#mine brother in craft where are you coming from

[xavalav]

class work art dump before i go honk shoo

[justmymindandstuff]

Dawn and Dusk - Aegon II x Sister (you)

summary: Aegon was crowned king. He has stolen the throne from your half sister and war is at your doorstep. But you don't care about any of that the second his hands wrap around your hips. For far too long you have to miss your brothers touches because his kingly duties cost all his time. This night you give into your desires.

words: 4.717

warnings: 18 (+). MDNI, Smut; incest, Targaryen Siblings doing Targaryen Siblings Stuff; Brother/ Sister; Sibling kink?, light choking, spiting, Oral (m!receiving), blow job, Oral (f!receiving), p in v sex, cheating, porn with a tiny bit of plot,Blood&Chees; mention of death, mention of murder

english is not my first language// I wrote this in a few hours so no beta or proof read // First time writing smut // no use of yn // Gif not mine

AO3.

I heard 1989 and TTPD from Taylor Swift while I wrote this (It has nothing to do with this Story I just wanted to share this little fact with you.)

Lots of love to all of you 🧡

You nod to the guard in front of your chambers and he opens the door for you. You let your gaze wander through your rooms, for a second it remain hanging at the burning candle on the night table and an exciting flattering draws through your stomach. Your skin is starting to tickle. “I will go to bed early. Please help me get dressed for bed."

You run through the corridors of the Reed Keep, the sun had already gone down and now the fakes give a little light. You're on your way to your rooms. Actually, you wanted to spend the evening with Helaena and the twins. But you and your brother Aemond are so immersed in crafting and planning battle plans for the war and how you use your dragons that you have forgotten the time. You know the kids are already asleep and you don't want to disturb or wake them up. It took a long time for the twins to finally sleep through the whole night. You can't count how many nights you spent in your sister's rooms and weighed one of the twins on your hip to get him to sleep. You're gonna make time right tomorrow morning and take them out to the gardens.

Immediately your maids are with you and begin to tie up the tight corset. You breathe out in relieve when you can finally get a reasonable breath again. The green silk of your dress slips from your body. Your maidens dress you off and then put your white night grown over your head. Your scalp is slightly scratching when the hair needles are pulled out of your hairstyle. Quick hands open your braids and brushes gently through your long blonde hair. One of the girls tries to braid your hair, but you stop her. “I want to wear my hair open tonight, I have had these tight braids for a few days now. I will get a headaches.”

She smiles at you and curtsy. "Of course, princess."

"Let me alone now, I want to go to bed."

The maids all sink into a fast curtsy before they leave your rooms.

You don't move until you hear the door fall into the lock. You quickly run over the cold stone to the door and turn the key. The lock cracks quietly as it closes. You breathe deeply and count to three in your head.

"Where have you been so long?“ Aegon's voice at your ear makes a shiver wander over your neck, and as his hands move from behind around your hips, you have to bite your lip so you don't,moan. It's been too long since he touched you.

"I made battel plans with Aemond." You answer and lean into his touch. His lips rub the skin on your neck, you can feel his body in your back, he slightly presses you against the door. You lay your hands on the wood.

"So you're letting me wait because of our brother? You're letting your king wait.“

"I didn't know you were waiting. If I had known, I would have come right away.“

"Have you not seen my sign?“

"Not until I came back."

"Anyway, you have let me wait. Because of Aemond. As a punishment, I should take you right here against the door."

Your nails scratch slightly over the wood as a spark in the middle of your body makes you shrink. You bite your lips to suppress a whirlwind. God, you're desperate. Since Aegon is king, he hardly had time for you.

"That's what you do to me if you neglect me for weeks."

You were used to having him in your bed every night and the sudden withdrawal of his touches, kisses, hands on your body, his cock in you. Gods, it's making you almost crazy. Aegon's lips stretch over your neck, his grip on your hips becomes a little stronger than he presses against you. You can feel his hardness through his pants and your thin night dress. He kisses your ear and bites slightly. "But you would like that, wouldn´t you?" His voice is dark and this time you can't suppress a quiet whimper. You press your legs together to get a little friction. Aegon swings you around and pushes your back to the door. His knee slips between your legs and you stand up again as the cloth of his pants runs over your bare cunt. Your arms lie around Aegon's neck, and you lean your forehead to his. His hands lie on your hips, his thumbs draw small circles over the thin fabric of your night-shirt. You move your hips, you desperately want more friction. Your lower abdomen compresses pleasantly as your clit rubs over his thigh. But it's not enough. "What kind of princess are you?" Aegon puts a hand on your cheek, slightly pushes your head back so that you stumble against the wood. You look at him, a smile dances around his lips and deep affection is reflected in his eyes. But as he speaks, his voice sounds rough and dark. " Humping at me like a common whore." His grip around your hip gets stronger and he pushes back your hips, so you lose contact with his thigh. You stand on your heels, try to defend yourself against his grip, and push your hips back forward. Aegon laughs quietly, pushes you back again and takes half a step back. Frustrated, you push away from the door and push him in his chest and away from you. Aegon goes half a step back and laughs at you.

“Neglect? Then it was probably another princess before whom I kneeled not even four days ago while she was sitting on the Iron Throne and came all over my face .”

Your lower abdomen contracts when you remember.

"No, it must have been me." you tell him and take a step towards him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." he says and raises his hand and gently puts it on your cheek, his other hand finds its place at your hip and he draws you closer to himself. You put your arms around him and the next moment your lips are on each others. The kiss is as sweet as oranges from Dorne. After a short moment, you separated again. Aegon kisses your forehead and gently wipes your hair behind your ears. "I missed you, but if you don't kneel naked in front of me in five seconds, I might be looking for another princess." he's zero percent serious, and you're gonna have to smile. Then you bow down, kiss his collarbone over his shirt, and then lick his neck up to his ear.

"Everything you wish, my king." You whisper. Then you step back a step, grab the tail of your night shirt and pull it over your head. When you throw it aside, his eyes hit yours. You keep his gaze as you slowly get on your knees in front of him. He's standing right in front of you, putting a hand on your cheek as you look up to him. He nods and you quickly get your hands on his trousers . His cock jumps free. He is hard and pre cum leaks from the tip. You bow down and kiss his tip. Aegon's hand goes to your hair.

"You know I like it more when you wear braids." he says as he wipes your hair off your face. You lean into his touch, let his cock slip out of your mouth, but put your hand around him and slowly go up and down.

"You let me wait." you answer him as you lazyly pump his length. Aegon laughs quietly.

"You're going to tell me that for a long time, aren't you?“

"I will decide tomorrow ." you answer him and kiss his tip again. Aegon slightly pulls on your hair, so you have to put your head in your neck and look at it again. His other hand lies over yours around his dick.

"Are you ready?“

"Don't be a naughty princess. Open up.” You open your mouth and Aegon is slowly pushing his dick between your lips. You push your tongue down against his length and he quietly stinks up. You only got two-thirds into your mothe before you have to gag. Aegon stops his movement and retreats a bit. "You're out of practice." He says, and you look at him angrily, this was his fault too. You breathe through your nose and push forward a little bit, your scalp draws slightly as you lean against Aegon's grip in your hair, the feeling makes your lower abdomen pounce. Aegon loosens his grip a little, lets you slowly absorb his dick into your mouth. You get tears in your eyes, this time you get a little further before you retreat. Slowly you make your tongue slip over his tip. Aegon is moaning again. His hand squeezes over your cheek, then he pushes you back a bit forward on his cock, you close your lips tightly around him and try to relax your throat. You taste pre cum on your tongue and as you swallow, Aegon shakes up and his legs shake short. A curse comes out between his compressed lips. "You're doing well." You shiver as he praise you. You need two more attempts and then you've finally managed to get him whole in your throat. Your tongue continues to push against his length. Aegon pulls back a little bit, gives you a moment to breathe, lets you kiss his tip and then lick his length while you scratch your hands over his thighs. His pants are bumping around his thighs. Then he pulls himself completely out of your mouth, his hands form a pony tail with your hair.

You nod even though you know that's not enough for him. "Yes." Then you open your mouth again.

Aegon looks at you for a moment, then he pushes his hip forward. He's fucking your mouth fast and hard. Pre cum and your spit mix in your mouth and drop over your chin and on your naked breasts. It's messy, it's hard, and that's exactly what you need. You stumble around his cock, you feel your own moisture running down your legs. Aegon's legs are trembling and he's stunned as his grip in your hair gets stronger. You start scratching your tongue over his dick in your mouth again. You want him to come. You want to taste it in your mouth. You want to hear his moaning when he comes. That's why you cry when he suddenly retreats from your mouth. Your head follows him. "Please, Aegon." You whim and you aren´t suprised about the fact that your voice sounds desperate.

"What do you want, princess?“ he asks as he slowly pumps his dick in front of your face.

"Your cum in my mouth. Please, Aegon. I want to taste you. Please “

"How could I ever deny my princess a wish?" he says and pushes himself back into your mouth. Two quick strokes later, his cum floods your mouth and when you finally taste it again, you moan. You swallow as fast as you can, but it's too much. You can feel his sperm coming out of your mouth and landing on your breasts. Aegon moves his dick slowly in your mouth while a splash falls in your throat. When he's done,you lick his cock clean. Then you fall back on your heels and look up to Aegon. He takes a step back and looks you up and down. You know you have to look like a whore. Your hair falls over your shoulder and back, your nipples have set up in the cold of the chambers, and Aegon's cum runs over your naked breasts.

"You are beautiful," says Aegon with a warm smile. Then he holds hand out to you. You take it and let him pull you on your feet. Your lips meet for a kiss and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. His arm lies around your naked body and he presses you on his body. Then he separates his lips from yours. "In bed with you. I want to taste you." He says, and slaps your ass lightly. You twist your eyes, but still turn to your bed and walk the few steps through your chambers. You hear Aegon geting undressed behind you, and when you turn around and fall back on the bed, he puts his belt with his sword on the night table next to your bed. Then he follows you into bed. His warm body slips to you and pushes you deeper into the soft pillows of your bed. He kisses your lips, walks over your cheeks and over your callbone. When it arrives at your neck, he sucks up slightly and you can feel his smile on your throat before he sucks stronger again. He's gonna make sure you're wearing his mark on your neck tomorrow. In Court, you have to hide it with a high collar, but he'd know it's there, and that's enough for him.

His body slips between your legs and you gladly make room for him, spread the legs for him and push your hips towards him to get a little friction. But Aegon's pushing you back into the pillows.

"Aegon, please." You stumble.

"Not so impatient."

"I am not impatient." You insist. Aegon laughs quietly and then just keeps kissing your neck down. You' wiggle in his grip. When he pulls your nipple into his mouth and sucks slightly, while his thumb pushes over the other nipple, you bite your lips. He changes sides and repeats the game. This time too, there' comes no noise over your lips. You stay strong as his lips continue to scratch over your body and his hands slightly scratche over your sides and chase a sneeze through your whole body.

As his lips wander over the skin on your thigh and he pushes your legs further apart, your hands curl into the bed sheets under you, but your lips remain closed.

You're gonna show him that you can be patient. And stubborn, probably most of all stubborn.

But Aegon knows you, he probably knows your body better than you do. He knows exactly what you like, what you need. He studied you from the moment you gave him your maidenhood. On his six and ten nameday. He was married to your sister for almost a year then. But that didn't interest you, Aegon begged your mother to let him marry you, but the Queen remained in her disicion . You're too young and too much like Aegon. Aegon has to marry Helaena. But from the moment he first plunged into your warm cunt, nothing matters anymore. He wanted to give you as much pleasure as possible. And he had learned.

He had studied your body and your mind for nights, until he had both under control as well as he has Sunfyre under control. Until you both had the same connection to each other as to your dragons.

His hands slide over your upper body towards the center of your body, his nails scratch slightly on your skin. He lies on the abdomen between your legs, making himself comfortable on the soft sheets, while his lips continue to wander down your thigh. You can feel his lips turning to a smile.

"God, you are wet. And all this just because you sucked my dick? Maybe you're just a whore, not a princess. What do you think, sister?“

And at this point, he's got you. Your hips are rushing forward, and over your lips comes a moan that you couldn't suppress. The fact that he's calling you sister right now is causing hot desire to run through your body. It makes it all much more forbidden. A little more dirty.

"I'm your whore brother." you answer him and lift your head off the pillow to look him in the eyes. They sparkle full of desire and the next moment he bends and his tongue finally meets your cunt. He slips between your folds and you stumble together. You cramp your hands in the bed sheets while Aegon slides over your clit with targeted licks. His one hand pulls your thigh down under your butt and he lifts you slightly from the bed to his mouth. A knot is forming in your stomach and your toes are crumbling. Aegon makes you sink back on the pillows, his hand slips a little back and his finger scratches through your folds as his tongue circles around your clit. He distributes your moisture a little bit more, and pushes a finger into you. You push to him, he slips into you without any trouble.

"Fuck, princess." Aegons voice shakes, he pulls his head back a bit, his warm breath sweeps over the center of your body. "Can you take anonther one?“

"Please."

He pushes a second finger into you, he curves his fingers into you and moves slowly. His tongue starts driving familiar circles over your clit. You know exactly what he writes with his tongue. Your hand is buried in his blonde hair, the same color as your hair. You slightly scratch over his scalp and his moan lets a pleasant vibrating run through your body. He can't even get to the g in his name before you came with a loud cry. He moves his fingers gently as you ride out your orgasm. Only when you loosen your grip from his hair and take a few deep breaths he gently pulls his fingers out of you. He's kissing your thigh and you shiver slightly.

"Are you all right?“

"Yes." you answer and stretch out your hand to him. He kisses your thigh again and then rushes up to you in your arms. When you feel his hard dick in the middle of your body, you whimper. Aegon starts rubbing against your center, soaking his dick in your cum. He moans when he looks down. Then he looks back at you and at the next moment his lips lie on yours, he claims your mouth as his. You taste yourself on his tongue. Aegon continues to lay his weight on you, his hands struck him next to your head. You push against him, you want to feel him in you.

"Please Aegon."

"Not yet." He says and kisses your neck and your naked collarbone. His hips move rhythmically as he rubs his tip over your clit and slides the rest of his cock through your folds. The familiar knot in your stomach is forming again and you are rushing to your next high, but you know it won't be enough. Aegon can take you to the cliff, but it will never be enough to let you fall into the pleasure. Aegon knows that as well as you do.

He enjoys tormenting you, but two can play this game. You know how to get him to do exactly what you want. What you need. Your hands wander over his arms and shoulders. You slightly stretch along his neck, move your hips against his, adjust to his rhythm. Your hands wander along his neck and stay on his cheeks. You drag him up slightly and Aegon follows your movement until his face is right above yours. You bow down to kiss him. The kiss is gentle, slow, with an appearance of innocence. Which doesn't fit the way you rub yourself on his dick shamelessly.

He separates your lips from each other and looks you in the eyes for a moment. Then you kiss his right cheek and then his left. The next kiss goes to the place under his ear.

"Please. Fuck me. Fuck me brother." you whisper.

Aegon moans and at the next moment he sinks his cock into you with one movement. The sudden fullness within you presses the air out of your lungs and you scream. Your hands slide to his shoulders and your nails scratch over his skin. Aegon stops for a second, then he pulls back almost entirely only to push forward again firmly. At this moment, your orgasm is washing over you, your walls are flattening around Aegon's cock, and he's pressing his lips to yours, so your kiss swallow your moan.

Your orgasm was not as strong as you would have liked it, and instead of finding release in it, you feel as if there is only more desire to rise in you. At the next moment, you push your hips back towards Aegon. You can feel every vein on his dick as he slowly pushes back into you. This time he just pulls a little back and rubs his hips over your clit. Aegon push your legs a little further apart, push his hips a little deeper into you. Your walls flatter around him.

"Fuck. You're wrapping me up like a glove. Your pussy is made for me sister.”

"It belongs to you. Always Aegon. Just you." You moan under his movements. He accelerates his strokes again a little, leans back a little and lets his hands wander over your body. His hands encircle your breasts, and when he slightly swings your nipples, you press against him.

"Like I said just a whore." he says and sits a little further to bend down to you. His lips meet yours. The kiss is tongue, teeth and desire. Aegon is breathless as he let your lips free. His tongue slips over his swollen lips.

"Open up," he says, and immediately you open your mouth. He' spits in your mouth, and you swallow. Aegon kisses you again, he twists your nipples and uses your moan to let his tongue slip into your mouth. Your tongues are playing around each other, your whole body is trembling from craving. You feel like you're jumping out of pleasure every moment. But you can't nourish salvation. Aegon's hand moves to your neck, he just leans it, doesn't put any pressure on your throat, but it's enough for your middle to crumble around his cock. This time, Aegon moans in your kiss.

"I need you to come. Princess." He says between two kisses.

You're shaking your head. "I can't do it again."

"Yes. You can." His other hand moves to your clit and he begins to run fast circles as his hips also move a faster rhyme forward. You' moan and shiver. "For me, sister.“ His hand around your neck is slightly pressed, you throw your head back, so you lean into his hand. "Come on your big brother's cock like a good princess." the pressure he puts on your neck and on your clit increase again, and as he again mercilessly push his dick into you, your orgasm breaks over you like a wave. You're screaming so loud you're sure somebody heard you as your body crumbles. Aegon's pushing his dick deep into you. "You're milking my cock princess." you tremble at his words, his hand is still on your neck, even though he no longer cut off your air flow. You can feel the pleasant pulse in the middle of your body and hear your heart beating in your ears as Aegon's lips gently move over your cheek. "You did so good. So good for me.” he's whispering. Again your puls around his dick and his hip moves against yours. You're over-stimulated and trembling, your walls still polishing slightly as Aegon moves again. You're pulling in the air sharply.

"You're doing so good." he whispers and puts his forehead on yours, wet silver hair is sticking on your foreheads.

"Is that okay? Two more sister, just two more." he moves his hips again, and you're stumbling.

"Yes." you bring out. Again his hips rush forward, your legs tremble and your body reacts by itself as your hips move with him. But Aegon is pushing your hips down, pushing into you a few more times, causing you to stumble. "Please brother. Come deep in me.” you cr< and in the next second Aegon's cum flood your body. He stumbles up and lays himself down on you as his hips push his cum deeper into you with gentle strokes. Your legs sling around his body and your arms lay around his shoulders as you pull him to you. You stay in eachothers arms for a moment.

Aegon's body weight is on you and it's a little hard for you to breathe but right now you don't care. Aegon gets up a little bit and smiles at you, kissing your lips briefly.

"Are you all right?" you ask him and a sincere smile appears on his face.

“Yes, I fell good. What about you?"

"Me too," you answer. Aegon bends and kisses you again. Then he carefully pulls out of you. You whimper softly when the pleasant feeling of fullness disappears and you feel his cum running out of you and polluting the white sheets below you.

Aegon sits up and slides to the edge of the bed. You draw your legs to you, without his body heat on you you feel a cold shower. "Wait a minute," Aegon says, wiping his hair out of his face, and then stands up. He walks around the bed and picks up your nightgrown. Aegon throws it at you and you giggle. Then you quickly get into your nightgrown so you can protect yourself a little bit from the cold night air.

Aegon comes back to bed with a cup of wine in his hand. He gives it to you and you take a few sips before you give it back. Aegon empties the cup and puts it to the site.

"Will you stay with me tonight?“you ask while you lie under the blankets.

"If my Lady allows it," he replies in a tone as if he hadn't been balls deep in your cunt five minutes ago.

"I will allow it." you answer him anyway, slide a little to the side and raise the blanket for him. Aegon climbs into bed next to you and puts a arm around you. With his other hand, he pulls you to his thigh, so that you lie half over him. Immediately his hand goes under your night shirt as he draws lazy circles on your skin. Exhausted, you cuddle at his chest. Aegon's kissing your hair . You close your eyes and slowly start to fade away.

A knock on the wall will scare you and Aegon next to you has also opene his eyes again, his grip goes immediately to his sword on the night table.

"I thought I'd find you here." Aemond comes into your room through the secret passage, reflexively you pulling the blanket higher above your body. Aegon next to you takes his hand back from the grip of his sword and looks at your brother angrily.

"What do you want?“ he asks anxiously as he climbs out of bed and gathers his things.

You both know Aemond wouldn´t be here if there wasn't an emergency. You just don't know how bad it is. Aemond waits until Aegon is dressed in pants and shirt.

You look at your brother, an unpleasant feeling becomes widespread in you as his gaze goes first to you and then to Aegon.

"They killed Jaehaerys."

At his words your breath is stifled, and a fierce burning is prepared in your heart. Tears are sprinkled behind your eyes. You look at Aegon, your eyes meet. You've never seen such pain behind his eyes, and you know that your eyes reflect his.

"I have to go to Helaena," he says, and leaves your chambers with quick steps. When the door falls into the lock behind him, you wince. You look at Aemond again. The hot burning in your heart becomes even stronger and walks through your veins until you feel a burning pain in your whole body.

"Aemond." you say and your voice sounds firm and dark. "I want revenge."

"We'll burn them all. They have no chance against Vhagar and Vermithor."

You nod and set yourself up a little further in bed. "We will fly at dawn and at Dusk they will all burn."

[floatyflowers]

You are the daughter of Sauron and everyone is obsessed with you as they are obsessed with the rings.(Part 1)

"Everyone was aware that falling in love with you was madness, given your father's identity. Still, no one minded as long as they could have you by their side."

Morgoth/Melkor

He is obsessed with you as much as he is obsessed with the Silmarils.

Doesn't care if you are the daughter of his servant, he wants you.

Despite your refusal of Morgoth's advences, Sauron encourages you, and wanting to please your father, you decided to try and please Melkor.

"Your soul and body are mine like those silmarils"

He crafted a necklace made out of one of the Silmarils, gifting it to you as a token of your unity.

Thankfully, the Valar captured him after the battle of Wrath, however you already left him before the battle.

Maedhros

You met him while he was in Thangorodrim, getting tormented by your father.

At that time Morgoth was imprisoned in Angband, so you were free from his obsessed jealousy.

However, after seeing the handsome red-haired elf for the first time, you decided to take care of him and try to free him, feeling sympathy and gulit.

After freeing him with the help of his cousin Fingon who had to cut off his hand to free him, Maedhros tried to convince you to escape with him, as you handed him the Silmaril Morgoth gave you.

"Come with me, you will find peace away from your father's clutches"

And you did leave with him when you realize how awful Sauron is.

But your decision is like falling into another trap.

As Maedhros appeared to be the same as Morgoth in causing violence.

Celebrimbor

After discovering what Maedhros and his brothers have done to their kin, you fled without a second thought.

And as years passed, you kept yourself hidden wandering alone, until you met Celebrimbor whom you find his knowledge remarkable.

You thought of leaving when you discovered that he is the nephew of Maedhros, but his generosity tempted you to stay, and you did.

Honestly, you thought you found peace with him in the safety of his home, but that was never the case, Celebrimbor was possessive and refused to let you leave.

He crafted special rings to keep you safe from danger, and also to keep you in love with him.

"Your pain, your pleasure, your every thought belongs to me. You're mine to command and possess."

Celebrimbor thought he owned you, until Annatar 'Sauron' came into the picture and corrupted Celebrimbor into making the rings.

Sauron/Annatar 'platonic'

Sauron didn't realize how much you meant to him until you ran away.

He almost went insane and never stopped searching for you.

So, when he encountered Celebrimbor, he didn't expect to see you, and deep down it steered horrible jealousy at the sight of you, his only child, happy with Celebrimbor.

Adding to this, he noticed Celebrimbor's obessesive behavior towards you and how he tried to keep you away from his sight.

What is more amusing to Annatar is that you didn't discover his disguise.

So, he decided to reveal it to you.

"How sad that you don't remember your father, my sweet child"

You warn Celebrimbor about your father before handing him the rings he made for you and leaving.

Elrond

You knew Elrond since Maglor, brother of Maedhros, was the one fostered him and his twin brother, Elros.

So, seeing him after so many years surprised you and what made you feel shy is the fact that he invited you to stay with him at his realm.

You decided to take on his offer because you didn't want to keep on wandering in the middle earth after you did for many years.

Actually, you came to his realm after his wife decided to leave to the Undying Lands.

And Elrond is the only one who felt like he wanted to marry you but he decided not to act on it to not frighten you.

Especially after everything you told him about others 'locking you up' and 'refusing to let you leave'

Actually he witnessed how his foster Uncle treated you, so he understood where you are coming from.

"Do not worry, Nin meld, you are safe here with me, I promise to protect you from any danger."

[dontfearrr]

ask and you shall receive! @elia-the-bibliophile

i have a few warnings, i’m coming out of fan fiction retirement so bare with me. i didn’t proofread that well so don’t mind any spelling mistakes, i used some shitty sindarin translator on google so i do apologize if it’s incorrect, and. i think that’s all! :)

In my arms

gif not mine!

Summary: Thranduil isn’t very fond of you and legolas’s relationship but nonetheless he bares it.

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

Warnings: small hint toward sex (nothing specific)

Word count: idk tbh i forgot to check

Category: hurt/comfort(?)

—————————

“final count, forty-two.” Legolas spoke matter-a-factly across from you as he ran his fingers over his perfectly crafted, elvish bow. You gave him a raised eyebrow and drew your sword in a blink of an eye, plunging it into an orc that had its axe raised behind Legolas’s back.

“forty four”

—————————

It was midday in middle earth, you and Legolas had volunteered to clear the rogue orcs that ravaged near by villages, burning and spilling blood mercilessly. It wasn’t often you got to spend time with him due to your other duties in Mirkwood.

The Woodland Realm had been your home for many ages, you were an elf but a fool in their eyes. Woodland elves aren’t the wisest of the bunch but nonetheless, they’re your home. Legolas was the closest you’d ever get to a brother, he cared for you as family.

However that could never sit right with Thranduil.

He was a stubborn man, possessive some may say, which is why you and Legolas’s little adventure wasn’t mentioned to the elven king. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice considering he will find out eventually, he had men everywhere you look. At the end of the day, you’re accompanied by one of the most skilled princlings you’ve ever came across, so what could justify Thranduils brooding this time?

You and Legolas were on your way back to your residence, small talk was made but you both enjoyed simply just each others company, even if it was in silence.

“and what do you suppose daddy dearest will have to say once we return?” you inquired, not looking up from the ground as the both of them walked walked. “something along the lines of ‘no one leaves here without my knowledge, i’ve told you many times legolas’ then send me off as if i’m some child” He mocked his father, which earned a small smile in amusement from you.

As you entered the throne room, you and Legolas stood near the doors for a moment, exchanging farewells for the day. He embraces you in a warm comforting hug as he always did before he let you be, smoothing down the back of your hair and nodding his head before exiting to mind his duties. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for what was to come as you walked down the long stone walk way to the throne, which sat the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. He sat nearly diagonal, legs crossed with his arms on either side of the throne. Glittery gems littered his fingers and crown that complimented his usual flawless elven apparel.

His long white hair shifted with his gaze as he spotted the smaller elf before him. He gave her no expression which was expected. He stared, waiting for you to speak, you could feel his mood from where you stood, it reeked of attitude.

Thranduil had spotted the interaction between you and legolas, it burned a fire of rage inside of him, only he was allowed to lay even a finger upon the elf. She belonged to him. His mind raced with thought but never cracked even a sliver of visible emotion.

“my lord” you began to bow before him until he raised a hand, putting a halt to your actions. You stood back up straight in confusion and shifted on your feet, Thranduils eyes staggering into you.

He finally spoke. “i don’t think i remember warranting your leave.”

You stood your ground, after all, the king would do anything for this she-elf.

“orcs were bringing treachery over near by villages, surely you saw the fires, my lord.”

You dipped your toe into the water, testing him.

His eyes narrowed at you, his thick dark eyebrows coming together, he was unimpressed. “and what does that have to do with me?”

“nothing, my lord. Me and Legolas simply volunteered.” you took no more than five steps closer toward the tall man. “we both had a free morning, i see not the problem.” Thranduil uncrossed his legs slowly, rising from his seat. His garments fell into place, the long white, detailed over coat trailed behind him as he made his way down the wooden steps. You were eyeing him like the finest piece of treasure, his grace and royalty always intimidated you.

“very well. however, i see no reason why my son had to accompany you.” he challenged, standing only a few feet from you, hands intertwined at his front.

“i mean not to disrespect you, my lord, but i don’t see a problem with the company of your son. would you have had me go alone? perhaps getting killed?” you know he would react to that, and he did. A long sigh drew from his nostrils, getting quite impatient despite having lived for more than 8,000 years.

“Thranduil, it is to you.” he steps even closer to you and peers down at you like an animal hunting prey. “you two seem.. close.” he followed up, taking the knuckle of his index finger to push a strand of misplaced hair behind your ear. “yes. he’s the only one who will even speak to me in this realm, other than you.” you finally raised your head up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “he is the only one who treats me like family. a brother.” you continued to further solidify your point.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a conversation like this with Thranduil. He’s a curious yet jealous mess, whether he likes to admit it or not. This conversation was slowly taking a toll on his heart, nasty remarks threatened his throat and boiling tears threatened his eyes. He remained calm, the elf in front of him reminding him of his purpose.

“he touched you.” Thranduil simply said while tilting his head to the side a bit. If this was his attempt at intimidating you, it sure as hell was working. He made something in your heart weak, yearning for him. “surely you aren’t jealous of your very own son, right?” your tone changed, attempting to take the upper hand in this situation, and based on his expression, it was working. your crossed your arms behind your back and gave him your best doe eyes.

“i mean not to make you feel this way, you know Legolas doesn’t think of me that way, and nor do i.”

Thranduils hand fell from your cheek down to your waist, gripping fairly tight as if you were going to disappear. “i know my son shall never dare to try my woman, but you are special and you know that. it wouldn’t take a lot for him to change his mind.” At this point you were bored of the conversation, you only ever had eyes for Thranduil, but that is hard for him to understand. He’s not used to this kind of love and anything that happens under his nose makes him rethink every single thing that has ever come to him. you were his star.

“oh meleth nin” Your heart ached for the king in front of you. He has seen many a heartbreak. He couldn’t bare to handle another. You were much younger than the elven king, but you knew when his heart was hurting, and you were going to fix that. Both of your hands raised to his face, his skin was like porcelain, flawless and pale. Your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, he instinctively leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He may seem intimidating, but sometimes even the most wretched need comfort and reassurance.

“Legolas is no more than a brother to me. you need not worry. I pledged my heart to you a long time ago Thranduil and that is how it will stay.” you got as close as you could to him to where you could still reach him. Your hands never left his face and his arms came to wrap around your waist completely. “Im nifred i er aur im lothron ú- n- farn an cin.”(i fear that one day i may not be enough for you) He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart shattered at the broken man. You wished you could take all of his trouble for yourself so he’d never have to bare them again. His head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. You held the back of his head, gently smoothing over his hair and scratching his scalp.

“meleth nin, my heart and soul belongs to you. there’s nothing in this earth that could give me the love you do.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the pointy tips and they flushed red. You felt his body shudder at the action and held him closer. “don’t let a simple adventure spoil your mind.”

you lifted his head to face you and leaned yours against his. “im mel cin”(i love you).

Thranduil sighed in content and took your small hand in his, holding it to his cheek as his eyes fell shut once again. He kisses your wrist and opens his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior. it was unnecessary” he drops your hand and pulls you into his large figure, engulfing you in a warm embrace. You returned the embrace by holding him tight, breathing in his woodsy scent as you did so. your head just barely reached his chest, you felt like a princess in his arms. “your apology is accepted. you never have to question my devotion to you. Ask for reassurance and i will give it to you, sweet king.”

He released you and captured your lips in a soft but passionate kiss, he tasted of pine and elvish wine. you savored the kiss as your hands cupped his face, using your thumb to draw gentle circles over the points of his ears. You always loved his body language especially since you’re the only one who ever sees him express emotion besides Legolas. As the kiss ended, you smiled up at him, to which he returned but quickly was replaced with a huff of defeat, his eyes dared to close and his legs nearly trembling.

“you witch” he feigned the insult, merely joking as you gave his ears attention. Causing him to sweep you off your feet into his arms and head toward his chambers.

[surielstea]

A Fatherly Fear

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eris has doubts about how good of a father he’ll truly be, Reader eases his mind.

Warnings: pregnant reader | mentions of abuse | mentions of manipulation | basic Vanserra childhood trauma stuff | hurt/comfort | fluff

1.8k words

I winced as a cold breeze entered my bedroom, huffing as I stirred from sleep and held the blankets to my chin as I shifted closer to my mate, who was always there to warm me up no matter the climate. The fire in his veins had been a blessing throughout the long winter months.

But his side of the mattress had been vacant. I squint one eye open, only to find ruffled sheets. I sit up and open both my eyes as I search for my mate in the dark room.

"Eris?" I murmured, rubbing at my eyelids with the heel of my palms.

When I receive no reply I quietly groan, slipping from the warm bed, padding towards the open balcony doors. That explained the chilling breeze.

I go to slide the glass door closed when I spot a familiar redhead staring out at the crescent moon in the sky, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

I frown and step out into the frigid night, immediately wanting to go back to our heated bed and bundle myself in the blankets, but he had already turned to look at me with despondent eyes and I knew there was no way I'd leave him out here.

"What are you doing awake?" I pace towards him, craving his fire. "Come back to bed," I wrap my arms around one of his biceps as I stare up at him.

He looks down at the golden signet ring in his hands, the one that had belonged to his father, and his father's father before him. "Couldn't sleep," He sighed, looking out at the green forest, vibrant under the moonlight. The smell of spring was unmistakable in the night-chilled mist.

I knew that Eris hadn't been sleeping well since the beginning of my pregnancy, I was unsure if that was because he was paranoid about my safety, or paranoid about becoming a father. I wish I could ease his mind about both.

I simply lean into him, his arm coming around my back as I laid my head on his chest. I watched the trees sway with the wind, and the stars twinkle in the night sky, I even spotted a doe trotting freely in the game park below us. I waited in the comfortable silence, letting him decide if he wanted to talk or not. Eventually, he broke our silence.

"My father," He began. "He used to beat me and my brothers with this ring on," He stated, holding the ring up and over the balcony. It was beautifully crafted, and no doubt solid gold. "I can still remember how cold it felt on my skin," He hummed, putting it back on his fourth finger.

I turned away from the railing, wrapping both my arms tightly around my mate, holding him close and bathing in the warmth he radiated.

I hated the idea of Beron still having an effect on Eris, on anyone living really. The late high lord would be rolling in his grave if he knew he was still tormenting souls.

"He's gone now," I say, propping my chin up onto his chest to stare up at him. "He can't hurt you," I brush a strand of loose hair from his eyes.

"No," He shook his head. "He can't," He placed his hands on my waist.

I cup my hands over his, smiling when I feel the chill of his wedding band. "I much prefer this ring anyway," I said, brushing my thumb against it.

He nodded, leaning down and resting his forehead against mine. "You should go back to bed, you need your rest," He murmured and I shook my head no, turning away from him and back to the rolling hills and mountains in the distance.

"You do too," I spoke stubbornly. "So we'll stay out here until you're ready to go back inside," I finalized, leaning back into his chest while he wrapped his muscular arms firmly around my waist.

The silence danced around us yet again, but it was an easy sort of quiet, the kind where crickets chirped and owls hooted in order to fill it.

"My mother used to tell me stories from the past, when my father was a better man," He began, tightening his hold around me, warming me to my very core. "Before he had power, before he had me, she said he had been so different then." His chin comes down onto the top of my head. "I know now that he was manipulating her, hurling her into a royal marriage when she was freshly twenty," He continues, taking a deep breath between his next words. "But still, a part of me likes to believe he had a soul before he became power-hungry."

I let him talk, let him sift through all the thoughts in his mind.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I'm terrified I'll be just like him when our child is born," He confesses into my hair and my brows bunch. I whirl around to face him with a stern expression.

"Your father was a monster," I state plain and simple. Eris' eyes darken.

"Yes, and I was his favorite son," He stressed and something inside my gut tightened. I hated seeing him like this, so worked up due to his own mind reeling with no one around to tell him it was going to be okay.

"That doesn't make you him," I bring my hands to his jaw. "Look at me," I whispered and he did as I said, his beautiful amber eyes meeting my gaze. "You're not him, you're not your mother, you're Eris Vanserra. My amazing mate, and the father of my child," I argue. "You're just you, who runs through your blood can't affect who you choose to be, do you understand me?" I lifted a brow and he nodded. "Tell me you understand me," I demanded and he smiled.

"I understand you, my love, I understand you," He reassured and my shoulders fell with the release of tension. He inches forward and places a chaste kiss on my lips.

"You're going to be such a good mom," He whispers, holding me achingly close like I might slip from his grasp at any moment. "I hope he turns out more like you," He pulls back to look me in the eye and I beam up at him, thinking about our soon-to-be son, he matches the grin and I swear I fall in love all over again.

"Only if he has your smile," I bargain and he debates it for a moment before muttering, "Deal." Then leaning in again and attaching our lips.

I melt into his touch, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. "But," I pull away for air. "No matter what he looks like, or how he acts, I'm certain you'd tear this continent apart if anything ever happened to him," I remark and his soft smile was an answer enough that I was correct. He pecks me in reply.

"Come back to bed." I intertwine our hands, dangling them between us as I slowly pull away from him, receding towards the glass doors behind me.

"It gets so cold without you," I whine and he smirks knowingly.

"Says a girl from the Summer Court," He teases and I scowl at him playfully.

"She up, you know I can't use magic while I'm pregnant with your baby," I somehow pin the blame on him and he chuckles, allowing me to drag him back into our bedroom.

I let go of his hands and slid the glass door shut, locking it and keeping the persistent cold out. "Gods, I hope our children don't complain as much as you," He sighs, flopping down onto the bed.

"Oh honey, we're going to be the bane of your existence," I taunt, crawling up towards him on the mattress.

"Impossible," He sighs, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me right into him.

He wrapped his arms around me, the blankets covering the both of us and as if he knew exactly what I needed, the comforter began to seep warmth, the way the sun's rays felt after a rainy day.

"Wait," I perked up to look at him.

"What is it?" His brows furrowed.

"You said children, as in, more than one," I recalled and he looked at me confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said, I hope our children don't complain as much as you," I say, mocking him with a deep voice.

His confusion remained prominent on his face. "What about it?" He arched a brow. "I mean, whatever you want is fine with me but I wasn't exactly planning on only having one," He frowned.

"Well, how many do you want?" I asked, and you'd think this is something we would have talked about before he put a baby in me.

"I want a girl," He confessed. "Once we have a girl I'll be satisfied," He explained and I paled.

The Vanserra family was known for having a very long lineage of only male offspring. Whether it was a curse, magic, or dumb luck she wasn't quite sure. But he seemed entirely serious.

I stared at him with a fearful look in my eyes and he burst out laughing, chuckling at my expression.

"Gods, you should see your face," He hummed between breaths, cupping my cheeks in his hands.

"My pretty girl," He sighed once he got his amusement under control. "I promise I don't want anything that you wouldn't be comfortable with," He reassured and my anxiety declined. "But I would love to fuck another baby into you," He hummed, throwing his arms back around me.

"For a male so worried about becoming a father, you seem horny at the idea of getting me pregnant," I say and he grins.

"You just, I like the idea of having a family with you," He confesses and I lean upward, kissing him gently.

"I like the idea of having a family with you, too," I reply and he flushes so red that I could see the hue in the dark. I don't say anything, just peck his lips, reveling in the idea of being about to have a kid and still being able to make him blush.

"Get some sleep, Eris," I say softly against his lips. "You can tell me all about your plans for our family in the morning," I murmur through a yawn, furrowing deeper into his chest, melting into his warmth.

"Goodnight, beautiful," He whispered, running a hand through my hair until I drifted off beneath his touch.

It took him a moment to join me in a slumber, but the thoughts of his father were wiped away by my comforting words. And after a moment of reciting them, he was able to finally find some rest.

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[maxwellatoms]

Do you think the new division of Cartoon Network Studios will end up exploiting and abusing AI to make new cartoons of their old properties?

I wouldn't put it past any studio to do this.

We're at the end of The Animation Industry As We Know It, so studios are going to do anything and everything they can to stay alive.

The way I see it is:

AI "art" isn't actually art. Art is created by humans to express ideas and emotions. Writing prompts allows a computer to interpret human ideas and emotions by taking other examples of those things and recombining them.

Just because something isn't art doesn't mean that humans can't understand it or find it beautiful. We passed a really fun prompt generation milestone about a year ago where everything looked like it was made by a Dadaist or someone on heavy psychedelics. Now we're at the Uncanny Valley stage. Soon, you won't be able to tell the difference.

It's not just drawings and paintings that are effected, but writing and film. It's every part of the entertainment industry. And the genie is out of the bottle. I've seen people saying that prompt-based image generators have "democratized" art. And I see where they're coming from. In ten years, I can easily see a future where anyone can sit down at their desk, have a short conversation with their computer, and have a ready-to-watch, custom movie with flawless special effects, passable story, and a solid three act structure. You want to replace Harrison Ford in Star Wars with your little brother and have Chewbacca make only fart sounds, and then they fly to Narnia and fistfight Batman? Done.

But, sadly, long before we reach that ten year mark, the bots will get hold of this stuff and absolutely lay waste to existing art industries. Sure, as a prompter I guess you can be proud of the hours or days you put into crafting your prompts, but you know what's better than a human at crafting prompts? Bots. Imagine bots cranking out hundreds of thousands of full-length feature films per minute. The noise level will squash almost any organic artist or AI prompter out of existence.

AI images trivialize real art. The whole point of a studio is to provide the money, labor, and space to create these big, complicated art projects. But if there are no big, complicated art projects, no creatives leading the charge, and no employees to pay... what the fuck do we need studios for? We won't, but their sheer wealth and power will leave them forcing themselves on us for the rest of our lives.

The near future will see studios clamp down on the tech in order to keep it in their own hands. Disney does tons of proprietary tech stuff, so I'm sure they're ahead of the game. Other studios will continue to seek mergers until they can merge with a content distribution platform. I've heard rumors of Comcast wanting to buy out either WB or Nick. That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. The only winners of this game will be the two or three super-huge distribution platforms who can filter out enough of the spam (which they themselves are likely perpetuating) to provide a reasonable entertainment experience.

400,000 channels and nothing's on.

I do think that money will eventually make the "you can't copyright AI stuff" thing go away. There's also the attrition of "Oh, whoops! We accidentally put an AI actor in there and no one noticed for five years, so now it's cool."

One way or another, it's gonna be a wild ride. As the canary in the coal mine, I hope we can all get some UBI before I'm forced to move into the sewers and go full C.H.U.D.

[scarletwinterxx]

every comma, every question mark - mark lee scenario

helloo🥺 it's been a while since I wrote a mark lee scenario, and this one was supposed to be out for his birthday but i only finished now, better than never😅😅hope you like it!

all song credits belong to NIKI btw!!! her songs are amazing and I'm a big fan. true story is when I first heard plot twist, all i can think of is how mark lee coded that song is so here we are🤍

and yes the ending may be a hint that there's a next for this (?) not sure tho hahaha anywayssss

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"You need to let him go, it's 5 in the morning. You've been here since yesterday!"

Your manager's loud voice resonated through the room, breaking you from your train of thoughts.

"You're distracting me, if you do more of that I will never get out of here" you told him, turning back to your laptop trying. The only other person in the room besides you and your manager is your co-producer. These two is your closest companions, like your two older brothers. You spend most of your time with them, and you being the introvert you don't really have that many friends in the industry.

"As your manager, I love this whole creative wave you're going through. But as a concerned citizen, I'm begging you. Go home. It's your birthday, why are you hauled in this dark room" your manager continues to rant but you pay him no mind

"Yo, you're just making this last longer than it already is. I'm just letting her find whatever it is she's even looking for" your producer say, he's been here with you since yesterday ready to help you out when you need it.

Those two guys know you take your craft very seriously, each and every song you put out is like your own child. Each and every word, every tune, every melody all came from your pretty little mind. They are both very in awe of the discography you have created throughout the years and you're still so young.

Your manager exits the room, muttering something about getting breakfast and coffee before closing the door to the studio.

"How about one of the songs in your vault? You have a lot of unreleased demos" your producer suggests

"I don't know if there's one fit for this"

"Girl you have tons, surely there's one for now. Let's have a hear"

The two of you go through unreleased tracks, some finished and some still on the works before landing on a few possible candidates

"What are we looking for anyways?"

"Not sure, but I promised my fans I was going to put something out just in time for my birthday. It's my birthday and here I am" you grumbled, then suddenly you come across a demo you've written a while back

"Uh this one's old" you say before clicking on it, the beat playing through the speakers in the room

Where have you been All of my life? It's all growin' dim, now That you've come to light And who could've known, who would've thought Between the wishbones and dot-dot-dots There was always gonna be you and I

"When did you write that?" he asks

Just like that, the exact memory of when and where you first wrote that verse came flooding in your head.

"Oh"

"Oh what?"

"I feel like this is the one but I don't know if I can release this" you say

"What do you mean? Why?"

"I wrote this like some time a few years back... about a guy.. I had a crush on"

He chuckles at your reasoning, "So? All songs are inspired by something. You gotta start somewhere"

"Yea but what will I say when people ask what's the story behind it? I'm suppose to perform this on my birthday event this month"

"Then say it, what's the worst that could happen?"

Turns out a lot of things could happen. On the day of your birthday event where you're going to release your new song, your manager informed you a few artists are also present to watch you.

"What?? Why???"

"Cause they like you?" your manager asks back

"Who is it?" you ask but then the prod team calls for you

"Hey Y/N, we need you backstage now"

You get on stage, go on with your show and a short interview. The host surprises you with a cake from your fans and the crowd sings you happy birthday.

"I know it's my birthday but I have a gift for you also" the crowd cheers

"So I wrote a song, I actually wrote it a while back. It's about those unexpected moments that happen in my all to normal life. To be honest with you guys, I've always liked plot twists. The good kind" you add, making the crowd laugh

"Yea and uh sometimes there's someone who comes in your life who you didn't expect and suddenly the sky is bluer or the sun shines just a tad brighter" you blush a bit while trying to explain the song

"Anyways here's the new song, I hope you like it. It's called Plot Twist"

Look what we got A thickening plot Just when I started getting used to The thought Of closing the book There you were, in every nook Of every word, every page And now I wanna stay and wait, 'cause Met every comma, every question mark Bored of how all of the chapters start But you feel like a brand new arc That I never knew, oh I'd like to think I know a thing or two Like every day the sky's a different blue And then along came you, oh

The crowd turns their flash on, it's like a sea of stars in front of you. This made you smile while singing the words

Where have you been All of my life? It's all growin' dim, now That you've come to light And who could've known, who would've thought Between the wishbones and dot-dot-dots There was always gonna be you and I

You get to the last part of the song, enjoying watching the crowd have fun. Unbeknownst to you, the one who inspired this song was in the crowd bopping his head as he listens to your melodic voice.

Who could've imagined? Who could've imagined you? Who could've imagined? Who could've imagined you?

You finish the song and say your final ment before bidding goodbye to everyone.

Your team welcomes you backstage. congratulating you on another successful event. You were busy talking with the band when your manager pulls you on the side, "There's a few people here who wanted to greet you"

"Huh? Oh okay" you follow behind him down the halls.

When you get there the first person you saw was Haechan, a member of a group you're a fan of.

Your first thought was, what is he doing here

The second being, if he's here then surely his member is also here and you already have a hunch on who it might be

"Y/N, you already know Haechan and Mark. They came to watch tonight" your manager say

"Uh yea, oh sorry I wasn't expecting this. I'm a big fan" you tell them, bowing your head down as a sign of respecting and greeting. The two boys doing the same

"Me too, Love your songs" Haechan says, then adds a greeting at the end

"Happy birthday, we uh wanted to come and see you play live since we're on a break. Usually our schedules clash so we can't go to your shows" Mark says

Not believing this is actually happening, you give yourself a pinch on the back. It hurt.

"Me too, I mean I'm a fan too and uh thanks for coming"

"It's Mark hyung's birthday too so this was my gift to him" Haechan jokes, earning a jab on the side from Mark

"I invited him" Mark clarifies, you just laugh at that.

"You guys want some snacks? Refreshments? Let's go to the lounge room" your manager leads the three of you to the lounge area. The two guys, Haaechan and your manager, have a conversation between them. Turns out they're neighbors and Haechan's manager are friends with yours.

"I uh like your new song" Mark clears his throat as he tells you this

"Thanks, it's been a while since I wrote that actually" you mumble, feeling shy all of sudden. You definitely did not expect Mark of all people to be here tonight.

The very person who inspired you to write the song.

"I love the way you write your songs. There's always a story to uncover, big fan of your word plays" he tells you with a smiles you know will haunt your dreams for nights to come and until you make another song about him again.

"One of the few songs I've written that isn't about a heartbreak. And this is from my own point of view, usually I write them imagining the scenario in my head"

"What a lucky guy" he says

You chuckle, looking down at your shoes "He's great, but that song was a confession I'd probably never tell him"

"How come? It's a great song, he should feel honored"

You smile at that, finding the situation all too unreal.

"If he does figure it out, then I'll take my chance"

For a moment you gather up the courage to look him in the eye as if confessing the words without saying it. Like you wanted him to know it's about him but you're not sure if you can ever admit that to him.

Maybe not now. Maybe some other time, you do after all think he's the biggest plot twist of your story.

Then he's looking back at you, a glint in his eyes you wanted to know more about before he smiles at you again. His voice already writing the words in your head, ready for the melody and for your creative genius. He tells you,

"He'd be a fool not to take a chance with you"

[mcntsee]

I will always protect you.

Summary: One promise, and three times Kaz kept it.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of alcoholism, mention of alcoholic tendencies, underage drinking. Bruises, blood, stabbing, violence. Usual SOC stuff. And a little bit of ooc kaz.

Notes: Their ages go; first, 4 and 5, then, 13 and 14, after that, 15 and 16, and lastly 18 and 19. With Kaz being the oldest of the two. Also, I don’t know how little kids talk, so I tried to express their age more with actions.

THE PROMISE:

Kaz Brekker, a mischievous five-year-old boy with jet-black hair and sharp blue eyes, found himself running through the bustling streets of Lij. He was on his way to buy candy from his favorite stall when, by chance, he collided with a four-year-old girl. She had bright, curious eyes and a mischievous grin of her own.

"Oof! Sorry," Kaz muttered, rubbing his arm where he bumped into Y/N. The girl giggled and brushed herself off. "It's okay. Are you hurt?"

"Nah, I'm tough," Kaz replied, puffing out his chest. "What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N," she replied with a small curtsy. "What's yours?"

"Kaz," he answered, a sly smile forming on his lips. "You wanna come with me? I'm going to buy some candy." Y/N's eyes widened with excitement. "Yes, please! I love candy!"

Hand in hand, they ventured through the vibrant market, their laughter echoing through the air. They marveled at the colorful stalls, the fragrant spices, and the musicians playing lively tunes.

"Look, Y/N, that stall has lollipops!" Kaz pointed, pulling her toward a display of rainbow-colored sweets.

Y/N's eyes sparkled as she picked a blue lolly. "You think we can eat them all?" To the question, Kaz grinned mischievously. "Duh!"

They spent the day running from one stall to another, devouring candy and experiencing the wonders of Lij. They laughed, spun in circles, and created their own little adventures.

As the sun began to set, Kaz and Y/N found themselves sitting on a park bench, exhausted and with a tummy ache but happy.

"Y/N, I think you're my best friend," Kaz said, leaning against her shoulder. Y/N smiled warmly. "And you mine, Kaz. Forever."

After their delightful day in Lij, Kaz and Y/N couldn't bear the thought of being apart. They made a pact to meet at the same spot where they had bumped into each other every single day. And true to their word, they showed up without fail, ready for more adventures.

Their daily escapades were filled with laughter and endless games. They chased each other through the winding streets, played hide-and-seek among the market stalls, and invented new imaginary worlds where they were heroes saving the day.

Sometimes, Kaz would take Y/N to his family's farm on the outskirts of town. With excitement bubbling inside, Y/N met Kaz's older brother, Jordie, who always had a playful smirk on his face. And there was Kaz's father, a strong and kind man who welcomed Y/N with open arms.

Together, the duo explored the vast fields, chasing butterflies, and picking wildflowers. Kaz and Y/N would compete to see who could climb the tallest tree, giggling with delight at their friendly rivalry. They would visit the animals, feeding the chickens and petting the gentle horses.

As time passed, their bond grew stronger, and their adventures became even more extraordinary. They braved make-believe battles against fearsome dragons, crafted secret hideouts with blankets and pillows, and dreamed of grand expeditions to faraway lands.

One sunny afternoon, as Kaz and Y/N sat on their favorite park bench with nothing better to do, Kaz turned to her with a curious expression. "Y/N, can I come to your house today? I want to see where you live."

Y/N hesitated for a moment before shaking her head gently. "I'm sorry, Kaz. Maybe another time."

Kaz furrowed his brow, not entirely understanding why Y/N didn't want him to visit her home. "Awe, but why not?"

Y/N glanced down, her voice softening. "It's just- my da... he can be a little mean sometimes."

Kaz tilted his head, still not comprehending the depth of the situation. "What do you mean, mean? Like he doesn't let you have candy?"

Y/N's eyes filled with a mix of sadness and fear. "Sort of, yeah- it's hard to explain."

Kaz could sense Y/N's discomfort, and he didn't want to press her further if it made her uneasy. He reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay, maybe some other day?"

Y/N's expression softened, grateful for Kaz's understanding. She gave him a small smile and leaned against his shoulder. "Maybe."

Kaz smiled back, reassuring her with his presence. He knew that sometimes people had difficulties, and what mattered most was supporting each other through it all, even if Y/N's home remained a mystery to Kaz for the time being.

After a while of some more talking, y/n glanced at her old pocket watch, eye’s widening when she saw the time. “Uh oh. I need to go Kaz.” hurriedly, she stood up from her previous spot, putting her watch back in its place. While she ran as fast as her little legs could, she heard her name being called by Kaz “See you tomorrow?” Without stopping or looking back she yelled “Duh!” and just like that, she was out of Kaz’s sight.

The following day, Kaz waited in their usual meeting spot for hours, but Y/N never showed up. Feeling a mix of disappointment, he eventually headed home to find his older brother Jordie.

“Jordie, something’s wrong,” Kaz exclaimed as he entered the house. “Y/N didn’t come today. I think she doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Jordie chuckled softly, trying to ease Kaz’s concerns. “Come on, Kaz. Y/N wouldn’t just ditch you like that. Maybe she had something important to do.”

Kaz sighed, still uncertain. “But she always keeps her promises. I think it’s because I asked to go to her house. Maybe I pushed too much.”

Jordie’s expression shifted, a hint of unease crossing his face. “What did she say, Kaz? Why couldn’t you go to her house?”

Kaz shrugged, oblivious to Jordie’s uneasiness. “Y/N just said her da is not very nice sometimes.” Jordie’s eyes narrowed slightly, concern deepening. “She even mentioned he doesn’t let her have candy! Can you believe that?” Jordie listened attentively to Kaz’s concerns, his worry growing with each word. He understood the weight of Kaz’s words about Y/N’s father but decided not to mention it directly to Kaz, wanting to shield him from unnecessary distress.

“Kaz, I understand that you’re worried,” Jordie said with a reassuring smile. “But trust me, Y/N is still your best friend. Sometimes things come up, and she might have had something important to take care of. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

Kaz nodded, albeit still a bit unconvinced. “I guess you’re right, Jordie. I just miss her, that’s all.” Jordie gave Kaz a kind smile and patted his back lovingly “Also, you’re not supposed to be eating candy either, mister.”

One day turned into three, and although Jordie kept his worries about Y/N’s situation to himself, he couldn’t shake off the unease. He watched Kaz’s hopeful eyes and felt a sense of responsibility to protect his little brother’s innocence.

Days after, as Kaz sat at their usual meeting spot, the weight of worry had settled upon him. But this time, his anticipation shifted into sheer surprise as Y/N appeared, offering an apologetic smile.

Kaz’s eyes widened as he saw Y/N approaching, and he jumped up with excitement. “Y/N! You’re here! I missed you so much! Where have you been?”

Y/N’s smile flickered, and she looked down sheepishly. “Sorry, Kaz. I had important stuff to do. But I’m done now and I brought you a lolly!”

Kaz’s joy quickly turned to concern as he noticed the bruises on Y/N’s face and body. He furrowed his brow and asked, “What happened? You fall down?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “I’m not really allowed to talk about it.”

Kaz’s protective instincts kicked in, and he thought for a moment. “Well, my da is really good at fixing things. Maybe he can help you. Would you like that?” Y/N hesitated but nodded.

Hand in hand, Kaz and Y/N made their way to Kaz’s farm, a sense of determination guiding Kaz’s steps. They arrived at the farm, and Kaz’s father greeted them warmly.

“Da, Y/N has some little cuts and bruises,” Kaz explained, concern evident in his voice. “Can you help?”

Kaz’s father knelt down, examining Y/N’s injuries with a gentle touch. “What happened?” he questioned hoping for an answer, sadly, he got the same response as Kaz. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

Once Kaz’s father finished cleaning up Y/N’s wounds, he sat down with a concerned expression on his face. “Honey, I understand that you can’t talk about it, but I want you to know that you’re safe here. No one will find out, and Kaz and I will keep this as our secret. Won’t we, Kaz?” The boy eagerly nodded.

Y/N hesitated, looking at Kaz’s dad with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. Slowly, she mustered the courage to speak. “My ma and da are both sick.”

Kaz’s dad nodded, encouraging her to continue. “Can you tell me more about it, Y/N?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling. “Sometimes… sometimes they talk really weird, and they walk funny.” She paused for a second to look at Kaz’s confused face. “They sleep a lot too.”

Kaz’s dad’s face softened with understanding. “They’re alcoholics?”

Y/N looked puzzled, not fully comprehending the question being made. Kaz’s dad continued, trying his best to explain in a way that a young child could understand. “Sometimes, some people enjoy something that’s not good for them, like drinking too much alcohol. It can make them act differently and cause them to hurt themselves and others.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, realizing that Kaz’s dad understood the situation better than she expected. Encouraged by his empathy, she opened up a little more. “My da is really mean to me sometimes.”

Kaz’s dad’s expression turned solemn, and he pulled Y/N into a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. No one should ever be mean to you. You’re a kind and wonderful girl.”

Y/N fought back tears, feeling the warmth of Kaz’s dad’s embrace and the reassurance in his words. As he wiped away her tears, he gently asked, “Would you like to have a sleepover here tonight?”

At first, Y/N hesitated, worried about the potential consequences. “I should be on my way home before my dad gets angry at me.” she whispered.

Kaz’s dad gently took her hand and looked into her eyes with kindness. “You don’t have to worry about that here. I’ll talk to him, how’s that sound?”

Slowly, she nodded, finally letting herself accept the care and compassion offered to her. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Kaz was thrilled to have Y/N stay for a sleepover, knowing they would get to spend more time together than ever before. He took her hand and led her up to his room, eager to show her all his new toys.

Hours passed as they laughed, played, and let their imaginations run wild. Kaz's room became a world of adventure, filled with shared stories and cherished moments.

But as the evening grew late, Kaz remembered he needed to say goodnight to his dad and Jordie. He quietly made his way downstairs, hoping to bid them farewell before returning to his room with Y/N. Just as he was about to reach the main living area, he overheard his father and Jordie having a conversation in hushed tones.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Kaz leaned closer, eavesdropping on their words. His heart sinking as he heard his da say, "Her father hits her."

Shock and anger coursed through Kaz's young veins. He couldn't fathom why someone would hurt Y/N, his dear friend. Without hesitation, he quickly said goodnight to his father and Jordie, a mix of determination and concern etched on his face.

Hurrying back to his room, he found Y/N, already lying down in her makeshift bed, waiting for him. He approached her gently, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. “I will always protect you, Y/n.”

FIRST TIME:

Recently, Kaz had suffered a broken leg, rendering him immobile and dependent on Y/N’s support. Determined to alleviate their hunger, Y/N made a solemn promise. “Don’t worry, Kaz. I’ll find us food. Your job is to rest and heal.”

With a sense of purpose, Y/N embarked on a risky endeavor to steal from those they deemed as “rich assholes.” It was a desperate act born out of necessity, driven by the dire circumstances they found themselves in. Little did Y/N know that Kaz, the restless boy he always was, had decided to secretly follow her.

Kaz hobbled along with a mixture of determination and worry. He understood the risks involved, but his loyalty and protective nature urged him to be by Y/N’s side. He remained hidden, his eyes fixed on his friend’s movements, marveling at her agility and resourcefulness.

Y/N, driven by desperation, resorted to pickpocketing in an attempt to secure food for both her and Kaz. If she was lucky, she could get more money than she would by working for the dregs for a week. She managed to successfully lift money from three unsuspecting individuals, but on her fourth attempt, her lack of experience betrayed her. The merchant she targeted noticed her actions and seized her wrist forcefully, yanking her forward while unleashing a torrent of anger.

“You little thief! Trying to steal from me, huh?” Y/N struggled to break free, her heart pounding in her chest. However, the merchant’s grip only tightened, preventing her escape. “I won’t let you get away with it!” Fear gripped her, and tears welled up in her eyes as she braced herself for the consequences of her actions.

Just as the merchant leaned in, ready to strike, Kaz, fueled by a surge of protective instinct, launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground even though the pain in his leg was killing him.

“Leave her alone! Don’t you dare touch her!” The sudden attack caught the merchant off guard, giving Y/N a precious moment to pull away from his grasp. She stumbled backward, tears streaming down her face, but relief washed over her as Kaz shielded her from harm.

Kaz stood defiantly, his eyes blazing with determination. He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm Y/N, not while he was there to protect her. “You better stay away from us, or else you’ll regret it!” With that warning, Kaz extended a hand to Y/N, offering her support. She grasped his hand, her fingers trembling, and together they quickly retreated from the scene, their hearts pounding with a mix of fear and relief.

With their stomachs growling, Kaz and Y/N made their way to the bakery. Y/N’s heart raced, but luck was on their side for what seemed to be the first time in a long while. The stolen money she had managed to gather before getting caught was just enough to buy a loaf of bread, some meat, and cheese for Kaz.

As they walked back to their dilapidated “home,” a sense of relief washed over them. Amidst the worn-down buildings and bustling streets, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of a discarded cane. Acting swiftly, she snatched it, ensuring no one would notice its absence.

As Y/N handed the cane to Kaz, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. Kaz accepted it with gratitude, but when he instinctively positioned it on the wrong side, Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“No, silly,” Y/N chuckled, gently correcting him. “The cane goes on the hand opposite the side that needs support.”

Kaz’s brows furrowed, momentarily perplexed, but he quickly adjusted the cane to the correct side, a sheepish smile forming on his face. “Oh yeah, that’s way better.”

“Thanks for saving my ass back there, Kaz” Struggling to match his steps with the cane, Kaz looked at her, “I will always protect you, Y/N,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

SECOND TIME:

As Y/N turned 15 and Kaz reached 16, their lives continued to be a challenging dance with fate. However, a troubling change began to surface in Y/N’s behavior. Kaz noticed that she was increasingly reliant on alcohol, far beyond their occasional shared glass after a long day at Fifth Harbor.

It became apparent to Kaz that he rarely saw Y/N completely sober. Though she fluctuated between tipsy and heavily intoxicated, the presence of sobriety seemed to elude her. Concern etched across Kaz’s face as he observed the toll alcohol was taking on his dear friend.

He approached her room, where y/n was nursing a drink, and gently voiced his concerns. “You’ve been drinking a lot lately.” Y/n, defensive and caught off guard, shrugged it off with a dismissive tone. “Pff, come on, Kaz, ‘m just having fun. What’s the big deal?”

Kaz’s expression grew serious as he responded, “It’s not just about having fun anymore, y/n. It’s becoming a problem. Both your parents were alcoholics, and that makes it more likely for you to become one too.” He didn’t intend to bring back ugly memories, he just wanted Y/n back. His Y/n.

“Oh, so now you think ‘m like the asshole of a father I had? ‘s that what you’re saying?” But alas, luck was never really on his side, was it? Kaz hurried to explain, “No, y/n, that’s not what I meant. I’m just worried-“ But y/n was too defensive to listen. Her voice rose, and she interrupted him, “Just leave me alone, Kaz!”

Frustration built up within Kaz as he struggled to make his point. “I’m trying to help you, y/n! Can’t you see that?“

“I don’t need your help!

Their voices grew louder as the argument intensified. Hurtful words were exchanged, both knowing deep down that they didn’t mean them. In the heat of the moment, y/n’s drunken state led to a physical outburst - a push against Kaz. Stunned by the shove, Kaz felt a mix of anger and disappointment. He looked y/n in the eyes, his voice laced with bitterness. “Maybe you’re more like your father than you think.”

With those words hanging in the air, Kaz turned and walked out of y/n’s room, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was heavy with regret and realization.

Y/n, now alone, gradually started to comprehend the gravity of her actions. She felt a rush of memories flooding back - memories of her father’s destructive behavior and the pain it caused. The weight of her actions settled in, “Saints!”

Seeking clarity, y/n decided to take a cold shower, hoping it would sober her up both physically and mentally. As the cold water washed away the haze, she reflected on the hurtful things she had said and done. A couple of hours later, feeling completely sober, y/n mustered the courage to approach Kaz’s door.

Kaz opened the door, his face still wearing a frown, unsure of what to expect. Y/n took a deep breath and asked, “Can I come in?”

Hesitant, Kaz nodded and let y/n into his room. The atmosphere was tense, but y/n was determined to make amends. With a shaky voice, she spoke, “I’m completely sober now, Kaz.”

Kaz’s expression softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He nodded and replied, “Good.” Feeling the weight of her actions, y/n continued, “I never intended for it to go that far, Kaz” her voice filled with remorse. Kaz sighed and took a seat on his bed, ready to lend a listening ear. He understood that y/n needed to talk, to find a way to make sense of the chaos that had unfolded.

With a deep breath, y/n continued, “I don’t even know when it started or how it got to this point. The need for a drink just became so overwhelming, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

Kaz listened attentively, his eyes fixed on y/n, offering support without judgment. They spent hours talking, unraveling the underlying reasons for y/n’s struggle with alcohol and exploring the pain and insecurities that fueled it.

As y/n poured out her heart, Kaz remained by her side, offering guidance and understanding. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew the importance of being there for y/n during this difficult time. He could see the genuine remorse and determination in her eyes.

With a sense of gratitude, y/n said, “Thanks for always being there, Kaz.” Kaz’s gaze softened, and he replied sincerely, “I will always protect you, y/n.” He reached a shaky hand out to her, “Even if it is from yourself.”

THIRD TIME:

The crows and their stupid heists. Y/N and Kaz sat together in Kaz's office, surrounded by the other members of the crows. The air was filled with anticipation as they discussed their latest heist to steal a valuable pocket watch, rumored to be worth a fortune in Kruge. The details of how Kaz had stumbled upon this job remained a mystery to the crows, except for Y/N, who knew it came from a whisper Kaz had overheard in the bustling streets of Ketterdam.

The heist was no easy task, but it also didn't compare to the complexity of their other endeavors- like breaking Matthias out of the notorious Ice Court. This realization brought a sense of confidence to the group, as they knew they had faced greater challenges and emerged victorious. As the planning session drew to a close, the crows dispersed, leaving Y/N alone with Kaz.

Y/N took a seat opposite Kaz, her expression filled with concern. Kaz, ever the enigma, raised an eyebrow and prompted her to share what troubled her. With a deep breath, Y/N spoke up, voicing her worry about the people of Ketterdam and their reliability. She confessed her doubts about trusting anyone in this city, especially considering the clandestine nature of the whisper that led them to the heist.

Kaz couldn't help but let out an amused laugh, breaking the tension in the room. He understood Y/N's concerns all too well. After all, his experiences had taught him that trust was a rare and precious commodity in Ketterdam. But he also recognized the inherent irony in the situation—that the whisper, despite its uncertain source, had provided them with a valuable opportunity.

"You're right, Y/N," Kaz replied, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "People in Ketterdam are not worth trusting, or at least not easily. But this whisper most likely came from some drunk idiot who couldn't keep his mouth shut. We'll tread carefully, as always."

Y/N nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. She trusted Kaz. She always has. Knowing that his keen intuition and meticulous planning would guide them through the heist. “Are you sure you are ok with taking the pocket watch with you for a couple days until I figure out what to do with it?” With renewed assurance she nodded and they set their sights on the task at hand.

As the day turned into night, the crows meticulously executed their plan. Each member played their part flawlessly, their individual skills and unique abilities synergizing to overcome the obstacles in their path. Their heist was a masterclass in cunning and precision, culminating in the successful acquisition of the pocket watch. Little did they know, however, that their triumph held a secret yet to be discovered.

Unbeknownst to Kaz and Y/N, the whisper did not come from just any drunk idiot, it came from y/n’s father and the pocket watch they proudly took, concealed a hidden tracker. It had been planted there by Y/N's own father—a revelation that would soon shake their world.

After the celebration ended, Y/N bid her comrades farewell and made her way back to her apartment, yearning for a well-deserved rest. Fatigue hung heavily upon her, demanding solace in the form of warmth and comfort. She set about preparing herself a cup of tea, the steam from the kettle rising lazily in the air. While waiting she decided that she had enough time for a much needed quick shower.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her father, driven by a sinister agenda, had stealthily infiltrated her sanctuary. Hidden in the shadows, he seized the opportunity presented by the teapot, meticulously applying a deadly poison to the water within. Satisfied with his clandestine act, he retreated to a darkened corner, waiting for his daughter to return.

Blissfully unaware of the peril lurking within her own abode, Y/N continued her routine, seeking solace in the embrace of a soothing shower. The cascading water served as a respite, washing away the weariness of the day. Refreshed and unaware of the impending danger, Y/N emerged from the bathroom and made her way to the small kitchen, intending to savor the warmth of her tea.

With unquestioning trust, Y/N raised the cup to her lips and drained its contents in a single gulp. A moment later, a chilling voice pierced the silence, causing her to startle. "You know, you ruined my life," the intruder uttered, the words dripping with venom. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she realized she was not alone.

Reacting swiftly, a mixture of fear and determination coursed through her veins. She instinctively reached for a kitchen knife, her trembling hand clutching the handle tightly. Slowly and cautiously, she advanced toward the shadowy figure, her senses heightened.

As the figure laughed, the sinister sound echoing in the confined space, they taunted Y/N with words that struck like daggers. "Kill me if you'd like. It won't make a difference, by the end of the night, we both will be dead, dear daughter," they proclaimed, their voice seeping with a sinister resolve.

Y/N's mind raced, grappling with a flood of emotions. Fear mingled with confusion, but beneath it all, a fierce determination flickered. With every step, she steeled herself, ready to confront the threat that now loomed before her. The room became a battlefield, a clash of wills between a daughter seeking to protect herself and the malevolent force that sought to extinguish her existence.

As Y/N launched herself forward, driven by a potent mix of rage and self-preservation, her hand gripped the kitchen knife with a determination that bordered on desperation. With a swift and deliberate motion, she aimed for her father's abdomen, piercing his flesh and eliciting a pained gasp. Yet, even in his moment of agony, he mustered a twisted laugh, taunting her with the knowledge that her own life was destined to be cut short because of him.

The realization of her impending fate weighed heavily upon Y/N as she watched her father's life slip away. With each fading breath, he served as a macabre reminder of the torment he had inflicted upon her. But despite the finality of his demise, Y/N's heart remained heavy, burdened by the understanding that her own days were now numbered.

Her eyes fell upon her father's lifeless form, his body growing cold as the minutes ticked away. In a hurried gesture, Y/N searched his pockets, her hands moving with urgency. Her search led her to an empty glass, bearing the traces of the poison that had claimed so many lives before. She knew its deadly effects all too well, having witnessed its aftermath firsthand. There was no salvation for her now, only a slim chance of surviving until morning.

Driven by a sense of urgency, Y/N hurriedly descended to the dimly lit streets of Ketterdam. Amid the shadows, she spotted Rotty, a trusted member of the crew. With a sense of urgency, she thrust a note into his hands, her voice filled with a mix of desperation and determination as she implored him to deliver it to Kaz.

"Rotty," she called out, her voice laced with urgency. "Take this note. Deliver it to Kaz. Please hurry."

Rotty, recognizing the gravity of the situation, nodded solemnly, his loyalty unwavering. Without wasting another moment, he set off on his assigned task, the note clutched tightly in his grasp. Y/N watched his retreating figure, her heart pounding with anticipation and a glimmer of hope, praying that Kaz would receive her message in time.

In the midst of uncertainty, with the poison coursing through her veins, Y/N was acutely aware that the sands of time were slipping away, but she knew what she needed to do.

Rotty’s hurried footsteps echoed through the halls of Kaz’s office as he approached the door. He knocked, alerting Kaz to his presence, and without waiting for an invitation, he entered, his expression grave. Kaz’s sharp gaze locked onto Rotty, ready to inquire about the urgency that fueled his arrival. However, before a single word could leave Kaz’s lips, Rotty handed him the note and swiftly departed, leaving Kaz alone with the cryptic message.

Kaz’s eyes widened as he unfolded the note, revealing a simple white paper with a solitary lollipop drawn on it. To an outsider, this might have seemed perplexing, but to Kaz Brekker, it held a hidden significance. A sense of urgency surged through him as he recognized the unspoken message encoded within.

Kaz’s heart pounded in his chest as he raced to Y/N’s apartment, his mind racing with a million possibilities. The gravity of the situation only grew stronger with every step he took. When he finally arrived, he wasted no time and barged into the apartment, his senses on high alert.

The sight that greeted him was chilling—a man sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Kaz’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene, the implications of what had transpired sinking in. Before he could utter a single word, Y/N emerged from her room, her face pale with a mixture of relief and anguish.

“My father,” Y/N whispered, her voice laced with a complex blend of emotions.

Kaz approached Y/N cautiously, his gaze locked onto her. He could see the fear and exhaustion etched across her features, the toll of the night’s events visible in her eyes. Her face drained of the color it usually had, hands and body slightly trembling. “What happened.”

Kaz listened intently as Y/N recounted the events, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and raw emotion. He could sense the weight of her words, the pain that laced every syllable. As she spoke, he noticed the omission—the crucial pieces of information she chose not to share.

“Y/N,” Kaz began gently, his voice laced with concern, “How did he find you.” Y/N hesitated for a moment, she knew. Of course she knew the stupid watch had a tracker, she knew the whisper wasn’t just any drunk asshole, but she couldn’t tell him. “I don’t know Kaz. Maybe I wasn’t careful enough.”

Y/n’s hand extended towards Kaz, holding out the bottle she had found in her father’s jacket. Kaz took the empty bottle from Y/N’s trembling hand, his gloved finger slowly swiping over it. Realization hit him and he knew, he knew he was about to loose his best friend. “I can’t die like this, Kaz. Not because of him.” Kaz’s face pales as he comprehends the gravity of the situation. He knows all too well that this poison means certain death, and he knew what y/n was asking, but the mere thought of being the one to take her life was unbearable.

“I can’t,” Kaz says, his voice filled with desperation. “I can’t do that y/n. Please.” Please. He was begging his brain to think of something else. To find a solution that wouldn’t take her away, not now, not ever.

She understands the pain it causes him, but she needs him, needs his strength and protection more than ever. With a flicker of determination in her eyes, she implores, “Please, Kaz, protect me one last time.”

Her words strike deep into Kaz’s heart, shattering it into pieces. He made a vow years ago to safeguard Y/N, and he never intended to break it, not now, not ever. With a shaky hand, she hands Kaz a dagger, its blade sharp enough to tear through her heart.

Kaz’s mind races, desperately seeking a way to keep her safe, to find an alternative. But the reality of the situation crashes down on him as y/n crumples to her knees, clutching her chest tightly. In that moment, he understands that there are no potions, no saint, no saving her from this fate.

Gently, Kaz sits on the cold floor of the apartment and scoots closer to y/n, carefully cradling her against his chest. He knows she doesn’t want to die at the hands of the man who tormented her for years.

With a heavy heart, he takes the dagger, holding it as delicately as he can, his hands trembling as he positions it on top of her heart. He wishes there was another way, a way to spare her this pain, but in this moment, protecting her means granting her final wish.

“I will always protect you, y/n.” And with a final kiss to her sweaty forehead, the dagger went right through her heart, forever stopping it.

[moxfirefly]

"Of course I want them. I want them so much I can barely breathe but I'm not going to force it. If they come to me, it'll be on their terms. Not mine."

For Donnie or Mikey x reader (F) please? Maybe reader is the one saying that line 👀 jealous, fluff or smut scenario, you can choose! Thank you for opening your requests, you always deliver great pieces! ♥️💫

Oh this line hits! And I think Mikey is the guy for it and I think I’ll tweak it a bit if you don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words! Means a lot 🖤

Rated Feels

Mikey wanted to believe that his eyes were deceiving him at most, maybe not working at worst.

Because he really saw some peculiar stares on your behalf.

This whole crush thing was trickier now as an adult. When he was younger, crushing after April had been easy and fleeting.

Now? Some days he couldn’t chase away your scent to safe his life, he couldn’t remember what life before your proximity to him used to be. When had a song sounded better than the ringing of your name, carefully collected consonants and vowels crafted to melt on his tongue.

What had life been before the ache of watching you leave? The insane joy of watching you come home to grace his presence with honeyed bliss?

He felt silly, somewhat dumb, over all hopeless.

This all felt like a curse some days too. Not having the luxury of being topside with you, getting to experience the city night through you.

The wind picked up, cold little pin prick reminders of what he was. Mikey was fond of this roof, maybe because your building was across it, maybe because if he squinted hard enough he could see what your little life in your little apartment was like, and how he could fit into it.

“You plan on sulking all of patrol?” Raph’s deep baritone carried the chilly air as he sat on the ledge.

“I’m not sulking, that’s your job bro.” He was hugging his knees, chasing away the chilly air or maybe because he was truly sulking.

“That broad’s got you bent outta shape, you never got like this with Ape.” Because that had been childish puppy love, and somehow Raph couldn’t see that this ached for real.

It especially ached because there were too many moments where he swore you’d say something first, that you’d cave in and say something about the elephant in the room.

“I like her, she’s—she’s different.” It doesn’t do it justice but he doesn’t want to get mushy with Raph right now, not when his head isn’t cooperating and his heart feels heavy.

“Different alright, wants to hang around with a brat like you, laughs at your shitty jokes, caught her staring at your biceps once.” Raph numbered the facts on each of his fingers, nonchalant but aware of the gas he was pouring.

“Where ya going with this dude? Aside from giving me hope.” And hope was a tragic little word for their kind, something more akin to a light sprinkle of salt on a small wound.

“What I’m saying is, just go after her, tell her the truth. Ya want her, right? She probably wants ya.” Raph popped a toothpick in his mouth, an old habit dying too slowly.

“Of course I want her. I want her so much I can hardly breathe but I’m not going to force it. If she comes to me, it’ll be on her terms. Not mine.” It hurt to say it, it hurt to admit out loud that this was a luxury he couldn’t afford due to what he was.

Raph’s gaze soften, it wasn’t fun seeing his baby brother going through something that had his head spinning this badly. He reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze of sympathy.

Mikey watched the building, swore he saw the light on your apartment come alive. Flooding the modest little living room, he could picture you tossing your stuff with a huff and a sigh, before settling into the normalcy of your routine. He felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to see your name on the screen. It was enough to lift the black cloud.

Not enough to chase the storm away in his chest.

“Hey, angel, outta work finally?” He greeted you, that perfectly timed sigh of ‘fuck yes’ not (yes) sending a jolt through him.

“Are you still out on patrol? I got those disgusting heart attack inducing burgers from the bodega you like, wanna come over when your done being a superhero?” You cooed affectionately, he could hear the rustling of the bay.

Raph watched the smile, a smile only you were capable of sculpting out of Mikey.

He hoped, he hoped for a chance.

A chance at you two enjoying this little life.

[book-place]

Arts and Crafts Disaster

Warnings: blood, papers cuts, slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Castiel x reader platonic, Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

Request: hello :))) I have a request!! Can you do a castiel x child reader where castiel has to babysit child reader again, but child reader somehow injured themself and dean and sam come back from a hunt to a crying child reader and a panicky cas? thanks!! love your stories btw<33

Request by: @homowholikespace

*not my gif*

Summary: Cas is back to babysit again

A/N: There’s some references to a past work of mine —> Of Cats and Angels; Also, yes paper cuts do hurt that much. No, it’s not dramatic

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Cassie!” You cheered as soon as the angel landed in the bunker's library, hurrying over and wrapping your arms tightly around his leg in a hug.

“Hello, Y/n.” He greeted, patting the top of your head fondly.

“Thanks again for watching her, Cas.” Dean spoke up, striding into the room as he slung a duffel bag containing all he would need for the upcoming hunt over his shoulder.

“It is no problem.” He answered the eldest Winchester honestly, nodding along as you already began babbling to him about one thing or another.

Dean gave him a smile, clapping him on the back before trailing after Sam, who had walked up the stairs and out into the garage moments ago.

The two of them were going out on a hunt a couple miles away, so they called up their angel friend to babysit you once more. Considering the last time had been a success, save for the newfound kitten that now roamed the halls of the bunker.

“Say ‘hi’ to Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, Cassie!” You demanded, presenting the cat up to him as soon as your brother disappeared.

“Hello, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens.” He echoed, reaching out a finger and gently scratching the small thing behind its ear.

You grinned up at him, satisfied, and set the cat free on the ground, “What are we gonna do today?” You asked eagerly.

From the look on your face, he could tell you were hoping that today would end with you gaining a new pet again. But he couldn’t let that happen, he doubted your brothers would let it slide again. It was pure luck he got away unscathed after they found out about Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens last time.

“How about some arts and crafts?” Castiel suggested.

After the last time, he had done some research on what children liked to do, and this was one of the top results he had found.

You squealed, nodding up and down happily before skipping off to go get some art supplies Sam had left in a nearby closet for you and returned with a box filled to the brim with different papers, colored pencils, markers, and crayons.

You happily dumped them on a table and you and Cas set to work, a determined silence falling over the two of you like a blanket.

Working side by side, you each were laser focused on your own projects at hand, Castiel trying to draw a rainbow with the perfect mix of colors, and you working hard to draw a family picture of you and your brothers- featuring Castiel and Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, of course.

This went on for hours. Every time one of you finished your drawings, you wouldn’t find it satisfying enough, and would crumble it into a ball, toss it into a nearby wastebasket, and start over. There was definitely something admirable about both of your determination to get your pieces of art just right.

Finally, a wide grin broke out onto your face as you stared down at your paper, “Cassie! Cassie, look! I did it-“ You whipped your paper into your hands all too quickly to try and show the angel your finished product. The material sliced across your finger in such a way that it began to bleed immediately. Paper cut.

Both of you stilled for all of a minute, until the pain stung harsh and fast and tears began to fill your eyes.

You began wailing right away, sticking out your wounded hand as if it was infected, and Cas’s panic quickly filled his silent void.

“Are you alright?” He asked hurriedly, “What can I-“

You just kept bawling though, the sting of the paper cut that dug deep fresh in your pain.

Poor Castiel had no idea what to do. He had never been in this situation before. Sure, he could reach over and easily heal you with a touch, but all logic seemed to fly out of his mind the second you began sobbing.

“Hey! We’re home!” As always, Dean and Sam burst in at just the wrong moment.

The second your cries reached their ears, they flew down the stairs in a blur of movement and panic, very similar to Castiels, not stopping until they were right in front of the two of you.

“What is it?” Dean panted instantly, “What’s wrong?”

With a wobbling lip, you held out your scarred finger to them, and they both let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sam cooed, shoulders relaxing as he scooped you up into his arms, letting you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, “It’s okay, you’re alright.”

He lead you off to get a bandaid and Dean whirled around to face Cas as soon as he was out of sight, “What the hell, man?” He demanded.

The angel shrugged helplessly, “Just a moment ago she started crying very loudly and I didn’t know-“

You and Sam entered back in the room, hand in hand, as you wiped your eyes and nose with the back of your sleeve, calming down significantly.

“Are you alright?” Cas immediately asked in concern.

You nodded shyly, focusing your eyes on the ground as you shuffled your feet up and down.

Sam smiled down at you softly, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance, “She’s alright, just got a bit freaked out, that’s all.”

You sniffled slightly, gently letting go of Sam’s hand and walking back over to the table, lifting up your drawing- very carefully this time- to show the three men your hard work.

“Wow, great job, kiddo.” Dean praised instantly, reaching over and ruffling your hair, emitting giggles from you.

Sam grinned, studying the drawing of himself, “The hair is spot on.” He remarked.

“It looks wonderful, Y/n.” Castiel told you honestly.

All four of you were standing in a line in the picture, holding hands and wearing bright smiles, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens of course hanging a couple inches above all of you in the air, doing so with the powers you were convinced he had and just never used when you were all around.

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373 @popfishjr

[jellybear455]

let me heal you is one of my fave fics ever!! could i request a dreamwalker!reader x tsu’tey where tsu’tey has to teach reader the ways of the people because if he teaches jake he’ll rip his head off and he develops a major crush on the reader

Thank you for your request! This took me way too long to do for some reason.

Tsu'tey x reader

Warnings: blood, violence, loss

Word count: 3.2k

Part 2

--

Pandora. A planet full of new colours, knowledge and danger. Compared to Earth, it was heaven. Except, you can’t get there by dying. Instead, you must pledge your life force to science. Even then, only incredible luck got me here. Not as much luck as Jake Sully had, though.

The ex-marine, paralysed from the waist down, had a brother. I remember when Tom died. There was no funeral. No one hold funerals anymore. We spent years together, learning about Pandora and preparing to be launched into space. Tom was killed barely a month before we were due to leave. Six years in cyro can’t fix that pain.

Now, I watch Jake Sully, standing in Tom’s tall blue Avatar body, marvelling at the dirt between his toes. Human or not, he looks exactly like his brother.

Today was our first time linking to the artificial Na’vi vessels. The lack of a mask on my face feels strange, but strangely relieving. The Pandora atmosphere, containing curiously higher percentages of carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide and xenon, feels different to oxygen, somehow thicker as I breathe it in. It’s almost an out of body experience. I can feel my body, and I know it is mine, but when I look, it feels as though it is someone else’s. But that will go away in time. For now, I will enjoy the new freedoms and sensations that come with the Avatar.

--

The next morning, at 0600 on the dot, I am in my Avatar, and we are soaring above the Pandora jungle. I lean out over the edge of the helicopter beside Jake, who is also in his Avatar. We are zooming low over a huge body of water, accompanied by a flock of purple creatures, that squawk when we get too close.

The air craft rises again, over the trees, before descending onto the forest floor. Immediately, I jump down, ignoring how Jake waved his gun around like an idiot. He pushes ahead of me as the helicopter shuts off, tail whipping my leg. I hissed in annoyance, but followed behind without protesting.

We trepassed through the jungle, and despite the mind-blowing scenery, all I could think about was Pandora’s humanoid inhabitants. The Na’vi. The people we were impersonating with our Avatars. I was fluent in Na’vi, but Doctor Grace liked to tell me that my pronunciation was off. I think she just likes to get on my nerves.

The Na’vi were hunters by nature, and dangerous creatures that could kill you without batting an eye. Or so everyone would have us believe. Doctor Grace says the Na’vi are intelligent, sympathetic creatures, no different from us. Either way, I am certain that they are watching us right now.

Green monkey-like creatures with 6 legs swing through the trees. Jake raises his gun, but I reach out to lower it.

“Prolemuris.” I tell him, watching as they cartwheel away from us. “They are not aggressive.”

“Relax, marine. You’re making me nervous.” Grace says loudly, rolling her eyes and pushing past.

Eventually, Jake keeps walking.

“So,” Norm speaks up after sometime. “How will they know we’re here?”

“I’m sure they’re watching us right now.” Grace replies nonchalantly, echoing my thoughts from earlier.

We emerge from the thick forest and into a clearing. In the centre is a small, rotting, wooden hut. Grace strides in confidently, and the rest of us follow, a little less certain. Inside is the remains of a school. Books, which used to rest neatly on shelves, are scattered across the floor. Most of the desks remain upright, with chairs tucked underneath, but some are upside down and have been strewn across the room.

I watch silently from the door as Doctor Grace trails her hand sadly across a desk. When moves to another part of the room to gather equipment, I approach where she previously stood. Squinting a little, I can make out the rough letters scratched into the desk. ‘Sylwanin’.

“What happened here?” Jake questions, snapping me out of my thoughts. He stands next to an old black board, which is riddled with bullet holes.

Grace inhales sharply, and I watch as she fumbles for an answer. She finally settles on avoiding the question entirely. “Are you gonna help us here? We’ve got a lot to do.”

--

As Doctor Grace and Norm collect samples from a tree root, I wander off into the jungle. I enter another clearing, this time filled with round, spiralling plants. My hand brushes one, and it shrinks back into a little bud on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Jake demands, appearing from behind me.

I can’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl. “Watch this.”

When I poke another plant, Jake laughs too. I tough another, then another, and then they all shrink, leaving the clearing empty. My amusement fades away as Jake tenses beside me, and I spot a huge, armoured hammer-headed creature snorting at us from the trees. Jake yanks me behind him, and raises his gun. Fear spikes in my chest.

“Don’t shoot. You’ll only piss it off.” Grace’s voice crackles through the intercom in my ear.

“I think it’s already pissed off.” Jake responds, still pointing his gun at the creature.

“Trust me, Jake. That armour is too thick.” The marine relents, lowering his gun. Grace continues. “It’s a territorial threat display. Don’t run, or he’ll charge.”

“Thank what am I supposed to do, dance with it?”

“Just hold your ground.”

The animal huffs, pawing the ground, before letting out a roar and charging anyway.

“Grace…” I mutter, frozen in fear.

With a scream of his own, Jake ran, headfirst, towards it. My heart skipped at least three beats before the creature skidded to a halt, the webbed fans behind its hammer head spreading in alarm. It slinked away into the forest and Jake whooped in victory.

“Oh yeah! Who’s bad?” He shouted triumphantly. “That’s right. That’s what I’m talking about. Bitch.”

I laughed in relief, turning away from Jake to catch my breath. It did not take long for my blood to turn to ice again.

“That’s right, get your punk ass back to mommy.”

“Jake,” I whispered.

“Yeah, yeah you got nothing! You keep running.”

“Jake!” I hissed, a little louder.

Finally, he turned around. “What?”

The black, slick, panther-like thanator roared threateningly. It loomed above me on the tree, before leaping over us and growling at the pack of hammer heads. Jake raised his gun again in alarm.

“So, uh, what about this one? Run, don’t run?”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him in the other direction. “Run, definitely run!”

Leaping over a tree root, I rushed into the forest, Jake following close behind. I weaved around a tree, then through bamboo looking plants, then under a tree root. Still the thanator roared and crashed behind me. Launching myself off a particularly high rock, I curled my hands around a vine, using the momentum to swing myself up into a tree. The creature raced past, instead favouring Jake, who had taken refuge in the roots of another tree. He fired his gun desperately, but it did nothing to slow his pursuer. I searched my surroundings frantically, looking for someway to help. My eyes landed on the crack in the branch I stood across from.

My hands grappled for another vine, and I swung at the branch, hard. I was rewarded with a sickening crack. Still, the thanator dug at the roots, claws dangerously close to Jake. I swung again, once, twice, three times, until, with particularly loud crack, the branch plummeted to the ground, landing on the thanator’s tail. It screamed out, and Jake scrambled, running into the jungle. I grabbed another vine, sliding down and following after. The thanator kept screaming.

Jake ducked under a root ahead of me. Before I could make it through, the thanator soared over me, grabbing Jake by the backpack and swinging him through the air. He unclipped the back, and went tumbling to the ground. I rushed between the creatures legs as it shook the bag out of its jaws, and pulled him up with one hand. We kept running.

We hurtled through a break in the trees. The little control we had over our Avatar bodies was not enough to stop us as we realised we were fast heading off the edge of a cliff. I scream ripped out of my throat as the thanator snapped its jaws behind us. I crossed my arms over my chest and pushed my legs together. All I could do was hope that there was water beneath us.

My feet hit the rapids first, and the rest of my body followed. I did not have time to swim to the surface for air, because my head struck a rock, and I was rendered unconscious.

--

When I could think clearly again, the first thing I wondered was if I was dead. Then I realised that I certainly wasn’t, because why was my dead spirit being jostled around like a sack of potatoes? I pealed my eyes open, glad the light was not too bright. As it turns out, the person tossing me around was strangely familiar.

“Tom?”

The person looked down at me and grinned. “You’re awake.”

It was Jake, still in Tom’s Avatar. He had one arm under my knees, and the other across my shoulders, carrying me through the jungle. My head throbbed, and when I reached up to touch my forehead, my fingers came back with flakes of dried blood on them.

“How long have I been out?”

“Hours.” Jake said worriedly. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up at all. But hey, look on the bright side.”

He nodded ahead of us. A tall blue Na’vi woman carrying a bow stalked through the trees. She looked back occasionally, as if checking we were still there.

“Is that…”

“Hell yeah it is. She’s taking us back to their village.”

“Oh wow,” I muttered, taking her in. “What’s her name?”

“That’s a good question. I’ll ask.”

He did not get the chance, because his legs came out from under him, and we fell from the particularly high tree branch we had been walking across. I groaned loudly in pain when we hit the ground, unable to move as Jake frantically pulled on the rope around his ankles. As he tossed it away, more Na’vi on 6-legged, horse-like creatures emerged, wielding weapons.

Jake drew his knife, turning to see more Na’vi behind him. I struggled to stand, the pain in my head making me dizzy. I looked up, only to meet the eyes of a Na’vi. He aimed his arrow, no doubt laced with a neurotoxin, at my chest. I raised my hands in fear.

“Calm, people, calm.” The woman that had been leading the forest shouted. Despite being fluent, it took me a moment to translate the words.

The Na’vi pointing the arrow at me lowered his weapon, dismounting his horse thing, and stalking toward the woman.

“What are the doing, Tsu’tey?” The woman asked.

Tsu’tey. His name was Tsu’tey.

“These demons are forbidden here.” Tsu’tey replied.

“There has been a sign.” The woman insists. “This is a matter for the Tsahìk.”

I could not begin to comprehend what that meant, because my legs began to shake uncontrollably, and I fell to the ground again. Tsu’tey stared down at me, before grabbing me roughly under the arms and pulling me up on the horse thing with him, and laying me across his knees. I gasped, the sudden movement amplifying the dizziness in my head. I looked back to see Jake being dragged behind us by the Na’vi on foot.

When the jungle began to thin out, a huge tree came into sight. This was where the Omatikaya clan lived. The tree was at least three times bigger than the tallest tree in the jungle, and Na’vi flowed in and out of the trunk from a cave-sized hole at the base of it.

We rode straight into the hole, and the horse things began to slow down. Tsu’tey dismounted, pulling my down with him. My legs were still weak, but I managed to stand.

“This is so cool,” I whispered, gazing round at the curious eyes of the Na’vi around me.

Tsu’tey gave me a funny look, before ushering me forward through the crowd, that parted like a sea. I could count the four fingers pressing into the skin between my shoulder blades, although his touch was not rough like before. Some of the people whispered among themselves, and others reached out to touch me, darting away quickly, as though my five fingers were contagious. A little girl grabbed some of my hair, forcing me to stop. My hair went past my waist, since I had not had the chance to cut it. I smiled at her, and she giggle shyly, letting go. Tsu’tey pushed my forward.

We came to a stop, and soon Jake was pushed into position beside me. The woman stepped in front of us, talking to an older man with a huge belt across his shoulders. He approached, scanning us critically. I made the gesture the woman had made a few moments before. Three fingers to the forehead, then forward. I see you.

“Why do you bring these demons here?” He questions. The commanding tone, plus the decorations adorning his body. He is Olo'eyktan, the leader of the Omatikaya clan.

“I was going to kill them,” The woman says. “But there was a sign from Eywa.”

That’s the second time she’s mentioned a sign. What does that mean?

“I have said before, no dreamwalker will come here.” The Olo'eyktan booms.

“What’s he saying?” Jake whispers.

“The alien smell fills my nose.”

“You smell bad.” I whisper back, holding in a laugh at the confused expression on his face.

“My father is deciding whether to kill you.” The woman says.

Jake shifts uncomfortably. “Your father. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

He steps forward, offering his hand, and the Na’vi behind him leap to restrain him. I step forward too, quickly shoving Jake’s arm back to his side. The woman shoves him back, and Tsu’tey steps in front of the Olo'eyktan defensively.

“Step back!” Someone calls. “I will look at the aliens.”

A woman descends from a stairway above. She is decorated too, but not as much as the Olo'eyktan.

“That is mother.” The younger woman says. “She is Tsahìk, the one who interprets the will of Eywa.”

“Whose Eywa?” Jake asks.

I groan in annoyance. Can he be anymore oblivious? The Tsahìk circles us, pulling on Jake’s braid and tail, then running a hand through my hair and examining my fingers.

“What are you called?” She asks, her Na’vi accent dripping over the English words.

“Jake Sully.”

“And you?” She looks to me.

“My name is (Name).” I say in Na’vi, gesturing I see you to her as well.

The woman huffs a little, then withdraws a small pointy spike from her necklace. She reaches out suddenly, slicing it across both out faces in one fluid strike. I recoil in shock, then stead myself again. She licks it with her tongue, and her expression immediately changes to one of surprise.

“Why did you come to us?” She questions.

“We came to learn.” Jake replies confidently. I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

“We have tried to teach other Sky People. It is hard to fill a cup that is already full.”

“My cup is empty, trust me.” Jake insists. “Just ask Doctor Augustine, I’m no scientist.”

“Then what are you?”

Jake is silent. “I was a marine-“

“He is a warrior.” I cut in, thinking as quickly as I can with the pounding of my head. “Of the Jarhead clan.”

“A warrior!” Tsu’tey cries. “I could kill him easily.”

“No.” The Olo'eyktan stops him. “This is the first warrior of the Sky People we have seen. We need to learn more about him.”

“My daughter, you will teach him our way.” The Tsahìk says.

“Why me? Why not Tsu’tey?” The other woman hisses.

Her mother’s lips twist a little. “They will likely kill each other before the day is out. It is decided. My daughter will teach you our ways, Jakesully.” She approaches me again.

“What about her?” Jake asks, gesturing to me.

Yeah, what about me? Butterflies flap in my stomach. What if she kicks me out? I’m not a warrior. I am a scientist.

“That depends. Are you a warrior?”

“No…” I say. “But I can learn, too.”

The Tsahìk cocks her head. “Why should I believe you?”

“She is a warrior.” Jake cut in. “Just a different kind.”

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Saving your ass.” He mutters back. “She came here to save her people down on Earth. She will learn, trust me.”

It is silent, as the woman before me contemplates what to do. “Tsu’tey, you will teach this one.”

Tsu’tey growled. “But-“

“You will learn, child, or you will leave. Now go.” Tsahìk waved her hands. “You must begin immediately.”

With a hiss, Tsu’tey stalked toward me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me through the crowd. I stumbled on my own feet, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“Why are we in such a rush?” I huffed in annoyance when we had ascended to a higher, less crowded level of the tree.

“What is rush?” Tsu’tey asks, still leading me through the village.

“Um, to do something quickly, I guess.”

We stop at large hut. As we go inside, I take in the three women sitting in the corner, and the piles of bowls containing brightly coloured pastes around them. The rest of the floor is covered with woven mats.

“This is the healing hut.” Tsu’tey says.

10 minutes later, we emerge again. The wound on my head is clean and covered with a patch. The healers had retrieved a few garments of Na’vi clothing. A cloth top winds around my back, across my chest and loops around my neck. A second, much smaller cloth dangles between my legs, held up by a strap that curves above my hips. It definitely covers the extremities, but not as much as I’d like. I suppose this is a part of the learning.

Again, Tsu’tey grabs my arm, leading me further up and into a large communal level. In the centre is a bonfire, and Na’vi circle it, all crouched on their hunches. We walk right through the crowd and sit at the front. Tsu’tey hands me a rolled up leaf. Upon opening it, I pick up one of the contents. It is a beetle shaped thing. Tsu’tey crunches on his own, so I follow suit. Its hard on the outside, but soft and smooth in the middle. It kind of tastes like chicken soup, just… solid.

Beside me, the woman from the forest pushes Jake down to sit.

“Hey,” He says to me.

“Hi.” I wave back, munching on a beetle thing.

Jake talks to the woman, who eventually introduces herself as Neytiri. Tsu’tey hasn’t said a word to me since we left the healers.

“So, Tsu’tey, what is this stuff?”

“Teylu. You call…” Tsu’tey pauses to search for the words. “Beetle. Larvae.”

“Oh.”

[briar-rolfes-research-oubliette]

ON MONDAY, I (FINALLY) MADE IT ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE NEWEST ERAGON BOOK!

MURTAGH

“A Book I Read”

It took three very patient friends of mine to encourage me to finish reading this. I took notes the whole way through, and I am now sharing those in hope of finding loving community with my fellow haters.

Important context:

I loved Eragon, which came out when I was roughly eleven

Christopher Paolini was the first author to ever disappoint me

I used to love epic fantasy, until feminism, coming out, and learning about literary criticism made me just too mean to enjoy it

Since 2015, whenever I’ve had writer’s block, I’ve found inspiration by looking at this screenshot:

Christopher has managed to create a life where his mum has never stopped doing his laundry or his editing for him. He has never worked a job in his life. He has infinite time to work on his craft, and yet, with all of those advantages, he writes the way he does. I don’t hate him, but I do want to destroy him in single combat.

LET US BEGIN.

17 November 2023

I forgot how obsessed this man is with proving he knows rare words. Picking up my phone to google the word “trenchant”.

He really just didn’t want to say the dragon had a sharp sense of humour huh? Oh, no, it’s TRENCHANT. It wasn’t even for dialogue I identified as comedy but Murtagh thought it was TRENCHANT. He and Thorn have been alone in the wilderness for too long

NOT NASUADA BEING DESCRIBED AS HAVING ALMOND EYES

Of course the protagonist has grown a beard. He’s A Man Now.

I have a theory that this book is about coming to terms with marriage. Murtagh is like “our bond… our bond that lasts until death… the oldest magic… only the two of us understand each other. But, we’re also trapped with each other,” and I’m like hm. Fascinating. Say more

Instantly Murt befriends a child, to prove he is good really.

It’s so weird to read a book by a grown man with kids who is like “how did we all start out so innocent and pure…” like have you MET five year olds

This whole fork fight scene makes me feel second hand embarrassment deep in my soul. It’s SO This Guy Is The Best And Coolest

“Fencing with effortless ease” I do not care how well trained he is: you cannot kill four men with long swords by stabbing them with a little fork in “four hard impacts.” It’s just not happening.

I’m really dwelling on the idea of magic as “imposing your will” on something. It’s very.., something. Murtagh cleans his shirt by “imposing his will on the garment” like. Okay, I suppose in a way that is how all laundry is done, but it’s. Hm.

How come he’ll clean a shirt with magic but not shave with magic? Why are these books SO obsessed with beards and shaving and how to do shave and using magic for shaving etc etc, Eragon was also majorly preoccupied with this

Paolini’s got so many complexes on the page. All the “we’re half brothers and your dad killed my dad” stuff is A LOT

The naming stuff… SMH what would Ursula Le Guin say about all this

I’m obsessed with how even as (gasp) an OUTCAST!! Murtagh can’t not be the coolest guy ever for any time at all. It’s like a disease

Giving the child the enchanted killing fork was the worst decision ever made. Murtagh gives her a murder weapon and is then moping like “what’s it like… to live without killing…” literally pages later.

I’m really startled that Murt is delighted to see a tiny flying magical grass boat come down from the sky and circle him instead of being like “wtf, I’m being Watched,” which would be the true act of a man we are told is paranoid

I just got to the bit where Murtagh offhandedly says that magic users who “are the heaviest” always have the most spell reserves.

Like……… what???? Magic eats your fat?? It burns glucose??

You could be a better mage if you just, ate a bunch of raspberry frogs before each fight??????

It’s food powered??? You really want to go there, Paolini????? Wizards in the candy shop, eating sweeties like Mistborns?

GOD, if only Galbatorix had chugged a bottle of red cordial before his last big fight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I return after losing my mind about this to my partner for forty minutes)

If it was “if you’re hungry you can’t FOCUS” I’d get it. But I always assumed it was like, you know how other fantasy does it? Some kind of pool of ADDITIONAL energy that you are accessing and that can be used up (until you go too far and start using life force or whatever). Like, it’s CHANNELLING it that makes you tired, not that it’s literal food energy.

Murtagh is always running or doing his sword forms or whatever and now I’m like “DUDE, NO!!!?!? DON’T BURN YOUR WIZARD CALORIES!!?!?”

I like when magic can’t do EVERYTHING, when it’s consistent or limited in some way, but I do hate the idea that it’s this predictable. Food energy becomes raw magical power. I GUESS.

(A little later)

Screaming at the suggestion Thorn can tell when Murtagh is horny.

I don’t like the euphemisms. It makes it worse

The fact he can’t talk to his dragon whenever they’re “too far apart” (distance never specified) is making me insane. Why did I pick up the dragon riding book if it’s mostly about leaving your dragon locked up at the bike rack

I know Thorn is basically a rescue dog with anxiety, but it bothers me how much he’s left on his own. The narrative just has no idea what to use him for other than speedy transport for the first um… 200 pages, it seems? He’s meant to be his own creature with his own intelligence. He doesn’t go anywhere without Murtagh though. So what is he doing all the time

I think Paolini WANTS his world to be big and mysterious (his introduction literally just keeps saying things in the world of the story are mysterious) but he HAS to keep explaining everything

24 November 2023

I’ve figured out something that annoys me about the world of this book, in terms of just how the worldbuilding is not actually that magical. It has the D&D problem!!! Which is to say that every regular person on earth is Level One and every important character is like, level 12. And part of what makes that even worse is that all women in this world are level zero.

I’ve been watching my friend Chris play the first Alan Wake game and we realised that all the faceless enemies that are possessed by Evil in the game are… working class men. The protagonist is this literate wealthy New York writer who is constantly killing faceless workers—farmers, loggers, coal miners, builders. And that’s not an INTENTIONAL commentary by the game, but it’s very revealing. And This book is the same in that: there is no such thing as a complicated poor person. They’re all either Dirty Evil or Dirty Good. Murtagh is going around, writing poetry in his head and inventing magical computer code, and then every child is an urchin who is like Oi Guvnah, and every dad is gruff, and every woman is worried.

The language used to describe everyone who isn’t a Fighting Man is so demeaning. And even then, we only need to respect the leaders of those men. The leaders are the only ones with depth who might need to be taken seriously.

It’s like Murtagh has a tally in his head where he is going “finally, a guy who is level 6”!

Most people in this world exist to deliver information to the protagonist.

Paolini either thinks his readers are too dumb to understand that his characters exist between scenes, or he doesn’t understand himself that we don’t need to see every time Murtagh enters a city under a new name and how he does it. Or know what he ate for dinner and how he prepared it and where he slept and what he dreamed and, and, and—

It’s weird because Paolini is being self indulgent as fuck but it is NOT fun to read. This dude really just needs to go write a survival story or something… A guy in the woods depending on nothing but his wits and his axe and his beard and his libertarian values

I don’t understand the stakes at play. All the magic scenes with Mind Penetration are so sudden and hard to actually understand as action. And the way it works is about brute force, so the dragon is not going to be at risk of being taken over except by another, even bigger dragon

It would be fun to read the Murtagh city sleuth segments if Thorn was backseat driving a little. I think that their bond should not get thinner over distance. The fact that it does just defeats the point of a magical bond.

Why does the dragon have to stay so far away? Like… it’s established that there’s a spell to conceal a dragon from sight. Dude. You could just go fucking invisible

There’s so many decisions that just are so bonkers to have made. The whole fetch quest for information pissed me off so bad. “You have to join the guard” (40 pages of emotions about uniforms ensue). This guy learned about plots from video games

Paolini had kids apparently, but you can tell he doesn’t really understand kids. “How do they all start out so innocent and pure,” says a man who has never heard a seven year old describe someone being killed by farts before.

The description of Murtagh carrying a cat that doesn’t want to be carried is very funny. I don’t know if Paolini has ever carried a cat before. If you’re carrying a cat that doesn’t want to be carried close to your chest, and you tighten your grip when it squirms… say goodbye to your nipples, my man

It’s strange how much Paolini doesn’t explore the things that seem to be the point. FOR EXAMPLE, the fantasy soul bond trope loves to say “even during sex!??! 👀” because it’s about INTIMACY, and some alien presence always being there. The dragon rider trope is popular because dragons are powerful and wise but also Beasts. Magic is fun to read about because it can do things that can’t be explained.

Paolini’s world is big, but nothing in it has any real substance. Nothing in it has any real consequence, and it makes it impossible to really invest in anything that happens. None of these poor city folks have a life once they leave the scene of delivering Murtagh information… or if they are a woman, delivering him a hot meal. There’s no sense of a world that exists outside Murtagh’s point of view!

25 November 2023

The towns so far don’t feel at all distinctive to me! I was interested in the one with the massive lake, but then it having this massive fish in it was the only point of interest. It would be fun to have been like “oh the fish has ruined our summer festival! It’s ruined the nobility pleasure cruises! It’s also eating fishermen!” Or “Why do all these fishing boats have huge spikes on the prow? Well,”

Again, these guys are all level one in peasant dirt town. They have no capacity for individual thought and no ability to adapt.

It’s like Paolini doesn’t know what makes people and places in fantasy feel distinct, or have culture. It’s so evident in how much he HASN’T thought about. For example, the bonkers amount of restrictive gender norms that he doesn’t seem AT ALL CONSCIOUS OF? Everyone who died in the war was A Man. No women died in the war. But that hasn’t resulted in any social changes. There aren’t more women doing work, for example, like being fishermen

I remember being thirteen or so and reading the bit in the second book where Arya explains to Eragon that she’s better and stronger than a human woman, because she is an elf, so Eragon doesn’t have to worry about her in battle. I was this kid there like “man, that sucks. I assume he’s coming back to that assumption later,” and… he never did. He still hasn’t. And that sucks

The dragon riders were not THAT long ago, in the world of these books. It makes me wonder—were none of them human women? I always assumed that some were human women, but… did dragons only choose elf men, elf women, and human men? If they chose human women, then even being accepted into a paramilitary dragon force didn’t change gender expectations in the rest of the world. What the fuck. He’s really never thought about this.

Women keep showing up as cunning-mysterious, as humble dirtmothers, or as innocent children. Oh my god I’m just describing maiden mother crone. That’s all he’s capable of.

I just got up to where he rescues the werecat baby (innocent girl child) and settles in to hear the stories of elder werecat (cunning-mysterious)

I noticed the Arya Problem with how Nasuada is described in this book, too. Every woman has to be the best, most capable, most powerful woman ever, to be worth the attention of The Boys. Otherwise they can’t respect her. Only two literal queens can be considered worthy of just two average guys who got pet lizards. Even then, they’re not actual equals.

“She still empathised for me.” Yes, don’t worry, Murtagh, I remember that’s what women are for.

I should note that the reason Nasuada is considered so powerful and so much worthy of his love and is her strength as a person. This is proven in the Eragon books because “she still empathised” with Murtagh whilst he was medieval torturing her. He was medieval torturing her for like… most of a book and that’s how they fell in love. Because she could see in his eyes that this guy torturing her… was Complicated. He didn’t really WANT to be medieval torturing her so she actually felt worse for him than he felt about how he was (and I can’t stress this enough) medieval torturing her

I just can’t imagine that THE QUEEN OF A WHOLE CONTINENT would still prefer the guy who sadly tortured her. He’s her top preference. Out of EVERY OTHER MAN IN THE WORLD

I put the book down until the day before I was meant to have finished the book for book club:

10 March 2024: from page 274 onwards

The evil witch is called BACHEL?????!!?!??!? Fucking BACHEL. Pronounced “buh-SHELL”, the guide at the back says. You changed one letter in Rachel, don’t lie to me Paolini

I got so mad being reminded the evil king Galbatorix was defeated by “Eragon forcing empathy upon him” so that he magically exploded himself out of guilt that I had to put the book down and complain to Charlie for five straight minutes

I guess that’s why Galbatorix made Murtagh torture Nasuada for him. He knew that if he’d done it himself she would have empathised with him too hard and he would’ve exploded himself

Murtagh has never met a single person he has respected. Murtagh is the specialest boy in all the land. Eragon had to leave the country because they were both too special to share a continent

Murtagh decided on where to go and he was immediately surrounded by armed guards who took him to where the plot was

Paolini uses the fucking word “admixed” while discussing EATING A PIE. The flavours admixed in his mouth. Just because you know a word… doesn’t mean it’s a word to deploy about eating a pie

I HATE how the only people strong enough to do the strongest magic are Elves Or Human Riders. It’s fucking magic my guy! Why is it checking your goddamn DNA! Also, hey! Wasn’t it supposed to come down to the strongest wizards being the guys who ate the most for lunch?

In a world of Magic how come every wizard battle ultimately comes down to who is a better Professor X?? I came here for fireballs, not Mind Battles. I don’t care about your Mental Wards

Hahaha Murtagh!!! Get trapdoored, bitch!!!!

Dragon panic attacks: conceptually cool but a bit ?? Like ah… the plot literally comes to scoop him up and carry him away. Yet again something outside of Murtagh makes a decision for him about what to do next

Murtagh’s poetry is going to make me explode myself like Galbatorix in book 4

If there’s something I like about this book so far it’s just the bits where he and Thorn are camping. Not flying, because then Murtagh is using the time to think and that’s horrible. The bits where they make campfires or whatever feel like something is actually happening. A guy and his dragon hanging out

Man. The way this novel is plotted really reminds me that it’s not actually that hard to write a book.

Murtagh goes to the evil village (oh yeah there’s an evil village. It is where Bachel lives. She is evil because she does magic without using the magic language). The village is called:

NAL GORGOTH

But I couldn’t remember this so I kept referring to it in my head by another, more familiar, name

Murtagh is so freaked out by finding a village with architecture that he doesn’t recognise. He’s like “My god!!! Nasuada has to be warned!!!” Ok but about what??? New ways of building pillars???? The art deco movement threatens the land??

Kinda fascinated by how much this village represents a threat to CULTURE. The architecture, the people… Everything about it so far is designed to be A Foreign Threat. The inhabitants are Of All Races (except elves they are too cool too pure etc). The humans have A VARIETY OF SKIN COLOURS, which memorably never happens in Alagaesia, a continent once explicitly described in the Eragon books as only having two (2) black people on it at all (then one died) (the other is Nasuada) (the one who died was her dad)

This guy with a goatee isn’t quite human. He is maybe part urgal and he is so uncomfortable to look at! Mainly he has arms that are a bit too long!! Bachel isn’t a human and also isn’t an elf, and that’s also deeply unsettling.

Bachel also fundamentally represents a threat to THE STRUCTURING POWER OF LANGUAGE, huh??

Bachel is so far the most interesting character in the book!

Bachel has: ALMOND EYES and AMBER SKIN

Murtagh is so upset and confused when Bachel calls him “my son” like… I’m cryign. “But she’s not my mother! I know my mother!!” he thinks, in a panic.

If this was a fantasy novel written twenty to thirty years ago, then the sexual tension between Murtagh and Bachel would be absolutely insane. Alas, this is a world of abstinence, and sexuality is only ever meaningful looks between a queen and the guy who tortured her (it is weird how he keeps caressing Nasuada’s face on the gold coins)

It’s very funny that Bachel has specifically fourteen warriors. The prose keeps telling us that there’s fourteen of them. So you get Murtagh stepping forwards and then sentences like “the fourteen warriors attending Bachel shifted”

She seems like a perfectly normal cult leader to me? Why is she automatically a threat to Nasuada! How come the two of them can’t arrange a toxic political marriage that becomes… something more 😉😉😉

Nothing annoys me more in this book than Murtagh being able to identify specific vintages of wine. It keeps happening and it pisses me off

Bachel is a half elf!!! “It had never occurred to him that such a thing might be possible.” This is truly and absolutely unbelievable to me. Nobody in this world ever has sex

How did it take so long to get to such an objectively cool village!!! Like this is just a cool place!!! Sorry that Nar Nar Goon is evil but like FINALLY something has style

Three thoughts at once:

I’m so bored that Paolini’s mind can’t get more interesting than temple virgins, let alone wearing white to represent ritualistic purity. Like… nobody in this world fucks anyway, why does it matter!

Murtagh should also wear white all the time

Lesbianism doesn’t count as a violation of being temple chosen. Alín is wearing lesbianism

Paolini has never once written a woman who is Normal. He just can’t conceive of it. You can feel how he starts sweating.

Murtagh finally realised it was a cult. What sets it apart as a cult is that the followers appear to be “half-wits” to him

I’m going to detransition to break his fucking neck

Paolini has learned nothing since he had a woman deliver the exact same line in like 2008. The fact that another editor just thumbsed this up. The fact that this is in a book published in 2023. Well, now I’m REALLY embarking on an antagonistic reading: that’s right, I am reading women as capable.

Obsessed with Bachel. She is a girlboss and I’m a feminist xxx

Book is constantly weird about how much she is capable of eating and drinking at her feasts and how it makes her appear swollen and bloated etc etc. Murtagh is so weirded out by this because he feels it is unfeminine… as though she is not a witch and we weren’t told earlier that how much magic you have is directly equal to how much you eat. (Meanwhile he is only picking at his food and eating just enough of it ‘to be polite’ as though this is not making a decision to have less magic than her)

She has so much charisma compared to anyone else in the book. If my choices are her or Murtagh then sign me up boys!!!

Okay but much like how this would’ve been a VERY charged relationship 30 years ago, I’m weirdly disappointed Bachel she isn’t not described as megahot? Like the book keeps telling me about this virginal templemaiden or whatever, because Murtagh is only attracted to women he can rescue. But I’m actually just like… I think this woman is hot. Tell me more about her. It’s wild that this book is written by a guy like Paolini, who told me all about Oromis’ pubic hair in 2008, and who barely thinks women are people. Yet he doesn’t want to discuss her tiddies?

This book could, and should! have started when Murtagh landed his dragon in the evil village of Nar Nar Goon. That’s the point that stuff got actually interesting. Everything before this was literally video game fetch quest logic plotting that earned him the right to fly to Nar Nar Goon.

Boar hunt. More like BORED hunt. And then suddenly there are so many pigs, a comical number of them flying everywhere

This motherfucker using the phrase “the boar was lying athwart him” in a sentence in an action scene????

Murtagh is nearly dead and the boar is lying athwart him?

I’m going back in time and bullying the author at school

RIP Murtagh, trambled to death by 30-50 wild hogs

Oh god every time someone knocks Murtagh out he has a vision or a bad dream or a flashback or whatever and it’s so tiring

“EXISTENCE WAS A TOMB WHEREIN THE SINS OF THE PAST LAID INTERRED???” Do you ever read a sentence that sounds so much like the author is jerking it? “All had been lost, and there before him lay the instrument of their destruction” he is furiously jerking it oh my god. “Destroyer of hope, eater of light” oh, god, he’s still going

…This book is. Weird about mothers

Murtagh flies into a rage because Bachel mercy killed a guy who was dying bc of boar trampling because “I COULD HAVE HEALED HIM!!!!!” And the mercy killing is proof it is a cult. Because doing it Bachel’s way meant the guy was too relaxed and at peace when he died

Paolini’s family were in a cult, as I understand. So it’s kind of weird how much he doesn’t really understand how being in a cult works

I don’t really remember how religion works in this world, but I do remember tuning out of a long boring passage in book 2 or 3 where Eragon learned about all the gods and decided he was an atheist. It’s especially weird to be like “holy shit, an EVIL religion??!” In a book where religion has absolutely never come up before now

Oh my god, Alìn was whipped for being ‘too familiar’ with Murtagh!!! That’s because she’s so pure and a helpless victim girl in all white :’((

In my mind Bachel and Alìn COULD be in a fucked up lesbian relationship with bad BDSM etiquette. Of course Paolini can’t imagine a world where women have enough personality or agency to fall in toxic love with each other. Also even though he has people tied up and strapped down and whipped and being tortured etc in every book don’t think he knows that BDSM like. Exists. Boooooo

Murtagh: killing one guy who is dying of a punctured lung is the ultimate evil!

Also Murtagh: I know an invisibility spell, but to sneak out of my room I am going to suffocate seven men to death

Genuinely upsetting to read those men dying. He made it impossible for air to enter or exit their lungs with a word. Veins popping clawing at faces etc. God, what a way to go. So unnecessarily cruel. Yep, there goes the good guy

The main way the village is evil is that there are unsettling carvings everywhere. Paolini read some Lovecraft, but he did not understand what was up with it. Or maybe he did, because this book did get a lot more weird about Racial Purity once Murtagh arrived in Lovecraft Village

11 March 2024

There’s a bloodstain that “filled Murtagh with the apprehension of evil” and it confused me because these books are so gory. Earlier he killed four men with a fork. But like oh yeah I guess it’s because when Murtagh murders people now it’s bloodless. I guess. His murders are good you see

This chapter is called The Bad Sleep-Well you can tell Paolini thought he was a real genius for this one

Okay but why are there bats… roosting… in a cave… at night. And why is Murtagh worried that red light will risk waking them? Animals cannot see red light?? SOME FARM BOY YOU ARE, PAOLINI

Okay I have to stop nitpicking. I have to restrain myself until my Vyvanse kicks in

“Murtagh felt a sense of not just age but antiquity. Whoever had built the stairs had done so long before Alagaesia had been a settled place. What was it Bachel had said? That the cultists had lived in Nal Gorgoth since before elves were elves... He was starting to think she had told the truth.”

Sorry uhhhh, Alagaesia was settled?? When they talk about The Grey Ones, are they talking about a race PRIOR TO COLONISATION?????????

“He continued forward. Deeper into the womb of the earth. Deeper into the black unknown, seeking, seeking, always seeking a farther shore, every sense razor-sharp and razor-scraped, skin all goosefleshed, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck and gathering around his belted waist.”

God it’s so overwrought...

He found the well!!

Oh my god. The well is a natural magic hotspot and that means it “wasn’t the sort of thing that the Draumar ought to have dominion over.” It’s a natural resource???

“Not that he would want Du Vrangr Gata to assume control over such an important location either. This was exactly what the Riders had been created for: to oversee and mediate that which could destabilize the land.”

Murtagh is going to bring democracy to the Middle East

He’s too scared to mentally contact his dragon with Bachel around. If he was a proper horse girl he would find a way

Oh Galbatorix BECAME evil because he met Bachel and she manipulated him. Haha oh dear. No, you can’t just come to the conclusion the dragon rider paramilitary force who controls the resources are bad on your own. Not just because they sent you into the mountains when they knew it was dangerous and wanted to find out if you’d be killed up there! No, a manipulation had to have happened

It’s funny to me that the evil ancient witch queen who lives in seclusion in the mountains uses the new name for the city of Uru’baen. Oh no, she knows it as Ilirea. She’s hundreds and hundreds of years old. You know what that is? Evidence of Find And Replace, to me.

Bachel’s eyes are “glowing with fevered ecstasy.” I could make her feel that way. Also. Because, I know about sex

Always with the fucking passing out at the end of the chapter for Christopher James Paolini

NOW Bachel is being described appropriately as a hottie. FINALLY. GOD! It only took Murtagh being mind controlled in his brain but I. I!!! I could see the glorious light of truth!!

“He followed, dumb and wildered.” Well, not as much as that sentence. (You can be bewildered. But can you ever just be wildered????)

The dedication to making Murtagh the most pitiful little meow meow in existence in the Galbatorix flashbacks I’m… what happened to the joys of a guy who is evil because he was convinced or was tricked, not because he was fully brain abused???

The Urgals are racially… uncomfortable. Yellow eyes and Murtagh just straight up saying “how do you speak English”

The evil guys have masks and they put them on and like channel the animals the masks are of and on one hand it’s an idea I THINK is cool but also combined with the everything it really has this “tribal stuff is threatening” vibe all over it

“What do you want, witch?”

“I want you.”

Obsessed with how he’s shackled to a table and there’s still an incredible lack of sexual energy to this scene. This is like a day at the office for both of them.

… oh, but she is wearing claws and claws DOES equal a threat of penetration. Maybe a little sexual? As a treat??

Him being tortured reminds him of torturing Nasuada. Wow, it was their first date!

It’s just like. It’s fucked up imo. She should never kiss you Murtagh!!!

Is anything more boring than a torture scene.

Also, was he not drugged right before this scene? How is he able to mentally evade her and power his wards etc?

I’m mad that when he’s brought fancy foods by Alìn he doesn’t share his food with Ubek the Urgal

Oh my god Ubek tells him a story where the moral is just him outright saying at the end, “it’s important to stay close to the people we care for, even if we don’t always fit in so easily” lmao. Subtlety of a mallet

Is anything more boring than a torture scene? How about a torture chapter!!!1!1!1!

This chapter is interminable. Oh my god.

Oh, so we did all that and he gives in I guess. I can’t believe how little agency this man has had throughout this book????

Haha oh my god, Bachel is studying his nude and compliant body in front of her court. Telling him to turn around so she can inspect his back (no mention of his ass even though it is out, tragic). Fucking love it. Now that’s bdsm. Pledging my allegiance to her instantly.

I am BORED. I liked when he was at least doing things of his own volition!

He flies his dragon off on Bachel’s orders and we get the line “Never had air smelled so… so… delicious.” Cryign

GASP he’s killed… CHILDREN!!!!!!! I hate how it only becomes horrifying for him to have done these murders once he realises they’re HUMAN children. Urgal children? The implication is that would’ve been a bit tacky but ultimately fine

Prison brothers blood pact. I feel so little about this. Ubek is 5000x more interesting than Murtagh but he’s been slotted into what is unfortunately a sort of magical indigenous person trope but where instead of being a human being, he is an orc. Which makes the whole trope much worse

Murtagh touched Alìn’s face… gasp! She’s been corrupted by the Touch Of A Man!!!!! (I do not care about this.)

(I care a little. For example she didn’t touch HIM. He just reached out and she didn’t pull away. This is the biggest decision about this character’s life, and she isn’t even allowed to be the one who makes it. He decides on her behalf, and she must be okay with it. Because she doesn’t pull away or fight him off.)

(Also Paolini doesn’t seem to be aware that ‘a woman who has been pledged not to be touched by a man’ would um. USUALLY be understood by a reader as euphemistic. Not that her purity could be forever ruined by a man literally just touching her face)

The way Paolini fills Murtagh’s brainwashed dialogue with oops all ellipses makes me want to tear the book apart with my teeth

Worst: how Grieve the guy who is part urgal is perpetually referred to as “heavy-browed.” “the heavy-browed Grieve” I’m sorry but I missed phrenology school, is that bad??

Also if he’s maybe part Urgal but Murtagh is now given a chance to making it clear that some of his best friends are urgals... Why is Grieve so distastefully described? What’s wrong with being half urgal? My suspicion: it’s the bloodlines intermingling

I suspect I can just skip every fucking dream sequence and flashback. Nothing of any value in these

This one guy, Lyreth, who trapdoored Murtagh for 2.5 seconds ages ago in the book, is TWICE referenced as holding/ touching the waists of “village” or “cultist” women in his dialogue tags. That’s the full extent of it. It’s not that there’s a giggling tavern girl sprawled in his lap while he’s speaking. These faceless women are exclusively sketched into existence by how a named male character’s hand is on their waist. We don’t know anything about how they are responding to his touch, which is extra in-your-face considering that Murtagh just obliterated a woman’s ritual purity by touching her face without asking. And it’s only ever these women’s waist. It’s not their hips or thighs or boobs. He’s not kissing their necks. I’m sure in Paolini’s mind this guy touching women’s waists is meant to read as sexual, which is supposed to reinforce that he’s a scumbag… but it doesn’t work because it’s so impersonal. These women are just… unmoving waists that he is just touching. It serves as a good illustration of how women—and sex and sexuality and bodies—are handled in these books. Men are never ruled by their strong and muscular bodies. Men have minds, and magic, and telepathy battles. Even when Murtagh is on a torture table or when he’s naked in front of a powerful woman who is actively inspecting his body, he doesn’t feel vulnerable. He doesn’t have an ass or a dick. The wind doesn’t make him shiver. He’s just a Mind. But women, well. They only have bodies when men touch them. The course of Alin’s life is defined by Murtagh’s touch, and even Nasuada, a fucking queen, only gets physical description via the coins Murtagh has in his possession and his memory of the cuts and bruises he left on her body. And women also have no minds—unless they’re werecats or elves or half elves, the only kind of woman who are remotely threatening, the only kind of women who are “as good as” the baseline of human men. Nasuada is proven as Murtagh’s equal because she was able to overcome the torture of her body. If he hadn’t tortured her, or if she had broken down, she wouldn’t have proven herself worthy of being his romantic partner.

Eragon’s romantic interest also started out being tortured. Not by him, but “girl who is tortured but is too strong to give up her secrets” was her entire characterisation for a book and a half, until he rescued her. That’s uh. That’s how you find girlfriends who are good enough for your protagonists.

THESE FUCKING BOOKS.

Bachel has put Thorn in a special wrought iron muzzle. Yet again, this is just objectively cool

We learn about who the cult worships: evil dragon underground. He makes fumes come out of the earth and they brainwash people and give them visions. He will come out of the ground and eat the sun unless every living thing worships him.

Really Bachel is not leading a cult she is leading an environmental rescue mission. Quick we gotta get everyone to worship this evil dragon STAT, or he’s going to wipe out all life on earth.

Why does an evil dragon living under the earth with the power to eat the sun (?!??!) actually want or need to be worshipped by “every living thing”. What is his motivation?? And why would that stop him eating the sun?

“The sculptures would have horrified most any artist in Alagaesia, no matter their race.” Mark this down as one of the worst sentences he has written yet!!

I realise now I’ve been misremembering multiple main characters’ names

I like Bachel telling Thorn to stay, like he’s a dog. That’s good to me

Murtagh is learning about the power of friendship to heal himself last minute, I guess

Why is Murtagh pausing to duel fucking Lyreth, the most boring man in the world. Is it because of the waists he touched??? I have never felt this man was worth any time at all

NOT Paolini specifically pointing out that Lyreth “smelled of a cloying peach scented perfume” and that he’s physically weaker than Murtagh as Murtagh overcomes him. Lyreth was too feminine to be strong, in the end

This book is obsessed with the word “youngling.” Murtagh says to Thorn “don’t kill any younglings.” He’s fighting Lyreth but he’s not worried because he himself is “no longer a youngling”. Fucking fuck off! just say youth. Child. Kid. Teenager even!! Come on!!

Murtagh going “this is taking too long” in the duel: me at the whole book thus far

“Is wrong-think to worship Bachel or Azlagur,” says Ubek. This is real dialogue in a book published in real 2023. Oh yeah btw everything he says is written like this

Oh, the urgal’s size and brute strength makes him Murtagh’s equal. I see

Grieve is legitimately yelling “kill the non-believers!!” and calling them desecrators??? Cartoon hours

To start winning the fight, all Murtagh had to do was find his magic sword! It stores all his potency and he inherited it from his father. Freud?? Don’t worry about it

The cultists are bleeding green blood???? Does this mean they’re not human or is it the lighting or what.

Groups of dragons are always being described as a Thunder Of. They’re only ever being described in visions but it’s always being described as “a thunder of dragons”, because Paolini is very proud of inventing his very own collective noun for dragons I guess

Buncha little pasty freaks showing up.

Murtagh’s ultimate challenge: he has to fight one hundred gollums

Paolini inventing new guys for his dungeon at unprecedented rates

Murtagh is legitimately busy trying to think of new names for his sword NOW?? He is just going to stop in the middle of this urgent fight to go find where the bad woman (Bachel) took the good woman (Alìn) to go “my sword has a bad name. It could have a good name.” Did he not have time while he was mouldering in the dungeon to think about this

He’s checking his compendium, like in video games.

Books have never been worse. If Murtagh/Paolini calls this sword Scar I will legitimately never know peace

Oh the sword is called Freedom now. Get it? Like America? It’s the most important value??

“Seeing the armor, Murtagh realized that the leather garb the cultists had donned for the festival of black smoke had been made to resemble Bachel's fantastic suit.”

what a sentence

This is the worst

I hate how her spear has a name and a dramatic history. Like come on

Fucking mind battles again

Alin is just… I’m sorry to her, but she’s not a real person. She’s a cardboard cutout in distress

The final boss fight should not be taking place in the magical world of the mind

Now she’s calling him “infidel?” Okay

The ultimate battle: the structuring power of masculine language versus the primeval chaos of raw women’s emotion!!! Who will win!! Hint: Christopher Paolini wrote this!

“She seemed merely a woman again.”

‘Merely’ is how Paolini always describes women (when he thinks they’re worth describing of course)

Wait… is the only reason Bachel has been intimidating REALLY just because she’s been channelling a tough evil boy dragon? Once the mask is gone and he’s not empowering her… she’s merely…

I’m going to kick Christopher Paolini’s fucking ass

Murtagh feels so emotionally close to Bachel. As he splits her skull. Normal book

For real why were ALL the Riders so afraid of Bachel??? The gas fumes? Face masks not invented?? This seems pretty easy to solve like if they’d just. Sent more than one guy?

He passes out and the chapter ends of course. Then he wakes up in the city

Ah, Alin is blonde and blue eyed. She was a pale skinned virgin who needed rescuing from an evil and also foreign almond eyed amber skinned woman who was whipping her. You know how it goes

I hate how Alìn always calls Murtagh “my lord.” She’s like one of those medieval fighting game banners of a sexy woman. She’s a cartoon.

Isn’t it a shame that when Murtagh hastily gets out of bed to bow to Nasuada he is wearing pants. So much funnier if he wasn’t

I’m so over this book holy shit

Oh, for being the apparently only sole survivor of Murtagh’s obliteration of her cult and everything she’s ever known, Alìn is being promoted to… Nasuada’s maid. That’s not what she asked for. That’s just what she’s being told she’s going to do from now on. Fucking hell.

Nasuada is Jealous of this blonde woman and I was afraid for her because Nasuada is also famously the only black woman on the continent. But of course she has nothing to fear because only the most powerful woman in the land could ever be remotely Murtagh’s equal, which she proved by being stronger at being tortured than him

She asks him to stay and she touches his hand just lightly

The END??

They don’t even kiss?!!!?!! I had to read it twice to be sure. SEXLESS BOOK.

[anemonelovesfiction]

Colors of Pandora 4: Green

Lo’ak x Fem! Human Reader

Emotion: Jealousy

Warnings ⚠️: Slight bit of angst (I think I’m using this term correctly?) SAFE FOR WORK

I’m hoping y’all are enjoying this as much as I am, I went to town on this prompt specifically.

Tagging @xylianasblog so she can see this as well!!

Translation Station

Marui: Home (in Metkayina)

Kelku: Home (in Omatikaya)

Tsakarem: Tsahik in training

Olo’eyktan: Male Clan Leader

Tsahik: Head Shaman; High Priest; Interpreter of the will of Eywa

Word count: 2k

Being a human on Pandora meant it was hard for me to find a place to fit in, especially whilst I was in the Metkayina clan after everything that had happened to them, things seemed rather tense whenever I would come along, but nobody had said anything to me and I’d like to think it was because of Spider’s presence here. The reason I frequent the land of Awa’atlu was because Jake and Norm managed to strike a bargain of trade within the Omatikaya and Metkayina clans, mostly plants and fruits that didn’t grow in either climate were exchanged, but there was the occasional weapon placed for trade, and plenty of crafts like blankets, yarn, string, shells, beads; all you could imagine really.

I sat here in Jake and Neytiri’s marui - a funny word used here instead of kelku- creating a bracelet of my own for the boy who held my heart in his very large hands. I was currently sitting with my legs dangling from the opening as I paired another one of the beads I held that resembled my eye color, placing it next to the beads that resembled his eyes in their most constant shade: Green.

“What are you making?” Tuk is the first to ask as she places a sporadic array of beads on the craft she was currently working on. Although I hadn’t been too sure if she was making a necklace or a bracelet, I had honestly been too scared to ask as I didn’t want to come off as rude and hurt her feelings, I smiled gently to myself after her question and turned to look at her.

“I’m making a bracelet for your brother, the colors I chose are his eye color and mine, it’s a silly tradition some people used to do back on Earth from what Norm has told me.” I stated as I grabbed a white bead to separate the two colored beads that had currently been placed together, placing his green color on next.

“Our eyes change color though,” Tuk explains to me and her confusion is heard through her statement, Kiri quickly shushing the girl in an attempt to keep the peace, but I could have laughed at her comment with how adorable she was.

“They do,” I agree with her as I watch her place another sporadic assortment of colorful trinkets onto her craft, none of the beads had matched and neither did the decorations, but she seemed to enjoy what she was doing, and placing a lot of focus onto it.

“But they are almost always green, especially when you guys lived in the forest, the prettiest shade too.” I mumbled the last bit to myself as I continued the process, tying the beads in as the metkayina do with their jewelry to ensure they don’t snap off while underwater.

“I guess,” Tuk shrugs as she finished off her craft and begins tying it off.

I’d shifted my gaze over toward the waves of the island carefully lapping up in the sand, and right where I stared popped up a familiar head of someone holding a their hand up in victory. I smiles up knowing who it had been coming above the water but felt my heart stop the second his hands reached out for hers. The way they held each others arms as the two smiled had caused a tinge of a feeling I’d never felt before.

“Who is that with Lo’ak?” I asked toward Kiri, who was sitting beside me with her back toward the wall of the marui, as I sat with my legs dangling out of the entrance, she shifts herself to sit on her knees as she twists her body around, head now peaking out the entrance of the marui to get a good look at what I was currently seeing.

“Oh, thats Tsireya, the tsakarem she is also the Olo’eyktan and tsahik’s daughter,” Kiri explains as she settles back into her original position to continue working on the shall she had been making for herself.

Kiri had always been kind to me and has accepted me as a friend ever since we were young, Spider and I were twins and we were always tied to the hip, wherever he went I followed closely behind, so its no surprise we ended up befriending the Sully’s.

“What are they doing?” I attempted to make it sound as though I were interested in what they had been doing, but I was gathering intel, was I making a mistake by holding on to the promise he’d made me before he had met her?

“Tsireya trains a lot of the children to swim, since we are new to their way of living she had taken it upon herself to teach all of us.” Kiri explains to me as she ties off another row, grabbing a second colored yarn and tying it toward the one she held, transitioning her colors to make a multi-colored shall.

“But you’ve been here for a year, whats left for her to teach you guys?” I asked rather stiffly as I finished tying off the bracelet I had made, tying the beginning and end together.

“Can I see your wrist please?” I asked without waiting for an answer toward my first question and watch as she offers her wrist to me, I slid the bracelet on to check the size and was tempted to smile for a moment before the scowl in my face deepened.

The bracelet had been slightly big on Kiri, which meant it would fit nicely on Lo’ak, but at this point I wasn’t sure if I had wanted to give him the bracelet I’d made.At this point I had slid the bracelet off of Kiri’s wrist and held it before hearing a tiny chuckle coming from her, my eyes drift up towards hers and I frown while crossing my arms.

“Whats so funny?” I demanded like a child who was close to throwing a tantrum, knowing there probably was a good reason she had been laughing at me.

“You can’t be serious, Y/n.” She is quick to answer cryptically and I was tempted to roll my eyes.

“You don’t have to be jealous of her, she’s got a crush on Neteyam, Lo’ak and her are just good friends.”

I could feel the blush covering my face at the moment and was tempted to look away but refused since I didn’t want to admit I had felt jealous towards her.

I had seen Tsireya a couple of times before and even though she was a different species, she was still beyond beautiful, I could feel the jealousy rile up in me any time I’d see her and Lo’ak talking to one another, although it was usually short lived as he would usually spend a lot of his time with me while I was here.

________

I sat on the sands of the beach, watching as the waves came up toward the shore, only to change their minds and retreat back into the body of water. I let out a sigh as I tightly clutched the matching bracelets in my hands, having to fold Lo’ak’s into a circle twice to get it to hide in my palms, I’d grown too nervous to meet him and it was about time for myself and Norm to head back to the Omatikaya high camp.

Although a bargained deal had been made to trade, there was never a deal made for us to be allowed to stay, meaning we’d had to go back home by the end of the night and we wouldn’t be allowed to come back until the following week for more trades to be made.

Norm and I usually stayed a day or two in order to clear shop, but the days had ended up going by faster than I thought, and I haven’t even managed to sneak some alone time with Lo’ak. But I didn’t want to rip him away from the new friends he’s managed to make while being here and I was left with no cuddles.

“Kiri said you had something for me,” His voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he managed to sneak up on me and sit beside me.

I guess I should have been happy to have had him next to me, but a part of me still felt that green envy of him having been with Tsireya for a majority of the day, I wanted to push those thoughts to the back of my mind but I couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.

I could only clutch my palms tighter together to prevent any of the bracelet from sneaking out past my hands. I didn’t think now was a perfect time to showcase my craft but I found myself chewing on my bottom lip as all I could think was seeing him and Tsireya together.

“Do you like her?” I asked without being able to stop my tongue from speaking my mind. I could have slapped myself but felt my hands squeezing onto the bracelets as a way to brace for impact.

“Only as a friend, nothing more.” He responds evenly and I feel myself sighing with relief, until I felt a hand on my shoulder, causing me to gasp and look up at him.

“I made a promise to you before we left, didn’t I?” He asks and I could feel myself nodding along to his words.

“I intend to keep that promise.” He states while holding his hand out, I look at it before looking back at him, seeing him nod his head gently.

“It’s a bracelet,” I spoke before taking the double-looped bracelet in my palm and placing it in his, my nerves spiking after as I felt the craft I’d spent all day on was suddenly inadequate.

“It’s beautiful, it’s our eye colors isn’t it?” He asks as he marvels at my craft, quick to inspect it as his fingers run along the beads. I could only nod as I continued holding my own, it had taken me a few visits to finally learn how to tie beads like the Metkayina do.

“You tied them in like they do here,” He speaks as his eyes find mine and I nod once more.

“Kiri told me about your responsibilities as a diver and how you’re almost always in the water, I figured they’d last longer if I learned how to weave like the people do here, that way it will last longer.” I admitted to him and felt the need to look away shyly.

He is quick to take it out of his palm and place the craft around his wrist, fitting snugly against his skin, I could see the smile forming on his lips and it warmed my heart to see him wearing it.

“Where is it?” He asks suddenly and I find myself staring back at him, my head tilted to the side as I attempt to figure out what it is he’s asking me.

“Where’s what?” I asked before he eyes my hands again, taking them in his own as he carefully pries mine open to reveal the similar yet very small bracelet in my own hands, I smile as I see him take it out of my very hands and bringing my wrist closer toward his face. He carefully ties the bracelet on my wrist and smiles.

“There, now we match.” He smiles at me and I could feel myself blushing at his actions, my face feeling hot underneath the mask I was wearing.

“Remind me again,” I spoke suddenly as I held his giant hands in my tiny one, attempting to interlace my fingers with his to the best of my ability.

“Of what?” He asks with a smirk, already knowing what it was I had been asking, I giggle before responding.

“Your promise to me.” I stated

“I promise to wait for you, no matter what oceans and lands tear us apart, you’re mine as much as I am yours.”

[13a07s]

As You Wish #1

(Wakatoshi Ushijima Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to ari]

Requested by: Not Jesus

Word Count: 5,089

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Nick Names: Baby, Darling, Good Boy

Mentions of Drug Abuse

Slight Size Kink

Ushi being a Hip Dip King

Mutual Masturbation

Hickeys

Degrading/Praising

Subby Ushi

Titty Fondling

Techniqual Titty Shot (?)

Part Two Coming

———————————————————————

Ding.

The soft sound and the vibration of my phone on my leg pull my eyes away from the movie playing on the flat screen. The yellow Snapchat icon stands out against the image of my siblings, my nephew, and me. My eyes flicker up for a moment, checking the time. Ten twenty-one. Maybe Iwaizumi finally sent his streaks.

Once my phone is unlocked, it's proven to me that my brother's best friend isn't the one to snap me. "You know," Tooru starts, warming up the tantrum he's about to throw. "I'm watching this chick flick because you asked me to."

"You're watching the movie to have sallow heart-to-hearts with your fan girls over it," I grumble, hovering for a moment before clicking open the snap-text.

Waka| Are you currently awake?

I roll my eyes at the guy's properness. Would it kill him to try getting into text culture? Probably.

Me| Ya

I can't even click out of the chat before he texts back.

Waka| Will you still be awake in sixty

| minutes?

Me| That's a specific time limit

Waka| I need time to get home and shower.

Me| It's late, traffic won't be bad

Me| Where are you this late anyway?

His bitmoji pops up a few times as he carefully crafts his text. Whatever he was writing gets thrown out and replaced by a picture being sent instead. I shrink further into the couch, turning away from my brother before opening Wakatoshi's snap.

I swear I can feel my pupils widen as I happily drink in his photo. He's sat straight on a bench, his legs on either side of it and clenched tight like he's trying to choke the seat out with his thighs. Wakatoshi's shirt is off, showing off the physique he works so hard to maintain. His right arm is shown off too, stretched out as he runs a towel through his soaked hair. My mouth waters with the want to lick the sweat off every one of his perfectly maintained muscles.

His face is as set in boredom as the words typed across the picture.

Waka| I'm at the gym. Can I come over

               | after I shower?

Me| Come over and do what?

Waka| Preferably I would like to have sex,

              | but if you don't wish for that I                

| would be happy just sleeping too.

Me| You do know sleepovers don't fall

          | under the Sneaky Link agreement

| right?

     Waka| I thought we were Friends With

              | Benefits. A good night of sleep is

              | the greatest benefit in life.

     Me| We're not friends

     Me| You have sixty before I lock the door

     Waka| I have a key.

     When I finally look up from my phone, Tooru's eyes are bearing into me, a cocky smile on his face. "Who sent you a 'you up?' text?"

     "It wasn't a 'you up' text," I murmur, making sure to face my phone down in my lap. My brother hates Ushijima. Literally loathes the man. The only person he hates more is some kid named Kageyama. When the two of them landed at the same college, I was convinced Tooru was going to forgo his top-pick college for second-best just because of the guy.

     "So, if I told you my plans at eleven fell through, you wouldn't be mad?" He baits, carefully watching for my reaction.

     "Nope."

     "I should probably head home."

     "Ya, probably."

     Luckily for the two of us, our mother agreed to pay for off-campus housing as long as we managed to get at least one scholarship. So, we both have small off-campus apartments about three blocks from campus. Also lucky for us, Mom agreed to rent out an apartment for each of us instead of sticking us into the same renter. Tooru's place is only a floor up from mine. Close enough to be comfortable but far enough away that we can live our lives separately.

     "I can't believe you're letting a dude named Waka pipe you," Toru pokes, standing up from the couch to stretch out his limps.

     My cheeks warm for a second, replaying the conversation between Ushijima and me. My brother couldn't have seen anything too bad, seeing how I turned before opening the photo and talking about sex. However, the thought of Tooru finding out who exactly Waka is scares me and brings more embarrassment than the thought of him reading my texts. "Says the guy that hooked up with a known coke user last night," I finally manage to stab back.

     "Touché."

                     ———————————

     I wait a few moments after the knock to open the door, not wanting to seem too eager for Wakatoshi's arrival. It's not like it'll make a difference since I never know what he's thinking, especially about me.

My breath hicks when I get the door open. There he stands, looking down his nose at me, as intense and as bored as ever. My hormones instantly jerk, sending sparks through my veins at the sight of his sweatpants and a loose graphic tee. It has to be illegal or at least immoral for a man to look like Wakatoshi. "Hi," I greet, slowly tugging my eyes back up to meet his.

"Hello." Father Winter slides his nails down my spine at the sound of his voice. Deep, rich, always so certain. "There are two plates on the table," Wakatoshi points out, his eyes wandering around the house as his hands focus on clinging to the strap of his bag.

"My brother was over. We had dinner and watched a movie."

"Is he still over?" The question is light, almost cautious as it's asked.

"He left earlier."

Wakatoshi hums, the sound just as deep as his voice and just as quick to tease the lust brewing between my legs. "I'm spending the night."

"Are you asking or telling me?"

His eyes jump back to me, abruptly ending their trail. "I'm telling you."

"Okay," I murmur, widening the door so he can make his way in. He breezes past me, sliding his arm between my stomach and the door. My breath hicks again from the small touch, getting me a quick glance from Wakatoshi before he closes the door. The soft clicks of the locks don't help me any.

A million scenarios race through my head as he turns around and looks down at me again, head tipped and eyes sharp. Sharp enough to slice straight into my core. "Are we having sex tonight or just sleeping?"

"We're having sex," I mutter, trying my best not to let my eyes trail down to his sweatpants again. I swear the imprint of his dick is as set in my head as it is in his pants. This man is going to be the death of me.

"Alright." Wakatoshi moves forward, his hands sliding under my arms to pick me off my feet. "Is this alright?" He asks, settling me on his waist. "I saw it in a movie Tendo took me too. The woman seemed to enjoy it. Are you enjoying it?"

"Ah... ya," I answer, wrapping my legs around his sides before settling my arms around his neck. He nods in understanding, his hands slow and uncertain as they slide down to hold my hips, his thumbs pressed into the dips marking the center of my hips. No matter how many times we hook up, I don't think he'll ever get completely comfortable touching me.

"I had a bad day," Wakatoshi tells me, his steps slow and steady as he makes our way through the house.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out, nudging his jawline with my nose. He gives in, tipping his head to the side so I can start brushing kisses against his throat. They start out light, little butterfly kisses against the warmth of his skin, letting my senses drown in his scent. Cinder and a hint of leather, the same scent that coats the interior of his car and his dorm room.

     By the time my bedroom door is creaking open, my mouth is sucking on the delicateness of his neck with my teeth gently teasing his skin. Despite my eagerness to litter him in hickeys, I know how much shit he'd get and how upset Wakatoshi would be about it.

     Before I can pull myself off of him, I'm let go and dropped from his arms. Fear of slamming into the ground flickers through me, chased away by the softness of my bed enveloping my fall. "What the hell?!" I yelp, adjusting my placement on the mattress.

Wakatoshi blinks at me for a moment before going back to unslinging his bag from his shoulder and resting it on my dresser. "There is no need to shout. If you wish to be picked up again, simply ask. I don't mind."

"You can't just drop me like that! What the hell gave you that bright idea?"

Again, he stops moving, slowly blinking as he stares at me. "I could not have taken my bag off while holding you. I assumed your bed would be the most comfortable place to rest as I settled in. Why are you still yelling?"

My anger settles down at his explanation, finding reasoning in it. "Next time let me know you're going to drop me. Don't just do it."

"As you wish," he murmurs, turning away from me to dig through his bag. I let myself relax, my back pressed against the headboard, my legs stretched out on top of my sheets, and my head hanging to press against the wood I'm using to support myself. "Take your clothes off," Wakatoshi softly orders, his hands already busy pulling his shirt over his head.

     I think over his request for a moment, toying with the hem of my pajama shirt. "Or you could take my clothes off."

     "Alright," he agrees, carefully folding his shirt before placing it on his back. Little things like that are what had me convinced he was a robot the first time we met.

     Once his t-shirt is squared away, Wakatoshi makes his way over to the bed, the mattress dipping under his wake as he sits on the edge of it. His hands find their way to my hips, his thumbs finding their way to my hip dips like they always do. It pushes into the spots harder for a second, his eyes glued to his fingers, before sliding them across again, this time toying with the end of my shirt.

     "What are they called?" He softly asks, letting the silk material slip over his fingers. Wakatoshi's fingertips move gently but the calluses on them rub roughly against my skin.

     "What is what called?" I murmur, letting my eyes flutter closed. I soak in the feeling of his hands, drowning in the comparison between the feel of them and the gentle actions they gift me. They inch their path, almost teasingly pushing my shirt further and further up.

     "The spot that I squeezed. What is it called? I was trying to talk to Tendo about it but he couldn't understand what I was saying."

     "Hip dips," I answer, the words coming out airy because of my lungs' lack of job fulfillment. The feeling of his fingers against my sides, his hands big enough to tease my breasts as they slide path, being responsible for the oxygen boycott.

     "I enjoy your hip dips. They're pleasuring," he tells me, his hands staying light as he pulls my shirt over my head, careful not to pull my hair or catch the material on my earrings.

     Wakatoshi's eyes bounce across my bareness, leaving a trail of warmth over every inch they cross. His fingertips slide down, trailing between my breasts before settling on the hickey left in the middle of where my underwire rests. Without a bra on, the full size of the bruise is left exposed. "I would like to leave more," he whispers, the words seeming more for himself to hear than me.

     As he keeps busy tracing the yellowing bruise, I let my eyes outline every muscle of his torso. They're still sexy, but not as hot as they are covered in sweat. Wakatoshi always looks best drenched in sweat after the gym or one of our hookups. "Are you going to stare at me the whole time?" I ask, drawing figure eights against his pec. "Or are you going to do something? If you just want to stare, take a picture and leave so I can handle stuff myself."

"I would like to see that."

"See what?"

"You touch yourself." Embarrassment quickly drowns out my lust, making my fingertips freeze against his chest and my eyes lock on his Adam's Apple. "I have been doing research about sexual scenarios recently."

"Like actual research or asking Tendo questions?"

"Both," he answers, his fingertips finally sliding off the leftover hickey from last week. They change focus to my breast, twirling around my nipple as his other hand slides its way to my thigh, his thumb buried in the hip dip he likes so much. "I worry our routine has left you unsatisfied. Women with inadequate fathers such as yourself tend to be more creative in the bedroom than we have been."

"You just told me I had daddy issues."

"No," Wakatoshi slowly says, pinching my nipple between his finger and thumb as his other hand grips my hip tighter. "I said women with inadequate fathers tend to be more sexually creative. Tendo recommended I stop being so gentle with you and see how you react. He also recommended some activities to try together, such as mutual masturbation."

"Ushi, Baby," I call, tapping his chin so he'll look up from my boobs. He gives me what I want, his eyes on mine as he pinches my nipple harder. It takes me a second to hush down my lust and to lock away the moan clawing at my throat. "Your friend is weird."

"I suppose," he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face for a reaction as he slowly twists my nipple. "But more times than not he is correct. If you do not wish to try mutual masturbation we can try something else. Or, perhaps you don't wish for me to handle you rougher."

"We can... try both," I stumble out around my hissy breaths, the attention to the same tit balancing on the thin line between pain and pleasure. "I just... uh... don't talk to... Tendo about... about our sex life."

"As you wish, as long as you stop referring to me by my last name. My teammates, people at school, people like your brother refer to me as Ushijima. You refer to me as Wakatoshi. Or perhaps Daddy. Is that something you wish to call me?" He asks, dropping his touch away from my boobs to cup both of my hips. "I've been told women with inadequate fathers also like referring to their sexual partners in such a way."

"No, I'm good," I answer, fluttering my eyes open. Wakatoshi's attention is back on my breasts, watching the way they rise and fall with every breath I take.

"Alright," he whispers, his fingers dipping under the waistband of my pajama bottoms and panties. His eyes swirl over the newly exposed skin as he pushes the clothing off of me, carefully folding them and placing them on my nightstand before turning his attention back to me. "We are going to masturbate now."

"Uh, okay." I stay still, watching Wakatoshi stand up from the bed and wander over to my desk. He takes hold of the chair waiting to be used, dragging it across the room before settling it next to the bed. He's never going to get used to touching me and I'm never going to get used to his matter-of-fact and straight-to-the-point habits of speech.

The bear of a man settles into the blue fluffy chair, looking a bit over-packed against it. "That won't do," he husks out, gripping my ankle before pulling me down the bed. I'm slid onto my back, my head on my pillows for a beat before his big hands are squeezing my hips again. I'm jerked around again, turned ninety degrees so I'm exposed toward the chair and my head threatens to dangle off the bed.

"Much better," Wakatoshi's voice sounds almost cheery as he leans over me, his nose trailing down my stomach. He hovers by my hip, quickly peaking the dip of it before jumping over to do the same to the other side. I guess he wasn't kidding when he said they were 'pleasuring' him. "Was that too rough? The way I moved you?"

"No, it was pretty hot."

"How so?" He asks, his hands leaving me. They're not gone for long, quickly returning to shimmy pillows behind me, effectively propping me up so I can look at him stuffed into my desk chair.

"I find it sexy how much bigger and stronger you are than me. It makes me horny when I man can and does treat me like a rag doll."

Wakatoshi stays silent, staring at me with his arm propped on the chair and his chin settled on his fist. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind," he mutters, finally unfrozen.

His hand shoves down his sweatpants and boxers, just enough for his half-hardened dick to breathe freely. "Begin touching yourself," he orders, wrapping his hand around his dick and slowly pumping it. Embarrassment coats my veins again, egged on by his intense stare. "Darling, please," he asks, lust already edged in his tone. "I feel ridiculous touching myself while you simply watch. Touch yourself as well."

I let my fingertips slide down my stomach, the self-given teasing touch dripping straight to my core. Wakatoshi's eyes widen just a smidge from the simple brush of my fingers, his hold on himself tightening as I finally get to my destination. "Thank you," he murmurs, his hand moving faster as I drawl circles against my clit.

When my hips start to tighten, getting ready to spring a thrust, I draw my fingers lower, teasing my entrance. Wakatoshi's soft huffs and intense focus on me slowly melt from embarrassment to fuel for my hormones. Seeing how focused he is and how eager his hand slides up and down his dick because of my 'self-care' is quite the ego stroke. This big, bad volleyball player fighting so hard to keep his composure.

A stringed moan parts from me as I tip two of my fingers inside my pussy, curling them against my vaginal walls. "Wakatoshi," I whine, slowly dragging my fingers out before thrusting them back in.

His eyes flicker as fast as his hand flicks, his fingers tightening at my call for him. "Darling, we should have sex now."

"No," I whisper, picking up the thrust of my fingers. "You wanted this, now you get to just watch."

His mouth quivers, words stuck on his tongue as his eyes jump between my face and watching my fingers disperse inside myself. "Darling," he carefully calls, chest pumping faster with his increased heart rate. "I wish to be inside you."

"Why?" I ask, my voice pitching and back arching with the rapid approach of my orgasm. "Are you worried I please myself better than you can?"

"Of... of course, not," he grunts, the tip of cock an angry red and his knuckles coated with the spurt of his pre-cum. "I just wish..." He's cut off by a groan, the sound deep and rattles straight to my pussy. "To be... in you."

His slight begging is the blade that snaps the rope holding back my orgasm. I spit out an embarrassing squeal, my pussy clenching around my fingers as cum drips down my thighs, landing on my bedding.

By the time I settle down, my back already aching from arching and slowly resting against the bed again, Wakatoshi looks ready to pop. His cheeks are dusted red, wrinkles decorating his forehead as his eyes focus on the mess of my thighs, and his hand moving fast enough that I'm a bit worried so going to give himself a rag burn. "Darling," he grumbles, the nickname coming out hissy.

"Waka-Chan," I coo, sliding my fingertips through my wet folds, drenching them with my slick cum. I let my fingers wander upward before settling on the dips of my hips, slowly trailing across them and coating my skin in the glistening of myself. He watches me for a beat before screwing his eyes shut.

A grumble, almost jagged rough enough to be a growl, lunges for Wakatoshi, his hand stalling as it gets coated in the saltiness of cum. Slowly, his face melts back to calmness, his dick still twitching and his hand still wrapped around himself. I let my hand slide back between my legs, circling my sensitive clit because of the scene in front of me. This is definitely hotter than his gym pick.

Wakatoshi takes a few moments, evening out his breathing and coming down from his high. After he settles, his eyes snap open and he finally lets go of his dick, full focus back on me toying with myself. "Can I do it too?"

"Do what, Baby?"

"Put my cum on your dips."

"Sure," I giggle, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I can't help the giddiness Wakatoshi's appreciation for my hip dips brings. It's such a small but cute thing for him to like.

He wastes no time, crawling onto the bed and on top of me, careful not to waste any of the sperm coating his hand. Once his thighs are secured on either side of me, squeezing me between them, his fingertips draw designs against my hip dips, our cum mixing together to leave a sticky and quickly cooling mixture on me.

I take the time to look over Wakatoshi, admiring his long lashes and the slow way he blinks them. Admiring the softness but determination in his muddy olive eyes. The smoothness of his skin tugged so tight over his muscles that it reminds me of cloth over stone.

"I want to have sex now," he asks, his eyes flickering up to peer at mine before falling back to his finger painting.

     "I want sex now too."

     He nods the agreement as sure as everything he does. Wakatoshi slowly leans down, quickly peaking my lips before climbing off of me. That's another weird thing he does, so open to having sex but so awkward about kissing me. He's gone for less than a minute, walking away long enough to dig through his bag before he's back by the bed.

     One of his hands fumbles with the rubber, tearing two of them apart, as the other dips into my pussy, feeling my wetness and teasingly poking at my opening. "Do you need more foreplay or do you believe you'll be alright?"

     "I'll be fine."

     He hums, pulling his touch away to focus on the condoms. One is placed on my nightstand, the gold wrapper standing out against my folded clothes, as the other one is carefully opened and rolled onto his cock. "Maybe I should kiss you again," he whispers, crawling his way on top of me.

     "I would like a kiss."

     Another hum as his hands take hold of my hips, flipping us so he's sat upright with me in his lap. His thumbs find their home, rubbing against my skin and smearing our cum even more. His eyes rapidly blink as he inches his lips closer to mine, uncertainty in his movements. I take the rain for him, closing the gap between us with a soft kiss, one that manages to pull a groan from Wakatoshi.

     "Thank you," he whispers when we pull apart, his nose tracing a path down my cheek and along my jaw before settling on my neck. He pulls me closer, the tip of his dick stumbling for a second before finding my pussy. "I am going to give you more bruises while we have sex, alright? You shall give me some in return, preferably on my shoulders."

     "As you wish," I tease, slowly lowering myself on his dick. My hands grip his biceps, my lips latching onto his shoulder. My pussy flutters around him, the flutter quickly melting into the pain of taking his girth, both measurements of his dick being a lot to take.

     My whimpers melt into the bruise I'm leaving on his shoulder, the sounds only getting louder the lower I sink. "Good job," Wakatoshi whispers against my skin when I finally manage to suck in every last inch of him. "Do you wish to move yourself or do you want me to move you?"

     I think about it for a moment, unlatching from the spot I was working on. My tongue rolls over the purple melted into his skin, deciding to make the next one darker. "You," I finally answer, shifting a few centimeters down his shoulder before starting my work all over again.

     Wakatoshi's hands tighten on my hips, slowly lifting me until just his tip is poked inside me. I suck in a deep breath, starting the exhale of it when he loosens his hold and lets gravity shove me back down. "Wakatoshi," I whimper, my nails digging into his skin.

     My plea is only acknowledged by a harder suck on my neck and the gentle slide of his teeth against my skin. His fingers tighten against me again, matching bruises on my neck sure to be there in the morning. Wakatoshi starts the pace off slow, inching me up before sliding back down. The pace doesn't stay like that for long, my hips quickly being slammed against his.

Aches settle into my bones because of the pace. Aches that he's never given me before. Wakatoshi wasn't kidding about being rough with me, but I couldn't love it any more than I do right now. My skin burns, notably more on the three little bruises he's left on my neck than anywhere else. The mix of pain and pleasure is intoxicating, making it hard to focus on placing hickeys on him in return.

Whines and whimpers spill from me like air, my legs tightening around his torso. "Darling," he husks in my ear, his lips attaching themselves and sucking right below it. I know what the call for me is, it's the mark of the being of his unraveling.

The room feels with a pop because of me dragging my mouth off of his shoulder. One of my hands slides up, cupping his cheek as I tilt my head to rest my nose against him. "Are you going to cum again, Waka-Chan?" I tease, letting my lips brush against his. "I thought you had more stamina than that."

His reaction is fried, mouth quivering like before as he rushes to piece together an answer, eyebrows pressed together in concentration, and pupils blown out in arousal. "I... I have stamina," he huffs out, his minty breath filling my senses. "You're... you are just... gripping me a lot more than... than usual."

"Am I?" I hum, making myself clench around him. A groan bubbles out of Wakatoshi, hands hard as they shove my hips down against his as rough as he can manage. "Aw, is my Baby already coming?" I softly degrade, finally inching close enough to give him a proper kiss. He melts into it, jerking me closer so my belly is pressed against his.

When we part, Wakatoshi flips us over, keeping himself buried in me as I'm pressed into the mattress. "You are rather taunting today."

"Do you not like it?" I ask, tracing the five hickeys littered on his shoulder. I'll have to place some on the other one during our next round.

Wakatoshi stays silent as he slowly pulls out of me, carefully rolling the condom off to not spill any on the bed. "I believe I enjoyed it. It made me finish quicker than I do without it," he finally answers, his eyes flickering between the rubber dangling above me and my boobs.

"That's good." The second word comes out pitched, surprise melting into my tone. Confusion mixes with the surprise, the warm, almost hot feeling of Wakatoshi's cum being dropped onto my chest. "What are you doing?" I ask, carefully watching as he dumps the condom out and onto me.

He gently shakes the rubber, encouraging the last few droplets to leak out and join the puddle on my tits. The puddle that's melting all over my chest and leaving my boobs coated in semen. "I wanted to see what your breasts looked like covered in my sperm. It's an enjoyable sight," Wakatoshi answers, disregarding the used condom on my nightstand before cupping my chest.

His hands squeeze my boobs, repeatedly pushing them in circles and encouraging his cum to spill over more of my skin. His thumbs find my nipples, sliding back and forth as he watches every reaction I have. "I should have asked before doing that," Wakatoshi mutters, uncertainty back in his movements as he leans down to gift me another kiss. "Is this alright? Did you enjoy it? Should I grab a towel to clean your chest before our next round?"

"It was shocking, but not in a bad way."

"Are you enjoying it though?"

"Yes, I am."

He thinks over my answer for a moment, still kneading my breasts. "Do you want me to clean you yet?"

"With your tongue, ya."

Wakatoshi's eyes jerk up, a blush flickering across his cheeks before he gets his rushed reaction under control. "As... as you wish," he mutters, sliding down a bit so his mouth can comfortably reach my tits.

My back arches at the feel of his tongue sliding across my boob, slowly lapping up the mess he made. Wakatoshi takes his time, swirling around my nipple and licking up every last drop before doing the same to the other side. "Look at you," I begin my teasing, running my fingers through his hair. "So eager to clean up the mess you made. What a good boy."

His hips jerk against my thigh, teeth gliding against my nipple as he groans. Wakatoshi's tongue goes flat, sliding over my nipple once more before he pulls away from my chest. "Aww, how cute, someone likes being called a good boy, doesn't he?"

His hands dig into my hip bones, pulling me down as he thrusts into my thigh harder this time. "Can we have sex again?"

———————————————————————

[queerofthedagger]

drop your knives (I want to drop mine)

[Fingon/Maedhros | T+ | 1,5k | Ao3]

Written for @russingon-week day 5: Sparring & Battle, Horror in the Past

It is a miserable day, in a miserable week, in a miserable month.

Across from Fingon, Maedhros’ expression is a study of barely contained frustration.

The clearing they are in is muddy, the trees bare and grim in the sluggish grey of the evening. Rain is beating down on them, having long since made its way beneath armour and clothes.

It is better than the deceptive peace, the silent confinement of the camp, and so Fingon re-balances his blade and steps towards Maedhros for the umpteenth time today. “Again.”

They have been at this for hours, and before this, they have been at this for days. The long, heavy sword is still clumsy in Maedhros’ left hand, none of the graceful ease that he possessed before Fingon cut him off of Thangorodrim to be found.

It is not only missing from his swordwork. Maedhros is a caricature of the beloved Elf Fingon had cursed through years on the Ice, and some days, Fingon hates him for the fact that he cannot hate someone who has already been brought so low.

It is not fair. It is not even entirely true; if Fingon had ever hated Maedhros, if he had managed it at least on the worst nights with Turgon’s choked-off sobs and Aredhel’s shaking filling the tent around him, he would have never gone after him.

Still, the lie of it is easier to tell himself than it is to watch Maedhros struggling to claw his way back to life, day after day after miserable day.

Maedhros falls into a defensive position, his eyes sharp and almost fey in the dim light as he follows Fingon’s movements.

Fingon had thought that the first few weeks would be the worst part, the ruin of Maedhros’ body healing slowly, reluctantly, beneath their healers’ hands.

He strikes; Maedhros blocks.

It had not been true. It was a helpless ordeal, but it was better, in some ways, than watching Maedhros fail at simple tasks. Taking care of his hair. Dressing himself. Holding a quill.

The blow Maedhros deals him in return is easy to catch, too little strength behind it, too easy to see coming.

They danced this dance before, long ago, in Tirion; learning to wield weapons had been a fun pastime at first, just another craft for them to measure and test their skills in. They had both taken to it readily, some of it familiar from hunting parties.

This, now, is a far cry from those days. Maedhros is desperate and impatient, not that Fingon can blame him. He would not want to listen to the healers’ insistence to take it slow for yet another turn of the moon either, and at this point, he sometimes thinks it does more harm than good.

He disarms Maedhros with a simple twist of his sword, and in the end, this is no better—to see Maedhros work himself to his bones through miserable days and short, terror-shaken nights, unable to stop him from pushing himself beyond endurance. 

How do you reassure someone who has seen the worst already? How do you promise that things will be all right, that there is time? Fingon no longer believes it either, after all, even as the Ice’s legacy upon his body is less obvious.

Maedhros stares at him, panting and arms trembling. Fingon wants to take the blade from him, pull him close; wants to hold him, lay them down in dry sheets so they can rest.

“Again,” Maedhros says, picking his sword back up, and Fingon complies.

He always does. Where Maedhros’ brothers have long since stopped keeping step, Fingon is still here, even as his own muscles shake, as his limbs cramp with the cold, as his body protests the days spent fighting, the nights haunted by his own nightmares. The nights spent in Maedhros’ tent, sitting in silence until dawn comes, no longer sure what to say to each other but unable to be apart, still.

This, them, is a caricature as well. Fingon unleashes another row of blows upon Maedhros and does not think about the way it feels like penance and revenge both. Does not think about how this is the only way he still knows to touch Maedhros without fear.

Their blades cross between them, Maedhros catching Fingon’s advance at the last moment. It is a shaky stalemate, Maedhros’ face pallid and drawn with exertion, and Fingon does not want to press his advantage of strength, does not want to add fuel to Maedhros’ burning pit of self-contempt.

Unfortunately, despite everything, Maedhros still knows him better than anyone.

Throwing his weight behind it, Fingon pushes, and twists his wrist at the same time; Maedhros stumbles back, his grip on the sword slipping, the blade falling.

He is left standing in front of Fingon with empty hands, his expression of steely determination cracking open, eyes closing.

For a moment, they hover there, the rain droning out the noise of the forest.

Then Maedhros blinks his eyes back open and stares at Fingon, his voice hollow when he says, “You should have shot me on that godforsaken mountain when you had the chance.”

The words slam into Fingon like the blow of a mace. With the next breath, fury burns through him and he bares his teeth, helpless against it all. “You know full well that self-pity does not become you.”

Maedhros scoffs. “It is no self-pity, and you know it, too. Look at me, Fingon—what good am I like this? I cannot fight. I cannot even take care of myself anymore.”

I will fight for you, Fingon wants to say. I will take care of you, if only you would let me.

He does not. He grits his teeth instead, and jerks his chin at the discarded weapon. “So pick your sword back up and keep going until you can.”

Maedhros’ nostrils flare, eyes flashing. He has never done well with being told what to do, and for a moment, Fingon almost believes that he will finally fight, will finally push back against Fingon and the sharp-edged, bitter way they treat each other.

More than anything, Fingon wants him to finally fight—properly, hotly, no longer side-stepping each and every one’s of Fingon’s provocations.

Maedhros lands the first blow this time, still not strong but precise. Fingon disengages, dodges the next one, and does not take the opening to unbalance Maedhros’ stance.

It draws him in close again and their blades cross once more. Up close, he can hear the breath rattling through Maedhros’ lungs, the way he is panting. Up close he can smell him, sweat and oils, something still agonisingly familiar even after all this time.

Up close, Fingon can see the despondency in the black of Maedhros’ eyes, and it makes him reckless, makes him terrifyingly honest.

“The next time you say something like this,” he presses out, his own voice wrecked, “I will march right back into Angband and bring the entire mountain down, if that is what it takes. If you need something to break yourself against, I am right here, am I not?”

Beneath Fingon’s blade, Maedhros stills. He swallows, eyes roaming across Fingon’s face, everything still shaking, shaking, shaking apart.

“Fingon—“

“Oh, for—“ Fingon curses, and drops his sword. Curling his freezing hands in the front of Maedhros’ tunic he pulls him close, presses their mouths together, all of it graceless and rash and so, so stupid.

Maedhros makes a noise, something punched-out and animal. He does not reach for Fingon but he does sway closer. Doesn’t use the sword he still holds, pressed against the soft parts of Fingon’s belly, to run him through right then and there.

The world filters back in in increments, Fingon’s actions, as so often, catching up with him belatedly.

It is barely a kiss, this open-mouthed, desperate thing; still, it is closer than they have been in ages and he is reluctant to pull away, to stop sharing the same air, stop holding Maedhros close if only like this.

When he finally does, Maedhros stares at him, a hint of colour in his cheeks.

“Fingon—“ he tries again and finally, carefully, sets his sword down.

“I am sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. Awkwardness threatens to settle over them, but he cannot bring himself to regret it. Not quite, not with Maedhros still looking at him with something other than grim resignation.

“Please, don’t be,” Maedhros says, a crease etching itself between his brows. “I’m—I am not.”

He sways closer once more, but it is with purpose this time, a question still evident in every line of his body. There is hope now too, golden and incandescent flaring in his eyes.

Fingon reaches out and touches him, a hand to the ruined face. Maedhros leans into it, presses his mouth to Fingon’s palm.

For the first time since he wielded the knife upon Maedhros’ body, it does not leave the taste of blood in his mouth.

[multicolour-ink]

More rough draft ideas for the Anastasia AU. This one is the bro's reunion, so if you don't want to spoil yourself for the story I have planned, maybe skip it! (tag will be #au spoilers)

~ also note that (due to memory loss) Mario goes by "Maurice" ~

* * *

They agreed to meet at the fire flower field.

"I'm sorry", Maurice began, softly. "I didn’t want to decieve you. I just...wanted to find out where I come from."

The Prince breathed in deeply, and then out through his nose like he was lifting a weight from his whole body.

"I'm just...so tired", he said weakly. "I'm tired of being tricked."

He raised a hand and aggressively wiped away tears that had already started spilling down his cheeks. Maurice, for reasons he could not fathom why, made to move forward, his hand reached out. However, he quickly drew back as he realised what he was about to do.

Prince Luigi looked back at him.

"You look so much like him. And you're so kind. That's what hurts the most."

Feeling more courage, Maurice gingerly stepped closer.

"Just, please tell me. Who am I?"

He clasped his music box to his chest. The Prince's eyes widened.

"Where did you get get that?"

Maurice looked at it, startled.

"I don't know. I've had it as long as I can remember. I think it's-"

But he stopped himself as he watched the Prince dig into his pocket, and bring out a music box of his own. This one was moon shaped, but the craftsmanship was very like Maurice's.

"Funny", said the Prince. "My music box is supposed to match with my brother's. A sun and a moon. A pair bound together. Would be funny, if you were an imposter, and you had just crafted a fake one just like his."

Maurice swallowed.

"I don't...know. Mine...could be fake. It has weird writing on the back. Might just be a signature or something."

He froze as some form of emotion went over the Prince's face.

"Can I see?"

Prince Luigi put his hand out. Maurice didn't miss the fact that it was trembling. He obeyed.

The Prince took his music box in the other hand, his pupils dilated, and he turned it so Maurice could see there was an inscription on the back.

, as long as we're together.

"My brother and I used to say that all the time to each other", the Prince said, his lip quivering. "We thought it would be fun to inscribe it on the back, so we carried a half each, and remember that we were never alone."

He held out the music boxes side by side. As Maurice looked, he saw that the inscriptions came together to form a full sentence.

Nothing can hurt us, as long as we're together.

"And that's always true", Maurice found himself saying with no warning.

He stopped. Now he was the one trembling.

Prince Luigi then tapped the top of his own music box, and an oddly shaped disc popped out. Taking it, the Prince then inserted it into the front of Maurice's.

"I didn't even know that was there!", he said in awe.

"A secret compartment in each of the boxes", the Prince explained. "That could only be accessed by the other's key."

He then twisted the box. The bottom slid away, revealing a smaller compartment with a tightly folded piece of paper inside.

The Prince handed the box out to Maurice, his eyes begging the younger man to open the paper.

Maurice was not going to argue. Unfolding the paper in shaking hands, he found it was a photo of two little boys. Both exactly alike, but a little different at the same time. They were smiling, holding each other like there wasn't a care on the world.

Prince Luigi had opened up his own secret compartment. Inside was the same photo. A copy.

"So that you two will always carry a happy memory with you."

Maurice stared at the photos. This really was it. He wasn't feeling like this was strange anymore. This was real, and he knew who he was.

He looked back up at the Prince. Luigi was crying, a hand pressed to his mouth as silent tears spilled out, his expression looking like it was begging for this to be true.

"Hi bro", Mario smiled.

The tears were shed on each other's shoulders, as they held each other tight amongst the fire flowers...