#mourning father core

[crypticmessengergoblin]

gonna get some lowkey miraculous merch 😌

[fluffypotatey]

the division between trust and love

the question on whether what Snow and Lucy Gray had was really love

the question of whether someone as evil as Snow could be human

the horror of realizing that love was never enough

[daywatch]

My pie crust failed today

[gonguji]

I'm having lots of new brainworms lately thinking of verses for kabukimono, as well as figuring out a changed version of the story to serve as a base :3c

[johnmeowston]

(through gritted teeth and snot andtears) I LOVE WOLF CHILDREN SO MUCH

[bigfatbreak]

Wait does Tom saying Audrey needs to pay child support for Zoe mean she needs to pay Andre, or did Tom adopt Zoe to have an extra barrier between Chloe and Marinette?

It's both a little more simple than that, and a little more complicated, too. Essentially when Tom decided he was going to take Chloe to court for her various bullshit, he decided to look into what other shit her family might be hiding, in the hopes of adding more pressure.

(In this AU at least, I really couldn't find confirmation in any real sources) Zoe is an illegitimate child Aubrey had while in New York, and since she's such an influential person, the father figure decided to settle out of court, as trying to wrench something like child support payments or any sort of supplemental care from an asshole who's also a millionaire seemed impossible. Tom decided to make contact with Zoe and her dad in the hopes of essentially double-teaming the Mayor's family.

It's technically how Zoe and Marinette met in this AU.

A sort of "butterfly effect" (hehe) happens when Tom uses Nooroo to gather information for both their cases, leaving these two to bond on and off. Marinette at her core is still very, very wary, (as this is during the mourning process, Sabine had passed away recently during this time) but she's also kind, which strikes a chord with Zoe, who's constantly changing facades to try and appeal to those around her. It's hard to change yourself to be what someone wants if they never let slip what they want.

Because of this, we're not going to see Zoe really in this AU, as when she eventually heads back to New York with her dad, her time with Marinette has helped her try to establish her own personality with her own wants. Hanging out with a mysterious, kind baker girl who's overworked but still makes time for you does a lot for a baby lesbian, and she manages to make and keep friends.

She does send Marinette letters and emails though, and they text on and off - Zoe still harbors a crush on her, but to Marinette, Zoe is just a good friend : )

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。08:00 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

idk i just felt like. writing haitham grieving his grandmother. it’s also a slight character study ig. idk if anyone will read this but if you do. just know that he is the core of my heart. his grandmother too i mourn her death so much sobs

“hey,” you say gently, sitting next to him. al-haitham only grunts in acknowledgment, slumped on the couch. “d’you want dinner? i made your favorite.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

his grandmother’s death anniversary is a sore spot. it’s a day you tiptoe around carefully every year. you don’t know much about his family—just that he was orphaned very young and raised by his father’s mother until the ripe age of 16. you’ve seen the dainty handwriting inside the covers of books, and you’ve even seen a small, framed photograph that he keeps stowed away.

sometimes, you wish he’d tell you. you wish the far away look and the clenched fist around the fabric of his pants would ease with your presence. you wish he’d tell you about her, that you’d know the woman who raised the man you love—even if only through hushed words and old stories.

“you hate sleeping on an empty stomach,” you hum, placing your hand over his clenched one.

his fist loosens a little—progress.

“i…” he pauses, let’s out a heavy sigh before letting his head fall back. there’s tension in his shoulders, in his neck, in the jaw he keeps so tightly clenched. “i won’t be sleeping for a bit. sorry,” he tries to sound apologetic. you don’t hear much in his tone besides defeat. “you can head in without me.”

“that’s okay,” you shrug, forcing his clenched fingers apart to weave yours in with his. “i don’t sleep well without you anyway.”

“suit yourself,” is all he says.

and it’s silent for a bit. he seems to be thinking deeply—or reminiscing, maybe grieving. maybe all three, but you’re not too sure. you’re never too sure when it comes to how al-haitham feels about anything.

he’s hard to decipher—but he’s easy to pull apart. you don’t understand how someone as hard and calculating as him is so gentle with love, but it’s hard not to notice how soft his touch is, how it lingers, how the tips of his fingers long for you. you don’t doubt he loves you—he never gives you the chance to.

but sometimes….sometimes you wish he’d let you love him properly. to kiss the scars. to admire the parts he thinks are ugly. to shelter the thoughts that have no home besides his own head.

it’s silent for a bit—until it’s not. you break the silence first, like you’re holding a hand out for him from the shore as he drifts aimlessly.

“baby?” you ask quietly. he grunts again in response. “what was she like?”

“who?”

al-haitham is a smart man. probably the smartest you’ve ever met. you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who read physics books as a pastime, and you’re pretty certain he’ll always be the only one. you know he knows exactly what you’re asking and you know he’s avoiding it.

but it doesn’t stop you though—it’s been long enough, you think. you’ve known him long enough. craved him for a few summers and loved him for enough winters that he has pieces of you that fall through the cracks of your resolve.

you think you deserve a few pieces of him too—even if your fingers have to reach past the cracks themselves, even if they have to slice against the jagged edges and bleed a little in the process.

you’ll bleed for him—like the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, your heart beats for al-haitham. and it’ll bleed for him too.

“your grandmother,” you whisper. “you’ve never told me about her.”

“there’s not much to tell,” he shrugs. “she died right before i enrolled in the akademiya and she raised me after my parents died.”

“i’m sure there’s more,” you say gently—his grip has tightened on your hand now. you don’t think he realizes—in fact, you don’t think al-haitham realizes half of what he feels when it comes to vulnerability.

it’s why he realizes he loves you so late. it’s why you fall first and he falls after. but he falls harder—it’s not hard to see.

“she was a kshahrewar scholar,” he offers blankly.

your thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it’s almost like your hand reaches past the shore just a little further—you don’t mind risking the fall into the water if it means pulling him out.

“haitham,” you sigh delicately. he swallows. it’s hard to keep composure for long—even for someone like him.

grief is an evil thing. it’s a familiar friend—one you wish you never made and one you’ll never shake away. it dances with you under the moonlight, when the stars are bright but the sky is heavy. it barely grazes your skin some days but weighs into your bones on others. it’s a cruel thing really—and it hits you harder some moments than others.

“she was kind,” he starts slowly, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours over the shoreline. maybe, just maybe, sometimes he can get tired of drifting too. “she liked to bake. her hands got too weak to knead dough when i got older, though. you would have liked her tarts. she couldn’t read without her glasses and she always forgot they were on her head. she said my father looked like her husband and that i look like my father. she used to ask me to read to her sometimes so i’d sit on her lap and read my books out loud. she loved the sunrise but was never good at waking up on time to see it. she used to drink tea during sunsets. she liked hers extra sweet and i liked mine more bitter. i…” he pauses, voice shaky as his fingers dig into your hand. you squeeze, and he sniffles. “i haven’t had tea since she passed.”

“she sounds lovely,” you whisper. “i would have loved to meet her.”

“she’d have loved you,” he cracks a small smile, shaking his head as he thinks. “probably more than she loved me.”

“i’m sure i’d never compare to her darling grandson,” you chuckle, bumping arms with him. his head drops to your shoulder—you hesitate for a moment before deciding to pull him into your chest. and when he doesn’t protest, when he buries himself into you instead of pulling away, you thread your fingers into his hair.

“i miss her,” he croaks quietly.

“i know,” you soothe. “i know, baby.”

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life. one is gone but it lives through the other. the gentle touch against his scalp and the warmth under his cheek is familiar—it feels like the lap he slept on when he was six. it feels like the delicate hands that cupped his cheeks when he was eight. it feels like the soft kisses against his temple when he was ten.

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life, and he’s glad that one of them is you.

“you’d have loved her too,” his voice breaks. you kiss his head as you feel your shirt dampen.

“i already do,” you murmur, “she raised you well. i have her to thank.”

his breath hitches at that—and then he pulls you closer, grasps you tighter, falls in love with you harder. his grandmother’s death anniversary has always been a sore spot—but somehow, you numb the ache even if by just a little.

gently, your hand clasps his and pulls him to shore. he’s grateful he doesn’t have to drift alone anymore.

there is nothing i’m more obsessed with than al-haitham’s childhood. i have so many thought about it. and him. and his character. and his inner thoughts and feelings and most of them revolve around his grandmother and more importantly her passing. and idk. he’s just sosososo important to me i wish we knew more about his grandmother. i love her so much i grieve her passing even though we’ve never even met her 😭

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Girl dad Astarion who is mourning the times when his biggest problem was coming up with more or less child-friendly excuses to not read yet another bedtime story. Or to fix the dress of a shabby old doll that gave him the creeps. Or to kiss some scratches better, even though the minuscule wounds usually troubled him more than they did the damn child. 

Nobody ever told him that children grow up this fucking fast, okay?

But now he has to watch his darling little girl grow into a beautiful young woman, and he is—quite frankly—terrified for her. 

Because wherever he looks, he can see that strangers are watching her, too. 

It doesn’t even bother him that they notice his daughter’s beauty, no, you would have to be blind not to see it. She’s stunning—obviously. She's his child after all…and Tav’s, of course, but that’s not the point. 

It’s the way they're looking at the girl that disgusts Astarion to his very core. Leering eyes following her every move. Ulterior motives buried under layers of false niceties. Seemingly innocent little touches stolen as if those filthy hands were entitled to her body in any way. 

And for all their obnoxious gawking, they don’t even see her. They seldom care for his daughter’s talents, her sense of humour, or her intelligence. Her heart.

Those heads are only turning for a pretty face, and for all the small privileges that might afford her, they always come with a price—a price Astarion has paid once upon a time; a price he doesn’t ever want his daughter to even consider accepting.

But the world is not kind. It’s already leaving scratches on his child that neither he nor Tav can kiss better any longer. 

And Astarion hates it because the last time he felt this helpless was when his own pretty face was all that kept him, well, as alive as he could be. A thing to be used for other people's gain. Selling himself out for crumbs.

And then, one day, he notices a new bracelet on his daughter’s wrist. 

She happily hands it over to him so he can take a look. Then she tells him some stranger gifted it to her. Just like that! 

All they wanted for it was a little smile—isn’t that so great, father? 

It’s not. Far from it. Astarion is fuming inside. 

How dare some random nitwit think that ugly trinket worthy of his daughter’s wonderful smile? The audacity. The nerve. Unbelievable! 

“Darling, it’s not a gift if they’re expecting something in return,” a forced smile tugs at his lips, trying to soften his scolding tone.

It doesn’t work.

“But it’s so pretty, I had to have it!” 

The girl sulks, her little nose scrunched up as if he just sent her to bed without her fairy tales. Astarion supposes, in a way, he has.

“And what do we do when we see something we want, dear?” 

She rolls her eyes at him in a way that always has Tav cackling up. Maybe it's because, in moments like this, she looks a little too much like her father. 

“We just pocket it.”

“Exactly, my darling child, we just pocket it,” Astarion nods approvingly. “And if they ask for a smile next time?”

“We stab them,” she sighs.

“Absolutely, we do. Now, off with you, lest your daggers get all rusty, you lazy duck.” 

Ending the discussion with a gentle smile, Astarion watches the girl go before he produces the offending bracelet from his sleeve. 

It’s always out of sight, out of mind with pretty things, isn't it?

He takes another look at the bracelet, scrunching up his nose as if it gave off a particularly vile smell. In a way, it does.

In fact, it’s giving Astarion the creeps. And it's not even made from real gold, by the way.

Astarion scoffs at the cheap trinket. This child still has so much to learn.  

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Breeding König

Warnings: 18+, Riding, Breeding Kink, Consensual Forced Breeding (male receiving), Consensual Dub Con/Non Con, Stomach Bulging/Swelling, Unprotected Sex, Spitting, AFAB Reader, Dirty Talk, Brief Slut Shaming, Sub König, Top Reader, etc.

"'M gonna suck you dry, baby," your breath hitched as you rolled your hips against König's, his cock bulging inside you. He could only whine, moaning when you hit a sensitive spot, only for you to abuse it, driving him to the verge of tears. Driving him to an end he'd come to fear.

"And you know what else?" You leaned down and grasped König’s thick neck in your hands, squeezing just the right spot to make his back arch and his eyes squeeze shut. He was completely physically incapable of stopping you, his hands bound together against the bedpost with rope, his voice unusable. You smiled, rocking against him, feeling him twitch inside you.

He was close. And so were you.

König's eye fluttered open, watching you. He wanted to know your secret. Your obscurity.

You bent down, bringing your mouth close to his ear. Your breath scorched the shell, making him shiver, goosebumps rippling across his chest. His laboured breathing was amplified as you drew closer.

"I'm gonna make you a daddy."

His eyes snapped open. He shook his head, growing harsher as your statement sank in, muffled noises barely sneaking past the duct tape you'd slapped across his lips. He began thrashing, trying to disconnect his hips from yours, trying to pull out.

But you didn't let him.

Retracting, you looked down at him, gripping the covers beneath him and creating makeshift reigns with which you kept yourself stable, kept König inside you. All the while, the panic in his brow only deepened.

"It's too late to resist, köni," you sang, giving him false hope as you lifted yourself up off his cock before slamming back down onto it, making him moan in a way that betrayed his actions - his resistance. He stared at you beneath ginger, half-lidded eyes, mere cracks of their whole circumference. And you smiled.

You slammed down on him again, hands settling on his chest. Pushing him down. Keeping him docile. "I know you want this, you whore."

König shook his head, vehement in his denial, but you disregarded it. It was of little importance to you. You revisited your killing pace, lifting and dropping yourself on his dick with haste. Electricity pooled in your core, waiting to break at any second.

"You're gonna father my children whether you like it or not--" you gasped as you hit your sweet spot. König only seemed to grow more panicked, eyes widening, brow creasing. Resistance futile.

"My pretty little house husband, all mine. I'll harvest you - breed you - as much as I like--" you took his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you. You spat on him, making him flinch. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

König moaned, loud and long, his back arching into your hips, plugging you with his cock. You groaned, a sliver of a moan slipping from you, as you threw your head back, reaching your climax. König’s load filled you - all of you - to the point that you were sure your stomach would swell.

As your orgasm rolled through you, König shifted through the haze, still trying to retreat from you - trying to retreat from a future you forced onto him.

You would have applauded him for breaking free of the throws of his orgasm had you not been a disciplinarian.

"Oh no you don't," you declared, gaze coming to settle on Konig's frozen, petrified features. He ceased under your stare like a deer caught in headlights, or prey before its predator. You bit your lip as you took his throat in your hands again.

"We're not done here until I'm stuffed so full of your cum that I look pregnant." You squeezed. "Isn't that what you want, hmm? To make you mine? To bear your children?"

You already knew the answer whether König accepted it or not. He could only look up at you, eyes glassy with tears, mourning the fate you'd resigned him to - the future you'd stolen from him. You leaned down and licked a stray tear off his cheek. Rising, you cocked your head.

"Now then," you said, rubbing not-so-soothing circles into König’s chest, "shall we go again?"

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[so-sures-blog]

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3

Final Chapter: Stay

Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again. 

Or fuck.

Or both.

Your little traitorous brain hoped for both. 

But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.

Viserys was dead.

Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife. 

You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.

“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”

Fear of the unknown settled into your gut. 

Her lavender eyes turned to you.

“He’s dead.”

The Keep was in disarray. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.

Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.

Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.

You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen. 

Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you. 

It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.

Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning. 

Her loss.

“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance. 

Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures. 

It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.

Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold. 

Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky. 

A Weirwood tree.

And a very old one by the looks of it. 

“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.

You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.

Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily. 

He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat. 

The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.

Blank.

Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother. 

You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.

You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.

It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night. 

You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.

Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.

It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.

Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.

It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.

With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.

Silence stretched forever until-

“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.

“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”

Tears prickled in your eyes for him.

Gods.

Why had life been so cruel to this man?

A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”

There was the anger.

Sorrow.

Spite.

Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.

And it showed.

“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.” 

You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”

Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.

You didn’t want him to be alone. 

You didn’t want him to feel isolated.

And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face. 

Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.

His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.

“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.

A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him. 

Asked him to stay with you.

It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.

You heeded his request. 

Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.

Stay.

-

The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.

At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.

And so you had.

It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.

Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing. 

Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.

Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour. 

After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her. 

It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.

It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks. 

Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.

Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on. 

It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.

The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.

It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them. 

You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.

The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves. 

Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.

It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all. 

Even Aemond.

But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.

“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”

Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.

Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”

Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.

“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët. 

Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“

“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble. 

Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”

All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought. 

It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.

A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.

“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye. 

Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her. 

A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.

In front of everyone.

Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire. 

Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.

“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.

Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.

But really, what was this?

You didn’t know.

But it was something.

Something more than before.

But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.

“Oh, we’re n-“

“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.

Did he -

Did he just-

Did he just confirm your thoughts?

Did he just validate your feelings?

Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?

A while.

That implied that this was more.

That this had always been more.

That this was solid.

That this was-

“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.

Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”

“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.

Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone. 

“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.

“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.

Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”

Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.

Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.

“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.

“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”

“What!”

“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”

Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”

Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”

Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back. 

You were happy for her.

Really happy.

They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.

Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.

Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell. 

He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”

Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.

Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around. 

Even Aemond.

His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded. 

Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.

At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.

Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.

“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.

You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle. 

Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”

“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.

A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face. 

“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.

You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.

You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.

You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”

His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”

Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.

“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss. 

It wasn’t hurried like the last time.

It wasn’t frenzied.

This time, you took your time with each other. 

Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.

This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.

He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.

You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.

Stay.

-

Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with. 

Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.

Everything had happened so fast.

It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another. 

It was different with him.

Unlike anyone else before.

Passionate.

Fiery.

All encompassing.

And you relished in it.

Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along. 

You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’. 

You were more.

You knew that now.

His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.

Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.

And there was no other place you’d rather be.

Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.

“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“Morning.”

Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.

That was noise you hadn’t heard before.

He sounded content.

Comfortable.

Safe.

But there was still one final thing. 

You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.

“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”

Here it was.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.

This was it.

His last chance to back out.

His last chance to say no.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.

He returned it equally with fever.

Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.

You looked at him in confusion.

“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”

You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”

Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.

Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”

At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.

You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.

Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.

You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips. 

Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff. 

“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.

“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.

Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.

So this is the game he wanted to play.

Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”

You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.

Only his shirt.

The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.

“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.

“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”

“Drama King.” He grumbled back.

You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.

You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.

“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.

“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.

“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”

Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”

You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.

“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.

“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you. 

If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.

“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.

Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.

“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.

Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?

But how could you have?

It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.

The offer.

Aemond returning.

Your spat.

Your make up.

Viserys’ death.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”

Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.” 

Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.

You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.

“You should take it.”

His words came as a surprise.

You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset. 

He was being genuine.

You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.

“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.

“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”

-

Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.

You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time. 

However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.

When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence. 

“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”

“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.

You were going to miss her.

“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”

“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”

Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”

His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”

The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.

-

It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.

It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.

You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.

Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.

And then you remembered.

“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.

Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.

“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”

The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”

Home.

The word sent heat straight to your core.

“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.

You and him.

“A liar?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did I say when I would?”

You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”

“And is lunch not after breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Dick.”

Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”

You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”

Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.

“Last chance, baby. Come here.”

"No."

Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.

You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.

“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”

Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.

“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.

“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below. 

His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”

Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre. 

“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.

Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.

“Please, Aemond.”

“Not my name, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”

The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.

“Kneel.” 

Gods be good.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.

“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees, “Kneel.”

The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you. 

Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face. 

“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.

Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”

You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You shook your head. 

No.

Liar.

Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”

You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force. 

So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.

The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.

The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain. 

Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.

“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.

Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go. 

You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.

Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.

The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.

It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.

You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.

He needed this just as much as you did.

A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.

“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.

It was a glorious sight.

You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.

You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.

With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.

“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat. 

He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length. 

“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.

Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.

Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat. 

“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”

Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing. 

“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.

“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.

“Three.”

“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“One.”

Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet. 

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.

You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.

“Open.”

You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.

“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.

“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”

Ten.

Oh shit.

You didn't know if you could.

But you wanted to please him.

You wanted to be good for him.

“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.

“Nine.” 

“Eight.”

“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.

“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.

“Five.”

The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually. 

“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.

"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.

“Almost there, baby. Three.”

Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark. 

Was he purposely counting slow?

Oh Gods.

He was.

“Two.”

You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.

“Two and three quarters.”

Dick.

Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.

“One.”

You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.

Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”

You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.

Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”

You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.

“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.

You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.

“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”

You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most. 

“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”

You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.

“Use your words.”

It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”

Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”

“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”

Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?

You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.

“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”

And he did.

Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace. 

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.

“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.

“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.

Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”

It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl. 

It was almost painful.

“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits. 

But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.

“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.

“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.

It was too much.

It was-

Oh Gods-

You were-

Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.

It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.

“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.

“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”

You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”

Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”

This caught your attention. 

Had you gotten your period?

Were you sweatier than you had thought?

You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.

“You made quite the mess.”

You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.

“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”

Squirted?

“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed. 

Low and behold, there it was.

A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.

After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.

-

You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.

The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.

You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.

Ah.

There it was.

The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.

You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.

“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.

Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist. 

“Ñuha Riña.”

The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.

Down girl.

You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”

“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.

You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.

But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.

“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.

“Hm?”

“Will you teach me?”

His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”

“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.

Was that weird of you to ask?

Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?

A reminder of his father?

Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.

“Hen rhinka.” Of course.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

My love.

-

That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.

Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.

A new day.

A new beginning.

With him.

Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be. 

Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek. 

Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled. 

Your stomach did flips.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.

There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea. 

You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.

“Anything you want.”

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[thethiefandtheairbender]

as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

[liyawritesss]

-> 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎...

-> 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢!

-> 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝....

-> 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍! 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘...

𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 !

—> OVERVIEW

—> The death of Bruce Wayne has shaken the city of Gotham to its core. His presence defined the very city he vouched for for years, and while many mourned the death of one of the city’s highest elites, no pain could be compared to that of (y/n)’s, eldest daughter and heir to the Wayne Family. The beloved father-daughter duo were the saving grace of Gotham City; Bruce pouring his attention into politics, social and criminal justice and technology, and (y/n) strongly advocating for the arts, social change and socio-economical and political reform. With tragedy in the air and crime running amuck in the streets, what will become of the brilliant and beautiful (y/n) Wayne amidst the turmoil within her city, within her family, and within her own heart?

—> OBJECTIVES

—> (y/n) has not spoken since arriving at the Belfry. She spends her days reminiscing on the times when Bruce was alive, holding on to what little memories she has. Much of her memories are stored in the gifts Bruce had given her over the years, as well as moments the family has shared together. Your task is to retrieve these objects from across Gotham and unlock core memories of the heiress’s childhood with the Wayne family, in hopes to restoring (y/n) back to her original self.

CHOOSE YOUR ROUTE

MAIN STORYLINE

NIGHTWING | RED HOOD | ROBIN | BATGIRL

ADDITIONAL ROUTES UNLOCKED

ALFRED PENNYWORTH | BRUCE WAYNE

​🇫​​🇮​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇮​​🇹​​🇪​​🇲​​🇸​

​🇷​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇲​​🇪​​🇲​​🇴​​🇷​​🇮​​🇪​​🇸​

​ 🇪​​🇽​​🇵​​🇪​​🇷​​🇮​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇫​​🇪​ ​🇴​​🇫​

​🇬​​🇴​​🇹​​🇭​​🇦​​🇲​’​🇸​ ​🇩​​🇦​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​

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🇨​​🇱​​🇮​​🇨​​🇰​ ​ 🇾​​🇴​​🇺​​🇷​ ​ 🇷​​🇴​​🇺​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​ 🇵​​🇱​​🇦​​🇾​

​🇳​​🇴​​🇼​

⚠️This Series Will Contain: canon-accurate violence with weapons such as guns, knives, batons, customized batman gear and other vigilante gear, hand to hand combat, mentions of blood, injuries, heavy talk about grief, depression, anxiety, major character death (bruce wayne/batman). Readers discretion is advised.

Tag List: @punkeropercyjackson @insomniac-jay @neesieiumz @honeypotsworld @honeybleed @hellkaiserinphoenix @saintriots @agent-nobody-knows @badass-dora-milaje @sincerelyzee @anuttellaa

[loveforneteyam]

❝your mighty warrior❞ ( I. )

golden eyes

summary: you never thought you'd see your lover's golden eyes again. and when you did, he didn't recognize a single part of you. pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader wordcount: 2.8k contains: angst, major spoilers for atwow, mentions of character death, blood, memory loss, sad guilty lo'ak, lo’ak x reader is platonic! notes: the first part, here we go! if i get things with the timeline messed up just ignore it haha. my heart breaks for lo'ak in this, but i hope you all enjoy!

paskalin : term of endearment oeyä tìyawn : my love tanhí : small, bioluminescent freckles

masterlist | series

The water is still in the night. Its chaos—violent waves that crash and collide—disappears once the darkness blankets over the sky. The surface of the water reflects the stars, small freckles of light in the face of the ocean. Although gentle tides push and pull, the vast sea is silent as it sleeps.

There is a beat to be heard; a pulse from under the water, under the ocean floor, from the very core of Pandora. A strong, mighty rhythm that shakes the ground. But this heartbeat does not come from the Great Mother.

In the quiet of the night, the reflection of the sky in the ocean is disrupted. Calloused fingers break through the barrier, reaching past the thin veil. He grasps the air like a rope. The crown of his head splits the sea in half. The moon pulls him to her; his body, strong and powerful, ascends.

──

It was his mother who pressed his eyes closed when they were void of life. The blank face of your lover glared into your soul. The grip he had on your hand--desperately clinging onto you like it would heal the hole in his heart--vanished, and you were left to imagine his fingers were still intertwined with yours.

You remember the wave of realization on his father's face, how his ears slightly dropped and his bottom lip quivered when he noticed that the bullet had gone straight through his eldest son's chest. Crimson collected in his shaking palms. You knew then that there was nothing to be done. Nothing except to sit next to Neteyam, your prince, as his soul moved onto the Great Mother.

His funeral was inevitable. After the war was over, it was time for the Suli's to say goodbye. You stayed with his brother, Lo'ak's hands placed in yours, as Neteyam slowly sank deeper towards the ocean floor. His frame became smaller and smaller, until he was completely engulfed by luminescent tendrils. Your lover was no more.

The family struggled to carry on without him. You remained close with his siblings, thankfully. Kiri mourned by your side. For a time, it had been just her and Neteyam. He was born less than a month before her and she considered him to be her twin. Tuk was young, but old enough to understand, “He is with Eywa”.

Lo'ak, however, was almost never to be seen. If you managed to catch a glimpse of him, he was silent and reclusive. He even ignored Tsireya, who asked you multiple times if he was alright; you never had an answer.

Despite your great loss, the village of Awa'atlu continued on. Every morning, the fishermen and farmers rose early, the healers prepared their supplies, and the hunters readied their ilus to dive through the sea.

Life continued on as if Neteyam's soul had never been ripped out of your blood-soaked hands, as if his eyes had never looked their last to you. It broke your heart.

──

Although Jake Suli had finally recognized his youngest son for his true potential, it was too late. Lo'ak put the blame for Neteyam's death on himself. He accepted that he would forever carry that weight with him, no matter where he ran to or hid.

You knew that when he was nowhere to be found, he was somewhere far off in the sea on Payakan's fin. He stayed out late and missed ceremonies and Suli family meetings; it was Neteyam who always pushed Lo'ak to participate. But even when he laid underneath the stars on the back of Payakan, the ocean water gently lapping at his skin, the guilt still sat in his chest like the bullet in Neteyam's heart.

Without his older brother, Lo'ak ceased to exist. He refused to meet his eyes or even speak to his mother. He made himself an outcast before his family could. You recognized that the void in Lo'ak's life was the same one tearing you apart, so you felt that it was your responsibility to look after him.

"We must be strong," Neteyam had told you the night you left your home in the forest. You said goodbye to your family to be with him. He'd placed his palm over your heart. "In here."

It was eerie how you could still feel his touch as if he were right in front of you. Neteyam would've wanted you to stay strong for Lo'ak, and you would do anything to honor your mighty warrior.

Unfortunately, looking after Lo'ak wasn't easy when you could never find him. Two days had passed and you hadn't seen him once. You knew not to worry--Kiri noticed your concern and said she'd seen him with his tulkun just outside of the reef. "He didn't seem like he wanted to come back."

By that night, you'd given up. After a great feast held for the birth of Tonowari and Ronal's child, you separated yourself from the others and sat alone on a far-off shore. The ocean life illuminated the darkness around you, small specks of teal and gold light scattered in the water. Your feet had sunk into the wet sand as the calm waves kissed your ankles.

While the ocean held many wonders that continued to fascinate you, it left a bitter image burned into your memory.

There was fire off in the distance, gunshots and explosions, but they were all the least of your concern. You shook as you held his body in your arms. The water had turned violent, as if the Great Mother knew of the war taking place. Sharp, chaotic waves crashed against a rocky landing. Crimson pooled in the grooves of the rock, running down the sides to where it diluted in the vast sea.

You never allowed yourself to remember anything past that. The ocean had not redeemed itself just yet. You pulled your knees to your chest so your feet were out of the water. The silence of the night would never be peaceful; if it was quiet enough, you could still hear his voice in your ear.

Fortunately, the silence broke. Soft footsteps in the sand were trailing towards you, and wide, golden eyes met your small frame. Lo'ak had not expected you so far away from the village, alone, at night. "(y/n)," he froze. "What're you doing here?"

"Lo'ak," you let out a breath of relief that you'd been holding for the past few days. You stood and brushed the sand off of your legs. "I've- We've been looking for you. Your mother and father have been so worried."

He frowned at the mention of his family--of his father. He refused to even imagine what they could possibly think of him. "I was just out," Lo'ak tried to dismiss the topic and swiftly walked past you, his shoulder barely brushing yours. "I'm fine."

The remnants of your heart cracked once again. Even when a hand reached out for him, grasping onto his fingertips, he'd pull away. The fear of rejection--the thought of placing his trust in someone with only betrayal in return--was too great. Lo'ak would abandon others before they could abandon him.

"Lo'ak, please." your hand gently grabbed his shoulder to turn him back to you. He stood a few inches over you and refused to look down to meet your eyes.

There was a soft spark in his chest, and you could see the flame beginning to grow. "What do you want, (y/n)?" He retorted with a sigh.

"You know what it is, Lo'ak." You brushed your hand down his arm to meet his palm. You placed his own hand on top of his heart. He sighed, breath laced with heavy regret and guilt. Lo'ak knew that whatever he'd been hiding for the past few months would be coming up right there in front of you.

He practically collapsed onto the sand, feet set in the water and arms wrapped around his legs, but he quickly pulled himself away from the shore, just like you had earlier, once the memories began to feel too real. You sat right by his side and looked off to the dark horizon. The two of you stared with broken hearts. "Have you gone to see him?"

There was silence, apart from the gentle lapping of the waves and the village in the distance. "No," he regretfully looked down at his lap. "Have you?"

You shook your head, "No." Your response wasn't much better.

For as much as the two of you missed him, neither of you had gone to the Spirit Tree like the rest of the Suli family. The only images of Neteyam that you had left were the memories still burned into your vision. “I’m afraid to forget him,” Lo’ak admitted. He bit the inside of his cheek. “But I’m too scared to see him again.”

You looked to him with sympathetic eyes. For the first time since his brother’s death, Lo’ak broke. Three tears left a trail down his face to where they dropped off his skin and onto the sand. “I don’t know much about spirits,” you began. You set a firm, reassuring hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. “But Neteyam loved us with all his heart. Even as he rests with the Great Mother, he loves us.”

He tried to nod along to your words as if he would better believe them. Lo’ak gently gasped before a quiet, broken sob left his throat, “I know it’s my fault.” His shoulders heaved. “If I hadn’t made him go back for Spider or- or if I stayed behind instead of him..”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” you cooed, turning towards him and engulfing him in a hug. He leaned his forehead down onto your shoulder. This was the first comfort he’d felt in months. “We can’t tell ourselves those things.”

His tears collected on your skin. “My brother,” he whimpered, “is gone.”

Your fingers gently caressed the back of his head, tracing over his braids. You shushed him, “There’s nothing we can do.” How could you affirm this to Lo’ak when you couldn’t even accept it yourself? You pulled away so you could look him in the eyes.

“I miss him too much.” Lo’ak wept.

Holding his face between your gentle hands, you nodded. Together, your tears soaked the sand beneath you; the two of you could’ve created an entire ocean. “I miss him, too, paskalin.” Your thumb soothed cheek and wiped away the tears from his eyes. “But we must stay strong for him.

“All we can do is remember. One day, we’ll be strong enough to see him, I know it. But for now, we must be strong,” You put your hand over his heart. The beat of his soul turned steady; you remembered how Neteyam’s slowed to a stop, and for the first time since his death, you pushed the memory away without a single tear. “In here.”

Lo’ak closed his eyes and calmed his breath, allowing the feeling of your palm on his skin to soothe him. He’d opened himself and poured out his heart. Now, he could heal.

The night continued on, and you stayed with Lo’ak throughout the dark reign. He could take however long he needed. You would comfort him through whatever war he created in his mind. The tide came in, brushing water against your knees, but the two of you remained.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “We should return to the village.” Before, Lo’ak spoke bluntly with a dismissive mask to cover how broken he truly was. Now, his voice was firm and strong.

“Are you sure?” You warned. He stood and you cautiously rode with him.

His hands, which had been balled in tense fists, released themselves. Lo’ak nodded, “I’ve been too focused on my brother that I’ve forgotten the rest of my family. Do you think they’ll forgive me?”

With a sweet, proud smile, you offered, "They already have."

──

The path back to the village was peaceful given that you and Lo'ak had come to terms with your grief. He had warned you that his parents would most likely be angry when you returned since it'd been hours since they'd last seen you and days since they'd seen him. You'd consoled him, "We'll get through it together."

It was strange that in Neteyam's absence, you and Lo'ak were able to replace the void with each other. Although he was only a year younger, you'd always felt a sisterly love for him, the same way that you felt for Kiri or Tuk. Now that your connection with Lo'ak had healed, maybe you could too.

Life ahead was beginning to look a little brighter in that moment as you walked on the shore.

But your peace was short-lived.

The village was close enough that you could see the pods, docks, and several Metkayina men with glowing lanterns that noticed you and Lo'ak approaching. They called out and, together, the two of you rushed to them.

"What is wrong?" Lo'ak prodded, trying to look past their broad shoulders at the commotion that was collecting in the village.

You tried as well but they were too tall compared to you. "You must come with us," one of the men said. The flames in the lanterns gently flickered but you could well enough see Kiri running in the distance. Her eyes were wide with fear like she'd seen a ghost.

"Kiri!" You exclaimed.

She pushed past the men and, out of breath, embraced Lo'ak. "Brother!" There were tears falling from her eyes, only you had expected her to happily cry at the sight of Lo'ak. Instead, she wept. "You must come. Come, (y/n)."

Kiri led you both back to the village, the men following after you to provide light. Almost every person in Awa'atlu--man, woman, young, and old--crowded near the shore. They yelled and gasped, cursing and praying. The three of you struggled to push past everyone, accidentally stepping on tails and toes and bumping elbows and shoulders.

Everyone seemed to look at you and Lo'ak with sympathy. Lo'ak sensed it as well, and looked just as confused as you were.

The crowd was like a hurricane, and in the center, the eye was calm. Jake and Neytiri kneeled on the ground, Tuk crying into her father's arm. Tonowari, Ao'nung, and a collection of soldiers held the people back. Ronal sat across from Neytiri, muttering a prayer with her eyes shut. Kiri ran to her mother's side. Tsireya rushed to Lo'ak as he collapsed.

Your heart stopped.

On the ground, where the ocean met the sand, a figure laid. He had strong legs and arms, a strapping abdomen, and calloused palms and fingers. There was a scar on the outside of his right thigh. Tanhì scattered across his body like the constellations reflected on the ocean.

Your prince. His ghost would forever haunt you. What had you done wrong? What had you done for the Great Mother to curse you like this? Just as you could feel your wounds beginning to heal, your heart crumbled again.

You fell to your knees, placing your hand over your mouth to cover the ear-splitting wail you released. You could fully see your Neteyam now. Just as you had remembered it, but his eyes were gently shut. Neytiri cried alongside you, and your heart almost broke even further until you heard her whisper, "Thank you, Great Mother. Thank you."

What was she grateful for? Jake noticed your confusion, and with a hopeful smile, he took your hand and placed it on Neteyam's heart. Underneath the weight of your palm, you felt a gentle pulse. A steady, soft rhythm that rocked your core. Your tears stopped, a cry stuck in your throat.

You looked down to his body and gasped. "Oeyä tìyawn," you whispered out to him, hoping he would hear it. Through just two words, your voice called out to him.

Golden eyes, that you thought you would never see again, opened.

His father gasped; his mother laughed; his sisters cheered, and his brother bowed with his forehead touching the ground. Neteyam's mighty heartbeat reached across Pandora.

"Ma 'Teyam," you smiled. You could taste your own tears as they reached the corners of your mouth. For the first time in months, you weren't crying from a split in your heart--you cried at the feeling of it healing. You were foolish to think the Great Mother would curse you. "Thank you, Great Mother."

Only two minutes had passed until you noticed the laughter and cheers of others had disappeared. The night had become silent again. Your smile fell when you recognized that Neteyam had not yet embraced you. In fact, he stayed frozen on the ground.

His eyes were still open, but they were wide and full of fear. Tuk reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away with a scared gasp. He flinched when his own mother caressed his cheek. "Neteyam," she pleaded. Finally, his eyes met yours. You looked to him with desperate affection, practically shooting beams of love towards him. Your stomach dropped when you noticed it.

Your prince did not know who you were.

taglist: @m4nd0l0r @slythermania @angrypomeranianwifey @afro-hispwriter @neteyamsgirll @sopiasleeps @sassy-persona @islamovice17 @danyxthirstae01 @argentnoble @ilovehotd @freyabear @vxncxntt @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @virginslutsstuff @brooklynscherry-z @elvyshiarieko @sharni07 @sillyfreakfanparty @23victoria @froglogblog @neteyamoa @lilprettypetite @littlecurlyhairedbabe @theflowerofpandora @howcl @hlhl99 @dreamergirljen @tejas-kris @osumarusjade

[hannigramislife]

You know what hurts?

Imagine being Jiang Cheng; you're 18 years old, and there was a moment, after the destruction of your sect, the Fall of Lotus Pier, the deaths of your parents, when you see your brother about to be taken away by Wen soldiers.

Imagine the things you'd think in the span of a few seconds: that if they take him, your brother dies, and you're alone in a war, left to take care of your people and your sister. If you distract them, they take you instead.

But if they take you, you'll die. You'll get tortured and killed in your own home that's bathed in the blood of your family. If you die, your brother will inherit your sect and your responsibilities. He will be the leader your father knew you could never be. You hear your mother's voice, that always said he will bring nothing but trouble, that he'll take away what's rightfully yours.

Imagine that despite everything, not caring about anything, you step outside. You get caught, tortured, your golden core crushed– a fate worse than death, because now you have become what you always thought you already were: useless.

You don't let him know. You don't let either of them know.

Now imagine that despite the deteriorating relationship with your brother, who doesn't seem to take anything seriously, who doesn't help with the sect, who makes trouble in every public appearance you have, you don't let him know. You don't throw it in his face. He must never know.

And years– so, so many dreadful years full of mourning later– you find out your brother made the same sacrifice you did. Except, he tells you that he did it out of obligation. You were a debt. You were a way to repay your father's kindness and your mother's tolerance and your sister's love to an orphan boy. You were the price the man you called brother had to pay for being allowed to live in Lotus Pier. You were his duty, nothing more.

That's what you hear in his words. That's what he means when he says to leave it all in the past. You are the past. Which maybe was fitting, as you never moved on from him. You were a weight that your brother is finally free of, so he can go live a happy life with other people he considers family.

Imagine how it feels, to think that what you did out of love, nothing more or less, but pure, unadulterated love– it destroyed your beloved's life. Everything you have built, everything you were proud of, it was at his expense. Then, your brother trampled all over your love with the cold detachment, although unknowingly.

He didn't know after all.

So, steeling whatever is left of your heart, you let him go. You finally let go, knowing your grip has never been love, to your brother, but a chain, a prison–

So you don't tell him.

You could never admit to it. You could never put him through the anguish you yourself are feeling.

He must never know.

[ladyelissarose]

‘Your Touch’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female solider reader 

- Callsign; Taryn (meaning Thunder)

Summary; Who knew that the soldier with the callsign Taryn was actually afraid of the thunder? Maybe it’s loud claps shook her to her core instead of speaking to her? Ghost notices this, and decides to make a move on it.

Warnings: it’s really short but it’s lovely believe me. I’m terrified of thunderstorms so I thought I’d do something about it as I’m going through one right now! It’s mostly fluffy.. enjoy ;)🌻

‘CLAP!!.. BOOM!!’

You lost your breath while your brain short circuited, causing you to almost drop your heavy rifle to the ground. You unfortunately got jump-scared by nature’s screams; Thunder. Loud, screaming thunder, the one that could kill you and wake up the dead at once. It made your heart beat faster and your bones tremble deep in your core. The clouds cried rivers as you did your best to lift every foot completely off the ground as your stepped deeper into her puddles of tears. Thinking about the sun or sunshine didn’t help take your mind off of what scared you the most. Thunderstorms. Yeah, perhaps you were part of the most lethal group in the world as known as the 141 Task Force, but you still had fears. But you didn’t fear what others did, like chains, blood, needles, or even death. 

  No no... what terrified you to the point of tears and wrecking sobs begging to be released from the cages in your throat, was the sound of thunderstorms. It sounded like screams of a mourning mother and worse than the earth-shaking bombs of the military. Ever sense you were a little girl they scared you, it’s sound terrified your little heart until your mother came to embrace you through the night to sleep. But now without your mother and out in the field as a tough soldier, you did your very best to cover it up and handle it like a champ, though there were occasions that the tears would slip, and your lips would quiver, but you blamed it on the cold-chilly rain to be the reason to your reactions.

   So no one in your teamed didn’t know about this this fear of yours... plus, your call-sign or nickname per say was ‘Taryn’, meaning ‘thunder’. But that was only because you had a loud presence, a voice that spoke over others with reason and power. There had never been one to shut you up for they feared being swallowed by your thunderous words. (And those that did- well let’s just say they never did it again:)

Anyways, you’re on night watch with Ghost, he was your sniper, you were his eyes. In complete stillness almost being unseen as the ghost he was, Lieutenant Ghost laid on his tummy beside you as you stood next to him with your special night binoculars, looking for any sight of unwanted intruders. Your eyes kept strong and open, making sure you saw past the rain to catch lingering figures, Ghost’s hands rested on the handle on the rifle as his finger laid delicately on the trigger, he was in position to be ready to aim where you told him too, then he’d snipe them out on your call. 

  But as your were busy you didn’t realize that Ghost had caught onto you almost dropping you gun seconds ago and how your legs were trembling beside his head, but he knew it was not from the cold- no no no... from fear. He had felt and trembled to that fear before, when he was beat by his father, witnessed the sight of his family’s dead bodies, being tortured closely to death and even buried alive- so yes... he knew fear. 

  Ghost knew you had a fear, but thunderstorms? Who would of thought? So to keep you calm and steady, as he wished you to be, he tried to call you back to reality. After clearing his throat and noticing the way his balaclava stuck to his skin, he asked softly but still with that deep, British voice,

“Sarge? You good?”

You snapped for a second and stayed still as you replied as calmly as you could, not wanting to give off how on the edge of fall apart you were,

“Yes sir. All good.”

“Hmm... don’t let the rain make you drop your weapon, you could damage a piece then it won’t work properly.”

“Oh. Yes sir. Apologies.”

“No need, just be careful eh?”

“Affirmative.”

“Hmm.. Hmm...”

‘Oh boy...’

Ghost’s ‘hmm hmm’s’ were sounding a little off today, they didn’t sound like of approval or satisfaction, but more like he didn’t believe you. 

*bright ass lightning*

It was so bright you could see Ghost so clearly that you even saw the way his black paint around his coffee colored eyes was wearing off. Nonetheless you still thought of the future,

‘Oh fuck no... incoming bitch-‘

‘CLAP!!...’

‘no no no-‘

‘BOOOOM!!!’

“Shit!”

Your whole body jolted like if you had been electrocuted. Now streaks of warm tears fell down your face and blended with the cold ones from the rain, even a soft and small sob left your lips, Jesus it was really getting to you now. But you believed your cries were all blocked off or blended well by the sound of the raging storm. Oh it all just ripped you apart from the insides, your inner child was screaming for mama to embrace you and keep you close, away from all the danger. You didn’t feel like a brave, combat soldier who was like the thunderstorm herself... you felt like kid, a kid who needed a hug, and saving. Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted the binoculars to scan again, and thankfully nothing was out, so you put them back down for now, that’s when you felt a soft tug on your pant leg. Your heart skipped a beat with panic of who it was considering you were already traumatized, but your mind reminded you that it was Simon Riley by your leg, seeking your attention. You blinked away the tears and looked down, as you unintentionally whimpered,

“yeah Simon?”

“C’mere.”

“m?”

“down here. come.”

You right away knelt to the ground and felt the cold rain quickly soak your pants on the knees, but weren’t bothered by it as Simon’s words clouded those thoughts,

“Want to hide under my cape?” 

You frowned and pointed at his large Grim Reaper cape cover him nicely, signifying that if that was what he was talking about. He leaned onto one elbow to look up at you as he nodded and repeated,

“So you’re going to come?”

‘Oh ok I’m not crazy he actually wants to share his cape!!’

“oh! You sure-“

He grunted and got back on his tummy,

“Don’t make me change my mind pussy-“

“Ok ok!”

With a short giggle at his choice of words which were usually saved for Soap, you then found refuge on your tummy too but with security under Ghost’s large cape, almost feeling untouchable by what’s out there as you huddled close to him and held your binoculars tightly. You left an inch between him and yourself for respect of course, though you wish that didn’t exist so you could be almost glued to him. Ghost was such a strong, bulky man, a human bear that was both cuddly and deadly, and Damn you were addicted to that combination. Simon then nudge your arm with his elbow as he suggested,

“Come closer Tar.. I don’t bite dove.”

‘No fucking way!! Sweet!’

Of course, you didn’t have to be told twice, in milliseconds you were pressed up against him, propped on your elbows mirroring his position, but what warmed and exploded your heart with awe, love, warmth and lust- ehem.. well what really got your broken and scared to death heart was the feeling of Simon’s hand wrapping around yours tightly. You gasp lowly at his action but nonetheless acted upon it when you cuddled his hand closer to you, relishing in the comfort of the smallest touch he could ever give. You always believed that under all of Simon’s deadly facade as Ghost, he had a soft spot... somewhere inside where he tried to be soulless like a Ghost.. he was still human with a good heart... and this just proved you right as he warned you,

“Never tell a soul about this or I’ll tell them your fear and give them the right to haunt you with it. Understood?”

You nodded quickly and leaned your cheek on your clasped hands as you promised,

“I won’t... thank you Si.”

“It feels nice.”

“It does... should we-“

He locked eyes with you and finished your suggestion with his words,

“Every time. When we feel scared. We can hold one another’s hands dove. If we’re together nothing can touch us. that’s what my mum used to do...”

He ended the last part with sadness in his tone, which you caught and squeezed his hand for extra comfort as you smiled sweetly, but it faded quickly when you saw it,

*deadly ass lightning strike*

Instinctively Simon pulled you practically under his chest with your ear pressed against him where his heart would be. He then covered the side that was opened, but not before saying into them kindly,

“It can’t touch you remember? I got you.”

*.... thump.. thump.. thump.. thump..*

The beyond, calming heart of Simon soothed your troubled soul, and also joyed you when you didn’t hear the terrifying sound of Mother Nature but instead the gift of life in Simon’s body. When it had passed Simon kissed your head through his mask and let you go to get back in position, which you did but still found his hand again without skipping a beat. 

“Mm mmm.”

Now that, sounded like the delightful humming of Simon, he was pleased, and peaceful... you too were now. You took a quick glance at him but saw how his eyes were on yours first before he looked away shyly. You blushed a little and looked ahead feeling better, and so secure with him. It was probably the beginning of the best night watches and life you were going to have.. as long as you had Simon Ghost Riley by you.... and Simon believed the same thing, when he felt his heart beat differently but nicely at the touch of your hand in his, and also how you reminded him of his loving mother, who with just touch... he was a healed and protected kid. You both healed your inner child at one another’s touch.