fails to avert his gaze when you finally look up, too distracted by the way you fiddle with the notebook pages to realize you're asking him another question.

"pardon?" he spits out, tilting his head towards you slightly. "can you repeat the question?"

the corners of your lips twitch in amusement, and you simply nod before taking another glance down at your notes. "a lot of people credit the success of the fortress of meropide to you. would you agree with them?"

wriothesley nods absentmindedly, freezing slightly when he realizes his response can come off as a little cocky. you try your hardest to keep yourself from giggling at his actions, simply choosing to wait and see what else he has to add.

"i mean, i wouldn't take full credit," wriothesley finally says, nodding to himself in approval. "i can admit that the place wasn't the best when i first arrived, and after i got to the position i'm in now, i thought i owed it to myself and the others to help that sense of community grow. a lot of folks here aren't as bad as they seem, and i think that if they really want to atone for their crimes, who am i to make their life more difficult? besides, it's always helpful to have people like sigewinne around. they always do the most to keep the place running smoothly."

"that's very admirable," you comment, shooting him a quick smile. there's a pause in your words as you take another drink from your teacup, and wriothesley is quick to copy you, his knee bumping against yours as he leans forwards for his cup. the two of you freeze for a split second, and wriothesley feels his heart speed up just the slightest bit when you don't move away from him. a smile threatens to spread across his lips.

"why did you choose to stay down here and take on the role of warden instead of heading back up to the surface?" you ask once the two of you have emptied your cups. wriothesley freezes at your question, and you give him a confused look before you take another glance at the notebook only to freeze as well.

there, scribbled in the margin next to the question, is d.n.a.

d.n.a. do. not. ask.

you feel yourself flush with embarrassment as you scramble to apologize, half formed words leaving your mouth as you try to avoid looking at wriothesley. you curse yourself for not paying close enough attention, worry flooding your veins as you think about how charlotte might react to your interview fumble.

"i am so sorry. please forgive me, i didn't notice charlotte's note saying not to ask that. we can move on to the next question or we can even end the interview here if you'd like," you manage to say in one breath. there's a noticeable tremor in your hands as you neatly gather all your notes and shove them into the notebook, not even waiting for wriothesley's response before acting. you only stop when his hand wraps around yours, halting your movements and drawing your attention back to him.

there's a tense silence as you wait for him to speak, and you find yourself wondering if his eyes are more blue or silver. it should be easier to determine considering how close the two of you are, but the dim lighting make it harder for you to decide. you fail to notice the way his gaze briefly drops down to your lips.

"it's fine, i'll answer the question," wriothesley finally says. you're brought out of your thoughts when you hear him speak, and your eyes widen in surprised as he leans back and makes himself comfortable again.

"are you sure?" you ask softly, letting out a soft sigh when he raises an eyebrow. "i just mean that you don't have to if you don't want to."

"i'm sure," is all he says. he gives you a reassuring nod when you don't make a move to reach for your notebook, and you gingerly remove your hand from his when you realize you've been still for too long. you try to channel your professional persona once more, but the embarrassment from earlier still has you faltering slightly as you uncap your pen.

"alright, go ahead."

"as i said earlier, things weren't always the best down here," wriothesley begins, immediately capturing your attention when you notice his softer tone. "having credit coupons is incredibly important if you want to survive, and although sometimes people don't always recognize it, having connections is equally as important."

there's a brief pause as he waits for you to scribble down his words, and you nod firmly when you catch up, eager to hear what else he has to say.

"you also tend to get used to life down here," he adds, his gaze now focused on the teapot in front of him. "a lot of people don't want to return to the surface because their afraid of being judged for their actions. down here, it's as if they got some kind of new start. it becomes a sort of save haven for them, and they might even get to live a life they can say they're satisfied with.

"i had a rough experience when i was still serving out my sentence and thought i could change things for the better. as i said earlier, who am i to make their lives more difficult if they're willing to put work in. these people just wanted somewhere to lead well-ordered lives, and i gave them the 'tranquility' they required," wriothesley reiterates. "by the time my sentence was up, the position of warden had mysteriously opened up and i thought i could do a pretty good job at cleaning up and running the place. i've been able to fix most of the things that were wrong here when i was still an inmate and i haven't had many complaints yet."

"you haven't," you agree, nodding softly before giving him a smirk. "even neuvillette has been known to sing your praises from time to time."

wriothesley barks out a laugh, earning an amused huff from you as you continue to write. he watches you for a while before softly speaking up once more.

"why did you choose to work for the steambird?" he finally asks, interest lacing his tone as he leans forwards. you blink at him once, twice, before bashfully shaking your head, aiming your gaze back down to the notebook to finish writing your thoughts down.

"im afraid my story is nowhere near as interesting as yours," you murmur, glancing up when wriothesley huffs out a laugh.

"i'm sure that's not true," he replies easily, a smile tugging at his lips. "regardless, i'd still love to hear about it."

"maybe after we're done with charlotte's questions," you say noncommittally. the rest of the interview goes smoothly, your earlier blunder forgotten as your confidence returns. there's a lot of soft smiles and banter exchanged between the two of you, and you find yourself wondering why wriothesley always refuses interviews when it's clear that he's great at giving them.

you don't even entertain the notion that the only reason he's so willing to speak is because you're the one asking the questions.

"well, that's it," you finally say, scribbling a few more comments before carefully shutting the notebook. you look towards the other end of the room, catching sight of the large grandfather clock and doing a double take when you notice the time.

"i believe i'm still owed an answer to my earlier question."

you turn to see wriothesley giving you a playful look, and you huff out a laugh before standing.

"i'm sorry but i hadn't realized it had gotten so late," you say quietly, eyebrows furrowing as you give him an apologetic look. "i'd love to stay but i have another interview in an hour and i was hoping to ask sigewinne a few things as well before leaving the fortress."

"that's quite alright," wriothesley states as he stands up, motioning for you to follow him. "i suppose we'll just have to reconvene at a later date. come, i'll show you to the infirmary."

you can't help but smile at his words before trailing after him, following him down the staircase and out the heavy metal doors as you reemerge into the central hub.

"if you really want those answers, perhaps you'll consider scheduling another interview with me and charlotte," you propose airily when you're in the elevator, noticing the amused glance wriothesley shoots you out of the corner of your eye. "i'll answer your questions if you're willing to answer more of ours."

a chuckles leaves wriothesley's lips as he leads you out onto the upper level of the fortress, heading towards the right and passing one of the pipe tunnels. "is that so?"

you hum in agreement to his question, following him up a set of steel steps that lead into the next pipe tunnel. you steal a glance at him when he slows down to walk besides you, raising an eyebrow when lets out a breath.

"how about we talk over a cup of tea?" he asks, eyeing you briefly before continuing. "but just you and i? perhaps i can show you my favorite cafe in the city?"

the two of you come to a stop in front of the entrance to the infirmary, and you see sigewinne wave at the both of you before tidying up the table in front of her.

"i think that sounds marvelous," you chirp, unable to fight the grin spreading across your face.

"great," he says, unable to keep from staring at you.

"great," you parrot, feeling your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

"it's a date," he states, smiling when your eyes widen in slight surprise. he wastes no time before turning away from you, facing the head nurse who has been pretending not to hear your conversation. "sigewinne, i trust you'll help our guest with whatever they need? i'll take my leave now if there's nothing else you need."

you nod at his words, cheeks still feeling abnormally warm as you walk past him and enter the infirmary. your hand comes up to squeeze his arm in passing, and now it's wriothesley who finds himself with a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "thank you for your hospitality, wriothesley. it was a pleasure getting to interview you."

"trust me, the pleasure was all mine."

sigewinne resists the urge to turn around and give wriothesley a knowing look.

"so? how did it go? did you manage to get on his good side?" charlotte asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement even as she lays under a large pile of blankets. you barely have one foot in the door before she begins to interrogate you, and you laugh lightly as you approach her bed.

"i think so," you murmur in response, reaching out to feel her forehead and humming in delight when you notice her skin feels cooler to the touch. "your fever has broken."

"yay!" she giggles, wiggling underneath the blankets as she takes the glass of water you offer her. there's a moment of silence as she drinks, and you take the time to organize her notebook and neatly place your rewritten notes within the pages. you're so engrossed in your actions that you almost miss charlotte's next question. "but what do you mean by 'i think so'?"

"you tell me," you answer slyly, holding out the leather notebook. charlotte takes it from you eagerly, skimming through the pages and reading your notes. her jaw drops when she sees which questions had been answered, and she wastes no time before fixing you with a bewildered stare.

"he answered one of the questions on the 'do not ask' list?" she nearly shrieks, kicking her feet underneath her blanket in excitement. "i would've added a few more questions if i knew he'd be so willing to share!"

"i'm sure he wouldn't mind being asked a few more questions if they aren't too personal or invasive," you respond breezily, trying to make your next words seem casual. "maybe i could take some time and ask him the next time we meet for tea."

you easily take the glass from charlotte's bedside table, moving over to the carafe you had left on her dresser and refilling the cup. when you turn back around, you're met with an expression of exaggerated shock.

"what!" she hisses, hands tightening considerably around the notebook. you fight back a smile when she flings it to the side, motioning you towards her and waving away the glass of water. "what does that mean?"

"i may or may not have a date with wriothesley sometimes next week," you admit, smiling bashfully before turning and rummaging through your bag. "oh! before i forget, here's your kamera. i wanna get your opinion on the pictures i took."

"forget the pictures!" she exclaims, tossing the kamera onto the pillow next to her. "you have a date?"

"yes, a date," you confirm nodding and breaking out into giggles at the same time as charlotte. the two of you gasp for air as you finally settle down, and you find charlotte giving you an impish look. when you raise an eyebrow in question, she simply dissolves into giggles once more.

"a date! wow, who knew i was such a great matchmaker!"

ty for reading!! reblogs are appreciated <3

[spiralsdrop]

This is a hypnosis story I've always loved. If anyone knows who the author is I would love to give them the credit they deserve for this.

“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.

“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.

“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes I am,” he says.

Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.

“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.

“Should we?”

“We should! YOU should.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.

“Hypnotise Emma!”

“Yeah?”

“She REALLY wants to!”

He looks at me.

“Do you want to?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”

“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”

“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.

“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”

“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Where are we?”

“A bar.”

“What colour are the lights here?”

“Red.”

“Only red?”

“Some white.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Emma.”

”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”

I nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… fine.”

“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”

I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”

“This is crazy,” I mouthed.

”I told you it would be fun.”

I’m speechless.

“Keep going?”

I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”

His twinkling eyes lock mine.

“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”

“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Emma, listen.”

“I’m… please… I…”

“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

I would love to give proper credit to this author. If any of you know who wrote this please let me know so I can tag them and give them the credit they deserve.

[swampstew]

Tulips

Summary: sex pollen trope is infesting my brain.

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, dom/sub dynamics, exhibitionism because its outside sex but no one actually witnesses it, vaginal penetration, etc etc.

Minor Do Not Interact

"Oi, Y/N. Where are you going?" the brash voice of your Captain stopped you in your tracks.

"Explore a little since we're still here. Is that not ok?" the carefree smile on your face creased with worry.

You had been growing closer with Eustass Kid day by day since you had joined the crew. In retrospect it wasn't that long ago he found you on your island and invited you to join him on his adventures. You did what you could to stay on his good side, and every opportunity you spent with him seemed to drag slowly as you learned more about each other; you wouldn't have it any other way.

He lit up every corner of your mind even when he wasn't in your presence. Infiltrating every region of your brain with his sexy, brooding demeanor. That only seemed to perk up when you kept him company. At least, you hoped that's what you saw and felt, and not something you imagined.

"How many times do I gotta tell ya - don't leave the ship without telling one of the higher ups! Don't wanna lose you, dummy."

"Well there's nobody else here so I thought it was no big deal!" you stuck your tongue out at him, "I'll try to remember next time."

Kid's face broke out with an amused look, "If you fall down into some ancient, underground dwelling and no one hears you, what then? Or if you come across a carnivorous plant that tries to eat you, you think you'd regret not telling someone you'd left the ship?"

"Oh my gods stop with your whataboutisms, I get it, I'm sorry! If you're so worried about me, come along then," you resumed your walk to the gangplank.

"Let's go on a side quest," you beamed up at him. Hoping your smile would win him over so you could greedily hog his attention.

Not that he was never not willing to give it to you. He seemed to enjoy making you beg for it lately, so you were trying a new approach that didn't feel quite so...pathetic for your own sake.

Kid studied you with a piercing gaze, the grin on his face never leaving. Only growing wider.

"Just us hmm? Sure, I guess I can spare the newest, and weakest, member some one-on-one time so they can feel safe. It's a big, scary world out there."

"Byyyeeeeee," you waved as you descended the ship, leaving him with a gaping mouth.

"Hey wait up!"

---

The weather was just right, not blazing hot and just enough cover from the foliage to create an intimate atmosphere. You could talk to him about anything and everything it felt like.

Coming up on a small field of flowers, the sudden burst of color made you hover over them in appreciation. Kid was standing behind as you smelled them. Admiring the way your curves and body rounded you out so perfectly that it made his eyes glaze over.

You let out a sneeze, straightened your posture and continued your walk. Kid watched you silently before moving, falling in step with you before you ever noticed he was gone. Soon you met a fork in the path.

“Which way?” you asked him.

“I dunno,” he smirked. Pulling a handful of flowers from behind his back, he handed them to you, not looking at you but at the two routes. “Pull the petals or something.”

Stunned, you took them, “Oh! But these are so pretty, I don’t think I can.”

With a snort, he plucked a stem from your fingers and began, “Left, right, left, right…”

You fidgeted as you waited, a sudden warmth taking over you, making you clench the stems in your hand hard enough to make them wilt.

“Left, right, aaaaaand left,” he shook the remains of the pollen in the air as he tossed the last petal. With a cool touch of his metal hand on your hip, he gently pushed you on, “C’mon, the flower decided.”

A blush touched your cheeks as you wordlessly let him lead. Kid’s touch lingered for a few yards before he let go, suddenly walking ahead a little faster.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just scouting for a place to rest.”

You picked up your pace, yet you were no match against his long strides. He almost escaped your sight as he halted and let out a sigh of relief.

“This is a good spot. Hang out here, I need to take a leak.”

Without waiting for you, he jogged between the trees.

Perplexed, you reached a natural spring and some large, flat rocks stacked upon each other towering over the stream. You chose that spot to wait, enjoying the babble of water and low trill of insects in the breeze. Checking your watch every few minutes, you soon became impatient and rocked subtly against the stone, subconsciously seeking relief for a wispy ache.

After 15 minutes, you decided to look for your Captain. Maybe one of his wild warnings came true and he was impaled in a hole somewhere. Or he got lost. Neither option made you feel good. Thinking of his hulking, muscular body dirty and bloody, you bit your lip, gnawing on the idea of nursing him back to health in the wilderness all by yourself.

You heard frustrated curses and followed them to the source.

Eustass Kid, slamming through tree barks. The wood splintered from the impact, his mechanical arm not bothered by the strike moved on to the next tree. Grabbing the trunk with both arms—

--and rutting manically against it.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!! Go away!!!!” he bent his head down and seemingly screamed at himself.

“C-captain?” you stood a few feet from him, unsure if you should have called his attention or quietly run away while you had the chance. He seemed pissed.

Kid’s scowl should have sent your soul to the grave with how fierce it was, but the only thing you felt was your blood boiling and the ache in your body growing severely. You couldn’t help the way your body naturally shifted, thighs tightening and rubbing faintly.

He saw. His golden amber eyes never missed anything.

“Y/N,” his gravelly voice was lower than normal. Slowly, he stood to his full height and turned to you. A raging boner straining against his pants. “I-I think I’m having an allergic reaction or some shit,” he tried to explain.

Your eyes went from his face to his erection, to the flowers still in your hand. Cautiously you walked up to him, closing the distance he could feel your body heat despite not really being in contact with you. You dropped all but one to the ground, cradling the bulb in your palm as you put it in front of your faces.

And crushed it.

Puffs of pollen escaped between your fingers. Your body felt like it was a slow burning candle, and the fire was not where you yearned it to be. Kid’s pupils dilated they hardly left slivers of the color you love so much.

Your bodies crashed into each other with needy, hungry fervor. Kid’s lips devoured yours, metal hand clutching your body and pinning you to a nearby tree. You wrapped your hand around his covered cock and he let out a deep groan. He thrusted into your hand, hard enough that his body trapped yours against the tree, bucking with reckless abandon. It wasn’t long before you abandoned your grip and pulled yourself up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He eagerly accepted the change of pace, using his flesh hand to grab at your ass to stabilize his grinding directly between your legs. A lovely melody spilled from your lips as he kept up his ministrations, unwilling to let go now after hearing the beautiful sounds you made for him. When he wasn’t even inside you yet.

It was for that reason he took his time walking back to the spring while groping and making out with you. Slamming you against every other tree so he could pleasure you both, drawing out the anticipation with agonizing edging and teasing.

“K-Ki—” you couldn’t speak, desperation robbing your brain cells as tears streamed from your eyes. “Please!”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bit your lower lip. Quick to shed both your clothes, he laid you against the smooth rock, caressing your shoulder and hip as you felt his hardened length pressing against your core.

You let out a needy whimper, Kid kissed you as he pushed in. Feeling your mewling cries against his lips, his tongue slipped into your mouth and freed your voice.

It rose higher and higher with each thrust of his cock. His own wanton moans joining yours in chorus as you climbed your peaks together.

“Fuuuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned, panting heavily over you. “U-under different c-circ—”

You hushed him with a scrape of your nails against his back, “Me-me too! Don’t stop, don’t—”

Kid shifted and grabbed your legs to sit higher on his hips, slamming into you deeply. The edges of your being felt hazy as your core tightened. Your walls fluttered around him as he rolled his hips, your moans coming out near breathless as your orgasm washed over you.

You clamped on his cock with a strangled shriek, head hitting the stone and nails digging into his arms as you came. A veil of white flooded your vision as you rode the wave, feeling your body moving with his in synchrony. Sweet moans spilled from your lips with every slap of his balls against your sopping cheeks.

Kid’s hips stuttered, letting out a choked cry as his hips pistoned faster. You felt his cock twitch before it left your gummy walls. He jerked his hand on his cock and when that wasn’t enough he pressed his length against your quivering lips, tip of the head nestled over your clit, and rut his hips until he came.

You could feel the hot spurts land on your belly, smearing and spreading between your bodies as he kept going. Pushing you both to the point of overstimulation.

“I can’t I can’t fuck I don’t want to stop!!” he roared, burrowing his fingers deep into your skin to leave bruises.

You answered with your own grinding, hungry for so much more. With each slide of his cock, your stomach coiled, wounding tightly quickly.

When you came, it was pain, pleasure, euphoria, hysteria, and tingling numbness all at once as your body tensed and pulsed. You felt the wave crest and then wetness on you. Then hotter, heavier droplets as Kid followed you with his own bliss.

A pool of fluids mixed between your bodies as you stayed locked in position, both of you catching your breaths, hearts beating wildly against each other.

“I meant it,” he finally muttered. Raising his head to look at you, rubbing his fingers on your jaw, “I did and still do. Meant to wine and dine you first.”

You smiled tenderly, half-lidded eyes drinking him in, “You still can. I’ve been wanting that very much.”

“Yeah?” he leaned to kiss your cheek, his slight movements triggered his arousal as he swelled against you. “What else have you been wanting from me?”

“A few things,” you let out a shy giggle, “Want to try some of them out while we’re here?”

Kid grinned widely, “You can have me for as long as you’d like.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the aphrodisiacal effects of the flowers you inhaled will last for several, several hours.

[mypearlsareclutched]

Look at You, Looking at Me

High By The Beach | Prologue

Modern!Aemond x Original Female Character

Otto Hightower hatches a plan to fix his second grandson's reputation by dating the it-girl of Westeros. Aemond is not up for it, but maybe Otto is on to something.

This is a prologue to the story, giving a bit of context to Aemond and Mila's relationship.

Song inspiration | High By The Beach, Lana Del Rey

CW//TW: Sexual Content (MDNI, 18+), drug use, alcohol consumption, Targaryen daddy issues, smoking, fuckin in a bathroom, brief allusions to grooming, Westeros except it's England, football European style. Referring to a cigarette as a 'fag', because British. Oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, tit sucking. Writing this from horny jail.

Word count | 4.8k

next chapter

The heavy bass shakes the floor beneath Mila’s feet. Her blocky platforms vibrate, though the movement of her own dancing distracts her hazy mind. Music seeps into her veins, the Molly she had taken earlier making her entire body feel like a gentle tidal wave, her arms light above her as she dances. Her eyes are closed, letting the evening wash over her, oblivious to the world around her-

“Mila! Mila, come on, we gotta go!”

She opens her eyes, blinking in the low, fluorescent lights to see the panicked face of Baela Targaryen.

“Baela! Dance with me, sexy.” Mila giggles rolling her shoulders and hips to her own rhythm.

“No, Mila. Sweetie, come on! Jace texted me, there are press outside, we need to go! Now!” Without another word, Baela grabs Mila’s arm, pulling her gently through the gyrating crowd on the dance floor. The world around her is a blur of colours, the gleaming moonlight shine of Baela's hair brightening when the pair escape out into the night.

Immediately, people yell out, and cameras flash around them. Baela covers her own face, wrapping a protective arm around Mila. Rhaena, Baela's twin, appears on Mila's other side, tugging her towards their parked limo.

Inside is much quieter, and Mila slumps against a chair, smiling at Jacaerys Velaryon, who sits at her side.

"You look rough." Jace chuckles, flicking her nose.

"For fucks sake!" Baela yells as she slams the car door, running a hand over her mussed curls.

Jace hands Mila a blunt, and she takes it eagerly, blinking at the camera flashes outside the car.

“Oh, seven hells, we’re fucked!” Rhaena groans, “Dad’s going to kill us.”

“Forget him, Rhaenys’ is going to kill us twice.” Baela sighs, rubbing her eyes, "I thought this place was supposed to be underground, how did they find us?"

"Must have followed us from Storm's End." Jace shrugs, taking a hit from the joint before passing it to Rhaena, "I think Larys Strong sent out a memo."

"Fucking reptile." Baela spits.

The rest of the conversation goes over Mila's head, as she stares out the window at the stars in the sky.

Aemond taps his fingers on the glass table, staring at his grandfather with a sneer. Otto casts a scrutinizing look over the newspaper in front of him, humming occasionally as he reads the front page. A silence had descended upon the dining room after Otto's opening statement to his grandson, plunging the one-eyed man into a deep and contemplative silence.

“Morning, dear.” Alicent greets her son absentmindedly as she hurries through the kitchen, “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine.” Aemond grumbles, poking his tongue into his cheek. Otto sighs as he finally looks up, rubbing over his forehead as he regards his grandson.

“Well?” Otto sighs.

“Well?” Aemond counters, narrowing his eyes at the older man.

“Well.” With a swift move, the newspaper slides in front of Aemond, who looks down at irt disdainfully.

The front page displays a slightly blurred photo, depicting a group of women being ambushed by paparazzi. Aemond recognises his cousins, Baela and Rhaena. But the girl in between them he does not recognise. The headline reads ‘Dragon Sisters join the She-Wolf in a night of partying and drugs in the Silk Streets!”

“The She-Wolf?” Aemond chuckles mirthlessly, gazing over the rest of the article without any interest.

“Emiliana Stark, known to most simply as Mila. She is Cregan Stark’s younger sister.”

“The footballer?” Aemond had heard of him. He was a pretty big deal, having been scouted for his centre-back skills a few years back, and quickly becoming one of the most high paid footballers in the North, soon to be all of Westeros. Mila, however, had a completely different reputation.

“The party-girl?" Aemond sneers.

"Aemond, be nice." Alicent scolds, barely looking up as she rushes around, grabbing her coffee before walking out.

Aemond rolls his eyes before looking back to his grandfather, "The girl who spends most of her days drunk and high with other famous people, people with real talent?”

“Yes, that one.” Otto says with a roll of his eyes.

“You want me to pursue her? Have you gone mad?”

“Pursue who?” Halaena asks as she enters the kitchen, her hair a wild mess as she has just stumbled out of bed, the faint smell of weed following her.

“Mila Stark.”

“Aemond’s pursuing Mila?” Halaena asks, blinking in confusion.

“You know her?” Otto raises his eyebrows.

“She’s close with Baela and Rhaena, I’ve met her at a couple of their gigs.” Halaena shrugs, “She’s nice. She held my hair back when I had too much to drink, and sat outside with me when I got overwhelmed by the music.”

“Was she high when this was happening?” Aemond grumbles.

“Aemond.” Says Otto warningly.

“She might have been, but she was still lovely.” Halaena smiles, taking an apple and biting into it, “Why should Aemond pursue her?”

“Because he needs someone new on his arm.” Otto says simply. Aemond bristles, and Halaena’s eyes widen slightly.

Aemond’s relationship with Alys Rivers was a difficult one. She was a therapist, a highly paid one. And she was Aemond’s therapist since he was sixteen. A few months back, they were spotted together, and it made headlines. Both their reputations took a hit. She was twenty years his senior, in a position of power over him. The arrangement ended not long after that, under Otto’s instruction. Aemond knew it was not healthy, but he couldn’t help falling in love with her. And it was too fresh to want to start a new relationship.

“Otto-”

“Aemond, I know.” Otto sighs, “It is not ideal. However, your… relations, with that woman, has hurt your reputation, and the reputation of the company.”

“How is me dating a druggie party girl going to help it?”

“It’s not like she’s shooting heroin in the Big Brother confessional booth, Aemond. She goes out, has a good time, and only occasionally is photographed by press looking worse for wear.”

“Like Lindsay Lohan.” Halaena smiles.

“But without the arrests.” Otto says firmly, “Despite what the press tries to paint her as, the public love her. She has made the right connections in the entertainment industry, she has modelled and appeared in music videos with well known artists, she is known as a kind hearted girl who loves her family. Mila Stark is well known, well respected, and simply… needs guidance.”

“Please.” Aemond scoffs.

“You and her could form a powerful couple.” Otto says, sitting down beside Aemond, “Two young individuals with difficult pasts, coming together to form new reputations for both of you.”

"Gods." The young man sighs, rising from his chair.

"If you ever want to inherit your father's company then you will rebuild your reputation, Aemond." Says Otto finally, before he rises as well, and leaves the room in a blur of green and grey.

Halaena looks to her brother, his rigid posture and stormy eye as he glares down at the paper in front of him.

"She's not so bad, Aem." She says softly, "Give her a chance, maybe you'll like her."

"She's a useless party animal who loves booze and getting high, taking no responsibility and refusing to abandon her wild youth. Remind you of anyone?" Aemond snaps.

Halaena presses her lips together, shaking her head before going to leave. With a final look to her brother, she says, "Aegon's trying. I'm sure Mila is too."

Aemond watches her leave, before looking back down at the newspaper.

“Why are we even going to this?” Mila sighs, adjusting her lip-gloss as she glares at her brother. Cregan rolls his eyes, flicking her nose playfully.

“We were invited by the Targaryen’s themselves to attend this gala. What were we going to say, no?” Cregan scoffs, rolling his neck. He himself did not feel comfortable dressing up in a suit and readying to spend the evening with a bunch of rich people, but he knew it was good for making connections.

The pair stand beside Cregan's chevy corvette, staring up at the grand hall which was hosting the Targaryen's gala. It was an illustrious event, the family ran investment bank was booming despite the CEO's declining health.

“It’s so… uppity.” Mila chuckles, looking at the stone building surrounded by classy people milling about.

“That’s Kingslanding for you.”

“Why did they even invite us?”

“We’re going up in the world, Emmie.” Cregan smiles, bumping his sisters shoulder, “We’re influential figures. I’m Christiano Ronaldo and you’re Paris Hilton, without the sex-tape.”

“First of all, don’t call me that, Creggie.” Mila rolls her eyes,. “And second, give it time. I know Larys Strong has been sniffing around Jason Lannister trying to get some nasty stuff on me.”

“Gross. You didn’t shag Jason Lannister did you?”

“No… but his cousin Cerelle has a few stories to tell.”

“Whore.”

The two laugh as they approach the large glass doors, eyes widening as staff open it and immediately swarm them to take their coats and offering them champagne.

“Velaryon is over there.” Cregan states, pointing out Jace in the crowd, standing proud beside his mother Rhaenyra. Jace is one of Cregan's teammates, and also Viserys Targaryen's grandson, “I’m going to go say hi.”

“Give him a big old kiss from me.” Mila winks.

“Freak.” Cregan laughs, ruffling her hair before wandering off to greet Jace.

“On the lips!” Mila calls after him, giggling as he glares at her before he disappears into the crowd. Nerves suddenly hit her, and she looks around for anyone she knows.

Most of the Targaryens were in attendance. Viserys Targaryen stands rigid with his wife, looking sickly. Cancer sucks. Alicent Targaryen looks radiant on his arm, much younger and glowing. While Mila watches her, she notices Alicent's eyes keep flickering to another man nearby. Tall, dressed in a suit, Dornish. He is a member of security, and his eyes are on Alicent as well. Juicy, Mila thinks, smiling to herself.

Viserys is talking to his brother, Daemon, Baela and Rhaena’s father. They’re not close, and the Dragon Sister’s avoided coming here in favour of spending time with their grandparents. Ever since Rhaenys, their grandmother, had taken over management of their band, they had been happier, avoiding the money hungry clutches of their family.

And quite a big fucking family, Mila realises, as she spots more blonde heads dotted around. Another silver-haired man stands with the CEO. Young, mid teens, eager eyes which display none of Alicent's sadness and Daemon's ruthlessness. One of Viserys’ and Alicents many offspring, possibly.

“Hi!” A chipper voice calls. Mila turns, as a smiling blonde woman approaches her.

“Halaena!” Mila greets, eagerly accepting her hug.

“You remembered me!” Halaena beams, the arms of her purple dress smothering the pair as she holds onto her.

“How could I forget?” Mila smiles, holding her at arm's length to inspect her, "You look so beautiful."

Halaena gives her a toothy grin as she spins, her dress floating around her. It is decorated with embroidered dragonflies, and sparkles under the light.

"I'm glad you are here, I don't know anyone." The Targaryen confesses, her face dropping slightly as she looks around the large hall.

"Oh, sweetie, do you want to go outside?" Mila remembers once holding Halaena's hand as they escaped the loud music of a club, the blonde being overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd.

"I'm okay..." Halaena gives her a weak smile, "Why are you here, She-Wolf?"

"Otto Hightower invited Cregan." Mila shrugs, "Apparently the invite said to bring a plus one, with a little note implying he should bring his sister."

The Targaryen looked contemplative, humming slightly as her eyes drift to her family, "Yes. That makes sense."

"Hm?" Mila asks, tapping her crimson-painted nails against her glass of champagne, not paying much mind to the blonde's expression.

The two speak for a while, catching up and sharing stories. Halaena eagerly tells Mila all about her collection of creepy crawlies and various pets, especially her pet snake, Dreamfyre. Apparently she wanted to bring the albino reptile to the gala, but Alicent stopped her. Mila expresses how she would love to meet Dreamfyre, and Halaena's face glows like a star, glee evident in her doe eyes.

"Dreamfyre will love you." Halaena sighs happily, "I'll be so glad when we're family."

"What-?"

"Halaena!" Alicent calls, beckoning her daughter over to speak with Jeyne Arryn. Halaena pouts, before giving Mila a soft smile, poking her cheek and drifting off like a purple and silver cloud. Mila watches her walk away, blinking.

"I see you've met my aunt." Jace says as he sidles up to her, finishing his champagne with a final gulp as he looks around the room.

"She's an enigma." Mila smiles, fondness for Halaena and Jace in her eyes, "Having fun, Velaryon?"

"Bucket loads." He sighs, shaking his head to get a brown curl out of his eyes, "You?"

"I've just been standing here in my corner, talking with the best Targaryen."

"Good game plan."

"Where's Cregan gone?"

"Vanished into thin air." Jace rolls his eyes, "Mum was showing both of us off to everyone, I turned around for two seconds and, poof, gone."

"I'll come and catch up with her soon." Rhaenyra had been something of a surrogate mother to the two Stark children. Ever since their parents had passed away in a car collision eight years ago, Rhaenyra and her husband Laenor had opened their arms to them. But it was not easy for Cregan and Mila, having lost their parents at seventeen and fifteen, both had ways of coping. Mila's had not been so healthy... Guilt lingered in her mind for the things she had done in her late teens, causing everyone around her grief. But alas, the Velaryons never held it against her.

"Why's Otto Hightower looking at you?" Jace asks, furrowing his brow. Mila follows his line of sight, raising an eyebrow when she makes eye contact with the man himself. Steely eyes hold hers, and he says something to the man standing next to him. Whoever it is, is Targaryen blonde, but the rest of him is hidden by the crowd.

"I don't know." Mila shrugs, "Perhaps he's going to ask me to do a line in the bathroom."

"How dare he steal my idea." The brown haired man wiggles his eyebrows, and Mina tuts.

"I thought the Direwolves have a big game this week?" Mina tilts her head, feigning disappointment, "If I get the star midfielder high, everyone will think I'm some kind of delinquent."

"Pretty please." Jace pouts, "How about we just smoke a spliff?"

"Tempting, but I'm not getting high with you again when your mother is around. Remember when you fell from the window last Summer?"

"I was fine!" He defends.

"No way in the seven hells am I facing the wrath of the dragon again, Velaryon."

"Goody two-shoes." Jace rolls his eyes, elbowing her. They remain silent for a second, the chatter and gentle violin music sounding like white noise, "Gods, this is so boring, I would rather be watching paint dry."

"Go and mingle, you child."

"Is that what you're doing?" Jace raises an eyebrow, "Mingling?"

"I'm mingling with the voices in my head."

"Okay, Professor X, why don't you try mingling with Otto Hightower." Jace nods to where Otto begins walking towards them, storming in long confident strides, "That is a man on a mission."

"Maybe he's trying to hit?" Mila chuckles, though she starts to feel nervous, "Or call me a slur?"

"Want me to distract him?" He says with a cheeky grin, a plan forming in his eyes. Any excuse to liven this party up.

"Please. As distracting as possible."

"You owe me a spliff and a blow job." The Velaryon goads with a wink as he runs his hands through his hair and puts his champagne flute down.

"You're fucking gross." Mila laughs, readying to run away from Otto Hightower and Jace's distraction skills.

"Love you too." Jace smirks.

As stoically as possible, Jace walks over to a clearing in the room, before gasping dramatically and falling down, clutching his calf like he was shot by a sniper.

"Gods! I'm down, I'm down! Oh, the horror! A young, devilishly handsome man struck down in his prime!" He bellows.

The dramatic howling catches the attention of many, the crowd moving like a tidal wave over to aid the fallen man. Otto gets entangled in the mess, and Mila slips away with a badly hidden smile.

Gods, which one of the hells am I in? Mila sighs, stepping out into the cool night air.

The gardens are huge, but the patio is filled with well-dressed individuals. Walking away from them, Mila wanders further into the dark, entering a darkened hedge maze.

Surrounded by shadows and leaves, she can finally release a breath as the sound grows further and further away. Pulling out her pack of cigarettes, she picks one out and puts it between her lips, searching in her purse for her lighter.

"Bollocks." Mila sighs, throwing her head back in frustration, "Why, gods, why?"

"Need a light?" A voice asks, and Mila turns her head.

He stands across from her in the maze, shadowed in darkness. The cherry of a cigarette shines like a tiny sun pinched between his fingers, and when he brings it up to take a drag, his face is illuminated.

He’s beautiful. Sharp, angular features. Full lips, a jaw that could cut glass. His eyes is covered in a leather patch. Aemond Targaryen. Second son of Viserys. Private, intelligent, infamously handsome but wildly unapproachable.

"If you wouldn't mind." Mila smiles.

With a flick of his wrist, a metal lighter flies through the air. Mila catches it with both of hers, flicking it open and lighting her cigarette.

"Appreciated." She thanks, sighing out smoke as the nicotine floods her mind.

They remain in silence for a moment, the wind whistling around them. Mila looks up at the sky, feeling her skin tingle as the strange Targaryen watches her.

“And who are you?” Mila asks, though she knows who he is.

“Aemond.” He answers, “Targaryen.”

“I guessed that.” She smirks, holding up the lighter. She tosses it back, and he catches it. With a step, he comes out of the shadows.

There's something intense about him, his face statuesque in both beauty and stillness. His one eye looks her up and down, his hand twitching at his side before he lifts it to take another drag. He seems almost nervous, but keeping his thoughts to himself as he regards her.

"Like what you see?" Mila asks, raising an eyebrow as she puts out her fag. Aemond blinks at her, remaining silent as he flicks ash off his own cigarette. But his body language is taunt, his jaw flexing as he looks over her figure hugging dress.

She saunters over to him, pinching the cigarette and bringing it to her own lips, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He watches her, his one eyes flitting between her lips and her eyes, his adam's apple bobbing.

"You're dangerous." Aemond murmurs, the words escaping before he can stop them.

"Oh, you have no idea." Mila says, licking her lower lip as she offers the cigarette back. “Sorry, got lipgloss on your fag. It’s strawberry flavoured.”

Aemond looks down at her hand, before leaning down and taking the cigarette between his lips, smoking it from her hand. Mila's heart races as he remains staring at her, his larger hand coming up to ghost over hers.

The air is alight with tension, sharing each other's space as they smoke from the same cigarette, Aemond allowing Mila to hold it as she presses it to his mouth, the act sensual and sending sparks through them. Before the cigarette ends, Aemond brushes his lips over her fingers, and she shudders.

With the cigarette crushed beneath her heels, Mila looks up at Aemond, holding his intense eye contact.

"Thanks for the light, handsome."

With that, she walks away, hips swaying. She knows he’s watching. And it feels exhilarating. Aemond stares at her, his blood pumping as he takes a shuddering breath.

Returning Mila returns to the gala, all excitement leaves her body when she looks around at the bland and pompous party.

Jace has risen from his injured stance, listening abtly as an attratcive woman talks to him, brushing his curls from his face as she looks up at him worredly. As Mila walks by, he throws her a wink, and she pokes her tongue out.

"There she is!" Rhaenyra calls out, opening her arms to pull Mila into a firm hug. Mila holds her close, her body releasing all tension at the familiar feeling. Rhaenyra's expensive perfume fills her senses, the soft fabric of her dress brushing against her bare arms.

"You look lovely, Nyra." Mila smiles, and Rhaenyra takes her hands, beaming.

"What about you?" Rhaenyra squeezes her hands, "What a beautiful woman you've grown into, sweet girl."

"Don't say that, her ego will get even bigger!" Jace's younger brother, Luke, says. Mila ruffles his curls, hugging him too.

"Saw you in the news." Rhaenyra says, raising an eyebrow, "Been having fun, dearest?"

"Taking a page out of your back, Realm's Delight." Mila teases, earning a playful swat.

"Watch your tongue, missy." The three laugh.

"Laenor not here?" Mila asks, looking around for the man.

"Joffrey is having a sleepover at his friends, Laenor decided to stay back and be on call if something goes wrong." Rhaenyra eyes her younger son, who is distracted by a platter of food, "He and Qarl are having a guys night."

"Ah." Mila smiles. She was well aware of Laenor and Qarl's relationship. Rhaenyra and Laenor got married when Rhaenyra got pregnant at seventeen. The two were best friends, and only did it to make sure there was no backlash on the Targaryen heir. Laenor and Qarl had been together for years, and Rhaenyra had her fair share of partners through the year. Currently she was seeing her yoga instructor, Mysaria. Mila didn't care, all of them were happy, or unaware.

"How are you, darling?" Rhaenyra asks, taking Mila's hand, "Really?"

"I'm fine." Mila smiles, "Nothing... bad, has happened."

"Good." Rhaenyra smiles, relief on her face, "Remember you can talk to me if anything happens."

"I will. I promise." It's been three years since Mila had touched a needle. It had almost ruined her life. She was alright, at the moment, and had no need for that escape.

Leaving Rhaenyra and Luke to go and search for Cregan, Mina walked out into an adjacent hallway, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. Hushed, angry voices echoed from down the corridor, and Mina followed them cautiously, curiosity getting the best of her.

Around a corner, she watches as Otto Hightower and Aemond Targaryen heatedly talk, vicious words slicing through the air. Otto says something firmly and finally, turning on his heel and storming away. Aemond watches him leave, his face tight in a scowl and his eyes conflicted.

An idea strikes the Stark, biting her lip as she runs a hand through her hair.

Making her way over to Aemond, he gives her a questioning look as she approaches, clearly not expecting her. When she comes to stand in front of him, she offers her hand with a raised eyebrow.

"Come with me." She whispers.

After a moment's hesitation, he takes it. She leads him away, pushing into the bathroom adjacent to the hallway. Closing the door behind them and locking it, she presses her lips to his.

Aemond freezes in confusion, before kissing her back. It's fast, rough. Teeth scraping and tongues meeting, Mila twists her hands into Aemond's hair, tugging it slightly at the root. The Targaryen groans low in his throat, pushing her backwards to press her against the sink.

Mila pulls back, and Aemond's lips chase hers. She laughs breathlessly, as he stares down at her with a lust filled eye. Leaning forwards to nip his lower lip, she descends down him, hands swiftly undoing his belt and pulling out his half-hard cock.

She takes him in her mouth, wrapping her lips around him before pushing her head down, taking him as far as he will go. Aemond gasps from above her, his large hand wrapping itself around her hair to ground himself. Mila bobs her head, her tongue flicking over his sensitive tip, causing Aemond to groan, throwing his head back.

"Fuck..." He breathes, closing his one eye as his body thrums.

Mila moans around him, sucking him hard as he throbs inside her, his precum leaving a salty taste in her mouth. He tugs on her hair, pulling her off of him and upwards, kissing her harshly.

Pushing her back against the sink, Aemond's fingers lift up her skirt, thin digits pulling Mila's panties to the side. He plunges two fingers into her, scissoring her wet cunt open. She rewards him with a choked mewl, spreading her legs for him.

Worked up and throbbing, the Targaryen wastes no time in shucking her skirt up around her waist, stepping in between her legs and hooking her knees around his hips.

"Condom?" Aemond asks, the thought suddenly hitting him.

"I've got an IUD." Mila says breathlessly, "And I'm clean. You?"

"Spotless." Aemond growls, before pushing her backwards against the sink and slamming inside of her.

Mila gasps, eyes rolling back as Aemond bottoms out, his svelte hips pressing against her thighs. He's huge and thick, splitting her open on his cock. Aemond groans, head hanging as his eyes clenches shut, body shuddering at the euphoric feeling of her surrounding him so tight.

"Move, please..." Mila pleads, and Aemond immediately retreats, leaving the tip in before thrusting back into her harshly, repeating the action in hurried movements. The pace is breakneck, Mila has to grip onto the edges of the sink as she is thoroughly fucked by the Targaryen man in front of her.

Aemond is a mess of groans and gasps, sweat shining on his forehead as he pummels into the She-Wolf. The breathless moans she releases motivates him further, his mouth hanging open and his eye rolling back as she clenches on him. It's never felt like this before...

Gripping onto the front of her dress, Aemond pushes it down, revealing her lace bra. Mila unclips it from the front, giving Aemond the access he badly needs. Leaning over her, he captures her nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it as he fucks her with abandon. Releasing incoherent babbles, she grips onto his hair, holding him in place as she moves her hips to his rhythm.

Neither of them last long, the pleasure of their brutal coupling and the thrill of fucking a stranger in the bathroom sending them both careening towards the egde.

"I'm so... c-close." Aemond grits out, his nails digging into Mila's soft thighs as his balls tighten.

"Fuck, I'm right there with you baby." Mila moans, pulling his hair tighter as her peak creeps up her.

Releasing a long breathless curse, her orgasm crashes over her, her body seizing and her cunt gripping on Aemond harshly. Aemond splutters, thrusting harshly thrice before he releases, his hips flexing and his one eye screwing shut. Devoid of strength, he slumps against her, his sweaty forehead pressed against her bare chest.

The bathroom is filled with pants as the two regain their breath, Mila wordlessly carding her hands through the moonlight coloured tresses of Aemond Targaryen, and he sighed against her, content.

Blinking around the room, she catches sight of her fucked out face in the mirror, her makeup streaming down her face.

"Fuck. I gotta fix my eyeliner." Mila laughs, and she was sure she could hear Aemond breathlessly chuckle against her.

Mila left the bathroom first, fixing her hair subtly as she looked around. The corridor was empty, the sounds of the gala were muffled against the thick walls. Checking her phone, the time was eleven. Cregan was probably looking for her to make some excuse for them to leave.

The bathroom door opens, and Aemond pokes his head out, looking around with a wide, singular eye.

"The coast is clear, casanova." Mila whispers, laughing as Aemond flushes slightly. He steps out, straightening his tie and avoiding her eyes, appearing almost sheepish. Like he didn't just fuck the shit out of her.

Mila tries to bite back a smile, looking away from him to take a breath. Her hand is still wrapped around her liquid liner, flicking it around her fingers. Making up her mind, she turns to him, taking his wrist in her hand. He gives her a questioning look, but allows it. Using her eyeliner, she writes her phone number.

"Call me." She smirks, "If you find yourself bored and freshly scolded, I'll come fuck you in the closest bathroom."

With that, she turns on her heel and walks back down the hallway. Aemond watches her go, his heart thudding in his chest.

Maybe she’s not so bad after all.

AN// Maybe she's not, Aemond. Maybe she's not. Tune in for chapter two when both Aemond and Mina get some post-nut clarity and the angst begins. Sending love.

Lula x

[paranoid-rhythm]

「Chaldea Treasure Hunting!」 Oberon Edition (Translation)

Oberon: Time to embark on an unforgettable adventure with this fairy king Oberon!

.....................

Guda: It's a city of steam!

Oberon: Hey, you're a youngster from the 21st century, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be used to this kind of city? Well then again, I can understand your excitement. 

Even though it's the same consumer civilization as yours, I guess you find that there is a certain allure in this scenery. It's a city that retains its medieval charm while being dominated by a primarily industrial design, I guess being able to imagine such a contradictory world is one of humanity's strengths.

Guda: You're a reliable companion!

Oberon: Well, of course! If it's a request from you, this Fairy King Oberon will fly over to you with all his might! Though well, it did take me a quite a while to change into these clothes, but I hope you forgive me for that. After all, we're going to an adventure! So I have to be stylishly dressed, right? 

Now then, according to this steam observation clock, it seems that the Holy Grail of blessings is somewhere underground. If we find it, we'll gain a lot of QP, right? Time to go all out to repay my debts!

.....................

Oberon: Honestly, stairs of all things? In a city of clockwork? Not even a single transport mechanism?! I guess we'll just have to accept this fact and take the long way down. It'd be much easier if only I could fly, but as you know, my wings are just ornamental. Maybe I should go to Da Vinci and ask her to make a mechanical glider for me. No, maybe a jet pack is saferー...

Guda: Oberon...! Wait!

Oberon: Hmm? Did you say anything? Whoa there! Sorry, sorry, I got distracted. Wait, is our faces kind of close right now? Are you okay? Pfft... Haha... Hahahahaha! Just what kind of expression are you making! Too bad it's dark in here, if I had a camera, I would've taken a snapshot of it! 

Guda: Are you telling me my face looks weird?

Oberon: Whoa, sorry about that. I don't mean anything bad by that. I'm telling the truth. It's just that, it's an expression I've never seen you make before. It’s not the nervousness in battle, it's not the fear of death, it's something child-likeー... no, it's nothing. Saying it out loud just cheapens it. 

Anyway, forget that! Right now, there's only the two of us, alone in this underground passage. It's not like there's a terrifying enemy waiting for us ahead, so let's take it easy and enjoy this uncharted journey together!

The path ahead looks like it's going to get even narrower, so hold my hand, and let's keep moving forward. It's so you won't stray far from me, come on now, give me your hand.

.....................

Oberon: Looks like we've descended quite a bit. Oh! This seems to be the lowest level. All that's left is a straight path from here. Everything’s going smoothly! Hm? 

Huh? What is it? Is it coming from behind us? 

What in the world? This is unexpected! Let's run, Master! 

Just how persistent are these guys! And to top it off, I think there's even more of them now! 

Ah, I see light shining up ahead! Let's keep going!

Huh?! There's no road?! We're gonna fall, Master! Give me your hand!

Guda: Oberon!!!

- The Master and Oberon clung to each other as they fell. -

Oberon: Is this what they call "drowning in schemes and strategies," huh? I didn’t expect the path would collapse. Oh well, I’m used to falling. It’s just that this time, I'm a bit more entangled into something.

.....................

Oberon: Oww... Ah, Master, are you okay? 

It's hard to believe there's so many flowers blooming down here, right? As long as there is life, there will always be flowers blooming somewhere. Water, sunlight, flowers, insects, and greenery, they're all part of the cycle after all.

That's right. I'm the one who left the Holy Grail there. Because I heard that you were going to go on an adventure.

It's all true that I was asked to do this. However, it wasn't as calm as I expected it to be for the Master. Things didn't go as expected, but today is a day of celebration for you, right? What's important isー

Nemo Marine: Captain! I've found Oberon! 

Nemo Marines: We've found him!

Nemo Professor: It's all a farce! Oberon-shi has been persistently rejecting all communication attempts.

Captain Nemo: We've finally connected to you. Oberon, is the Master alright? The communications suddenly cut off when you went underground though. 

Oberon: Oh my, I didn't know about that~! The Master is fine and has successfully retrieved the Holy Grail. It's no problem over here. 

Nemo Engine: Then hurry up and return already! Your scolding will come after that!

Nemo Nurse: Fufu, if you have any injuries, I'll take care of them, so please feel free to come to me.

Captain: Everyone, shut up for a moment! Oberon, Master, it's great that you two are safe. I'd like for you both to take your time and explore the city. And if possible, I'd like for the both of you to take a lot of photos of the scenery for future reference. There's a lot of vehicles in a clockwork city, right? 

Oberon: Of course! Please look forward to the souvenirs we'll get you, Captain! We have to keep Engine happy after all. 

Nemo Engine: I-it's not like I'm interested in motorcycles or anything! W-well, I'll use it as reference for the Penguin Porter's external parts...

Oberon: Okay, then let's focus on that, huh? Well then, see you later in Chaldea!

Nemo Bakery: I’ll bake a warm baguette while waiting for you, okay?

Oberon: Alright, let's go back to the surface and explore the town until the sun sets. Even though it's a town that's messy, oily, and full of shady shops, I'm sure it'll become a wonderful memory. 

After all, exploring an unknown world is an adventure in its own right.

[carlyraejepsans]

Oh! What are your headcanons for frisk? I know we don't know much about them in canon so it's hard to extrapolate but I'm still curious

oh sure! mind, these are all personal headcanon, as there isn't all that much canon info i can go off of, HAHAHA

obviously I don't think frisk had a happy home life, just like chara. but while chara's abuse was more active, i think frisk's abuse came from neglect rather than outright hostility or violence from the people around them. maybe they were a single, unwanted child. maybe they were among the last of many, many siblings. too many to be notable... or missed. so they left.

by the time the game starts, they've already been living on the streets (of the city that became of the village of the humans that chara was born in) for a few years. they get by with their wits. i think they're VERY clever, unnaturally so for their age, and judging from their ability to talk/charm themself into and out of anything in the game, they probably refined that skill for survival (you make yourself liked enough, people are quicker to show you kindness. leftover food, a dry shop window to sleep in at night, some used clothes).

undertale itself raises the question of why frisk climbed Mt Ebott. i like the idea that it was a force outside of themself. like a sudden, SOUL deep tension that would only release if they followed the call. an intrinsic certainty that, somewhere, somehow, someone really needed them. maybe it was fate. maybe it wasn't. maybe they were tied to chara's spirit long before they ever fell (by blood, as a long descendant? by magic? both?) and they were reacting to flowey calling out for them. point is, they felt the instinct, and they followed it.

because here's the thing: in my take on this, frisk desperately wants to be needed. that's what ties them so closely to chara. going with the more literal interpretation of them as a ghost, chara still has unfinished business in the underground. they haunt their former home, much like flowey did, and they NEED to see more of it, they just can't let it go. and they can't do it without frisk. they need them. so frisk goes along, because FINALLY, they're needed. that's why they reset at the end and try again, that's why they keep returning to the underground. but of course, chara isn't the only undertale character who needs frisk. the entirety of monsterkind does, and the entirety of monsterkind gets better thanks to their intervention. flowey, too. asriel, too. that's what resolves chara's unfinished business and allows them to finally let go (i mean... as long as YOU do, too, of course :])

and this is precisely the reason I'm not a fan of making frisk traumatized by their experiences in the underground. having leftover baggage from before they came? love that. but the whole point of their journey, to me, is that they were the single most powerful being in the entire story. the amount of liberties they could take, with their actions, with their words, with their own person, due to the sheer scale of power they had on everything else.. sure there was violence, and fear, and adventures and misadventures and betrayals, but when you can literally control time, i think that was almost euphoric for them.

after the life they used to lead, i like to think frisk saw their experiences in the underground as positive. no more powerlessness. no more loneliness. finally in (shared) control of their life. was it maladaptive as hell? yeah! but it was better than nothing! and if you've been following me for more than a month, you'll know by now that i am obsessed with the idea of a post pacifist, reset-heavy frisk freaking out AFTER their happy ever after, when chara doesn't follow them out of mt ebott and takes the SAVE power along with them (which is... kinda what happens in the game). being back to square one would mess them Up. fortunately, they now have a whole support system of family and friends who love them to make them feel needed and safe. it's gonna take some work, but man. it's gonna be worth it.

[jacevelaryonswife]

ㅤCatch me if you can, working on my tan, Salvatore.

The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you, all this time, I adore you, can't you see you’re meant for me?

∴pairing: Sugar Daddy!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

∴warnings and notes: age gap, reader is 20+ but her age isn’t mencioned, smut. Inspired by Salvatore from Lana Del Rey.

The first time you saw him was at an exhibition at the Targaryen foundation, which depicted life in Old Valyria. He was magnetic, intense and almost too attractive. Truly inaccessible, you thought, however, life wanted to positively surprise you with the opposite of that. You weren't used to going to sophisticated places, although you were a girl with expensive and demanding tastes, so when your friend invited you to the event your heart almost jumped out of your mouth. It was so exciting to be among such a select few of New York's elite, you could almost relax for a moment. Almost.

Underneath the subtle makeup and cheap clothes — perfectly chosen for the occasion —you were scared. Not out of fear of discovering your humble nature, after all that never embarrassed you, but fear of rejection, of the superb and elitist look in your direction, fear of humiliation by unhappy and mean people. At the start of the exhibition your figure stood alongside your friend and her friend, Aegon Targaryen, a fully representative specimen of the rich fuckboy stereotype — at least he was funny. However, as the evening progressed and people became more relaxed, you assumed you could move around and mingle with less tension around people. You've talked to some of the Targaryen/Velaryon youths closer to your age. Two of them, Jacaerys and Daeron were genuinely adorable and even a little flirtatious, which made you slyly recoil upon realizing their interest.

In this way, finding yourself in a corridor away from the small crowd, you began to contemplate some paintings placed on the wall that didn’t belong to the exhibition. One of them caught your attention and captured you for a long time, it was a night city in a cyberpunk aesthetic in the shape of the upper part of a male silhouette. You've never seen anything like that.

"Do you like it?" A male voice asked very close to you, on your side actually.

And then he appeared. Tall, thin, short hair, with a discreet smile.

“Uh, I'm not a big art connoisseur, but I appreciate a beautiful painting,” you said.

“And what do you think of this one?”

You returned to contemplate the painting again, before replying: “I like the futuristic aesthetic. It's aggressive, rowdy and intimidating, it reminds me of works like Altered Carbon, it's chaotic and dark and I can't stop admiring it. I don't really know if it's futuristic at all, but it resembles me. I think it was my favorite so far.”

He didn't hide his satisfied expression upon hearing your opinion, looking away from his handsome face to the screen in question.

“The reference was a troubled phase of my youth, I spent nights awake in galleries in downtown New York, Chicago and Paris. It was more underground than it is today and I certainly have some scars, but nothing that time can put us back on track.”

His eyes sparkled in self-realization. That was not only the author of the painting, but he was also a Targaryen. How did you not notice before? The short gray hair and violet eyes were distinctive enough to give away a Valyrian for miles. Maybe it was some mechanism in your brain to avoid associating him with a descendant of the dragon and making you nervous again, but it didn't matter now, not when he was already beside you in that beige linen shirt with the long sleeves and collar and sophisticated posture.

“Daemon Targaryen,” he said, holding out his hand.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile, greeting him back. “Are these all yours? They are very good."

He didn't need to look at the other pictures in the hall to nod. “Only a few, most are in my gallery.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “How long have you been painting?”

“I like to say I was born with brushes for fingers,” he chuckled with a hint of smugness. “And as for you, what were you born to do?”

"I don't know. I never really knew. I like my field, although I haven't graduated yet, but I never had a big dream or talent for arts in general.”

The look he gave you was understanding, almost affectionate, nodding. You stayed the rest of the night together, and even though you hadn't lived a third of what he had told you, the oldest Targaryen didn't make light of your experiences and aspirations for the future, quite the contrary, he asked a lot about your tastes, your dreams, your preferences and desires. Even if you were apprehensive about being around the most charming man you'd ever seen, Daemon was good enough to break through your preoccupation and wrap you up in a spiral of seduction veiled in sophisticated words and good conversation. By the gods, how you longed for that night not to end and you had to return to your simple and unglamorous life, to your heavy routine of studies and tiredness with uninteresting boys unlike the handsome man at your side.

“You have a beautiful face, you know, I would love to have you in one of my paintings,” he said as he rested his glass of white wine on the shelf beside him, “and I can already imagine how.”

"How?" You smiled in ecstasy, especially when he moved a piece of your hair to your ear and caressed your face. Your heart froze a beat and your mouth parted, a part of the smile still visible. It seemed too unreal to be true, but you would never object to what was about to happen.

“I'd love to show you,” he said before cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that made you float. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer and rose on tiptoe to reach him properly, only to find yourself deliciously pressed against the wall as he stole the breath from your lungs in the sexiest, most demanding way possible. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that your reality seemed fully magnified as he pulled back and stared into your face, still so close you could only get intoxicated on his expensive woody cologne. “Come to my apartment, I need you babygirl.”

Oh dear, an indecent sound nearly escaped your mouth at the nickname, your breathing turning into wheezes immediately. You've never been in a relationship with an older man, not for lack of interest, but there weren't any such attractive options close until tonight. It felt like a sensual dream, especially when he traced circular patterns on her neck with his thumb.

“Yes."

Daemon glared fiercely before pulling you gently around the waist and out of the room, opening the door for you to say goodbye to your friend and Aegon, hating the knowingly slutty look he directed at your figure. Your heart pounded with each traffic light the luxurious red convertible crossed, impressed by the ruby, blue and green lights that illuminated that part of town and even more by the large hand that was on your bare thigh. How you wished it would rise a little higher...

Luckily his dazzlingly modern apartment wasn't far away, with beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sea of buildings and skyscrapers of the world's greatest metropolis. It was breathtaking. You couldn't help but walk to the center of the room, gently tapping the glass as a smile left your lips. "It's so beautiful."

“No more than you, I promise,” he whispered into your hair, next to your ear, sending shivers through the body. He curled one hand in front of your body, caging you between the glass as he brushed your hair away from your neck to sensually kiss your erogenous spot, making your eyes close and your hands rest on the glass. His vague hand ran over your waist and breasts, squeezing your flesh deliciously. “Have you been with a man before, babygirl? A real man, not these fuckers who don't know how to satisfy a girl properly.”

“No, I never have been,” you replied breathlessly, looking at him through the reflection.

“I will make sure you never forget this night.”

Daemon turned you around to kiss you, demanding to taste, lick, suck, and bite each of your mouths. He'd like to taste your sweet pussy right there, fucking your beautiful body against the glass, but he wanted more, so much more, he wanted to lay you on the bed while the blue light outside illuminated your body just like the painting he'd imagined. And so he did. He stripped you of your clothes before laying you on the white sheets, drinking in the masterful image before you. He leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck as he slid his hand down the length of your body to the wet spot between your legs, spreading your wetness with his fingers before massaging your clit incisively with the palm of his hand, making a long, breathy moan out of your throat as you held him from behind, desperate for more friction. He removed his hand from your legs to grab your breasts and bring them to his mouth, but was quick to repeatedly grind his clothed manhood against your needy, wet pussy. He smeared saliva on your breasts and continued to tread south, kissing and stroking your stomach with his big hands.

“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your shimmering femininity, so eager for his attention. “So fucking pretty,” he said before kissing the inside of your right thigh, holding your hips in place to dip like a bee on your flower, eating you like no other has. You moaned loudly and squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto his hair as your legs unconsciously tightened around his head. He never wavered, devouring your pearl like a starving man only to feel your body relax beneath him, your orgasm coming so hot and wet it had you moaning pathetically as he licked for another moment. A proud smile appeared on his features, which was met by a shy and satisfied smile before your hands struggled to remove the last physical obstacle that separated them.

“Ready for me, love?”

You nodded during the long look at his beautiful member. How he would love to thrust into you with no hindrance, but that would be asking too much for a first night, he knew that. So when he returned to the bed with the condom on and settled himself between your legs, his hand on your knees, there was nothing to look forward to but losing himself in your wet heat, so deliciously hot and tight. He let out a guttural growl as you let out a sly moan, sagging in glee as your pussy was filled in a steady rhythm.

“Daemon,” you cried breathlessly, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He became deeper and faster in his movements. “Oh! Don’t stop!" Your whisper had him moaning in your ear and biting down on your bottom lip, fucking your sensual body hungrily.

“Fuckin' hells,” he growled as you squeezed him and milked him wet all over his cock, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck. He didn't last long after that, allowing himself to fully enjoy your heat to come hard over your body, rolling over to discard the condom and lying next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“That was amazing,” you said, smiling wide and tired, feeling your warm intimacy relax completely.

He just smiled and nodded silently, draping an arm over your shoulder. You didn't bother too much to stay awake, however, Daemon's low voice caught your attention.

“You said you never had great aspirations, but you also told me of dreams to be fulfilled, desires, everything you would like to have, see and live. Let me do it, babygirl, let me help you.”

Your eyes widened, looking up to meet his calm features. "Are you serious?" We don't even know each other well, this is a big step for both of us,” you said.

“We have enough time for that, I just need to know if you want it.”

This is definitely the best night of your life. Of course I do, holy shit I want it so bad. “Yes! I want it! I want it so much!” You kissed him sleepily, smiling against his lips. And that's how the dynamic between you began.

tag: my bestie @valeskafics cause she planted the idea of sugar daddy daemon in my head with this work here, check out her work! She's the queen of hotd content.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 47: Unrepentant Vagabonds

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings.

a/n: The gang runs into an old friend, meets the Mad Mage, acquires a new pet, and plays a game of poker. This chapter was me trying my hand at some more campy/fun interactions. ALSO I got sidetracked and started a Gale fic, because the pipeline is real. You can read it here.

———————————————————————

The Undermountain is just as unsettling as Celeste remembers. 

Halaster’s lair, according to Gale, was nestled far within a network of hidden passageways and tunnels. To Celeste’s dismay, they entered through the alley of the Yawning Portal again, Astarion reaching for her hand tentatively as they descended through the hatch. Thankfully, they took a left before continuing down the same path Astarion had brought her down weeks ago, and soon were deep enough underground that Celeste was confident Vanrakdoom was too far to be of concern anymore.

For most of the trek, Celeste kept her eyes to the gray granite floor, taking extra care when they’d descend the railless staircases, Astarion’s palm on the small of her back to reassure her. The lower they went, the colder the atmosphere became, and the familiar scent of damp earth filled her nostrils. Throughout their journey, their companions stayed silent, aware that one misplaced step or a too-loud word could result in certain death. 

Finally, Gale presses a hand to a wall in a dark corridor and disappears through, the rest of them following through the illusion apprehensively. Illuminated by a series of acid green torches, the hall glows faintly as Gale approaches a bolted shut door, and raps his knuckles against the wood three times. 

“Master Blackcloak is not accepting solicitors!” A small voice snarls as the door cracks open. A quasit stands in the frame, looking up, assessing. 

“Hello, Shovel.” Gale’s arms are folded as he looks down at the creature. 

“Is that really you, Meaty? You fleshbags all look the same to Shovel!” 

“Shovel?” Celeste whispers to Astarion, raising an eyebrow. 

“A quasit.” Astarion answers in a low voice. “Demons trapped in service to whoever summons them. This one’s called Shovel.” 

“Yes, but why Shovel?”

“She came with the name. Felt wrong to change it.” He responds with a shrug. 

The demon continues on in a shrill tone. “And you brought Fangy!” She springs forward, wrapping her claws around Astarion’s calf.

“Oh, for the love of-get off!”

“Seems quite taken with you.” Celeste observes. 

“Astarion let her eat his camp portions.” Karlach reveals, “he’s more softhearted than he lets on.” 

“Let’s not get carried away, my fiery friend. After all, stale bread was wasted on me,” Astarion says as he struggles with Shovel, who appears to be having fun biting at his leg, hanging from his pant leg as he shakes his ankle wildly.

“He made a mess, lying on his cot and tossing food about like he was feeding the pigeons.” Minthara says disapprovingly.

“Can you all shut up?” Astarion snaps, finally dislodging the quasit. 

“Gale, why does Halaster have Shovel?” Shadowheart asks. 

“Well, we…arranged a trade. Halaster is a collector of creatures, Shovel needed a home, and I…” he pauses, bringing a fist to his mouth as he clears his throat, “was in need of night orchids.”

“Cuuuuttteee.” Karlach elbows Gale in the ribs as his cheeks begin to turn pink.

Shovel guides them through the door, scurrying down the hall.

“Come, Meaty, master Halaster is eager to see you.”

They follow the quasit inside and Celeste’s gaze drifts to the walls, lined with displays of various oddities, skeletons, and jars of mysterious substances. 

“A little unnerving…you don’t think he’ll add us to the display?” Astarion murmurs, taking in the surroundings. “Gale, how did you get tied up with an archmage of such an ominous reputation?” 

“Believe it or not, Elminster introduced us.” 

“Elminster?” Astarion asks, surprised. “I would have thought the wizard too much of a do-gooder to associate with someone in the Undermountain.”

“Only proves how little you know about Elminster, then.” Gale says as they reach a vast, circular room, filled with mechanical contraptions, piles of books, and large aquariums of strange-looking fish. At the far end, a man with long white hair and a frumpy wizard’s hat bends over a terrarium, dropping in a beetle for a fat, purple toad waiting with an open mouth at the bottom. When he notices them, he leaps forward, rushing toward Gale and engaging him in a vigorous handshake. The mage’s wrinkled face contorts into a pleasant expression, his gray eyes gleaming.

“Mystra’s Chosen returns!” He exclaims. “Your tressym has made herself quite at home here, once again, in your absence.”

“I appreciate the favor, Halaster, but we’ve discussed this. I’m not Mystra’s Chosen anymore.” 

“Right, well. You’re still my chosen insurance policy.” Halaster waves dismissively.

Shadowheart’s head jerks up. “What is he talking about, Gale?” 

“In the case of Halaster’s untimely death, the magic of the Undermountain would destabilize. That alone should deter anyone from challenging him, but just in case…Mystra’s Chosen has the power and knowledge to set the…security system back into place.”

“But you’re not her chosen.” 

“Tell that to him.” Gale points a thumb at the mad mage. 

“What makes you so confident the wizard wouldn’t kill you and take the Undermountain for himself?” Minthara asks Halaster curiously. 

Halaster’s attention settles on Gale with a chilling expression. 

“He won’t.”

The two exchange a warning look, silently communicating thousands of words, and Celeste looks away uncomfortably.

“Sounds like a nasty contingency plan…for both of you.” Wyll says. 

“Who have you brought for me, boy?” Halaster asks, tiring of the conversation as he peeks around Gale, gaze lingering on Celeste and Astarion. 

“These are my friends. We need your help to gain access to Vanrakdoom so we can permanently put an end to Shar’s operations here.” 

“I would like nothing more than to evict the Lady of Sorrows’ followers from my dwelling.” Halaster strides over, hands clasped behind his back as he circles the group like a carrion bird. “Did you know Shar enthralled me and tried to convince me to steal Mystra’s silver fire a century ago? Things got very messy. Had to go to the Hells to rescue Elminster to make up for the ordeal.” He says to Gale. 

“I’m well aware of your history, Halistar-”

“I’m not.” Nocturne cuts him off. “You rescued Elminster from Avernus?”

The more Celeste came to know the tiefling, the more she admired her thirst for lore, collecting stories like one would collect precious gems.  

“I tried, but Alassra Silverhand beat me to it, bastard. Still, Mystra forgave me and cured me.”

“Cured you? Of what?” 

“Of my insanity, of course.” 

“Right...” Wyll says under his breath, pulling Nocturne closer with a subtle touch on her belt. 

The Mad Mage pauses in front of Celeste and Astarion, his eyes narrowing. 

“You two reek of the heavens.” He lifts a wrinkled hand to lift up Celeste’s chin, and she stiffens, trying to remain composed as his gnarled fingernails come dangerously close to grazing her skin. He releases his hold on her and turns to Astarion. “And a fresh blood oath. Intriguing.”

“He can smell magic?” Celeste hears Karlach whisper to Gale behind her. 

“Our lives are bound.” Celeste explains before more intrusive questions might be asked, “In order to free me from an oath my father made to Shar before my birth.” 

“Broke Fangy, she did!” Shovel squeals, pointing an accusatory claw in Celeste’s direction. “Used to stink of blood and sweet undeath, now just rotting fleshbag like the rest!” 

“A free vampire spawn?” Halaster muses, somehow gleaming the information from the quasit’s lamenting. Perhaps in their madness, he and Shovel had formed their own language. “And cured, at that. Rare, indeed.”

“More or less.” Astarion mutters, avoiding eye contact.

“How?”

“I’m Selûne’s granddaughter, in a sense, I’m Moonborn. It was the moonmaiden’s promise, in exchange for freeing me from Shar’s claim.” 

“I doubt he needed much convincing to be bound to such an alluring anomaly of magic...” He muses, before addressing Gale. “I’d love to add them to my collection.” 

“Excuse me, we’re not cattle to be bought and sold!” Astarion snarls. 

“He’s right, Halaster. I brought them as a courtesy, so you might witness the way the weave has affected them, but I believe you’ve misunderstood my intentions…”

“Fine, fine.” The archmage grumbles, “Though the last of her kind and the first vampire spawn to walk in the sun in millennia, you’ll have to excuse my enthusiasm.”

“As long as my head doesn’t end up stuffed on your wall of horrors.” Astarion says in disgust. 

“Come,” Halaster ushers them into an adjoining room, “I have maps.”

On a spacious table, a replica of the Undermountain is on display, hidden tunnels and passageways carved into its surface. Dependent on the angle of viewing, fragments disappear to reveal more detail. Beside lies a hand-drawn map, notes scrawled in the margins. Underneath the table, Tara naps in a wicker basket, her wings wrapped around a small, black mass of fur naps, its back rising and falling with its breath. The creature’s three tails hang over the side of the basket, appearing almost like tentacles.

“Is that a…displacer beast?” Wyll inquires with some disbelief. 

“What? Oh, yes.” Halaster says, disinterested. “An orphaned cub. I traded a Wish spell to a Warlock for it. Seems to have taken to the tressym quite nicely, but despises me.”

“Her mothering nature does usually get the best of her…” Gale muses. Tara yawns and stretches before blinking at him expectantly, and he stoops and scratches behind her ears. 

As if summoned, the kitten - roughly the same size as Tara herself - jumps out of its bed and sniffs at the air before weaving between Celeste’s ankles. 

“Seems to prefer the company of women.” Halaster grumbles. 

“Nasty kitty.” Shovel growls with displeasure. The displacer beast turns on her, tackling her to the ground and chewing on her leg.

“Master!” the quasit shrieks in dismay, before Halaster plucks the small creature off by the scruff and shoves it towards Celeste. 

“Take it.” The archmage says, “They’re expensive to feed.”

“I-” Celeste is interrupted by the creature being forced into her open arms. She squeaks in surprise, adjusting her grip as the cub squirms. 

“A fine gift.” Minthara says, “A formidable ally, given the right training.”

“Absolutely not!” Astarion cries, taking a step back when it swats at his curls from Celeste’s arms. 

“Astarion, it’s just a baby.” Karlach says, suppressing a smile as he struggles to keep himself out of its reach.

“That will grow into a full sized, uncontrollable beast!” He seethes, ducking as the cub gives his hair a pull. “A bloody abomination is what it is.”

“Oh come now, it’s the size of your head. What’s it going to do, nibble your ankles to death?” Wyll mocks him, assessing the small creature. 

“I will not be hunted in my own home.” 

“Well, it’s my home, so I suppose that settles it.” Gale announces, giving Shadowheart a wink. She beams in response and holds out her hands towards Celeste, requesting a turn with the cub. 

“Fine. Can we be done with the godsdamned petting zoo? I thought we came here for information.” Astarion mutters, eyeing the animal with a scowl.

“Yes, quite right. Down to business.” Gale agrees, joining Halaster at the table. He leans over the map as the archmage traces a route with his finger. 

“If you take this passageway, you’ll gain covert entry to Vanrakdoom. I’ve installed several traps planted along the passage, but you should have no trouble…”

———————————————————————

After their meeting with Halaster, he granted them a quick portal back to Gale’s Tower. Although the amenities of the attic paled - and paled was hardly a strong enough word - compared to the lavish offerings of the House of the Moon. When Celeste dropped her bag on the bed, she somehow felt at home.

With a frown, Astarion walks over to the boarded windows, splintering planks of wood as he pries them backwards. The nails that held them in place separate from the frame, with sharp cracks, leaving behind tattered and peeled wallpaper in their wake. He discards the wreckage in the corner and continues his demolition, lip jutting out in determination. The moon filters through what could only classify as a gaping, square hole in the wall, and Astarion smiles at his work. 

Celeste pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“We’re going to get all sorts of pests in here.” 

———————————————————————

Upon discovering Astarion missing following a much-needed nap, Celeste makes her way downstairs to find him sitting at the kitchen table with their companions, engaged in an unfamiliar game of cards. Tara and the displacer cub are tucked away beneath the table, dozing atop Gale’s feet as he appraises Astarion with a disgruntled expression.

“Darling, come, join us. You can watch me decimate our friends at Azoun’s Hold ‘Em.” 

Astarion fans his cards in one hand and holds out the other to invite her into his lap. She takes a seat, crossing her legs, and he secures her to him with an arm wrapped around her middle, showing her his draw. 

She examines the game laid out before her. “I’ve never played.”

“Funny, Astarion said the same thing when we started an hour ago, and somehow he’s won every hand.” Gale says irritably, not looking up from his cards. 

“You were a fool to believe a vampire who spent nearly two centuries haunting the taverns of Baldur’s Gate would not know how to gamble.” Minthara’s glare shifts towards Astarion as she speaks. 

“Ah, ah! Former vampire.” Astarion drawls, sipping at his wine and returning his attention to Celeste. “Lucky for you, it’s a simple game.” He hands his cards over to her so she can see what he’s holding, then drops the arm at her waist a bit lower to rest his hand on her hip. “All you have to know is that I’m going to win.” 

Wyll snorts, drawing a card from the top of the deck and laying it face up on the table. “Alright, show ‘em.” 

“Watch this.” Astarion purrs in Celeste’s ear, before tossing three nines out. He grins as Gale drags a palm across his face and slams his head against the table, slapping down a pair of twos and a seven. 

“Bullshit!“ Karlach roars, rising from her chair. “That’s your third time with pocket triples.” 

“Easy, Karlach.” Shadowheart says with an amused smirk, leaning behind Gale with her arms encircling his neck as she observes the game. “You’ll get him next round.” 

“Dishonest wretch.” Wyll mumbles. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m just lucky?” Astarion asks with feigned offense, gold scraping against the surface of the table as he rakes in his winnings. “Honestly, you all take this so seriously. It’s like you hate fun.” 

“Easy to say when you’re winning.” Karlach grumbles. “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” 

“Oh darling, I don’t sleep at all.” Astarion chuckles. Under the table, he parts the slit of Celeste’s dress and slips a card into the waistband of her underwear, snagging its corners on the lace. The edges scrape against her skin and his fingertips trace circles on her thigh, a quiet request for her discretion before he draws his next hand. 

“I never agreed to helping you cheat,” Celeste hisses in his ear. 

“But you agreed to be bound to me for a lifetime. Surely you considered the consequences.” He counters in a hushed tone, nipping at her earlobe. “Be a good girl and I’ll split the pot with you, hmm?”

She scowls as he deftly exchanges a ten from his hand with the queen at her hip to complete his royal straight.

“Oi, lovebirds! No private conversations. Let’s keep things moving.” Karlach gripes, pulling a cigar from her pocket and trimming it. “Someone get me a light, please. I can’t do these myself anymore.” She says, holding it out. Before Gale can utter a spell, Celeste reaches forward, ignoring Astarion’s grunt of surprise as she shifts in his lap, and takes it from the tiefling. As she flicks her wrist, it ignites with a pop, and a cherry burns at the end. A trail of smoke drifts trails behind as she hands it back.

“Impressive.” Karlach examines it before puffing at it satisfactorily. “New trick?” 

“What else have you learned?” Gale interjects, leaning forward, eager to abandon the game in favor of discussion.

“I haven’t done a lot of experimenting.”

“Fascinating, nonetheless. I would surmise that after the ritual, your abilities may rival Aylin’s. If you were limited to enhanced skill with a blade and illusionary magic before, the expanse into even the simplest of evocation magic could indicate much further reaching-”

“Can’t this all wait?” Astarion whines.

“Jealous, all that power used to bring you back from the dead burned out before you could perform a few spells, too?” Shadowheart sneers. 

Astarion scowls, and his grip on Celeste’s waist tightens. 

“On second thought, perhaps I’ll collect my winnings and turn in for the night.” He says, snatching his bag of gold and hoisting Celeste over his shoulder. “After all, we have a day full of Sharran slaying ahead of us tomorrow. Best get some rest where we can.”

“What in the hells!” Celeste pounds at his back with her fist as she hangs upside down, the card in her waistband slipping loose and fluttering to the floor. Karlach stands, chair flying back against the stove, and points.

“I knew it!” She calls out, “You owe me fifty coppers, fucker!”

Astarion smirks and continues up the stairs.———————————————————————

a/n: I just finished my honor mode run and earned my golden dice and somehow, Shovel did not die during my playthrough? Our little quasit friend had so few lines (presumably because their health was so low, it probably isn't intended for them to withstand so much of the game?) that I found myself making up headcannon about her.

August was a long month, and I think we could all use a little levity (particularly since the next chapter may or may not be heavy. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

[lurkerwithcomputer]

TG headcanons:

The 24th Ward does have its own writing system, created by the descendants of the underground city by basically breaking kanji down for parts. Normally found carved in the walls for navigation. Because it needs to be easy to carve into stone, brick or concrete, it's more angular than

It's main purpose was to write navigational signs and danger warnings that outsiders can't read, and also things like basic bookkeeping for the underground city, so it's kind of... limited. Numbers, words for directions and dimensions of spaces, ways to talk about architecture, characters for common underground hazards that look like the thing being described? Yeah, it does those things very well. But the kind of complexity that say, Eto's writing is known for? Takes a lot of simile, metaphor, and building up out of simple, plain language to get complex ideas across.

Eto's earliest, experimental writing was done using this, either building up from basic terms or using bits of standard Japanese whenever the 24th Ward writing didn't have words for things, it's also where Eto's wonky kanji come from. As a result, her old notes are almost unintelligible to anyone but Eto - and Ayato's "ducklings". When she finds out those kids can read her really old writing, Eto has a moment of mortifying Being Known, being *seen* that's both fantastic and "oh god what the fuck, no".

Everyone else just feels like they got their eyes jolted open by an electric shock because most people thought the underground trio were illiterate - Eto and Ayato know of course, and Miza knows. When really Ayato's little trio of followers just can't read and write standard Japanese. Like:

"Wait, those three can read?"

Ayato: "Yeah? Who do you think taught me what those wall carvings mean?"

Reading anything by those three makes Eto kind of nostalgic - there's a particular flavor to the way 24th Ward writing strings together concepts and basic descriptive building blocks until there's a full picture of a complex idea.

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 44: ASSAULT

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Extreme Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Jumping up from where you were seated with Cillian, you went to open the door and were shocked to see Nina standing there. Blood dripped slowly down the side of her face as she looked back at you, clearly shaken and confused.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as fear raced through your veins. "Oh my god Nina. What happened?" you asked, panicking, just as Cillian came racing towards Nina as well, seeing her blood covered face from miles away.

Together, you helped Nina inside and sat her gently onto one of the plush couches. As soon as her body met the soft leather, she slumped against it, closing her eyes briefly, seemingly unable to hold herself upright anymore. Your concern grew more intense, as did Cillian's beside you. "What happened, Nina?" he demanded urgently, trying to make sense of the situation while you fetched a clean towel. 

Nina opened her eyes but remained silent for a moment, gathering strength to explain. Finally, she spoke, words trembling slightly due to fear and trauma.

"I... I went to Kit's house today," she began hesitantly, telling you and Cillian why she was covered in blood. The three of you listened attentively, horror growing upon hearing the events that transpired. Apparently, after confronting Kit and demanding answers about her behaviour, things turned ugly fast – resulting in the violent altercation that left poor Nina battered and bruised.

"Why didn't you call me?" Cillian questioned with worry, reaching out to touch her injured cheek tenderly before snarling.

"Fuck, I am going to deal with this woman!" he said, grabbing his keys impatiently as you tended to her wounds. 

Seeing Cillian's protectiveness made you feel reassured despite the intensity of the situation. But then, a thought struck you - would taking action right now really help Nina?

"Cillian, we need to get Nina to hospital. She needs stitches and medical attention. Dealing with Kit can wait," you suggested calmly, hoping to ease some of the tension in the room. 

Reluctantly, Cillian nodded, knowing deep down that him confronting Kit in the heat of the moment wouldn't solve anything. In fact, it could even make things worse as he may be acting unreasonably after seeing Nina hurt like this.

"You should call Danielle. Tell her to meet us at the ER," you suggested to Cillian, thinking logically under pressure before grabbing some things from Nina's bedroom for her.

"Are you okay to walk to the car with us, sweetheart?" Cillian asked his daughter gently, concerned about how much pain she might be in.

With a brave smile, Nina agreed, trying hard to appear stronger than she felt internally. Reaching out for support, she grasped both yours and Cillian's hands firmly, showing resilience amidst adversity.

The three of you made your way to the elevator with a heavy silence hanging between you all, as the lift descended towards ground level. Each step towards resolving this nightmare seemed harder than the last. 

Once inside the underground parking facilities, you carefully escorted a pale-faced Nina to Cillian's car, opening the doors for her comfort. She climbed inside obediently, allowing you to place a pillow behind her neck to alleviate some discomfort.

As Cillian walked around to join you in the driver's seat, he glanced lovingly at Nina who sat nervously in the back.

With gentle determination, he started the engine and drove off, navigating through the bustling streets of the city. 

During the drive, Cillian held tightly onto the steering wheel, visibly upset by the entire scenario playing out before him.

With a mixture of anger and despair coursing through his veins, he couldn't fathom how someone close to him had caused such harm to his daughter. Nina, still recovering from the recent attack, found solace in your familiar presence during these difficult times. Sitting quietly in the backseat, she closed her eyes intermittently, attempting to process the harrowing memories of her fight with Kit and the resulting injuries.

Despite the physical pain, the mental anguish continued to consume her consciousness, leaving her feeling fragile and vulnerable. Meanwhile, Cillian's knuckles whitened ever so slightly with rage as he sped through the traffic, his muscles tensing beneath his clothing.  

"I can't believe she did this," Cillian growled under his breath, referring to Kit's manipulative ways. "I should have realised how bad-shit crazy this woman is..." His voice cracked as regret filled his heart once again. He knew full well that his dalliance with Kit was a mistake, but little did he know how far the consequences would reach.

In the backseat, Nina tried desperately to distract herself from the lingering images of the violence laid upon her and the video of her very own father engaging in intimacy with this vile woman.  Every time the memory played out in her mind, fresh waves of nausea swept over her. 

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have confronted her. I just wanted this to stop. My friends have all seen this goddamn video she shared and I wanted her to apologise to you. I wanted her to apologise publicly," Nina explained, tears brimming in her eyes as they approached the hospital entrance. With a mix of sadness and defiance, she recounted the sequence of events leading up to the assault, painting a chilling picture of betrayal and retribution. Her usually bright and confident demeanour dimmed somewhat, replaced instead by feelings of helplessness and frustration at having been physically violated. 

"Nina, none of this is your fault. I shouldn't let it have come to this," Cillian admitted guiltily, turning to look at her through the rearview mirror. "Kit has gone too far." The pain in his voice resonated deeply with everyone present in the vehicle.

Slowly and steadily, the hospital came into view as they pulled into the busy emergency department. Danielle, waiting there already, looking visibly worried, rushed forward to see her daughter as they parked, relieved that they arrived safely. Grabbing the necessary items from the trunk, Cillian followed suit.

"Oh my god sweetheart," Danielle said, taking Nina into her arms when she saw the extent of her injury before turning towards Cillian.

"This is your fucking fault, Cillian! This never would have happened if you hadn't slept with that slut," she shouted angrily, pointing her finger accusingly towards her ex.

But Cillian only sighed heavily, feeling immense guilt as the reality of his actions finally hit home. How could he not see the consequences earlier? Why wasn't he able to prevent this? These questions tormented him as they entered the building.

"Now is not the time and place," you cautioned Danielle who was rageful towards Cillian.

"You are right Y/N, but once Nina is stitched up, I will be dealing with this woman myself. Fuck Cillian, I told you years ago that she is vile, but no, you didn't listen, did you?" Danielle yelled, venting her frustrations on Cillian as they reached the emergency reception area. She pointed a furiously accusatory finger towards him, adding fuel to the fire. It wasn't fair to blame him entirely for what had occurred, yet the weight of responsibility lay heavily on his shoulders. He could almost hear the echoes of countless arguments with Danielle ringing in his ears as they walked along the corridors, carrying Nina's medical files.

"Danielle, please. Not now!" you reminded her again, recognising the importance of focusing on getting Nina treated first. Your tone conveyed a sense of authority, indicating that cooler heads were needed to handle this volatile situation. Despite the turmoil enveloping them, you attempted to bring peace to the chaotic atmosphere.

Once inside the examination room, doctors quickly attended to Nina, checking her vitals, assessing her condition, and preparing the required medicines and equipment. While her mother stood anxiously nearby, Cillian paced outside, consumed by guilt and fear.

All he could think about was how he let everything spiral out of control because of one terrible decision. He kept asking himself, 'How could I have done something so stupid?' and wishing he could take it all back. His mind swirled with regrets and self-loathing, casting a dark shadow over any hope of reconciliation between him and his family.

Meanwhile, Nina remained strong throughout the procedure, determined not to break down in front of others.

She had twelve stitches on her forehead due to the cut inflicted by Kit and multiple smaller lacerations elsewhere. It was quite a sight – a stark contrast to her typically elegant appearance. Yet somehow, this only served to reinforce her resolve to stand tall against adversity.

After hours of treatment, and with a bandaged face, Nina left the Emergency Room accompanied by Danielle, who insisted that Cillian take her home while she would seek out Kit.

"I think it is better for me to address this Cillian! The last thing we want is you being involved in more scandals directly that could make Nina upset," Danielle argued, clearly angry with Cillian. Her concern for her daughter was evident, though her methods sometimes bordered on extreme.

Feeling cornered and guilty beyond measure, Cillian nodded silently, accepting Danielle's verdict without protest.

"This matter should be referred to the police Danielle. You shouldn't be handling this yourself," you voiced concerns, recalling that escalating matters further may lead to dire consequences. But Danielle refused to budge. As she stormed away in search of vengeance, Cillian looked lost and conflicted, grappling with feelings of guilt and powerlessness and, even though he wanted to follow Danielle, he knew that Nina needed him right now.

When Danielle arrived at Kit's home however, Kit was nowhere to be found and this prompted Danielle to file a police report instead that very same night. 

The officer took her statement seriously, promising swift action on the matter. All he needed was for Nina to come in the following day to make a statement as well and then Kit could be dealt with and face legal actions for assault. 

Back at Cillian's penthouse, Nina spent the evening recuperating in bed while Cillian made arrangements for counseling sessions for her. Taking care of her wounds and ensuring she received adequate rest, he offered emotional support whenever needed, knowing he owed her so much after putting her through such trauma. Their bond strengthened considerably amidst these trying circumstances.

"I probably shouldn't go to the US now. I will tell Chris that I can't go..." he stammered, seeing that, in two days, his promotional schedule for Oppenheimer was set to begin in Los Angeles, California next week. But the thought of abandoning his family during this crisis felt unforgiving, considering the depth of emotional turbulence experienced recently. Even though he was tired and drained mentally, deep down, he longed to stay close to those whom he cared most about. It seemed like fate itself was testing his resolve, pulling him in opposite directions - his career versus familial bonds.

"Nice try dad," Nina chuckled, the codeine she took having taken effect.

In spite of her injuries, she managed a small smile at her father's attempt to get out of any press commitments. 

"Yes, Cillian. Nice try!" you laughed before reassuring him that you would be looking after Nina while he was away.

"You have to do this promotional stuff, if you like it or not," Nina continued, playfully mocking him. "Despite, in a week, I will be fine. These painkillers are ace and, no doubt, mum and Y/N will look after me," she added cheerfully, attempting to lift his spirits despite her recent injuries. Feeling slightly reassured, Cillian agreed with a slight laughter, understanding that leaving was unavoidable.

"Okay, yes..." Cillian gave a slight nod, appreciating her determination to push through despite the recent incident. Glancing around the spacious living room adorned with comfortable armchairs and antique wooden tables, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the haven provided by his penthouse apartment. Its plush interior design combined with spectacular city views lent an air of tranquility, offering a welcome respite from the drama surrounding them.

As Nina drifted off to sleep under the warm blankets, she whispered softly to herself, praying for everything to return to normalcy soon but, at least for you and Cillian, normalcy was not something you were meant to experience any time soon as, again, a bound of nausea hit you.

"See, I don't just worry about Nina. I worry about you as well," Cillian confided, revealing vulnerability beneath his stoic exterior seeing that, for the past few weeks, you had been nauseous frequently. 

"I am fine Cillian," you insisted, dismissing his concerns lightly. However, internally, your heart raced with apprehension. What if there's something wrong with you? Is it because of all the stress or...? 

His eyes held concern and love in equal measures, mirroring yours. Reaching out gingerly, he brushed his fingers across your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"I will take you to the doctor tomorrow and we will get this checked out. You being sick all the time is not normal Y/N,"

he expressed genuine concern for your health. With his words, warmth radiated into your soul as he placed his hand tenderly upon yours, making sure that his intentions came from a loving place rather than worry and desperation. This display of affection comforted you somewhat, although a lingering sense of unease still persisted.

In response, you smiled weakly, hoping that your partner understood your discomfort. "Thank you, Cillian, but maybe it’s just my body reacting strangely due to everything happening.

Maybe my system is simply adjusting." You tried to convince yourself, but also recognized that Cillian's presence gave you a level of comfort. It allowed you to express your worries freely without feeling judged or burdening anyone else.

He leaned closer, listening attentively, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. “Well, whatever it is, I promise you we will figure it out together," he said before pulling up some pillows behind you.

He snuggled close, letting his arms wrap protectively around you. His embrace warmed your entire body as you nestled deeper into his hold and, in this moment, nothing else mattered.

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[zoeykallus]

Hi Zoe! I hope you’re doing well and thank you for taking the time to read this. I was thinking, what if a similar situation happened like in ‘the crossing’ where fem reader gets stuck hanging on the ledge (could be for a different reason that they are hanging there) and they can’t swim? And for a bit more drama, almost drown but their Batcher s/o saves them? Thanks again for taking time to read this! 🙏

Aloha!

A nice idea! Let me see what I can do with that 😊

Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Hero Of The Day

Angst/Comfort/Reader Almost Drowning/Strong Language/Fluff

________________________

The mine that Cid bought is a disaster. Ipsium is difficult to mine here, and not exactly in large quantities. You are determined to be helpful, leave the others behind and find a niche where you can find and mine high quality Ipsium. However, you have to climb over a deep abyss which's end you can't see, to do your work.

________________________

Crosshair

"There you are. What are you doing?"

You roll your eyes but ask him with a smile, "What does it look like I'm doing, sweetie?"

He looks at you, seeing you propped up against the walls in awkward posture, working over a pit.

"Looking like a suicide attempt," he says dryly, looking down into the depths that eventually fade into blackness, not revealing its contents, "Come out of there."

"I know what I'm doing," you say stubbornly, reapplying your tool.

"I don't care, I want you to get out of there", he growls impatiently, and is already about to climb into the alcove with you.

A little annoyed, you say, "I'm almost done, Cross."

You shift your weight a little to look at him as he climbs toward you. As you do, a small piece of rock gives way under your right foot. You jerkily lose your footing and fall into the darkness, passing his hastily, in panic, outstretched hand.

His heart makes an unpleasant leap as you fall into the depths with a scream just past his fingers. "Fucking hell!" he exclaims as he leaps after you at the same moment, heart racing wildly. Crosshair's thoughts flip over at the speed of light in the seconds it takes him to fall, expecting to hit hard rock and break all his bones, or even land on your corpse, but instead icy spring water suddenly envelops him, an underground river in a cave system. The current is incredibly strong, and he is immediately swept along. He rolls up to protect his body from possible collisions with rocks. He has his eyes open, but he can't see anything, it's all so impenetrable black, only now and then a light seems to come from somewhere that he can't place. Crosshair remembers that you can't swim, so even if the river calmed down at one point, you would probably drown if he didn't find you, the thought sets his mind on fire. With an undertow, he suddenly descends, the river emptying into a small underground lake. Hastily he struggles to the surface, coughs and looks around urgently. The cave he has landed in is riddled with fluorescent crystals that bathe the room in a ghostly, pale blue light. Then he hears someone fidgeting in the water, turns to the soundscape and just sees you go under. Crosshair doesn't think, he quickly dives in your direction, gets a hold of you and struggles with you back to the surface and finally to shore.

You cough violently, trying to get the water out of your lungs. He helps you turn onto your side and holds you gently, his hands still shaky from the waning adrenaline. When you stop coughing, he says sternly, "Why can't you listen to me for once?" "It wasn't my fault, you distracted me," you protest. He rolls his eyes. "Oh please." "Yes you did" He turns you around to face him again and looks at you piercingly. "Guilt aside, how do you feel? Are you hurt?" You think for a moment and finally say, "Shaky, but unhurt, I think". With a sigh, he leans his forehead against yours. "You're going to give me a heart attack someday".

Wrecker

He is scared to the bone and terrified of the depths he is looking into as he looks down.

"You really shouldn't be climbing around here, my dear."

"I'm almost done," you say focused, handing him another tube you've filled with Ipsium.

Wrecker accepts it and stows it away carefully, then watches you again, frowning nervously.

"At least let me get a rope to secure you with, just in case".

You sigh softly and say, "Wrecker, sweetie, I'll be done in a minute".

He sighs as well and says seriously, "That really makes me nervous to see you doing gymnastics there"

"I'm not doing gymnastics, I'm mining Ipsium" you correct him laughing softly.

"You know what I mean," he grumbles unwillingly.

"This is the last one," you say, handing him another tube.

Wrecker tucks it away and says with relief, "Good, then give me your hand, so I can-"

He interrupts himself as you suddenly slip and disappear from his sight with a scream before he can reach his arm out to you. Wrecker's chest tightens, he squeezes himself into the small alcove and looks down. Everything inside of him is struggling in wild panic, and yet he jumps after you, not knowing what awaits him down there.

You are in panic as the cold water closes around you, but even worse is the suction that the current has. Resistance is futile, you are swept away with the water masses, again and again your head is underwater, no matter how much you pedal and try to resist the suction. You swallow water while fighting against drowning.

It's like a horror roller coaster ride, with the continuous fear of death and the masses of water pulling you along like a toy ball. Then you plunge once more into the depths and the torrent of water no longer tears at you, but you struggle to the surface in panic. In your mind, you curse never having learned to swim.

The shore is not far away and yet it is much too far for you, as you have no idea how to reach it. Then you hear a scream and someone else falls into the small lake you are in.

You cough and try to call his name, but you keep swallowing water. Still, he spots you and as his strong hands reach for you, a wave of relief washes over you, causing you to burst into tears.

Wrecker pulls you to shore, you see him in the light of the glowing crystals in the cave you landed in. He takes off his helmet and drops it, grabbing your face and talking soothingly to you.

It takes a moment for you to calm down in his arms and cough up the water.

"Are you hurt?" you hear him ask gently.

Shakily, you answer, "I don't think so."

He squeezes you lovingly, softly with relief, and says, "Let's never do that again."

Echo

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" he asks critically when he spots you in the alcove.

You fill the next tube and say, "This ipsium is much purer than what we found in the other mine."

Echo frowns and says, "But it's much more dangerous to mine. You've seen that there's a deep abyss below you?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Echo."

He sighs and accepts the next tube from you.

"I don't like this, I should do this".

You look at him and say softly, "Echo, this is even more dangerous for you and your prosthetics than it is for me"

He grumbles softly to himself, but doesn't contradict you.

As you hand him another tube, he says impatiently, "Okay, that's more than enough, now get out of there"

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you finally give in to him, hand him your tools and begin to turn in the alcove to climb out, careful not to fall. Echo immediately reaches out and grabs your wrist as soon as you are within reach. The timing is perfect, because at the same moment you slip on the rock and lose your footing.

Echo immediately drops backwards to pull you towards him with his weight. You land above him with your heart pounding, his hand still tight around your wrist. You both breathe heavily, startled.

Then his eyes narrow critically as you look at each other.

"I told you it was dangerous, if I hadn't been there you would have fallen," he grumbles.

You're still all startled, the echo of the shock still in your bones, so you don't answer him right away.

"I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if I hadn't been there," he says a little softer when he sees the look on your face.

You collect yourself and finally say nudgily, "We have the Ipsium, don't we?"

He sighs and lowers his head back.

"You are missing the point here."

You kiss his chin and he looks back at you.

"You're going to be my downfall one day, one way or another" Echo says with a wry smile.

"Don't say such dark things," you reply, kissing his chin again.

AC: I left out the water in Echo's part because I wasn't sure how well Echo could swim with the prosthetics.

Hunter

"Why am I not surprised?"

You hear Hunter's voice and look cautiously over your shoulder in his direction. He looks critically at your position in the small alcove above the abyss. You can tell he doesn't like what he sees. He seems worried.

You smile, unperturbed, and tell him, "Don't worry, I'm almost done."

He sighs softly and says, "Okay, but be careful."

"I always am," you say lightly, cheerfully.

You are so happy that you can contribute something to your mission. But Hunter raises his eyebrows critically at your comment and says, "Oh yeah?"

You laugh softly and ask, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Again you hear Hunter sigh, then he says, "Nothing, sweetie, just be careful."

You fill the last tube, handing him the tube as well as your tools before you set about climbing back. He has climbed halfway into the alcove to help you as you lose your footing as one of the rocks crumbles beneath your feet. You slump down, Hunter getting hold of the sleeve of your jacket, but not your arm. The fabric tears noisily and you still fall.

Heart racing, Hunter stares in disbelief for a second or two at the torn piece of fabric in his clenched hand in panic. Then he looks down into the blackness where you have disappeared screaming and are now silent.

Thoughts are racing through your head, and yet none of them form properly as you fight in absolute panic against the icy masses of water that are sweeping you along. Again and again you swallow water, get it into your nose, into your lungs. Your head keeps coming up above the water, but you don't get a chance to catch your breath, because the next moment you're being pulled down again by the current.

Then you fall, and there's this feeling in your stomach as if you're on a roller coaster going downhill, or miss a step while climbing stairs, before you hit the surface of the water again and sink into it.

You struggle to the surface in a panic, your legs are so tense they feel like they are cramping. You can barely keep your face above the water, wriggling, coughing and unable to think clearly.

Then you feel something wrapping around the middle of your body. A new wave of panic rises in you. You are not familiar with this planet, you are somewhere deep in a river in a cave system, who knows what lives down here. The memory of your first encounter with a Dianoga is still very vivid in your mind. You begin to scream and wriggle, trying to free yourself.

It takes you a moment to hear Hunter's voice.

"Easy, love, easy."

You hyperventilate, shaking in his grip, trying to clear your head, and only very slowly does the realization sink in that you are about to be rescued. You start to cry as he pulls you ashore.

"It's okay, sweetheart, you're safe, it's going to be okay," he says gently, finally pulling you out of the water.

Hunter takes off the helmet and sets it down on the ground next to you, then he bends over you kneeling next to you, takes off his gloves and gently strokes your face.

"Hey, it's me, everything's fine, we made it through".

When you finally calm down, he says in gentle admonition, "I told you to be careful."

You blink looking at him, ashamed, but also grateful and still completely lost for words. You fall around his neck and cling to him, eliciting a surprised, "Oh?!" from him.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around you, kisses your cheek, and says with a soft, quiet laugh, "You didn't think I was just going to let you disappear like that."

Tech

"I appreciate your efforts, but you're taking quite a risk," he says critically, taking a closer look at your position as you squat there in the alcove above the chasm, mining Ipsium.

"I'll be careful," you assure him, "Besides, I'm almost done, my beloved."

He smiles, he loves it when you call him that, warmth rises in his cheeks every time. But his face immediately turns serious again.

"Please just don't fall"

"Are you really that worried about me?" you ask, amused.

Tech adjusts his goggles with his index finger while still keeping an eye on you and says, "First and foremost, yes. But secondly, I'd have to jump in after you if you fell, we don't know what's down there, so I'm not necessarily eager to do that."

You frown in surprise.

"You'd jump after me?"

"Of course," Tech says without hesitation.

You smile at him, "My hero."

Tech blinks a little shyly to the side, and you can see his ears turn red.

"Anytime, my dear" he finally says, a bit bashfully.

You finally hand him the last tube with a smile then the tool before you set about climbing out of the alcove when a piece of the rock unexpectedly breaks away from under you, and you fall down with a jolt.

Tech rushes forward, still trying to grab you, but his hand narrowly misses yours. He doesn't think for long, as he said before, he jumps right after you, even though all his organs seem to knot up at the same moment.

It's so cold, so dark, and you're completely helpless in the torrent of water. Panic floods your mind like the water overflows your body. You fight hard against drowning, against the current, but it seems futile.

It seems to take an eternity and yet, all of a sudden, you fall. You are still in the water, but there is no current anymore. Panic-stricken, you struggle to the surface of the water and try to hold yourself up.

It's not quite so dark anymore, the cave you landed in is riddled with glowing crystals. Actually a very beautiful sight, but right now you have absolutely no eyes for it, you just don't want to drown.

"Hold still," you suddenly hear Tech's voice and against your panic, you do exactly what he says, trusting him without hesitation.

You feel his arm around you, and the next moment you are pulled by him to the shore of the underground lake. You shiver all over, not only because you are wet, and it is cold down here, but also because the adrenaline is starting to wear off.

Hearing Tech coughing next to you, you look at him.

"I'm sorry," you say meekly.

He moves closer to you, puts an arm around you, and drops beside you, exhausted.

"It's okay," he says a little breathlessly, "We're still alive, my love."

You blink, look at him and say, deeply moved, "You really jumped in after me".

Tech nods slowly.

"Of course. Why would I say that if I wasn't willing to do it?"

You say quietly, "That's still two different things for most"

"Not for me," he says with conviction.

You smile gratefully at him, full of deep affection for this wonderful man.

"I love you," you say softly.

You see his cheeks blush slightly before he says softly, "I love you too," and his lips touch yours.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

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[bookishdaze]

1 week left till kotpota yayyyyy

Only 1 week left till the movie, so here are last minute rapid fire theories. Let's go crazy. Let's go stupid. Some of these are ridiculous.

An explosion will cause the ocean water to rush in, and flood that underground facility Proximus is trying to get into, and Noa will be swimming for his life.

Caesar's funeral in a flashback. I actually hope this doesn't happen because of the emotional damage I will suffer, but some people have mentioned it, and I'm gullible, so I believe it 😭

Noa is not a descendant of Caesar and his mark is more symbolic of his transformation during his hero's journey. The mark will probably be considered part of ape mythology and anyone who has that mark will be considered "chosen." Something like that.

Oh, and he'll get injured on that spot to make it more noticeable.

Raka will die. Sorry bud. Being the mentor of the hero in the hero's journey tends to come with certain occupational hazards.

Mae is from an underground bunker, Fallout style. Probably not. A girl can dream though, lol.

Regardless whether she's from a bunker or not, Mae's home would've been destroyed. Maybe by Proximus? And that's why Mae knows where Proximus is taking Noa's clan?

Mae or Noa, most likely Mae though, will betray the other. It's not like I want this to happen, but I can see it happening. Maybe Mae at first will team up with Noa for protection in order for her to complete her mission, but she unexpectedly befriends Noa along the way, but her mission comes first and she needs to break that trust and THE DRAMA.

Oh, and maaaaybe some subtle romantic elements between them. No kisses or love confessions or stuff like that, considering Soona is Noa's love interest. It wouldn't be textually or explicitly romantic, but there could be tropes that could imply romance, but don't necessarily have to be interpreted as romantic. Blame Ulysse Merou, he's the one who started the trend of wanting to smooch apes. Speaking of Ulysse...

We get a reference to Ulysse Merou from the original Planet of the Apes novel by Pierre Boulle. MOVE ASIDE, GEORGE TAYLOR. We got ourselves a new astronaut in town. I would freak out in the theatre if this happened!

Noa will develop a fascination with space and the cosmos, especially after the telescope scene. He seems like he'd be a space nerd. I want him to be a space nerd. Please be a space nerd.

Noa will have to choose between saving Mae and an ape. I didn't think of this at first, but Proximus in the trailers says "You would choose a human over an ape?" So I think he will be torn making that decision. Oh god, what if he has to choose between Mae and someone else he cares about????

We get a throwback line that is a reference to a previous version of POTA. Kind of like the "TAKE YOUR STINKIN PAW OFF ME YOU DAMN DIRTY APE." This can be from either the old movies or the book, or even the Caesar trilogy.

We hear Caesar's theme in the movie. I'll be so emotional if this happens. 😭

[superiorsuicide]

Impossibility—is that the stone wall? What stone wall? Well, the laws of nature, of course, the conclusions of the natural sciences and mathematics. Once they prove to you, for instance, that you are descended from apes there’s no point frowning about it, you must accept it as a fact. And once it has been proven to you that in truth one ounce of your own fat must be dearer to you than a hundred thousand of your fellow creatures and that this result settles the whole issue of so-called virtues and duties and other such ravings and prejudices, then you must accept it, there’s nothing else to do because, twice two is mathematics. Try and refute it. ‘Forgive me’, they will scream at you, ‘you cannot fight it: twice two is four! Nature doesn’t stop to ask; she’s not concerned with your wishes, or with whether or not you like her laws. You are obliged to accept her as she is, and consequently all her results. A wall means a wall … etc, etc.’ God Almighty, what do I care about the laws of nature and about arithmetic when for some reason I don’t like these laws or ‘twice two is four’? Of course, I won’t knock this wall down with my head if in the end I haven’t got the strength to do so, but I won’t submit to it simply because I’m up against a stone wall and haven’t got sufficient strength.

As if such a stone wall really did offer reassurance and really did bear at least some kind of message to the world, even if only that twice two is four. Oh, absurdity of absurdities! Surely the thing to do is to understand everything, to be conscious of everything, of all the impossibilities and stone walls; not to submit to one single one of these impossibilities or stone walls if it disgusts you to do so; to follow the path of the most irrefutable logical combinations to their most revolting conclusions on the eternal theme of how you are somehow to blame for even the stone wall, although once again it is absolutely apparent that you are in no way to blame, and consequently to grit your teeth silently and impotently and sink, voluptuously, into inertia, dreaming about how you haven’t even got anyone to be angry against; that you haven’t got an object and maybe will never find one, that it’s all a deceit, an illusion, a trick, that it’s all [a morass]—no one knows who, no one knows what, but despite all these uncertainties and illusions you are still in pain, and the more it is unknown to you the more you ache!

DOSTOEVSKY. Notes from Underground tr. Jane Kentish

[gengarartblog]

'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. ... I won't be fooled a third time.'

Oh hey. One Left au again.

After Clover leaves the Underground devoid of hope and with almost every monster they've met except Mo and Dalv dead, Dalv takes up the ruins guardian spot. Toriel goes to rule as the Underground needs her help.

Dalv's tired and would rather sleep and be left alone. The last thing he needs is another human. And yet... One descends upon the Underground once again, bringing back up memories of the day Clover carved a path of destruction through Snowdin, The Dunes, and the Steamworks.

He can't trust this human. He just can't.

[only-lonely-stars]

The Heart of the Mountain

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

After the Tournament of the Sources, Cole goes underground in Shintaro in search of answers. Queen Vania, who hasn't seen him since before the Merge, follows him.

Sort of a sequel to Where Are You?. MAJOR SPOILERS for Dragons Rising Season 2 Part 2! You have been warned.

Vania wasn’t there when Cole arrived, but she heard about it from her staff. It was the Master of Earth’s first visit to Shintaro since the Merge. She hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t seen more than a few news clips… and he was there.

Underground.

He’d ignored her, not even bothering to say hello before descending into the mountain. It was his right to go down there, but being snubbed hurt. He did what he wanted, no matter how it impacted anyone else, because usually it only helped people!

Vania was the Queen of Shintaro. If there was anyone who could do as they liked, it was her.

Two can play at this game, Cole.

So Vania canceled every duty she had for the day. She dressed in her favorite adventuring outfit, freshly plaited her hair into a crown braid, and touched up her makeup. Then she followed him into the darkness and depths, bearing a lantern and striding with confidence.

—

She found him standing in the Heart of the Mountain. 

He was staring up at the statue of Lily, everything illuminated in orange. It almost looked like a trance, the way he stood so still, the way the whole room was built to frame him.

For a moment, she didn’t recognize him at all. 

“...Cole?”

The ninja before her straightened up, then turned to look at her in surprise. His black hair was longer than she remembered, his eyes a little more tired. “Vania?”

Vania frowned, trying to understand what she saw. Cole was wearing something new: white, orange and steel gray. It was a complicated suit, not unlike a set of armor, and entirely different from a ninja gi.

She preferred his usual black, but it was still quite handsome on him. He was always handsome. 

“You… didn’t come say hello. I thought I would come down and find you.”

In case you didn’t come find me before you left.

Because I missed you.

Why didn’t you bother to find me?

“Oh…” Cole looked away, having the decency to be ashamed. “I”m sorry, Vania. Hailmar said you were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“You know you’re never an interruption.” Vania approached him, but it felt like entering a home uninvited. “I just… haven’t seen you in so long. I heard about your surviving the Merge, and you never responded to any of my letters, and… then you disappeared again. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you? No!” Cole stammered, finally coming to her and grasping one of her hands. The contact was welcome, and she had to smile, looking up into his eyes as he seemed to come back to himself. “I’m sorry, Vania, really. I just have a lot on my mind.”

She laughed softly. “When do you not? Every time I hear from you, you tell me about yet another catastrophe.”

“Ha, well, you know how it is being a ninja. Never enough time or people to help with all the things going wrong in the world.” Cole reached up and ruffled his hair, but he didn’t let go of her hand. With ruffled hair, he looked a little bit more like she remembered– boyish, carefree, adventurous. “And this time is unfortunately no different.”

“So I’ve heard.” She mustered her best attitude for him, pushing away her frustrations. “Why are you down here? And… what’s going on with the new outfit?”

“Oh, this?” Cole looked down, letting go of her hand so he could mess with it. He tugged at the material, as if to change the fit, but eventually gave up with a sigh. “It’s a long story. Maybe this isn’t the place for it… or maybe it is. I don’t know.”

“That… means nothing. You know that, right?”

“I know, I know.” Cole laughed, then stomped his right foot. The earth rumbled in response, producing a bench made of rock that faced the statue of Lily. It was a detailed structure, with indentations that almost looked hand-carved, despite Vania seeing it grow before her very eyes. 

Cole led her to sit on it next to her. It was wide enough for two with just a little space between them. Nothing more than a hand’s width.

It was more distance from him than Vania wanted, even now, and she felt brave. She shifted to the side, so that they were touching at the hip. Cole looked surprised, but when she smiled, he rested his arm on the back of the bench behind her.

Why wait so long, Cole? Didn’t you know I was waiting for you? 

After a moment’s pause, in which Cole did nothing, Vania knew she was being too hopeful. She looked down at her hands. “So. What’s kept you away? I heard there was some conflict with Imperium.”

“Yeah, although that’s kind of old news now. Do you want me to start at the beginning?”

Vania inspected her hands. “...Why don’t you summarize, and then tell me about what happened most recently?”

“I can do that.”

Vania leaned back against Cole’s arm, part of her attention fixated on just how strong she knew he was, and Cole didn’t seem to mind. When she finally looked back at him, attentive to his story, she saw the glint in his eye.

Excitement, adventure, and danger. All the things she loved in his stories! She couldn’t keep back a smile. “Come on, tell me!”

“I was just trying to figure out where to start!” Cole laughed, and with it, Vania’s spirits lifted. “Okay. It all began at the Merge.”

—

Vania accepted Cole’s cell phone, considering the photo it showed her. “So this one is where I start?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the Land of Lost Things.” She swiped through it, seeing the mountains of trash and miscellaneous objects, until pausing at a statue. “That’s… one of Geo’s statues?”

“Yeah! The guy’s a whiz at them.” Cole swiped through a few for her, past other statues, until he stopped. “That’s him, and Bonzle too.”

Vania peered at the screen. He looked just as Cole had described him: a purple Munce who was almost obsessed with color and found object art, grinning and showing off his sharp teeth. Bonzle, the spell-turned-skeleton, was looking at the camera with a slightly bored smile. “They look nice! You should bring them to Shintaro sometime.”

“I dunno… Geo’s been burned before. He got stuck there because nobody missed him, since he was off-color.”

“No, you should bring him.” Vania gave Cole a smile, searching his orange-flecked eyes. “We’ve been making real progress since you left! There are some Geckles and Munce who are practically family now. Geo deserves to be around that, to have a part in it.”

Cole laughed, and she suppressed a happy shiver as he toyed with one of her loose strands of hair. “Sure, Vania. I’ll tell him next time we run into each other.”

“Good. I’d love to meet any of your friends.”

“And I’d love for them all to meet you.”

The way he said it made her feel like there were butterflies in her stomach.

You talk to me like that, but you don’t make a move. Stop playing with my heart like this!

Vania felt her cheeks heating up, so she looked back down at the phone. She swiped through a few pictures of two little boys playing– they had to be Fritz and Spitz. “You said you also had some pictures of the City of Temples, right?”

“Oh, yeah! Sorry, I got distracted.” Cole took the phone back and swiped through it, past pictures of the Ninja and their students, past sweeping landscapes and blue pies. He stopped at a cityscape, clad in gold and ringed by mountains. “It really reminded me of Shintaro.”

“Oh, wow! It’s so similar!” Vania looked with delight as he moved through them. “The stonework is just incredible.”

“I know! I wish I’d gotten the chance to explore more.” Cole stopped at a picture of the arena. “Here’s where we fought. I wish I could say I did well, but… hey. Sora won, and we’re all really proud of her!”

“Of course.” Vania rested her head against his shoulder. “Did you get very far?”

“Uh… no, actually. I kind of got curb stomped.”

She laughed. “You? Curb stomped? It must have been a mighty opponent.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a Serpentine kid?”

“Maybe.” She giggled. “At least you got to watch the rest of those fights. They must have been really impressive.”

“Oh yeah! Especially Lloyd’s fights. He did a great job!” Cole laughed. “And then… well, I missed a few. And that’s actually why I’m here.”

She looked up at him, curious by how his voice had shifted from lighthearted reminiscence into something somber. His expression was as serious as she’d ever seen him. He was looking at the statue again… studying it.

She prompted, “Cole?”

He frowned. “I don’t know, Vania. It was just… weird.”

“What was weird? I don’t understand.”

Cole sighed, and she watched as he seemed to almost physically shrink. She’d long outgrown her childish fantasies about him and his mountainous strength, but moments like these are even more of a reminder that Cole wasn’t just some incredible, legendary figure.

He was just a man.

I like him better this way.

“When I was in the City of Temples, I found a mech. It was attuned to my element. After I’d lost my element to the tournament, I needed a vehicle, and I went back to it.” He drew away, hugging himself with both arms. “It was my mother’s, and there was a mech suit in it that fit me. This suit.”

Vania blinked in surprise. “Is that why you’re wearing this?”

“Ha, yeah. I know, it’s not my usual style.”

“It’s not bad,” she assured, inspecting it more closely. The similarities to armor made sense now, the steel and segmentation. The color scheme also made sense, considering what records of Lily they still had in Shintaro. She’d always loved the color white. “How come there was a suit that fit you?”

“I don’t know.” Cole sighed, his vice-like grip on himself loosening. “It was the perfect size. Maybe it wasn’t my mom’s, maybe it was my grandfather’s. Or maybe my great-grandparent’s? Or even older? I have no idea, and there wasn’t anything inside it to say whose it was originally.” He shook his head. “That’s the thing. It was charged with Earth energy, and I was able to harness it even though my element had been taken by the dragon ivory. I don’t know why!”

Vania’s heart softened. She reached out and laid her hands on Cole’s, watching as he looked over. His eyes expressed pain.

No wonder why he didn’t come find me. He needed answers.

She reached up and touched his face, brushing aside a strand of hair, and said, “I can only imagine how confusing that is.”

Cole smiled, so she continued. “Who knows why it was there? Maybe they somehow knew you would need it.”

“Even if it was generations ago? I find that hard to believe,” he confessed with a laugh. “The element of Earth has never come with visions of the future, just… back aches and dirt under our fingernails.”

“Do you need knowledge of the future to know your heirs might need something?” Vania posed her challenge as more of a question, but they both knew she was pushing him. “Cole, I know my heirs will need things. Laws, instructions, records of what I did and why. Your ancestors probably did similar things. You will probably do similar things. The mech was obviously left for you.”

He glanced away. “Maybe…”

“No, there’s no ‘maybe’ about it. I know it’s true.”

Another laugh burst from him, unbidden. “Okay. Sure. You’re right. But that’s not the only thing bothering me.”

Before she could ask, Cole got up from the bench and began to pace. “Here’s what I don’t get. I found a mech that’s just right for the job. Then I had a dream that showed exactly where I would need to go, and the mech got me there. Then, once I actually arrived, the ghost of Master Wu showed up and spoke to me!” 

He was all but tearing his hair out when he looked at her again. “Vania, I don’t understand! He said he caused the Merge. Wu would never do that intentionally. I know he would never want that! I practically raised him– I know it’s backwards, but it’s true, and I know that’s not like him!” 

He stood still, breathing heavily from his rant. 

Vania watched him. Pacing and barely rational. This was the man she had missed for so long, the one she’d longed for all these long months they’d been apart.

She felt the impulse to get up and go to him, so she followed it. She hugged him, burying herself in his arms and his armor. Cole held her, tense yet relaxing slowly at her touch.

Vania took a deep breath, smelling earth and tea and machine oil. “I don’t know either, but we can find out together. You don’t have to figure it out alone, Cole.”

He wilted. “I know. I’ve got my team. But–”

“No. Not just them.” Vania looked up at him, holding his gaze, daring him to look away from her. “You have me.”

“But you’re all the way in Shintaro,” he protested.

“So send me a letter! Call me! We have phones, you know.” She pulled him down to rest his head against hers, daring him to pull away. “Cole Brookstone, if you ask me to come to you, I will come. It doesn’t matter when or where or how. You are not alone.”

He held still, and for a moment, she felt like she’d pushed too far. Had she done something she couldn’t undo? Had she thrown herself at him, more than she had the day they’d met, and he’d disliked it? Had time dampened their connection, their friendship, until every spark of more had been stamped out?

Cole sighed, closing his eyes. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll stay in touch better, Vania. I’ll tell you when I figure out any more of this, or find any more clues.”

Vania closed her eyes to match him. She could feel her fears slowly washing away and being replaced by peace.

“Don’t leave for so long next time, please?”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“That includes if you get… stuck somewhere, or are about to have a big battle, or whatever else is waiting for you. I worry about you when you’re gone.”

“I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes to see him pulling back, and for the first time in their conversation, he looked truly apologetic. “Really, I am.”

“I know.” She smiled again, reaching up to caress his face. Even now, delight coursed through her when he leaned into her touch. “I’m not holding anything against you, Cole. You should know that… I never will.”

“Even if I disappear again?”

Vania laughed. 

This man. This sweet, stupid man. 

“I will search all the Merged Realms if I have to, but you are not disappearing on me again. Ever.”

Finally, the smile on Cole’s face seemed to last. He reached up and toyed with her hair, his hands exceedingly gentle. “As you wish, your Highness.”

His shoulders were not so tense now, his voice softened by affection, and Vania knew that he had gotten what he came for.

The Heart of the Mountain slowly dimmed, coming back to its dormant state, until the darkness was close at hand and broken only by her lantern’s weak glow. The lantern light played across the walls, across Cole’s face, across both of their hearts.

Please… stay with me this time.

She knew he wouldn’t, and yet prayed for it anyway.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Day 2: Fire/Ice

Prompt list

 Pt. 2 of The Empire of Samadhi AU

Pt. 1 | Pt.2 (you are here) | Pt. 3

(This is day 2 of the Monkie Destiny Challenge Prompt Month October 2023)

Wordcount: 4k (this one got away from me a little)

Summary: Red Son is the son of an old empire, Mei is the daughter of a new one. Red Son, consumed by fire, was put into an induced stasis sleep to stop the world from burning until his family can find a way to safely remove the fire. They find a way but he never wakes up. Hundreds of years later he awakes to discover his power resides within another as she stares at him with wide eyes on fire. 

Red Son and Mei set off on a journey to separate the Fire from its current vessel. They travel through the desolate wasteland that was once both their homes. In the ashes, Fire meets Ice once again.

They started towards the fire at dawn. 

Red Son attempted to think his own thoughts, but it was difficult to do with The Dragon King of the West’s descendant’s incessant chattering in his ear. 

300 years. 

He had been trapped, slumbering without end for 300 years. He was in turmoil. Of course he was in turmoil, why wouldn’t he be? He had been trapped, his Father’s Empire was gone, replaced by the Empire of the West Sea, a part of which had been practically vaporized by fire--his fire that someone else was wielding as their own. 

I will return for you, his father had said. 

Liar, Red Son wanted to snarl. 

They took his fire and they left him buried underground in a tomb of their making. They were likely dead. 

And this descendant of the Dragon of the West.. Wouldn’t. Stop. Talking. 

“Would you shut up for five minutes,” he finally snapped at her.

She beamed at him. “Nope!” Then off she went, chattering again like she was determined to talk him into insanity. 

“I can’t wait to melt the flesh from your bones,” he snarled. 

“Sure, sure,” said Mei lightly. “When do you think we’ll get to your fancy temple?” 

“If you’ve given me the right information, we should be there within a week,” Red Son told her. If he had his fire he could be there in no less than two days, but this idiot had no idea how to wield it and he wasn’t about to give her an idea on how lest she get attached. 

“Sounds good, Mr. The Demon.” 

“Your highness would suit me just fine.” 

“HA!” said Mei. “No.” She then changed the subject back to some nonsense Red Son wouldn’t admit to not understanding. 

If Red Son could, he would have burned her hair off. 

He dragged his hand down his face with a long sound, something between a groan and a sigh. Maybe both at once. He watched her as she walked, then glanced at the fire in the distance. 

The Demon of Samadhi…

He wouldn’t deny it had a certain ring to it. A title accurate to his greatness and power. He supposed the Emperor of Samdhi would have suited him better, but he could adjust that later. Later, when he dominated the current empire. It was in shambles due to the fires anyway, it wouldn’t be too difficult to take over once he retrieved his fire from its current vessel. And he would create an Empire far greater than Father and Mother ever managed. 

“Hey, Mr. Grumpy Face,” Mei said, tearing him out of his thoughts abruptly. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Fire can be blue right?” 

“Of course it can,” he snorted. “My fire is blue when its at its hottest-” 

“Ohhh okay cool,” Mei said, interrupting him and ignoring his explanation completely to his annoyance. She was staring at something. “Good to know then.” 

“What are you looking at?” he seethed, coming up beside her, following her gaze until his eyes fell on what had caught her attention. 

There was a line of blue in the distance. It… seemed to be moving, but not as was common with a forest fire. Red Son may have been thrust into a new world, but it was not so new that he could not recognize fire when he saw it. And this was not fire. 

And it was getting bigger. 

“Dragon girl,” he said. “That is not fire.” 

“Oh,” said Mei. “I didn’t think it was.” Her voice was more tense than before. 

Red Son turned his head to her. The rings hovering above her head had lit up, deep red flames flickering dangerously with each breath she took. He glanced down to see her hands clenched at her sides. 

“A friend of yours?” Red Son asked, dryly. 

Steam came from her eyes, startling him a bit. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. 

He blinked. Then scoffed. “Pull yourself together then. If we’re to battle whatever that thing is, you will have to handle it until I’m able to retrieve my fire.” 

“But-” Mei started. 

“But nothing,” Red Son snapped, folding his arms. “You have my fire. You will fight.” 

“I-I can’t,” Mei said, looking down at her hands, her voice small. “I don’t… I can’t.” 

“Of course you can’t,” Red Son scoffed. “Did you think it would be easy to control my fire, that I spent nearly twenty years of my life creating? You don’t need to control it. Just aim it in the direction of your opponent and my fire will do the rest.” 

“N-no,” Mei choked out. “You don’t understand, I can't.” 

Red Son rolled his eyes. “And why is that, peasant?” 

“It’s Mk.” 

“Who in this blasted world is Mk-?” 

Ice exploded in front of them.

The sheer force of impact from it blasted them backwards a good twenty feet. The second impact that came from Red Son’s landing on his back knocked the breath out of him and left him with the taste of ash in his mouth when it kicked up a large amount of it. He coughed and pushed himself to sit up, glancing back at what had hit them. 

Mei sat just a few feet ahead looking up at someone. 

“You idiot!” Red Son coughed. “Destroy them already!” 

“Oh my, Xiǎojiāo,” came a sickly sweet voice that sent chills down Red Son’s spine. “You seem to have made another friend.” 

It took him a moment to see where the voice was coming from. An older woman. Not old but not exactly young either. She was ghostly pale with white hair. She had an ageless sort of appearance and her eyes were what had him on edge. They were empty pools of cold black. 

“Dragon girl, just kill these fools already,” he spat, brushing himself off as he stood up. “We have places to be.” 

Mei didn’t respond so he glanced her way and found she had not moved from her seat amongst the ash and dirt and was still staring up at the person looming over her. The fire on the rings grew larger, reflecting the anguish of their current vessel, but they did not touch the figure. 

“What is wrong with you?” Red Son snapped. 

“Oh, what a funny one you are,” the white lady giggled. It was annoying. “You must be new. I do wonder how you managed to survive so close to the fire.” 

Red Son scoffed. “Fire does not scare me, Witch.” 

Her smile sharpened. “My words… always wasted on you mere mortals. Is that any way to address the savior of this new land?” 

Red Son threw back his head and laughed. It was a shrieking cackle he’d practiced in front of the mirror when he was young and in front of his enemies when he was older. It was carefully crafted until it grated on their spines and sent hot and cold flashes through them until they sweat.  

“You?” he snorted. “New? Witch, this land is old. Older than her and older than you. You are no savior. You are no ruler. I will be the ruler of this pathetic world, and you are nothing but ashes under my feet.” 

“Such arrogance… How unfortunate you did not die with the rest of them.” 

“Dragon girl, if you could please incinerate this witch-” 

He realized Mei still wasn’t paying him any attention. For the first time he bothered to get a good look at what had her on her knees. 

Blue eyes were the first thing he noticed. Fully blue. From the whites of this young man's eyes to his pupils they were engulfed in a glowing, empty blue. His head was tilted down at Mei, but it was clear he was seeing nothing. His clothes were in dull blues and whites, perfectly pressed, a mix between what looked like the armor of a warrior and the clothes of a servant. He looked startlingly pristine, like a life-sized doll, he would have looked nearly perfect were it not for the burns stretching across his skin. 

Steam rose from Mei’s eyes as she kneeled at his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Red Son pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he was stuck with someone who felt bad for burning people. Of course his fire’s vessel was going to be absolutely useless. 

“Dragon Girl!” he snapped loudly. 

She jolted and glanced at him. Her expression as anguished as the fire above her had warned him of.  

“Pull yourself together,” he hissed. “If you want to stop this fire you’ve created you'll burn this woman to ashes so we can move on before the rest of your precious empire is burned to the ground.” 

“I can’t,” she said again, brokenly repeating herself. “He’s my friend.” 

Red Son scoffed. “Not anymore it seems.” 

“Oh you foolish boy,” the white lady said. “You do not know these children at all.” 

“Call me boy again and I will kill you myself.” 

“I can’t,” Mei choked again. “He’s my best friend-” 

Red Son groaned. “You and your sentimentality.” He stormed over to her. Mei did nothing to resist as he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet, his fire licking across his arm harmlessly. “If you’re going to be this useless in fighting, how do you expect to win?” 

Mei shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him so he grabbed her face and forcefully turned it to him. 

“Hey-” she choked and he ignored her. 

Quiet and hushed so the woman wouldn’t hear him, he spoke. “If you want to free your friend you will burn him.” 

Mei gaped at him. “Killing him is not freeing-!” 

“You’re not listening,” Red Son hissed, tightening his grip. “Mine is the fire of Samadhi. It requires focus and calm to wield, it is cleansing. If you control it properly you can burn her out of him. Do you understand?” 

Mei’s eyes were wide. “You mean…I can save him?” 

Red Son released her face with a scoff. He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want to call it that.” 

Mei didn’t seem to hear him at all, talking to herself more than him now. “I can save him.” 

“Yes, yes-” 

She grabbed his face with both her hands, cutting him off and startling him. His cheeks were squished and he flailed, unable to escape her crushing grip. 

“How do I do it?” 

Red Son choked. “Let go of me you peasant-” 

“How do I do it?” she said again, fire flickering in her eyes, something dangerous and almost rageful, an insanity he recognized all too well seeing in reflections before mirrors melted before him. 

“That’s enough of that,” the white lady said, sounding bored. 

The young man lunged. 

Red Son had only had a moment to choke out a warning. 

Mei, with reflexes that rivaled his own, shoved him by his face into the ground and threw herself out of the way. 

Once again, he was greeted with the taste of ash and dust on his tongue. 

“Kill him,” Red Son heard the white lady say as he coughed. His head shot up in time to see empty blue eyes and a fist headed straight for him. 

Red Son sunk his hand into the dusty ashy ground, gripping any non-melted pebbles and dirt and ash he could and threw it with all his might into the young man's eyes and rolled out of the way. 

The young man landed where Red Son had been a moment before, with his arm over his eyes. No pained sound escaped him, but it was clear the sensation of ash and dirt in his eyes was unpleasant. 

“Careful!” Mei cried out at him, a flicker of fury in her voice. “You’ll hurt him!” 

Red Son spluttered. “He’s the one trying to kill me-” 

“Just tell me how to save him!” Mei yelled at him, flames covering her until she was completely engulfed. 

“Just grab him!” Red Son yelled back. 

“I’ll burn him!” 

“That’s the point!” 

He sidestepped a punch that the young man blindly threw at him. He wasn’t exactly slow, and Red Son was no longer exactly fast, but he at least had the upper hand due to temporarily blinding his opponent. He grabbed his wrist tightly before throwing him at the white lady who was standing just above them upon her throne of ice. Her eyes widened in alarm and she moved out of the way, so fast Red Son nearly didn’t see it. 

Mei’s friend crashed into the ice. 

“CAREFUL,” Mei roared. 

“SHUT UP,” Red Son roared back. 

It was clear the white lady didn’t want Red Son to tell Mei how to free her friend from her grasp. If Mei wasn’t holding back like a fool for her friend, the witch would have been incinerated by now and she knew it. The lady wasn’t giving Red Son any openings to explain the effort and focus required for such a task of burning away possession. 

He growled in annoyance. There was one thing she couldn’t stop. But he wasn't sure it would work. Still, he lunged to grab Mei’s wrist. 

The moment their skin made contact the ice and ashes around them vanished.

Red Son sat on the floor, his legs crossed and his fingers intertwined, shoulders relaxed and posture straight. His breathing was steady and he could feel his fire rising and falling with it. It burned through every part of his flames flickering across his skin. 

It found the curses left on him by those he had destroyed, whispered in their last breaths of life, promises of hauntings and revenge, and wishes of a restless existence pushed upon him before he’d silenced them for good.  

His fire burned away influences from the last few weeks, the souls of those that he destroyed that were still clinging to him were wiped from his skin and banished from their haunting into the underworld. 

The curses floated away like embers and ashes. 

A little bit of himself burned away with them. 

He opened his eyes. 

Mei gasped, tearing her arm away from him again. 

“What was that?” She demanded.  

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Red Son snapped. “You should know what to do now, so burn them.”

Mei glanced down at her hands. 

Red Son glanced at where her friend was pulling himself up from the ice. 

“What have you done?” the white lady demanded. 

“Nothing,” Red Son grinned, baring his teeth at her. “I simply gave a quick lesson.” 

He could feel when Mei inhaled next to him. His fire reacting and growing brighter. Red Son could feel it steady. 

“Kill him,” the white lady ordered Mei’s friend, her voice tinged with more urgency than before. 

Red Son simply stood, arms folded smugly, watching Mei’s friend grow closer in his charge. 

Mei moved in front of him just before he reached him, intercepting her friend and wrapping her arms and her flames around him. 

The screaming started. 

It was a familiar sound to Red Son, but likely not to the current vessel of his fire. 

“Keep it together, Dragon Girl!” Red Son shouted at her through the noise of the crackling flames that engulfed the entire area. 

The white lady and the young man screamed in a chorus of agony.  

Red Son could feel Mei’s determination faltering, the flames flickering and threatening to dig into her friend's flesh on their own.

“I am not your coach, Dragon Girl,” Red Son yelled. “Either do it or don’t, you fool! Pick one!” 

“Shut up!” Mei shouted back. 

“Don’t speak to me like that-” 

He felt when something clicked into place. It was enough to startle him into silence. 

Mei exhaled. 

The fire around her flickered. Her eyes were squeezed shut with concentration. The fire was loud and roaring. 

Red Son watched in surprise as it flickered from red to green. 

“How-” 

There was an explosion of light and flame. The white lady was blasted backwards. Red Son shielded his eyes, the green flame feeling different than the red, unfamiliar. Not his. 

What was she doing to his fire? 

The flames died down. Slowly they lashed and fluttered until they faded and the only fire left was over Mei’s head on the rings. His fire’s prison. 

Mei held her now limp friend in her arms. She slowly sunk to her knees and hugged him to her chest, hunched over him and gripping tightly. 

“Did-did it work?” she choked out. 

Red Son approached with a scoff. “Of course it did. It's my fire.” He grit his teeth a bit for a moment. Then he glanced up to see that the white woman and the ice that had once surrounded them was nowhere to be found. Evaporated by the fire likely. He didn't bother wondering who she was or how she was associated with his fire's vessel. It was none of his concern. Satisfied they wouldn’t be seeing her again, he turned back to Mei who remained hunched over her friend. 

“Dramatic,” he sneered. “Embracing him wasn’t necessary, you know. It would have worked just as well if you’d just stepped on his head.” 

Mei gave him an annoyed, almost threatening look, hugging her friend's head to her chest. “If you touch him I’ll-” 

“Why would I want to touch that,” Red Son snorted. “Your little friend is nothing to me. I only care about retrieving my fire.” 

“Right,” Mei said. She glanced down at her friend. Her face softened. Red Son hadn’t realized it could do that. “I’ve got you, Mk. You’re okay.” 

Red Son rolled his eyes. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have time to stand around.” 

‘But Mk-” 

“What are you too weak to carry him? He looks like he weighs less than a child.” 

“If he’s hurt I don’t want to move him,” Mei snapped at him. 

“The only thing that’s likely hurting him is how tightly you’re holding him right now. You’re practically crushing the insect.” 

That at least made her lighten her grip on the poor unconscious fool. 

“He’s not an insect,” Mei scowled. “He’s my friend.” 

“Right, sure,” Red Son snorted. “Whatever you say. Why don’t you pick up your friend so we can get a move on?” 

Mei glanced down at Mk. She was quiet for a moment. 

Red Son tapped his foot impatiently. 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she finally said, her voice quiet. 

Red Son growled. He didn’t have time for this. “Fine then,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the temple. You can stay here and mope and cry and embrace your pathetic friend. I am not carrying him just because you’re too weak to control my fire.” 

Mei looked at him. 

Red Son folded his arms across his chest. “No.” 

A slow, almost frightening smile spread across her face. 

Red Son would sooner cut off his own hand than let anyone find out about this. 

Mei’s friend was drooling on his shoulder. His face was partially squished against Red Son’s and his arms were limp over his shoulders. Red Son’s arms were under his thighs to keep him from slipping off his back, and Mei was prancing ahead happily, weightless and without a freezing human backpack snoring in her ear. 

“I hate you,” said Red Son. “I hate you so much. I’m going to burn you both until not even your ashes exist in this world.” 

Mei completely ignored him, humming to herself as she skipped forward, swinging her arms. The rings hovered above her, a dangerous heavy air around them in contrast to her light playful gait. 

“I could drop him,” Red Son threatened. “I could throw him into a ditch.” 

“You won’t,” Mei said lightly, not even bothering to look back at him.

Red Son seethed for the rest of the walk. 

He did drop Mk when the sun started to set and his legs were strained and shaking. He released him and let him crumple to the ground unceremoniously before announcing they would stop there for the night. As it turned out, 300 years of inactivity had done a number on his physique, even with the spells freezing him in time. Something that likely would not have been a problem if he still had his fire. 

Mei bounded back to them, far too chipper for someone who’d had a heavy depressed air only a few hours prior. 

There wasn’t much to set up for a camp. There was nothing to burn, nothing to put up, only ash and dirt to lay in for softness and heavy smoke above them as a cover. 

“He’s cold,” Mei said, after Red Son had sat down with a long groan. 

“Of course he’s cold,” Red Son scoffed. “He was surrounded by ice. Not to mention being possessed. Don’t you know how anything works?”

Mei ignored him in favor of pulling her friend close and wrapping her arms around him so he was half sitting on her lap, apparently assigning herself a designated blanket.

“Can you hold him tonight?” Mei asked. 

Red Son choked. If he still had his fire his hair would have been alight instantly. “No! Why on earth would I-?” 

“I want to make sure he stays warm.” 

“So you hold him,” Red Son snapped. Outrage made him seeth. The very idea--

“I don’t want to accidentally burn him while I’m asleep,” Mei confessed quietly. She brushed some tangled hair out of her friends’ face in what Red Son could only think to describe as a tender manner. “Nightmares ‘n stuff.” 

Her actions were soft and gentle and it felt like something that should have been happening in private rather than in front of someone else. 

Red Son turned his head away with a disgusted sound. “Why don’t you keep your affection private. I didn’t know he was your betrothed.” 

Mei was startled. “What?” She shook her head furiously, as though shaking something out of her ears. “What? Gross? No? We’re not- Mk’s my best friend, we’re not courting.” 

Red Son glanced back at her, skeptically. 

“We’re not,” she said firmly, almost aggressively, hugging Mk close as if to protect him from Red Son’s observation. 

“Right,” Red Son said, sarcastically. “Silly me. Of course you’re not. That’s why you’re practically kissing him.” 

“Dude,” Mei said. “Stop. You’re being gross.” 

“You’re being gross. Save your embracing and touching for when you’re in private, or better yet for when you’re in the afterlife where I can’t see it after I incinerate you both.” 

“I’m just holding him, dude,” Mei scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with holding your friends.” 

“Is this etiquette now?” Red Son scoffed. “You are all disgusting.” 

Mei blinked. Then she laughed. “Ohhh, got it. You’re a grandpa.” 

Red Son bristled. “What?” 

“You’re a grandpa,” Mei repeated. “Old school, back-in-my-day, public displays of affection aren’t proper, neither are displays of affection between close friends, family or anyone at all in general.” 

Red Son, for some reason, felt his face heat up. “You,” Red Son said, “don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure, old man,” Mei snickered. She snuggled, pulling Mk even closer and resting her chin on top of his head. Making eye contact with him, she pressed her nose into her friend's hair. 

It was an intimate action, it was inappropriate. 

Red Son’s face exploded with heat and he stood up. “What is wrong with you-” 

“Relax,” Mei laughed. She hugged Mk, shaking with laughter hard enough that tears started to creep from her eyes. “Please, I’m just messing with you. Man. You’re funny aren’t you? Big ol’ scary Demon of Samadhi, afraid of a little affection.” 

“I am not afraid,” Red Son hissed. “You- you--ugh! Whatever.” He stormed off a good distance away before sitting down with his back turned to the lunatic he was stuck with until he could get his fire back. 

Mei giggled on and off for a while. He could hear her shift now and again, making his ears burn for some reason when he was provided with the visual of her adjusting Mk, making sure he was comfortable and warm in her arms. 

It was disgusting. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to hold him-” 

“SHUT UP!” 

Mei laughed.

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