#remained close to the throne as she absolutely should

[vigilskeep]

do you have any opinions/speculations about the potential for a succession crisis in ferelden? ik depending on worldstate there may have already been a mac tir and/or cousland holding the throne without incident for the past 10+ years w the last living theirin dead/frolicking through a field of flowers, but breaking hundreds of years of precedent like that does seem like it could kick up some instability, even if it was offscreen? and obviously even if alistair is king his womb is barren, so like, what gives.

oh i mean we’re definitely extremely fucked and there are no good options!

the theirin line is done for, for a start. even if the sole remaining one does become king, he’s a bastard with bad chances of having a child at all. his two known possible queens are a fellow warden—making the chances of conceiving even worse! near impossible, in his own words—and anora mac tir, who never managed it with her non-warden husband, and regardless of whether or not she is actually infertile as is rumoured, seems to be actively avoiding even trying, based on loghain dialogue if she marries cousland and her unwillingness to marry at all if she becomes sole queen

since anora and alistair are both unlikely to have children either alone or together, and a cousland spouse only lessens the chances for both of them, and those are... all our options... yes we will see a succession crisis in ferelden. it’s not a maybe. if anora and/or alistair clearly declare a chosen heir before their deaths we might be able to avoid it being an open conflict but whoever they choose will definitely suffer for lack of legitimacy

assuming no royal children, the only obvious contenders for the throne are teagan guerrin and fergus cousland, and any heirs thereof. both are alive in any worldstate

the guerrins are closely related to the royal family—cailan’s mother was the elder sister of eamon and teagan—and widely respected. alistair actually suggests passing the throne to eamon in dao, and he usually has a pretty good read for what’s reasonable. i don’t think this is a bad idea. on the other hand, teagan spent his youth in the free marches, and is headstrong and not particularly politically gifted. there’s also the question of his own marriage and heirs; since the epilogue slides aren’t canon, there’s no need to accept the one where he inexplicably marries what very much seemed in game to be an underage girl, but he definitely can lose his heart to a warden of any origin in like two conversations, and all in all you’d want him settled with an acceptable queen before we could take this seriously. otherwise we’ll just have another crisis about that. i mean, one hopes he’s married and a father already by dai for this to be anything. his free marcher connections might be a boon here bc i’d like ferelden to marry into them more

the couslands are second only to the royal family, and it was suggested by some even back during ferelden’s rebellion against orlais that bryce cousland should take the throne instead of the theirins. his son would certainly be an acceptable contender. fergus may not have any living children, but he has at least proved he’s capable of having children, which is somehow as good as it gets around here. he is trained as a capable leader and ruler, is very fereldan, and maintains good diplomatic relations with factions like the inquisition. the downside to this is that it alters the political makeup of ferelden quite a bit, in that the couslands have kind of survived as the only remaining family of such power by not trying for the throne. their rule would be even more absolute than the theirins because there would be no teyrns left at all to contend with it. someone like anora in particular would be very aware of this and also simply of how dangerous it is to promise ferelden’s future to him before her death. suddenly everyone would look to the couslands as the future and not to her

there aren’t many other options that we know of at this time. there’s alistair’s kieran, but i don’t take that seriously, morrigan would never allow it and a bastard’s apostate bastard raised half in the orlesian royal court is several steps too far. if connor guerrin lives and leliana is divine, assuming the ending of the circle of magi means that mages can hold titles now, he could be a possibility

it isn’t completely impossible for anora or alistair to have children, of course. if sole king alistair actually got around to marrying at some point, that’s probably the best chance for it out of the landsmeet options?

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Princess Of The Prisoner - Pirate!Jake Kiszka AU

A/N: I’m BACK!! And god, is it good to be. I’ve missed you all so, so much. I thank you all for your patience and endless support. You all mean the world to me <3 I hope you all enjoy this - finally. I love you! (Only lightly edited for the moment).

WARNINGS: Semi-light Violence, bl00d, unconsciousness, fighting, use of weapons.

This is MAJOR 18+ Minors DNI! AT ALL. Bondage, kn!fe play, edging/orgasm denial, light overstimulation, fingering (F), oral (F&M receiving), choking, slapping, degradation, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!)

Masterlist

•••

“I am no where near equipped for what you are asking of me.” You speak firmly to your father, fighting the intense urge to stomp your foot against the shiny, glassy floor like that of a child.

“If I didn’t see you fit, I would not send you.” Your father says to you, sounding just as sure of his plan as ever.

As always.

“I will not be used as bait for one of your enemies.” You straighten your back, holding his blazing and frustrated stare. “You’ve lost your sanity, father.”

“I have not asked you, I have told you what you are to do.” He remains stubborn and firm. “I expect him here no later than morning. Don’t disappoint me, dearest. Now, you best be off.”

Your face twists in the purest form of anger as you turn away from your father to leave him be at his throne. You storm across the palace, back to your own room.

“How could he put me in such a dangerous position?” you mutter to yourself, gathering up a new dress to change into for your days journey.

“Sending me off to find some god forsaken ship, to hunt down a man for him,” you continue to ramble to no one other than yourself and the over-decorated walls.

Or, so you think.

“Let me guess-“ The cook of your palace stands in your doorway. You have grown quite close with her, given she is one of the few women around anymore. “-You’re being sent off on a mission, per your father’s orders again?”

“Yes,” you sigh heavily, undoing your corset. “I must be off shortly. I’m essentially being used as bait for the captain of some ship, Jacob Kiszka.”

Her eyes look as though they are going to fall out of her head, “Do you not realize who that is, Princess?”

“I haven’t the first clue who he is, no,” you admit.

All you know is that his ship would be arriving sooner rather than later, and Jacob is after a specific sword of your father’s. You are not sure why the sword is so significant, all you know is that Jacob is indeed after it.

“I’m sure he’s some gross old man-“

“Far from it, actually. He’s quite young if I remember correctly,” she informs you, laughing lightly at your shocked expression.

“Young?” you scoff in disbelief. “There is no possible way…”

“Oh, but there is. He could only be a few years older than you,” she continues and laughs lightly at you, unintentionally adding to your frustration more. “Not to say that I am at all on board with your father using you, but I understand why he’s asked you. He’s just a young lad.”

“This is just absolutely ridiculous,” you huff. “Sending me off to capture some boy, who could probably still kill me with one hand, regardless of age!” Your arms flail around you in dramatic emphasis. “How do you even know this information about him?”

“He’s actually quite well known,” she answers, eyes falling to the floor. “But… how I know him personally is not relevant.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you for a moment.

“I know very well that your father has taught you to be an incredible fighter,” she speaks up, softly breaking the silence. “…Perhaps if you’re truly so worried, you should take another man with you. Daniel, maybe?”

You think on her suggestion for a moment, ultimately deciding it isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Will you please retrieve him for me?”

“Of course, Princess.” She nods to you politely. “I should not distract you any further. Good luck to you, dear.. I shall send for Daniel for you at once.”

“Thank you,” you mumble under your breath, sending her a rather forced smile.

Gathering the rest of your things, you are going off to find Daniel yourself, but you realize he has finally come to you, by the soft knock at your door.

“Princess,” he greets with a charming nod of his head and a smile that can undoubtedly melt the coldest souls. “It was brought to me that you are in need of my assistance.”

“Yes,” you start, casting him your undivided attention, just as he is giving to you. “My father wants me to capture this Captain…Jacob Kiszka. He is after something of his and Father wants him taken care right away.”

“With all respect, Princess, shouldn’t you be demanding he send someone else to do such a job?” Daniel’s face turns immensely concerned and fearful on your behalf. “Jacob is a very skilled and clever man. You have no business-“

“-I’ve tried to change his mind all I can, but you know how he is,” you speak warily, cutting him off. “But that’s why I’ve asked for you. I would love for you to join me.”

Daniel’s eyes widen and the Adams apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“Princess, I truly don’t think this is-“

“-I have no other choice, Daniel!” You firmly cut him off once again. “Now… Are you coming, or are you going to stay here as though you are some sort of coward?”

Daniel is far from a coward and you know that without a doubt, but you have to convince him somehow.

“When are we to depart?” He caves, speaking through a sigh of defeat.

“Right now.” You nod curtly, grabbing your belongings and walking right past him.

He mumbles to himself from behind you, taking long strides to keep up alongside you, “What have I gotten myself into…?”

“Just look at it as an adventure, Daniel,” you jest in attempts to lighten the mood.

“And suppose one of us gets hurt? What shall happen then?” Daniel questions rapidly, speeding up to reach the door of the palace before you. “Ah! Do not dare to touch that door.”

“I am about to capture a thief and you are concerned about me opening but a single door?” you chide lightly, cocking an eyebrow as he opens the door for you anyway.

You step out first, waiting patiently for him to follow after you.

“And stop thinking in such worrisome ways,” you add, once he joins at your side. “You are quite frankly putting a thorn in my side.”

Your light teasing brings a small smile to Daniel’s face and he huffs a soft laugh before changing the subject entirely.

“How would you like to travel, princess?”

“On foot,” you tell him, taking off in the direction of the area in which Jacob and his ship are suspected to be coming to.

He looks at you with shock filled eyes, “Alright, you are officially out of all of your senses.”

“It is not that far from here,” you roll your eyes, the pair of you walking farther away from the palace. “They’re going to anchor at the closest point they can, but far enough away as to not be perceived from the palace.”

“And how can you be so sure?” He’s full of never ending questions.

“Enough questions, Daniel, seriously,” you sigh in slight annoyance. “It would be in your best interest to simply trust me.”

The two of you walk in silence for quite some time, taking in the nature around you and putting mental marks on things that you walked by, as to not leave any chance of getting lost on your journey back.

“How much farther are we going, Princess?” Daniel breaks down and asks yet another question.

You open your mouth to answer him, but the sounds of various voices shouting about, swiftly interrupt you.

“Stop.” You place your hand out to stop Daniel in his tracks beside to you. “Voices. I hear voices. Do you hear them, Daniel?”

He looks around, listening intently and after a moment or two, the same shouting fills his ears as well.

“I hear them.” Daniel nods, confirming that you are not losing your sanity.

Quickly, you put your plan of attack into motion.

“Daniel, whatever you do, do not leave my side.” You tell him, giving a curt nod as you made your way towards the tree line that followed the edge of the river bank.

The closer you get, the louder the voices become and the more your nerves threaten to overtake you.

You and Danny make your way through the trees, stopping just out of view of the surprisingly nice ship haphazardly docked just before the shoreline.

A beautiful, fit and young man treads his way through the shallow water and up on to the sand, looking far more put together than the rest of the crew surrounding him.

“That must be him…” you point towards him, Daniel’s eyes following your index finger. He nods, confirming your guess.

“Princess, please, let me take care of this?” Daniel pleads quietly. “There are far too many of them to take on alone.”

“Nonsense. I shall do what I was sent to do,” you insist. “We must figure out how to capture him without the rest witnessing. They will surely come looking, if they see us leave with him.”

“Not to mention that we walked here,” Daniel reminds you. “I suppose that means I will be carrying him back, surely?”

“You have always been incredibly smart,” you tease and answer his question all at once.

“Now, then! Now, then!”

Soft gasps are shared between you and Daniel, as who you presume was Jacob, starts to loudly gather in his crew.

“Now that I have the undivided attention of all of you dandy crewmen, I shall be off in attempts to get in to the King’s palace at once!” he begins to explain, voice somehow much louder and firmer than you expected it to be. “I hate to break one’s heart, but all of you are to return to the ship and remain there until I return! I cannot risk my plans being tampered with. Am I clear to all of you?!”

They all express their understanding in almost perfect unison.

“That will be all, then! Please, return to the ship right away!”

Like well trained animals, everyone files back to the ship as Jake stands around to watch on, ensuring not one person is staying behind.

He is so breathtaking… It almost drowns out the hatred that you already hold for him.

You shake your intrusive thoughts of the captain away, putting on your brave face to continue on with a new plan.

“Come, Daniel!” you yell in a whisper, creeping your way back out of the trees.

“Come on!”

Once you both make it out, he begins his frantic questioning once more, “What ever are we doing now, princess?!”

“Hush,” you silence him. “We must go back towards the palace. I believe it best that we ambush him there.”

He simply shakes his head in understanding, glancing over his shoulder quickly to be sure no one has spotted either of you and is following.

You stop at the bushes near the entrance of the palace, breathing heavily and shaking your head in exasperation as the two of you duck down out of sight.

Daniel lets out a frustrated and tired huff. “We are back where we started, princess. I’m starting to question your oh-so elaborate planning.”

“You are being such a sore thumb today. I beg of you to just do as I say.” You send him a pleading look.

Silence fills the air around the two of you for a while, until the cracking of rocks beneath boots captures Daniel’s attention.

“Princess,” he nudges at your shoulder. “The Captain is upon us.”

You peak through the flowers and leaves, eyeing him as he makes his way carefully up the path.

You catch yourself gawking at him again; the way he walks, his long tresses and the beautiful dagger hanging from a strap across his chest.

“Your majesty, please,” Daniel begs, knocking you from your trance. “Please, tell me what you want me to do.”

“I… I want you to wait until he walks by us. If we stay here, he won’t see us right away. Once he passes, we will attack from behind. I need him unconscious,” you explain quickly. “Once he is unconscious, I will tie his hands and you shall help me carry him to the cells.”

Just as you finish and Daniel gives you his quick, verbal understanding, Jake passes through the gates and bushes, slowing his pace and ducking every so often to avoid possibly being seen.

“I will tell you when,” you whisper into Daniel’s ear and he nods once.

The captain walks a few more feet up the pathway, ducking down behind a rose bush and unsheathing his dagger from its case.

Daniel copies him, pulling his own dagger from its casing.

“Now,” you mutter with unbridled urgency.

Daniel has Jake plummeting to the ground within seconds. You watch on for only a moment, before fear takes over and you feel the need to join him.

Groans and curses are being hurled between them, swings and bone crushing punches being thrown along with their noises of pain.

Jake holds his dagger backwards, swinging the handle towards the side of Daniel’s head.

“NO!”

You bolt towards them, taking Jake to the ground upon your collision - sparing Daniel of the bone-crushing blow that was mere seconds away from colliding with the temple of his head.

Daniel recovers rather quickly, throwing you off of Jake and taking your place on top of him.

One strong and well-timed swing from Danial is all it takes and the Captain falls limp against the ground as he goes unconscious.

Daniel falls away from him, chest heaving and covered in small droplets of blood here and there. His hand clutches over his chest, as he fights to recenter himself.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, pulling the rope from around your waist and tying it securely around the Captain’s hands.

“Just perfect, Princess,” Daniel chuckles sarcastically, dusting himself off as he stands to his feet. “Here, allow me.”

“I think not.” You swat his hand away. “Rest for another moment. I will take care of this.”

Once you have the knots tied, you stand up and let Daniel take over again. He scoops him up like a rag doll, throwing him over his shoulder as though the Captain weighs little to nothing.

You bend down and pick up Jake’s dagger, shoving it down into your pocket and following after Daniel as he starts making his way up towards the palace.

“How long do you think he will stay unconscious?” you ask, making your way through the lower levels of the palace.

“Not much longer, I’m afraid.” Daniel answers, stopping at the large cell at the end of the cold, dimly lit hallway.

“Just put him on the bed. I shall take it from here.” You order rather gently, confident that he can’t hurt you from behind the bars of the cell.

“As you wish.”

Daniel drops him down onto the bed and unties him carefully, tossing the rope to the side thoughtlessly as he goes.

Just as he finishes Jake lets out a low groan of discomfort and Daniel quickly makes his was back out of the cell.

You close the door and lock it, watching Jake for a moment to find that he is still mostly out of it, when there isn’t another sound to be heard from him.

“Do you wish for me to inform your father that we have the Captain?”

“No!” You look up to Daniel with panic-filled eyes. “I will tell him myself. He doesn’t know that you accompanied me and I would rather him not.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Daniel says. “I shall keep my doings to myself.”

“I am most grateful for you,” you smile up at him, placing a gentle hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”

Removing your hand from his arm, Daniel brings it up to his lips in a gentle kiss as he bows, “You are most welcome, your majesty.”

He releases your hand, standing upright and beginning his way down the hallway.

Before he gets too far, he turns back to face you with a serious look. “Princess?”

You whip around to face him also, “Yes, Daniel?”

“If anything is to happen and you need my assistance again, you know where I reside.”

Not awaiting an answer - knowing you understand without having to say so out loud - he disappears through the large door. The loud sounds of it closing sends an eerie echo around the concrete walls and floor.

You slowly turn back towards the cell, watching and listening to Jake intently for any signs of movement or noise.

“Bloody hell,” Jake’s voice rumbles in a low groan, his arms struggling to push his weight away from the bed he is sprawled across.

He finally gets himself upright, looking around in a pure panic at his surroundings.

Stumbling up to his feet, he spins around and freezes in place when his eyes land upon you.

“Oh, well is this not just lovely?” you speak rather tauntingly. “The captain is finally awake.”

“And you are?” Jake saunters up to the door, rough hands wrapping around the cold bars.

“Princess of The Garden, at- well… I am not at your service,” you stumble over your formalities, forgetting that you owe him not a single one. “Not much of a kingdom we have around here, more so a small, royal family on secluded land.”

“I am very well aware of practically all of that.” Jake bites matter-of-factly, full of anger.

There are a few moments of intense silence, the loud and unsteady breathing from Jake being the only constant sound.

“Would you be so kind as to remind me how I managed to get here?” Jake questions bitterly, clearly trying to contain his rage.

“Me,” you smile at him with hardly contained pride. “Well, me and another accomplice.”

“Quite weak of you to have to bring a companion along just to capture me.” Jake smirks, his face noticeably contorting in discomfort as he assesses with his fingertips, the bruises that Daniel had left on his jaw. “Someone ought to teach you how to fight.”

“You know nothing about my fighting skills,” you say dryly, sending him a death glare through the bars of the cell. “I would be a fool to travel alone, regardless of how well I fight.”

“You seem to be a bit of a fool anyway,” Jake chuckles, glancing up at you with bold eyes.

If you could smack him across his careless mouth, you absolutely would.

“Letting your father send you into such danger…” Jake shakes his head, giving you a judgmental once-over. He turns and walks towards the hard bed in the corner. “You aren’t cut out for such violence.”

“I wish you would stop speaking as if you know me.” Your arms cross over your chest. It isn’t a very good response, but it is as good of one as you can seem to gather. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

Jake ignores the comment entirely.

“If I may ask, why are you still lingering, princess?”

The name falling of his tongue is like a drug. The most addictive drug one could find. Somehow he makes the most flattering and important name, sound so degrading.

You stand frozen in place for a few moments too long, struggling to find a genuine reason for staying around - of which you do not have.

He hums to himself, head tilting back slightly, “Just as I thought. You haven’t any good reason.”

You open your mouth to attempt some sort of protest.

“If I may, your majesty,” Jake stands to his feet and saunters back to the door. “You are quite the gem. So exquisite and beautiful…” he trails off for a moment, a sly grin spreading over his lips as he looks over you. “Too bad you are too feisty and disobedient for my liking.”

Your whole body begins to boil with various emotions; you’re flustered, angry and immensely intrigued by him. He is setting you ablaze in a foul, but irresistible way.

“And… you are much too disrespectful for my taste,” you seethe, faltering for a moment so short, you hope it goes unnoticed. “Speaking to royalty in such a despicable manner…”

“And yet, the royalty herself, seems to be enjoying it.” Jake grins wickedly.

You can’t tell if it’s your body’s attempt to be intimidating, or seeking closer proximity to Jake. Regardless, without really thinking, you step forward, “What makes you believe for a second that I am enjoying any part of this?”

“Many reasons, Princess…” Jake starts, speaking low and hushed. “You’ve taken at the very least five steps closer to this door. You could have left the second your… ‘accomplice’ dropped me in here.”

“You are terribly-“

“-Quiet, Princess. I don’t take well to being interrupted.” Jake cuts you off abruptly, holding up a single finger that you can not seem to tear your eyes away from. “I would almost say you enjoy being spoken to this way, don’t you? Everyone gets tiresome with constantly hearing praises… And I’m sure praise is all you know, is it not?”

“Perhaps.” The word leaves your mouth bitter and clipped. He is very much right - you both know that very well.

“Mhm, as I thought.” Jake grips the bars of the door above his head, leaning forward as far as he can go. “You know… I could show you so much more. Make you feel so much more.”

“And what could you possibly be hinting at with such words, Captain?” you question, attempting to throw his title back at him the same he had yours. Only to sound much more breathy than you intend.

“If only I had the keys to open this-“ He gestures to the large door, the only thing keeping the two of you separated. “-I could show you much better than I could ever tell you, your majesty.”

“Never in a million years would I consider letting you out,” you scoff, shoving the key that is now damp from your sweating hands, back into your pocket.

“Who said anything about letting me go?” Jake asks you. “Just join me. You have the key to leave whenever you so please.”

“And… if I do choose to join you…?” You narrow your eyes, taking in his blown out pupils and all the little details surrounding them.

“Then I shall do just as I have said and show you things you will never forget.” Jake promises lowly, leaning in closer. “Things you will never want to forget,” he adds.

Your faces are as close as they can possibly be, you can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks to you.

Without once looking away from him, you hastily retrieve the key from your pocket and unlock the door.

Jake steps back, allowing you the proper space to slide the door open just enough to squeeze your body through and get into the cell with him.

You turn around and close the door, closing your eyes for a split second in attempts to slow your pounding heart and process what you have just done.

As you turn around to finally face Jake, he immediately outstretches his hand towards you and bows before you ever-so-slightly.

Hesitantly, you place your shaking, sweating hand in his and he brings it up to his lips, “‘Tis quite the pleasure, Princess.”

Jake places the first kiss to the top of your hand, holding your stunned gaze. He shifts his hold up to your wrist, his lips following and placing another kiss higher up.

He continues the same actions, kissing all the way up your arm, until his hand reaches your shoulder and his face is inches from yours.

Slowly, he backs you up until you can feel the uncomfortable firmness of metal bars against your back.

“You are truly quite the brave one for joining me.” Jake whispers against your ear. “Just to make things sort of even, I fully plan to tease you until you’re begging and pleading for my mercy.”

“And what leads you to believe I would ever beg someone like you?” You tilt your head back defiantly.

Jake only smirks In amusement, “Is that a challenge?”

“If you can make me beg, I will let you go and tell my father you didn’t dock where he expected,” you bet with him rather smugly… and stupidly.

“My, my. The princess is going to beg me like a whore and lie to her father?” Jake tsks with a faux disappointed shake of his head. “It seems I have corrupted the sweet, royal, princess already. And suppose your accomplice -as you called him- goes back and tells him…? What lie should be grand enough to cover us then?”

His nose is practically brushing against your own, a tension so unbearable further blooming between the two of you.

“T-That is not his place. My father didn’t know that I took him, nor will he. I asked Daniel not to speak of his hand in helping me, or even that we have you,” you inform him truthfully. “It was my duty to capture you and bring you here, not his. I shall be the one to tell my father what it is he must know.”

“Well, then, I suppose I can have my way with you.” Jake purrs, teasing his lips over yours. “Is that what you want, your majesty?”

“So many words and promises, but you’ve yet to show me a thing.” You just barely chase after his lips.

Grabbing each side of your face with both of his large and calloused hands, Jake connects his lips with yours roughly.

It takes you a moment to catch up to his pace, especially with losing every bit of air from your lungs within the very second his lips met yours. Your tongues move against each other, fighting for dominance as whimpers flutter from you and into his warm mouth.

He pulls away, breathless and practically hissing out his next words, “Sweet, sweet princess. You do not know a bit of what you have in store for yourself. Stay right there.”

Jake steps back from you with a finger pointed to the floor where you stand, bending down to pick up a lengthy piece of rope that you and Daniel had him tied up with not so long ago.

“Do you trust me?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, amusement behind them as he asks you the ridiculous question.

You stare down at the rope outstretched before you - shocked, but you remain shamefully aroused by it all the same.

“Trust- trust you? You are nothing but a complete stranger,” your voice wavers.

“Nonsense. We have spent at least few hours in one another’s presence, now, haven’t we?” His crooked smile sends waves of heat to your core. “Stranger? yes, in some sense. But I’m not a complete stranger anymore.”

You drop your eyes from his, back down to the rope in his hands. Jake pushes it out a little closer to you, eyes deeply studying your cautious but curious face.

Slowly, you lift your hands up and lay your wrists over top of his hands, looking up at him in question as if to say, ‘is this right?’

Jake holds your burning stare and starts to wrap the rope around your wrists, binding them together tightly, but still comfortably somehow.

“Outstanding,” Jake hums, walking off to a corner where another small piece of rope has been discarded.

“Just one last thing,”

Jake makes his way back over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you back a few steps until your back collides with the cold metal bars.

His hand travels from your shoulder, down your arm, until it reaches the rope around your wrists. Grabbing it, he watches your breath quicken as he lifts your arms up and over your head, securing them to the bars with a second piece of rope.

“Mm-“ you clear your throat nervously. “-And how do you presume you will be able to remove my dress in such a position?”

“Lovely of you to inquire,” Jake smiles wildly, pressing his body against yours and leaning in closer to your ear. “I just so happened to see this-“ his hand travels the corseted curve of your side, dipping into your pocket. “-the handle of my dagger shining, while you were standing outside the cell. Not only are you a princess, but a little thief.”

“Well- I...” you stutter weakly, feeling mindless for forgetting to leave it with Daniel.

“You what?” Jake presses, biting at the shell of your ear.

Your only response is your labored breathing, unable to form an intelligible response.

He unsheathes his beautiful dagger from your pocket, resting it over your chest.

“You think too little of my schemes, princess.” He places a kiss over your nose. “I already planned to take my dagger back to use just for this moment. Why take your clothes off with my tired hands, when I could cut them off?”

“Jake,” his name rushes out of your lungs in a heavy sigh.

He grabs you by the waist, turning you around to face the bars and skillfully cut the strings of your corset.

Turning you back around to face him, he pulls it off of your body with ease and continues on with cutting away at your other garments.

Each piece is slowly pulled from you, neatly cut and haphazardly tossed to the side by Jake’s calloused hands.

As he yanks the last piece away, you are then completely naked before him - eyes never lifting to meet his burning gaze upon you.

“Breathtaking, your majesty,” Jake all but whispers, seemingly a little lost in the site that he is beholding.

You draw in a deep breath, exhaling it even slower than the slowness at which you had taken it in, “I’m sure I look far more suitable than anyone you have ever laid with.”

Upon your overweening remark, your eyes finally meet with his and you swear you see fire flash within them.

“How witty of you, princess,” Jake snaps sarcastically, pressing his body into yours. “Haughty of you to assume you are not the one that I would graciously turn away.”

It stings, but somehow you know he doesn’t mean it. Part of you hoped he didn’t, at least.

“Your mouth is foul and full of disrespect,” you snap quietly; silently wishing your hands were free, so that you can act on the resurfacing urge to smack him.

Jake stays silent, bringing the handle of his dagger down against your stomach and slowly dragging it down. The golden handle makes goosebumps form across your skin, your hips writhing about ever so slightly in anticipation.

Just when the end of his handle is close to your heat, he jerks it away entirely.

Instead, he dips his own finger down farther to feel the wetness pooling between your legs himself.

Jake glances up at you with wild eyes, flashing you a wicked smile. “The princess, so proper and poised and innocent… soaked as though she’s dipped into the river.”

Adjusting his careful hold around the blade, Jake lays the handle right where it had stopped before he pulled it away. He continues its slow descent down to your clit, where it halts to rub in the slowest, softest circles.

“Oh, Jake,” you gasp, pushing your hips harder against it.

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Jake smirks, leaning in to place kisses over your exposed chest. “My name sounds beautiful coming from that pretty little mouth.”

He uses his own hips to hold yours in place, so he that can move the handle of the dagger at whatever pressure or speed he so desires.

“Let me hear it again, princess… ‘Jake,’” he repeats his own name to you, as though you don’t know it.

“Jake,” he repeats again.

Trying to hold onto your defiance and composure, you harshly bite at the inside of your mouth to keep from doing as he asked.

“This won’t do at all, your majesty,” Jake clicks his tongue, moving the handle in faster circles, while his other wraps around your throat. “Did I not say I want to hear you again? Come now, let me hear what pretty noises you can make. I’m sure you’re fantastic at it, little whore.”

He presses the handle harder into your bundle of nerves, drawing firmer circles against you. It’s untamable; the noise that erupts from your lungs, echoing through the cold cell and likely even through the long hallway.

“So beautiful. Keep going…” Jake encourages, tilting his head back as he watches on to your pleasure.

Jake leans forward, his free hand securing itself around your jaw to tilt your head to the side. His lips meet with your neck, biting roughly at the tender skin and soothing the sting with the softness of his tongue.

A soft laugh floats out of him each time you whine or struggle against him and the rough ropes that secure you in place.

“Jake,” you whimper through a labored exhale. The feeling of sweet release is already beginning to bloom in the pit of your stomach.

“Is the princess getting close?” Jake questions with a sly cadence. “Already, your majesty?”

You choose not to answer him, in light of climbing to the peak of your orgasm without chance of interruption.

Alas, Jake is the least bit stupid.

“Are you trying to fool me, princess?” Jake asks lowly, slowing the circles that the handle of his dagger are making.

The urge to relent and beg him is already far greater than you anticipated, but you are determined to stand your ground.

“Not trying to fool you, only avoiding the act of begging a thief,” you speak breathlessly.

“That’s a shame,” Jake grins, trailing his hand down your body to your arousal. A single finger plays at your entrance, “I would let you cum if you were not so hell bent on being a stubborn little brat.”

Just to antagonize you further, he sinks his finger inside you, purposefully curling it upwards just shy of the sweet spot within you.

“Mm…”

A tight lipped whimper tumbles out of you, your body arching into his touch ever-so-slightly.

“Oh? Do you like that, princess?” Jake taunts, looking down the bridge of his nose as he watches you. “You love having attention on your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

“I…” You aren’t really sure what you had planned to say, or even what you want to say. All thoughts are either jumbled, or lost entirely.

“You what?” Jake pries, sliding the handle of the dagger through your folds to collect more of your wetness.

The second the handle returns to your throbbing bundle of nerves, something snaps inside of you.

“Jake,” you whine, tugging at your restraints despite the incessant burn of the rope. “Jake, please!”

“There it is.” Jake’s smile is pleased and cocky.

Feeling ever so gracious, he pushes in a second finger and deepens their rhythmic thrusts.

Jake presses his lips to the corner of your open mouth, “Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me.”

“I-it feels s-so good. Feels so good,” you stutter, tempted to turn your head and capture his lips in a kiss, all on your own accord. “Please!”

“Please?” He parrots mockingly. “Please what, your majesty?”

The feelings of your impending climax finally starts to build once again. This time, you are not going to give it up.

“Please let me cum!” You nearly sob, rushing every single word from your mouth. “Please, captain, I’ll do whatever you want… J-just please let me cum.”

“Give it to me, then,” Jake demands. “Right now.”

The band of pleasure breaks within you, sending you into an earth-shattering spiral of bliss that you could not have ever prepared yourself for.

Your knees buckle beneath you, leaving the ropes binding your wrists to be the only thing holding you up. The sting of the rope not even registering, as cuts and burns surely form around your wrists.

“What a good girl you are for me, princess,” Jake praises you, removing his fingers from you first to wrap his arm around your body, holding you up.

“J-Jake,” you choke out, squirming in his hold against the overstimulation that he was beginning to cause you. “I- It-s-“

“Shhh,” he silences you, a little reluctantly pulling his dagger away from your core. “I know, princess.”

Studying your face, he takes in your half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. The slightest bit of pity took over him.

Jake tucks the dampened handle of his dagger beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Will you be a good girl if I untie you? Hm?”

“Y-yes, sir- I mean, Captain,” you answer him, correcting yourself once more just for good measure. “Yes, Captain.”

Flipping the weapon around, he drags the tip of the dagger down your throat with only enough pressure to make it resemble a feather, making your breath hitch in your chest. Fear starts to rise back up inside you, along with adrenaline. The combination is intoxicating in a dangerous way.

“Will you truly?” Jake cocks a single eyebrow at you.

The sharp tip moves across your chest and down your stomach, goosebumps forming as you shudder.

“Yes! Yes,” you promise, breathing uneven and more labored than it has been so far.

The tip dips into your belly button, eliciting some sort of choked whimper from your throat.

Jake smirks at that, “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” He begins to trail it back up your body, the same way it had descended down.

You’re struck silent, unable to manage a single word.

Finally reaching your bindings, with two flicks of the dagger, the ropes fall from your wrists.

Your body immediately collapses forward into Jake’s. He tosses his dagger to the floor with a high-pitched clink, just in time to catch you.

“Falling at my feet so soon, princess?” Jake snickers, hauling you back up and guiding you to the bed.

“You forget yourself,” you scoff, clearly displaying your distaste for the thought of being at his feet. “One place you will never find me is at your feet.”

“No, your majesty-“ Jake tangles a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. “-You have forgotten yourself.”

Letting go of your hair, he hastily works to undo the buttons adorning his vest, pulling it away to be discarded onto the dirty floor of the cell - his shirt following directly after.

“What happened to being my good girl?” Jake inquires, stepping closer to you, his face mere inches from yours.

Your response is quick and confident, “Being your good girl is only applicable if you’re pleasing me, Captain.”

“Oh, is it, now?” Jake places his hand over your sternum, sliding it up until it splays around your throat and tightens there. “Is that not what I just did? Please you?” You struggle to draw in air as his grip stays unrelenting, his hold never once wavering as you slowly sink to your knees. “And you’re so needy and desperate that it still wasn’t good enough for you?”

He leans down to be eye level with you as he fires questions at your flushed face, “You’ll take what I feel so inclined to give you, your majesty.”

Jake releases his grip, standing straight up as he watches down on you, gasping to refill your burning lungs with air.

While you work on regaining some form of control over your own body and mind, Jake begins removing the rest of his clothes.

You look up, watching him attentively through your lashes. The perfections of his body are not lost on you.

“Perhaps we should try this again,”

Jake suggests, taking himself in his hand. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. His free hand cups your cheek, “Are you going to be my good girl?”

All you can muster is a nod, unsure that your voice can even function to its fullest abilities.

His thumb, gentle and featherlight in touch, traces over your bottom lip before sinking into your mouth, “Prove it to me, then.”

Your hands are reaching up to wrap around him, before your brain can even fully process the movement.

A kiss far too innocent for the actions you wre about to take part in, is placed over his tip. You hear the shaky breath Jake draws in, encouraging you to repeat the same little kiss once more.

You drop one of your hands down to your lap, sliding your hand down to his base. Sinking your mouth down over the rest of him, you can tell that his whole body shuddered from the pleasure you’re providing him.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages you, his hand coming up to tangle into your hair.

The twitch of his fingers against your scalp, serves to enlighten you on his urge to push you further. Taking a deep breath, you take him as far as you can go, breathing through the urge to gag around him.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips jerking on their own volition. “Your mouth is too good for me, angel, but you look absolutely lovely taking me like a little whore.”

A whimper sounds from your throat, sending the slightest bit of vibration through him. You start to find a steady rhythm, his hand still resting in your hair.

Every so often, his grip will tighten when you do something he particularly likes. Within a minute or so, he is throbbing inside of your mouth.

“Fuck, alright- enough.” He pulls you away abruptly, breathing significantly more labored.

He takes a moment to gather himself, staring up at the ceiling, as if fighting to hold onto his composure.

“Stand up,” he demands, releasing his grip on your soft tresses.

You scramble up to your feet, dizziness plaguing you for a brief moment.

Jake takes no more than a single step closer to you, eyes scanning over the expanse of your naked body that is displayed before him. He reaches up, dragging the back of his knuckles along your temple, letting the gentle touch travel its way down your face, your neck and to your breasts.

The tip of his finger grazes over your nipple, causing your eyes to flutter closed as your breathing increases.

“Oh, the ways I could ruin this flawless body…” Jake trails off, dragging the tip of his finger down your stomach slowly. “So perfect and not a single blemish or mark in sight. A true beauty, you are, aren’t you?”

With every word that so gracefully purrs its way out of his mouth, he backs you closer to the bed.

“M… mark me.” The words fly out of you before you can stop them.

In one quick movement that you are far too dazed to notice, you’re laying beneath him. His cock rests against the inner part of your thigh, hard and still throbbing softly every few seconds.

“Mark you?” he repeats your words back to you in question. “How could I, your majesty?”

There is a playful cadence to his tone, very clearly telling you that he will gladly oblige to the idea.

Jake quirks a single eyebrow at you, “And how do you suppose I do so?”

Given the fact that you hadn’t meant to say it, you haven’t thought that far ahead. Visuals of the silver blade of his dagger lightly grazing your skin, replay in your mind. Along with the imagines of bite marks and bruises that you will surely have to find the means of covering.

“Speak up,” he grumbles, lips ghosting over the center of your throat.

You quickly come to the conclusion that you will allow him to do whatever he pleases, as undeniably insane as it is.

“Do what you wish.”

Jake sits up, bold, widened eyes boring directly into yours.

You stare at each other for a few long moments, before you watch the corner of his mouth twitch and curl up into his increasingly familiar smirk.

“Mmm,” he hums in acknowledgement to your words.

Both of his hands smooth over your hips and up to your breasts, where he cups them and brings his mouth down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Jake,” you whimper, gripping at the firmness of his bare shoulders.

“I refuse to mark you permanently just yet…” Jake says against your skin. His left hand retreats from your chest, palm harshly colliding with your thigh. “Temporarily, of course-“ his palm cracks against you once more, surely leaving a red tint in its wake. “-I suppose, will do for now.”

You inhale and exhale shakily through your mouth; hung open in shock and the slightest hint of pain.

“Take me, please,” you beg him pathetically.

“Take you where, your majesty?” Jake inquires, a teasing inflection to his voice. He knows.

“Right here,” you sigh, pressing your hips up into his. “You know what I want.”

Reaching between your bodies, he glides his fingers in between your folds - still completely soaked.

“Perhaps I do.” He toys around at your entrance, paying your clit the slightest bit of attention afterwards. “There’s a chance that I don’t, though.”

A low, sinister laugh erupts from his chest as he watches you squirm underneath him.

“Tell me, princess,” Jake demands, voice low and raspy. You can feel his cock teasing your entrance, just waiting for you to say the filthy words he wants to hear so badly. “Take. You. Where?”

Pathetic as it may be, a sob tears its way out of your lungs, “Take me right here, please...I want- need you inside of me.”

“She needs it,” he taunts, barely pushing into you. “Sweet little princess just needs to be fucked…turned into a filthy mess.”

“Oh, god- fuck-“ Your nails dig deeper into the skin of Jake’s back.

“Princess is no good for anything but getting ruined by the man she’s supposed to be capturing.” Jake pulls out almost completely, only to drive himself back inside of you roughly.

The moan that rips its way out of your throat is anything but pure and elegant, bouncing around the walls around you and likely beyond.

“Quiet.” Jake places a hand over your mouth, his other holding his body above yours as he starts to sharply thrust into you. “God forbid you get us caught… Get ME caught.”

Jake begins working his way up to a steady, brutal pace. The depths at which you can feel him is sending an almost unbearable pleasure through you. From the center of your body, out to the tips of your fingers and toes; the pleasure completely consumes you.

You can’t help the volume that your moans have taken on.

Jake attempts to silence you by capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, but it proves to be of very, very little help.

He pulls away abruptly, hand wrapping around your throat, “Shut. Your fucking. Mouth, princess. Will you?” He rasps into your ear through gritted teeth. “We can’t possibly have His Majesty hearing how much of a whore you are for a thief.”

Your head lulls back, face contorted in concentration and immense pleasure as Jake continues to fuck into you relentlessly. Mercilessly.

“Good girl,” Jake praises you, starting to lose control of his own breathing.

The hand wrapped around your throat, travels up to your face; a bruising grip forcing you to look at him.

“I want you to cum for me. Quietly,” Jake growls, adjusting himself above you to bring his other hand between your two bodies. His fingers find your swollen clit, “You can do that, yes?”

“Mhm,” you hum your response, afraid that if you are to open your mouth too much, the unholiest of noises are sure to free themselves from your lungs.

“Come on, then,” Jake urges, pinning your body in place on the rather uncomfortable bed with his own. “Let me have it.”

You feel that addicting burn spreading through the pit of your stomach, mere seconds away from taking over your whole body.

As soon as Jake watches your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth fall open into the perfect little ‘o,’ he crashes his lips into yours to ensure that all possible noises are muffled.

Even he groans lowly into your mouth, forcing your to swallow it down as he continues kissing you with mind numbing passion and fervor.

Your lungs start to tingle, your body buzzing and thrashing all at once; riding out an orgasm unlike any you have ever had.

Jake’s orgasm is only seconds after yours. He spills inside you, gasping to refill his lungs with air when he pulls away from you.

“Damn it,” Jake moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bliss has overtaken the both of you, leaving you to bask in stunned silence for what felt like an hour.

“I… I must say,” Jake finally speaks up. “You are quite something, your majesty.”

For once, his tone doesn’t have any malicious intent or taunting cadence behind it. It seems genuine.

You gaze up at him, slightly shocked. “Thank you…”

He removes himself from above you, laying to your side closest to the wall, leaving you the space to leave the bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, hands on his chest, he reminds you of his previous promise, “You’re free to go if you please, I shouldn’t keep you here any longer, your majesty…”

You blink a few times, struck speechless by his sudden change. You think over your next decision carefully before speaking.

“I… I think I would like to stay here with you…” You tell him, settling back against the worn blanket.

Jake has turned to look at you, now, “What?”

Moving closer to him, you cuddled into his arm, “I want to stay here with you, Jake.”

<>

You blink a few times, trying to rid your eyes of their sleepiness.

Suddenly, the loud slamming of the cell door startles you nearly senseless. You roll yourself over and sit up, all in almost one swift movement.

“Jacob?!” you yell, anger and fear flooding your entire body as you scramble up to your feet. “What ever do you think you are doing?!”

“No hard feelings, my Darling,” he starts with a faux, pitied smile. “You were absolutely magnificent. I almost brought you along. I’ll let them know to come retrieve you as soon as I step foot back on my ship.”

You mouth falls agape, your chest becoming dangerously tight as it heaves up, then shakily back down.

Jake pulls the key he had stolen from the pocket of your dress out of the lock, taking a few steps backwards before bending down and laying it gingerly on the ground.

He straightens, kicking the key just so. It slides towards the door with a few high pitched clinks, stopping just out of your reach.

Jake smiles brightly, shooting you a sly wink, “If we ever cross paths again, let’s revisit this…escapade, shall we?”

@shutupdevvie

@belovedsamuel

@gardensgatedaisy

@ageofbarbarians

@theweightofjake

@jake-kiszkas-smirk @stardustcatcher

@positivegvfthings @ascendingtostardust

@gretasmokerising @highladyofasgard

@doodle417 @groovyvanfleet

@greta-van-chaos @of-infinite-wonders

@skankforjakekiszka @demolitionndann

@sarakay-gvf @runwayblues

@colorstreammind @mybussyinchrist

@ofburningskies @streamsofstardust @twistedmelodies @gvfpal @joshsindigostreak @writingcold @juliensbakery @stillstreetjoshua @alwaysonthemend @gold-mines-melting @gretavanfanfics

[anxiousnerdwritings]

oh my gods Viserys forcing Corlys and Rhaenys youngest daughter to marry Aegon because the Velaryons are obviously pissed that Rhaenyra keeps having bastards but they won’t say anything. and whole funeral thing kind of added fuel to the fire. so Viserys thinks having the reader marry Aegon will smooth things over but it really just complicates everything.

of course the reader is her mother’s child. so there’s no way in hell that Aegon goes down the path that he does. homegirl whips him up into shape. and he kind of becomes a fun mix of Oberyn Martell and Tyrion Lannister where he’s always drinking and he always horny for his wife but he’s lowkey deadly. because she absolutely was not gonna be embarrassed by this boy.

and it brings up so many mixed feelings for Corlys because he really wants his bloodline on the throne but Rhaenyra’s boys don’t have his blood despite having his name. and there’s also a small part of him that wonders if Rhaenyra and Daemon really killed Laenor like the rumours say. what if Daemon comes after the boys to install his own sons? so he’s beginning to lean towards the Aegon and the other greens in the court. especially after seeing them welcome the reader with open arms because she was the only one who can reign Aegon in so they fucking love her and know she’ll make sure Aegon is a good king. but Rhaenys is stressing because it leaves the Blues stuck in the middle of the battlefield cause they’re daughter will be crowned queen and their grandson will be made the Prince of Dragonstone soon. and that’s her only living child. what if Daemon comes after the reader and her children? they’d lose everything if the reader died.

Okay but I can’t help but imagine yan!poly!Aegon and Helaena for the Reader in this situation. Like, I can see Viserys realizing after the whole Vaemond outburst that maybe he should try to work something out more with the Velaryons, especially since it looks like even they are torn amongst themselves on whose side to be on. So, why not make it easier for them, at least that’s what Viserys thinks his actions will be achieving. Only it does the complete opposite and makes things much worse, especially for Rhaenyra.

I feel like this betrothal would happen behind Rhaenys’ back because of course she wouldn’t be so willing to marry off her youngest and remaining child, especially not to the Greens. And especially not to Aegon. She doesn’t care that their child will be Queen of the seven kingdoms or birth the future princes and princesses, Rhaenys wants to keep her remaining child as close as possible. She’s already lost two of her children and one of them may have been murdered by his own wife so she surely wouldn’t trust Aegon or the Greens to do something similar to the Reader.

Corlys is apprehensive as well but this could also be a monumental opportunity for not only the Reader but also all of House Velaryon as a whole. He doesn’t want to use his remaining child as a playing piece either especially after losing Laenor and Laena but this may be just what they need. He knows his child well enough and knows they’ll be able to hold their own, especially against Aegon. Corlys isn’t too worried about how Aegon will be with the Reader but he is worried about the underlying threats of others, such as Otto, Alicent, Rhaenyra and Daemon. He would have to mull it over but would inevitably accept the betrothal regarding his child and Aegon. After all, he thinks this would be very beneficial for the Reader in the long run. But, Corlys also knows that this will inevitably cause a rift between him and Rhaenys when he tells her. And Rhaenys would take this as a betrayal on her husband’s part, never forgetting that he put their last remaining child up freely for the Greens to have.

Going off Aegon already having married Helaena and now being betrothed to the Reader too, he would just see it as yet another thing forced upon him. He hadn’t even wanted to marry Helaena in the first place now he has to marry yet again, being stuck with two wives. The only thing that may get him to think of it differently is someone referring to the situation as it being like Aegon the Conquer, Rhaenys and Visenya all over again. Aegon would take that as people seeing him as Aegon the Conqueror and his ego would only grow because of it. But the Reader will be their to knock him down a few pegs or more.

I like to imagine the Reader being pretty free spirited and strong willed. The first time they meet Aegon, whether before or after the whole betrothal thing, he was most likely drunk and either said something vulgar to them or about someone else and they heard it resulting in them verbally handing his ass to him. The next day Aemond, Jace, Luke and others are laughing about the situation which causes Aegon to storm off and seek out the Reader to ‘punish’ them. Only when he finds the Reader to do just that, they physically kick his ass and fuck his whole shit up. After that he sees them in a completely different light. He’s kind of scared of them and ashamed that he got his ass beat but it also totally turned him on cause of course it would. He never really had anyone do something him like that, let alone a woman. He usually always got what he wanted but that was the first time someone really put him in his place and it got him feeling some type of way. Of course he wouldn’t allow anyone else to ever do that to him and get away with it but he’d make an exception for his darling. After that, Aegon wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off the Reader, he would try to get as close to them as possible justifying it with getting to know each other better because of the betrothal. He’d always find his way to their side and if he couldn’t be there then he would take to keeping them in his line of sight. Inwardly panicking a little when he would lose sight of them, automatically fearing that someone had stolen them away from him.

Given that the Reader is a free spirit I imagine that they would always be riding their dragon and going on adventures, which would only cause Aegon even more anxiety. Sure, it’s one thing to be able to go on his own dragon and fly after the Reader but it’s another thing after they’ve gotten married and they insist on him staying behind to manage his royal duties and look after everything like a good king should do. There would be an underlying fear of the Reader leaving and never returning, whether due to them perishing on their adventure or because they decided to start anew and someone else ended up capturing their heart. Aegon would compromise that the Reader either wait until he has the free time and could come with/be able to follow them on their impromptu adventures or stop their adventures altogether if they wanted him to continue keeping up with being a ‘good king’. He would threat to burn all the Seven Kingdoms to the ground if they up and left him again like that, even if they were to always come back. If they ever did leave on their dragon again after he tried compromising, especially doing so just to spite him, Aegon would have no problem hunting them down himself and forcing them back home and once they were back home, he would go as far as to kill their dragon so they wouldn’t be able to leave him again. He may also take to having them locked in their shared room or they would at the very least be heavily monitored. Aegon would also keep the Reader pregnant as often as he could to ensure they would stay in one place and prevent them from trying to flee.

I imagine that Helaena would really be the closest person to the Reader, maybe besides Rhaenyra depending on whether the Reader was still on her side after the rumors about her having Laenor killed. I don’t think the Reader or Helaena would have a hard time getting along and if they both have to be married to Aegon then that would only drive them closer to each other. Aegon may even grow jealous of how much closer his darling his with Helaena then compared to him. He would childishly accuse the Reader of loving Helaena more than him whenever he got drunk, which would be often. And both the Reader and Helaena would roll their eyes and ignore him or try very half assed to soothe his hurt feelings. These little jealous bouts happen more often then not so his darling and Helaena are more than use to them. The few times all three of them have shared the bed together there have been times Aegon will wake the Reader and Helaena out of their sleep accusing them of cuddling with each other more than with him. The three of them have been forced to try and find a sleeping arrangement that would work where Aegon would feel included but to no avail, he’d always find a problem. So eventually he just kicked Helaena out to her own room. But then one night Aegon woke up all alone in the bed while the Reader had slipped away to keep Helaena company in the night. Which led to Aegon barging in and throwing a huge hissy fit. He would complain about it to his mother and his brothers but Aemond honestly couldn’t careless and didn’t want to hear any of it due to his own envy. But eventually Aegon would come around to moving Helaena back into his and the Reader’s shared room. He liked it better when it was him and the Reader but they insist on it since Helaena is a part of the marriage as well. Not to mention it doesn’t feel right when she’s gone. If it bothers his darling so much than he can tolerate it, he supposed.

When Aegon hits his limit with the Reader up and leaving on their own accord and has them kept in their room, Helaena would be their sole company for the most part, besides Aegon himself. (Aemond and Daeron would visit themselves if only Aegon hadn’t banned them from interacting with his darling.) Helaena doesn’t agree with Aegon, knowing that no matter how many times the Reader left or how long they were gone they would always come back to the two of them. But she could also see where he was coming from. She did often worry herself whether their darling would just abandon them or meet their fate on one of their adventures. This way they can ensure their darling is safe and with them always. Not to mention it results in Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor getting to have more siblings due to Aegon using that as a way to keep the Reader occupied and to prevent them trying to run away.

Earlier on when the Reader was in the beginnings of shaping Aegon to be a rightful king, there’s a good chance that they could get him to be on good/okay-ish terms with Rhaenyra. Especially if the Reader was still very much Team Black. It didn’t matter whether they actually had any care for Rhaenyra but given that she does have the Reader’s nieces and ‘nephews’ with her I could see the Reader trying to keep peace so as to not cause any harm or trouble for Baela, Rhaena, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. And if the Reader themself were close to Rhaenyra then I’m sure they wouldn’t want anything to put a damper into that either. It would really be Alicent, Otto, Larys, Aemond and Aegon himself who would ruin the peace. Leading to Corlys and Rhaenys having to choose a side.

Also, there’s a very good chance that Rhaenys moves to King’s Landing permanently once the Reader is married off to Aegon. Rhaenys wouldn’t want to leave her child all alone with the Greens and would certainly want to be there for when her grandchildren are born, not to mention she’s still very pissed with Corlys for even goimng through with this whole thing and is still very much feeling betrayed over it. She would also want to make it very clear to her child that they have support by having her there with them. Although, Aegon wouldn’t like it too much with Rhaenys giving and always being with the Reader and also given that she watches him like a hawk whenber he’s near his darling but his mother would make him bite his tongue to keep Rhaenys and the Velaryons on their side. And if it did mean a lot to the Reader to have their mother with them then he could deal with it, for now.

[megamuscle885-blog]

A little obsessed with an idea I had for a necromancer who is carrying a whole bunch of disembodied souls around with her. Potential to scale it anywhere from just her close family all the way up to my first thought which was her carrying an entire city-state worth of souls and bones around with her. Pieces of bones working as anchors, three or four intact skeletal guardsman. A gigantic golem made out of the blood soaked earth of her homeland, reinforced with wood from the throne, stones from the barbican, iron from the twisted remains of the armory, inhabited by her liege lord and lady. Her family, her friends, her neighbors, people she met daily, people she had never seen before that ill night when she survived the total ruination of her home and summoned their ghosts to her. Her totems, fetishes, charms and foci are all from her people. The skull of the court wizard transformed into a quasi-demi-lich, incapable of spellcasting under it's own power, but able to teach her what he can. The knucklebones of the thieves that ran the dockyards, granting her luck and foresight depending on how she rolls them. A thousand thousand rib bones from the footmen and guards, which now serve as her armor, protecting her. The femurs of her father, joined together, to serve as a walking stick and club. All of this and more to equip her, but not enough, never enough, that she had managed to scavenge from the rubble. Too much left behind to crack and splinter in the heat of the fires, or buried too deep to recover, or stolen by carrion feasters before she could steal them for herself.

And all around her swirls the dead souls of her city. Some urge her to carry on, one step infront of the other. Some spur her to complete her quest, as vengeful as she. Some beg her to lay down and rest, to move on and forget. Others howl at her to let them die and stay dead. They curse her for carrying them. They are horrified at her mission.

Her mission is vengeance. She has sworn absolute vengeance upon the King and his bloodline, his generals and their armies, his nation and its people. She has sworn to kill every man, woman and child born on the soil of this nation, and any who would shelter them, sworn to desolate the soil itself with the same dark magics she wielded to grant herself the army she needed to enact her revenge. To melt every city within it's borders to ash, burn down every forest, dry up every river and lake, salt every field with tears and corruption until nothing is left except a desolate grey-brown wound is left on the face of the world. And that's her name. "Wound." For what she's suffered, who she is, and what she is going to do. (A bit goofy but I liked it when I first thought of it. Wound, the Necromancer.)

I'm not sure what makes a compelling character. It isn't always their tragic backstory or personal goals. I'm not really sure what it is that really digs a character into my mind and won't let them out. I think it might have something to do with their agency. Behaving like an implacable, unreasonable force of vengeance. Or maybe something to do with their fanbase. I can hear people hypothetically crying out right now about this character, not even written. In tandem with her ghosts, they might decry her genocidal campaign. They might support her, since she was a victim of one. Or a few steps inbetween. I can certainly see this kind of emotionally charged character at the table of Critical Role or Dimension 20, with the fanbase and fellow party members balking at the idea that she'd even cut down children to satisfy her oath.

All of this is because I came across a short saying that in Pathfinder 2e you could get a little ghost bauble that would let you have a ghost pop out and scare someone mid combat. I think it was a Ghost Ampoule. A necromancer with a reason to load up on trinkets like this would be cool. They say you should dig two graves when setting out on a quest for revenge, but this way she won't even need graves at all!

[impossiblesuitcase]

K your requests are closed but you said you would accept my one. (Thks btw) This can take place anytime after the series (when cinder is on Luna, when they are engaged or married etc) basically the idea is that Kai starts getting extremely bad headaches one day. Like so bad that he has had to leave the room to go throw up from the pain, and is constantly zoning out etc. He doesn’t tell anyone cause he thinks he should be able to handle it. And then one day Torin is like “you know your dad had migraines too.” And he finally goes to the doctor for it. It’s mostly Kai and torin but you can certainly add as much Kaider as you want.

Elwin also received this prompt and wrote a fabulous fic. Make sure you read it!

Take What I'm Handed

My love

Hey love, feeling any better?

You

Not really

My love

:(

Hows your head?

You

Like the entire Rampion engine is firing in my skull.

My love

My poor sweetheart. 

Have you been working?

You

Not this morning. I’m trying to stay away from screens before my brain bleeds out

My love

Then voice comm me so you don’t have to look at the screen

You

I’m in a meeting

My love

Important?

You

Earthen Union

My love

So not important ;)

What’s it about

You

Hey there missy, since when are you entitled to know?

I seem to recall you abdicating the throne seven months ago

You can’t have your cake and eat it too

My love

I will eat all the cake I want :P

You

It’s for mandatory declaration of status as a lunar at international borders

My love

Ah

Vargas will like that

You

Of course. You know Americans

My love

We know one American and that’s enough

here let me prepare an answer for you

The greater issue to consider here is how this bill will be received by the provinces. The mandatory declaration of origin at international borders has traditionally been a residual power decided on a state by state basis. Adding Lunars into this heated issue does not change legislation. If we exclude the provinces from discussions in these mandates, it could be perceived as an aggressor.  

How did I go?

“Your Majesty.”

Kai startled, ripping burning eyes from his port to the holograph. 

A line of portraits floated before the conference room—world leaders and their cookie-cutter identical representatives. The speaker’s portrait was lit up, emblazoned with a United Kingdom; as if any breathing soul could even enter such a high-ranking meeting without knowing all present. 

All present were staring at him.

Releasing his port with a jolt—and a loud thud—Kai garbled a, “Pardon, Your Majesty?”

Queen Camilla’s pencilled eyebrow quirked. It was difficult to know what she really thought under that impeccable diplomatic visage, but Kai had been raised to speak that language. It could be:

It’s your turn (kind and prompting).

It’s your turn (desperate to be freed from this tedious meeting).

It’s your turn (speak, incompetent moron).

Judging by her pursed lips, Kai guessed it was a combination of those last two.

“We are awaiting your response,” she said plainly.

“Right,” he started, with absolutely no inkling of where his words should go. “My apologies. I trust this is referring to the, uh, the mandatory declaration of status as a Lunar at international borders?”

“Yes, it isin relation to the sole topic we’ve been discussing for the past hour,” intoned Governor-General Williams of Australia, near-glaring. Kai appreciated the bluntness.

“Thank you. I just wondered if…there was…a…specific point in this matter that you were referring to. So I can verify with my notes before contributing,” he lied, knowing he hadn’t intended to present anything in this meeting. He just hoped one of the other Commonwealth representatives—ones who were currently capable of breathing without their intestines tying around their lungs—had already spoken on his behalf. “The Eastern Commonwealth’s position remains unchanged.”

“Forgive me if I misspeak, but I do believe your country is yet to offer anything on this matter thus far,” Camilla observed, tone devoid of any request for forgiveness.

Ah, so option three: speak, incompetent moron.

“Th-that is correct, my sincerest apologies again. I was referring to our position as discussed in our private meetings”—(meetings he hadn’t attended, though he’d briefly skimmed over the minutes at breakfast that morning)—“and I mistakenly assumed we had already expressed those views today. Our stance is…is…”

His eyes fell to his port, fingers primed to race for those minutes when he saw Cinder’s last message on the split screen. 

His brain barely paused to screen them before the words tumbled from his mouth.

“The greater issue to consider here,” he recited haltingly, “is as to how this bill will be received by the provinces. The mandatory declaration of origin at international borders has traditionally been a residual power decided on a state-by-state basis.” Heart calming, he eased his tone, donning the veil of a well-rehearsed speech. “Folding Lunars into this inflammatory mix does not alter legislation. If we exclude the provinces from discussions in these mandates, it could be perceived as an aggressor.”

Mind clearer as the panic subsided, he looked up gravely, concluding, “I think we can all agree that after the cataclysmic ramifications of the war, none of us desire the possibility of internal insurgence.”

A crackle of static crossed the connection. All were voiceless.

Is this not what they’d been discussing? Is it obvious he hasn’t paid attention?

Then Camilla’s nose pinched, reminiscent of a teacher’s glower when they’d pick on an inattentive student, expecting floundering, only to receive the correct answer. Smarting over the rebuff, poor concealment to save face. Yet she wasn’t disagreeing. Nor did any of the others fire back some warmed-up-leftovers retort.

“That is…not something we’ve yet considered,” she conceded.

Stars bless his woman.

You

Thank you.

My love

You used it?

I tried my best to sound like you

You

It was a lifesaver.

Though I changed a few words.

My love

Which ones?

You

Heated is a bit general. I used inflammatory.

My love

Ooh ill add it to my ‘fancy politician speak’ list.

“And what does the EC propose we do to prevent seditious mentalities arising from the provinces?” asked Prime Minister Kamin of Africa after several points Kai hadn’t heeded to passed.

Autopilot. “Considering this matter concerns the provinces, should we not turn to the provinces? I suggest” —Stars he is just making this up as he goes—“we first hold counsel with the province representatives individually. With impartial moderators of course.” (Nice, that’ll make it sound fleshed out.) “Once the opinions of each province are compiled, we can adjourn again to find the best strategy moving forward.”

Don’t see it as a cop-out to end this meeting. Don’t see it as a cop-out to end this meeting. This totally a cop-out.

President Vargas of the American Republic cleared his throat. The person who had introduced this bill, the person with a propensity for dragging a meeting through sleeplessness, hunger, and absolute thirst until he got his way. Kai felt everyone brace for argument, but Vargas simply commented, “That seems to be the most logical plan for the time being,” Oh, thank you, loud American man.

“I agree,” said Grand Minister Clay of Luna, always kindly looking even with the grimmest of subjects. He had been noticeably quiet this meeting; understandably, as he had held this position for less than a year and the Union were still not in the practise of including Luna in debates about Luna. “Luna only wants its citizens to interact with yours in peaceful, harmonious relations. We will do all we can from our side of the atmosphere to accommodate these adjustments in what is, as we recognise, an incendiary issue.”

A murmur of polite agreement. Good. Everyone’s happy. The end. Now. Please.

My love

Finished?

You

I wish.

Incendiary. From Jacin’s dad.

My love

adding some flavour. It makes the list.

谢谢

You

‘You’re welcome’ in Mandarin

My love

You’re too tired to type it out? You are sick

Here

不客气 

You

不客气

Thanks

My love

Have you eaten yet?

You

Yeah. I threw up ten minutes later.

My love

Get some water into you and go to bed after youre done

You

Can’t. I’ve got two more meetings

My love

No you dont. Go to bed

You

I might feel better by then

My love

Kaito

You

I’ll rest before then

Promise

———

He didn’t rest.

Kai trudged to his office, feet clawing on the carpet. His shoes were sure to be scuffed. That was all right; maybe he could throw one against his temple to knock himself out of his misery. 

The meeting had ended later than scheduled, as per usual. Then when the connections beeped out, his own staff had turned to him with ready-made speeches for the meeting after the meeting. It was terribly impolite how he’d blown them off and stumbled out to the hallway.

It was also terribly hard to care.

His hand skimmed the wall as he turned a corner. Eyes resolutely closed, he had never been so glad to live in this palace his whole life, for he knew the path just by sense. His stomach was roiling yet ravenous.

Four more steps, instinct reminded him.

Cold hands grazed a door frame. Kai fumbled, eyes still sealed, until he found the scanner and flashed his wrist, waiting for the whoosh of the sliding door.

Silence.

He flashed his wrist again.

One, two, three seconds.

Hailing a thousand planets’ worth of strength, he forced his eyes open. Kai centred his wrist where the scanner’s electronic beam should lie. Except there was none. 

“Wha—”

“It’s locked.”

He jerked and spun to the voice, surprised to be surprised to see his adviser seated in an armchair by the window. Of course—Torin had been at the Union meeting. And now he was here for the next meeting, to be held in precisely thirty-four minutes. 

“Well,” he spoke, tongue iron in his mouth. “Can…can we unlock it?”

“No.”

“…No?”

“I locked it, Your Majesty.”

Kai smacked his lips, hand still hovering beneath the scanner. It took a significantly long moment before he uttered, “...Why?”

Torin abruptly stood, brushed down his suit and approached him. His mouth was set in a fine line, eyes enigmatic black. Kai momentarily felt that he should be bowing to this man as his superior, not the other way around.

His adviser procured something from his suit pocket, folding Kai’s fingers around it. A small silver flask, cool to the touch.

Kai held it. Stared at it dumbly.

“Ahem.”

Fingers waking under the discipline, he quickly untwisted the cap and brought the flask to his nose. He gave a cautionary sniff to scan for anything deadly—coffee would surely murder him. Finding it scentless, he drank. Water. He drank, drank, drank.

Once the flask was drained, Torin pulled it back to his possession. “This way,” he said, extending a hand towards the corridor.

Kai’s budding question died as Torin began striding away. His office door sung out to him—promising escape, promising rest. 

He could cancel that meeting. He could just not show.

But it was important. It was always so important. The mere fact that his country was still his and united and free was not to be understated.

He would take what he was handed. The burden, no, the responsibility that had been bestowed.

Three corridors in, no explanation had been offered. The hope that he was being led to his quarters was quashed on the cross-path to the sixteenth floor, where Torin diverted to the left. From the corner of his periphery, Kai noticed Torin studying him with a strong expression.

Great. He’s probably here to toss me a pack of painkillers, a ‘toughen up’ pep talk and force me into the meeting early.

Rather than do any of those things, Torin proffered him a pair of sunglasses. “Shield your eyes.”

He was frighteningly prepared. Slipping them on, Kai began blinking rapidly as the hallway was sucked of light. The sting behind his irises soothed. It did help. But his brain was still bleeding out of his ears, and every step, no matter how delicate, sent a throb up his spine. “Torin, I don’t think I can—”

“Just a moment, Kai.”

Kai was gently steered into a door that he had never noticed before, despite having walked this path countless times. Once inside, and only once he processed that they’d stopped walking, he realised it was an elevator. Not like the other elevators in the palace with their polished mahogany and dragon emblems and Edo period landscapes as the wallpaper. This was a plain stainless steel. It didn’t even have an android standing by.

“This is a servant’s elevator,” Torin supplied, expecting the curiosity. “It is a more direct route to our destination. I also believed you’d find the fewer guards along this path preferable.”

Yes. The less people who saw him like this, the better.

A disorientating swoop landed in his belly as they descended five floors. Ten. Thirteen. Then, the doors whished apart—with Kai’s genuine gasp—to blue, blue skies.

The cold hit his bones like a shockwave. The sunshine hit his skin like a prayer.

They trickled out of the lift into the immaculate paradise of the Imperial Palace Gardens. The buds were in bloom, the grass wet and dewy. Birds larked happily—the sound too beautiful to be bothersome to tired ears. Kai gaped in the wonder as they walked this unknown path, ignoring the complaints from his aching temples.

When was the last time he’d been out here?

A chilly afternoon drifted before him, the last before Cinder had left for another ambassadorial stint. They’d had a picnic lunch under the willow tree on the east side of the garden. The leaves were brown and wilting. Cinder had cosied up to him to fight the crisp wind and sprinkled bark in his hair.

Winter.

He hadn’t been outside in a whole season.

“Kai,” called a calm voice. Torin was gesturing to a shady hollow amongst shrubs and trees. Slivers of sunlight flickered and shone down upon plush grass and foxglove blooms and pussy willows. In the centre of the flora was a wooden pavilion.

Torin brushed past him to set up the pillows already resting there. He patted the deck invitingly.

Kai didn’t need to be told twice. Shucking off his suit jacket and tossing it aside, he collapsed onto his back. His tendons groaned at the unforgiving mattress of wood, but Kai didn’t care. He was as content as a cooing baby in a cot.

The pavilion was small, but enough to accommodate all of Kai’s five feet and eleven inches. He gulped in the sweet scent of jasmine and breathed with the beats of the wind whistling through hollyhocks. Time passed; something vaguely prodded at him, badgering on about being back on time for his meetings.

Eh, Torin can force me back inside when he must.

At least, he assumed Torin had stayed. He was yet to hear the rustle of a wool suit and departing footsteps, though he doubted his woozy mind would notice.

Throat dry and hoarse, he tested, “How’d you know about this place?”

Birds chirped in response. Wind added its opinion. But no voice of his adviser.

He’d left.

But then, softly: “You are certainly not the first to struggle with the pressures of palace life.”

“Are you implying you’ve had moments of inability? You?” Kai laughed, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t joke, Torin.”

“I’m sure it is a great shock to you.” The response was more humoured than he’d heard in a while. The last time Torin had allowed such openness had been early in Cinder’s reign, when he’d informed her that she was not in fact bowing to the prince and princess of the United Kingdom, but the delivery florists.

(Kai didn’t think he’d laughed so hard since.)

“I am not as indestructible or unperturbed as I exert myself to appear, Kai. Nor should you have to be.”

Cracking open an eye, Kai glanced weakly at him. The perpetual frown was as present as if it were carved out of marble. Yet the slightest glimmer in his outstretched gaze warmed the stone.

“This place belonged to your father.” His voice assumed a warm, reminiscent timbre. “He and his father —your grandfather—built it together during one of Rikan’s school holidays. In later years, Rikan would come here when he required a reprieve from the necessities demanded of an emperor.”

Kai smiled at the thought of his father and grandfather together, working on a project—an idyllic image of bonding. His grandfather had died when Kai was too young to remember him, making Rikan a very young emperor. Kai had since claimed that record. His grandmother had died his last year of high school. As for his mother, her family originated from Japan and still lived there. None of them had ever been fond of his mother’s decision to marry a prince, so while his maternal grandparents sent gifts every year, they’d only promised to come visit to officially meet their granddaughter-in-law-to-be. “Why didn’t dad ever take me here?” he wondered aloud. “If he’d made it with Zǔfù…”

“Rikan was a good father. But he was also a young, troubled widower.” A sigh. “He came here to relieve those frustrations. He only ever wanted to give you the best of him; perhaps that’s why he did not bring you.”

A brown leaf blew in from the wind, a remnant from winter. Torin caught it in mid-air, crumpling it in his fist.

Kai recalled many things after his mother’s death, but the image of dad crying was obscured. The months following, Rikan had devoted himself to time with his son; outings, ice creams and bike rides, hugs and hot milk before bedtime. Kai had wondered at the time if his dad was a superhero, because he seemed to handle the pain that was suffocating Kai with such ease. Now older, a well-acquainted unwilling friend of grief, Kai guessed those tears had been shed into his mother’s pillow at night.

“He always did,” Kai confirmed, turning to his side. The breeze kissed his chin. “I wish he were here.” I wish he’d cried with me. I wish he’d let me see that it was okay.

“As do I.”

His eyes fluttered as he breathed, thinking of Cinder. More and more as he aged, he understood what his father felt when his mother died. To lose Cinder…he feared the person he would become. She was everything to him. She was everything that helped him stay him. For his father to smile and endure and lead the nation with conviction proved yet again that Rikan was a far greater man than himself.

“He was much stronger than me.”

“That is hardly true,” Torin reprimanded coldly.

A chuckle bubbled in Kai’s throat, the image of a young prince being scolded by a tall, stern-faced adviser flitting by his memories.

“Don’t laugh. Your father would not want you to believe him an infallible saint.”

“Sorry, sir.”

He exhaled loudly through his nostrils, an eye roll in Konn Torin language. “Your father struggled just as any person under such conditions would.”

“Yeah, he struggled. Me, I collapse.”

 A scoff. “Do you know what would happen when you father struggled?”

“No.”

“He would develop migraines.”

Kai froze. A pointed look was aimed his way.

“Anxiety is normal. It’s healthy, in a way. It motivates you to do things well, knowing their negative results if you do not. But worrying about the anxiety, overexerting yourself in hopes of pre-empting that anxiety…”

He didn’t need to finish. Kai knew he was doing better than the eighteen-year-old orphan who had just lost his father and inherited half the world. But vast experience two more years did not make.

“You deserve respite, Kai. Do not be ashamed to take it.” Torin hesitated, an uncommon sight. “I…I won’t always be here to tell you to take care of yourself.”

A smile curled over dry lips. “Soon I’ll have an empress to do that.”

“Indeed. Still I am certain your fiancée would not want you to be overworking yourself as you are now.”

She doesn’t.

Torin opened his hand. The leaf he had claimed was now no more than a pile of brown ashes. Closing his eyes meditatively, succumbing to the cadence of the breeze, Torin seemed to be waiting. Trees kindly lowered their branches, inviting any wandering travellers to pass through.

Torin was patient. A burst of wind whistled overhead and at its loudest, he tossed the crumbs. Each piece scattered through the current, dancing a pas de deux in the exhilaration of freedom, and then they were gone.

Torin held out his empty palm. “You should always have someone you can lean upon when you struggle, Kai. But you must learn to stand up on your own.”

Planting his hands on the deck, Kai took a breath. He heaved himself upwards.

He took Torin’s hand. 

A fatherly smile, a tired smile, in tandem.

“Thank you,” said Kai.

Torin’s wrinkles creased back into that hard-set indifference. I’m proud of you, in Konn Torin language. He patted Kai’s knee. “I have postponed your meetings for today. Your office will unlock in three hours.”

“It’ll be the end of the workday by then,” Kai contested, laying back atop the pillow.

“Oh. What a shame.”

“Sarcasm?” A yawn as the suitcoat was tucked against his chest. “Cinder’s rubbing off on you.”

“We could all use a touch of her fiery spirit now and turn.”

Maybe. But right now, Kai just wanted Cinder’s icy calmness, when she’d kiss his head and pull him in her arms. Determination and drive could wait for tomorrow.

His head throbbed a quieter drumbeat, syncopated by the footsteps that clipped away on the pebbles. Kai let his face muscles slack, his mind slip away, exhaustion excusing the lack of goodbye.

Something startled him from sleep.

He mumbled incoherently, rising on instinct and squinting at the silhouetted figure.

Torin put a hand to Kai’s chest, easing him back to the deck. “Easy there,” he soothed. He nestled something by Kai’s hip.

Blearily, Kai found the flask from before, refilled. A strip of medicine lay beside it.

“You have an appointment booked with Doctor Li at 13:00 tomorrow if you wish to attend.” A final smile. “Get some rest, Kai.”

There was the goodbye.

“Thanks Torin,” he called distantly with a slow wave, eyes drooping like sleepy autumn buds.

The sounds surrounding him were numerous and beautiful. Before he’d wished to be in the void of space for blessed silence; now he dreaded it. This lulled him like his mother’s voice and his father’s low laugh and Cinder’s humming.

He would take what he was handed. The compassion, the love, the promise of endurance.

Rest he would.

———

You

Did you sic Torin on me?

My love

Let me check the controlling every aspect of Kai’s life group chat

Nope i haven’t commed in a week

You

-_-

My love

Did he make you sleep

You

Yeah

My love

That’s great

He’s a good guy

I actually thought about comming him

But I kinda figured he’d be looking out for you anyway

You

I love you Cinder. You’re my whole world

My love

Sap

(Same)

Go to bed, handsome

You

<3

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @zephyr-thedragon @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @vincentvangothic @bakergirl13 @zsysartsandfics

why was this so easy to write yet so difficult to edit? Also I will probably go through and fix this again because I just wanted it out of my drafts. Okay byyyeeee!

[separatist-apologist]

I Want To Brainwash You Into Loving Me Forever

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing

Summary: The newly crowned High Lord of Autumn receives a familiar visitor- one he's sworn to punish, should they ever be caught trespassing again.

Note: Happy holidays! This is a gift for the incredibly lovely @iftheshoef1tz. She has written the absolute MASTERPIECE that is Our Bodies, Possessed By Light. I could, in my wildest dreams, only ever put together something even half that gorgeous. If you've never read it, there is no time like now to start.

She is also the person who sent me this prompt for Azris, a pairing I never thought I'd write. The prompt was this piece of dialogue, "Oh, darling, if only I could love you." When I first wrote it, there was no smut, only feelings.

I hope I made you proud

Read on AO3

“Everybody out!” 

Eris Vanserra didn’t move as his court turned their backs to him, filing out of the open throne room until only one male remained. Eris, sprawled over his throne, one leg dangling over the arm as he examined the silver rings on his fingers, pretended his heart wasn’t leaping in his throat.

“Close the door,” he added to the sentries, curious as to what their High Lord meant to do with the Shadowsinger from Night Court. Eris himself wished he knew. Azriel was technically banished from his woods, and smart enough to keep himself from being noticed if he wanted.

And there he stood, arms crossed over his powerful chest, wings tucked tight behind him. Hazel eyes bore into Eris’s face with open accusation. 

“And see yourself out when you’re done,” Eris called. He would have no witness to whatever was waiting for him. A fight if he had to guess—one he didn’t want his court to hear word for word. Eris watched those golden doors slam shut, listening for the fading steps down the wood halls of the Forest House. 

And then they were alone. Eris couldn’t avoid looking at the male at the very end of the room, veiled in shadow from the dying light pouring through the windows–not counting his own, swirling around him like a hazy fog. 

“I warned you,” Eris said, forcing a lazy grin on his face. It was for your protection, he wanted to add, though he didn’t dare say it. After all, he’d succeeded, hadn’t he? Beron was dead and he was High Lord. He wore the crown of burnished leaves against his brow, reminding him of everything he’d gained.

And everything he could not have. 

Azriel remained silent, his gaze piercing a hole in his still wounded chest. A hundred stolen moments over the course of a decade flooded like a torrent through Eris’s mind. He’d made no promises and when the time came, had been quick to sever all ties between them. 

Some things were more difficult to break. 

“The punishment for walking the Autumn woods is death, you know.” He wanted to provoke a reaction so badly he would have said anything. Azriel’s silence was a blade to his heart, an ash arrow in his throat. Riling Azriel up had always been the easiest way to force the male to talk to him, even if it was punctuated with Azriels hand around his throat, and Eris’s blood between his teeth. 

Azriel yielded one step. “Shall I get on my knees, lord?” he mocked. Hurt and anger flashed through Eris in equal, burning measure. He swung his leg over the arm of the throne, resting his elbows on his thighs. 

“What is it that you want, Azriel?”

Eris, of course, has heard rumors of how Azriel has been spending his time. Lucien, irritated and jealous, had made mention of his own mate and the male he believed haunted her steps. The thought of Azriel with anyone else filled Eris with misery more often than he was willing to admit. Of course Azriel would move on—would forget him entirely.

Just as everyone always had. Eris expected Azriel to rub it in his face, to slap a cold grin on his face as he detailed for Eris just how little their time together meant. All of Eris’s worst fears seemed to manifest when Azriel’s wings flared. One scarred hand, illuminated in the blue of his siphon, reached for the blade at his back. Not truth teller, still strapped to his powerful thigh, but his Illyrian sword. Azriel pulled the entire thing smoothly from between his shoulders, not drawing the steel. Eris tensed.

Azriel threw it at his feet, the weapon sliding over the smooth floor to rest at the very bottom of the steps of the dais Eris rested atop of.

“High Lord,” Azriel murmured, sweeping into a bow that saw one of his muscular knees touch the floor. Deference.

Respect.

Love.

Eris clenched his fists to keep himself from rising to his feet. The sight of the male he loved bowing before him—swearing his fealty—was too much. Eris had no road map for this sort of unguarded, if not careful affection. How long had Azriel practiced this moment? Run it over in his head, imagining every possible scenario. Every outcome? 

Surely he must have known what was coming.

Azriel pressed his palm to the floor, a lock of his inky black hair falling into near-gold hazel eyes. Eris was certain he’d never seen anything more magnificent in his life and yet he forced himself to pretend he was unaffected. 

“Is this a confession?”

His words dripped with condescension. He could feel Azriel’s temper rise, creating static in the air between them. Eris wished he could make things easy, that he could just admit the truth.

I’m afraid.

I love you. 

“You know how I feel,” Azriel said, his dark voice rich with promise. Eris could not suppress the shiver that raced up his spine. His body went taut, pulled by that golden thread he had spent so many years denying existed. He rose to his feet, each step down to the floor seemingly endless. He went to Azriel, still on his knees, well aware a better male would have kissed his mate. 

Eris crouched, his heart racing as the scent of Azriel rolled over him. It had been so long since he’d scented night chilled mist and cedar, since he’d touched the rough stubble of Azriels jaw. He couldn’t help but hook his finger under Azriel’s chin, listening to their hearts sync.

“Oh darling, if only I could love you.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring. One scarred hand shot out, grasping Eris by his hair. Azriel pulled tightly, drawing him closer, until their noses brushed.

“You’re still a coward,” Azriel accused, his breath fanning over Eris’s face. 

“You should love someone else,” Eris replied, unable to keep his own insecurities from his voice. It had always been that way. That mask was glued to his face until Azriel stepped into the room.

As it stood, it lay shattered to pieces between their bodies. Azriel twisted his fist into Eris’s hair until Eris reached for one of the crisscrossing straps over Azriel’s armor and yanked him closer.

It was a bruising kiss. Frantic and hungry and filled with all the things neither of them could make themselves say. 

I’m sorry.

I missed you.

Stay with me.

Azriels grip didn’t loosen, as if he knew the minute he let Eris go the spell might shatter and Eris would send him away again. Another five years in purgatory, looking for glimpses of the other when their two courts met while pretending they didn’t care at all. Eris too often woke at night tangled in his bedsheets, hands desperately seeking the silken touch of Azriel’s wings. Wishing for rough, calloused hands sliding down his naked chest. 

“I’m not leaving,” Azriel growled, his teeth nipping roughly against Eris’s bottom lip. “I don’t give a fuck about your laws.”

“What about—” Azriel’s tongue silenced him, delving into his mouth with such heat that Eris found he didn’t particularly care what Rhysand thought anymore. Eris felt frantic as Azriel’s words washed over him. 

I’m not leaving.

I’m not leaving. 

Eris didn’t know what to do, what to say. He could only kiss his mate and hope Azriel understood. That the things that had always kept them together explained away his cruelty. Beron would have ripped Azriel’s wings from his back, and would have pulled the magnificent male apart like an obnoxious moth while Eris had been forced to watch.

And in the aftermath of what he’d done to secure his crown, his throne, he’d felt unworthy of something as rare as a mate. Azriel had seemed content and Eris had almost convinced himself they were better off apart. That being together would only ruin them both.

But there, one arm around Azriel’s neck, his hand dragging through the shtick strands of his hair, Eris felt stupid. 

“There you are,” Azriel breathed, pulling away with bruised lips to look at Eris. Eris gripped Azriel’s face, touching foreheads until they shared a breath. 

“If you were smart, you’d reject this bond,” Eris made himself say, each word gravel in his mouth.

Azriel didn’t smile. “I am well aware of your opinion regarding my intelligence.”

Eris swallowed hard, gripping Azriel for dear life. His thumbs swept over bronzed cheeks, eyes searching his mates. “Stay with me.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of their combined hearts. Azriel had already said he was staying, and yet Eris needed to hear it again. On his knees, no longer the High Lord but just a male in love, he needed to hear Azriel say it again.

And again.

Every day until he drew his very last breath.

“You first,” Azriel ordered roughly, his breath catching in his throat. Eris knew what he wanted to hear. The very words Eris had refused to ever say out loud, had denied even to himself save in the darkest parts of his mind no one could reach.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes rolled upwards, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Eris brought his face closer, pressing a kiss to each cheek with all the softness he could muster. It wasn’t much—he’d never be a gentle, soft sort of male. 

He didn’t think Azriel wanted that. 

“I’m not leaving you. Ever,” Azriel added with a ringing finality. Eris’s mind raced with possibilities. Where Azriel would fit, what role he might occupy. It was terrifying to lay himself bare before so many, to announce to the world this male was his only weakness in the world. 

And not having him was infinitely worse. 

Eris forced himself to take a breath. He was High Lord. Autumn would bend to his will or they would join the rot in the woods. 

“Good.”

He rose to his feet, bringing Azriel with him with a tightly clasped hand. There was no hesitation, no moment of uncertainty. Just them, connected by the golden thread of fate.

And for the first time in Eris’s life, he felt like he could breathe again. 

Opening the doors to their tightly held sanctuary was another matter entirely. Eris’s fingers trembled on the cool metal, though he wrenched them open with cool abandon. Beside him, Azriel resituated his blade with clear eyes, his wings tucked tight against his back. 

He knew, and it filled Eris with a strange sense of shame. He was supposed to protect his mate—and he couldn’t do that if he was afraid. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Azriel his fears, to lay them at his feet and see what Azriel made of them.

What Azriel truly made of him. 

But the doors were opened, and though Eris had ordered everyone out, a surge of courtiers stepped from the shadows, eyes wide when they saw the living Shadowsinger. Eris knew they’d been hoping to see blood, or perhaps wings peeled from Azriel’s back. Some gruesome display to prove the superiority of their High Lord.

Eris’s temper flared. “I don’t recall asking for an audience,” he said, his voice betraying his fury. Beside him, Azriel had gone wholly still, waiting for a command like a well-trained dog.

“Lord,” heads bowed in deference as unease spread through the hall like a disease. Someone was going to die—they hoped it would be the interloper, but if his courtiers wanted to mop up blood, theirs was just as easy to spill. “Our laws—”

“Are you offering me advice?” Eris asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “Or telling me how my late father would have handled such matters?”

Azriel recognized the cruel cut of Eris’s words. Eris felt Azriel’s fingers brush along the back of his hand, unseen by those crowding them. It was a quiet question—let me do this for you.

Eris slid his pinky against Azriel's, silent permission for the silent offer. 

“If we do not teach these lesser bastards their place—” Azriel’s sword was in the male's neck before he managed to finish the offense. The spilling blood didn’t stop Eris from stepping forward, staining his books to lean in close. “What was that?” Eris asked, drinking in the dying light from the choking male. Azriel had pinned him by the throat like a moth to a corkboard, his body sagging against the dark, wooden wall. 

“Lesser bastards, was it?” Eris repeated, cocking his head as though he expected a response. Only the gurgling rattle of death punctuated the silence. Azriel pulled back his blade, using the fine fabric of a dying man to wipe it before he resheathed. 

Eris turned, sweeping his gaze over those who remained. Their fear was intoxicating, mingling with his own. This, he decided, was his declaration. He would need no other pretty, poetic words or otherwise written treatises on Azriel’s presence in his court. 

Eris gave the order and Azriel would enforce it with brutal, unfeeling efficiency. Eris felt the spooling tension unknot from his chest and took a step. And then another. 

“I believe I told you to leave.”

There were no further protests. Bodies scattered down the hall, vanishing behind closed doors and winding corridors to spread the news. Eris waited until they were alone, left only with one cooling corpse, to resume his attention.

“This way,” he murmured, nodding for Azriel to follow. Never had he ever dared to bring Azriel to his home, let alone to his chambers. They’d met more often in Velaris, hidden in the inky darkness, though there had been days in an overrun Spring Court forest and a weekend half hidden on a Summer Court barge. 

Opening his own doors was far more intimate. A welcoming of sorts, to the place Azriel might choose to live at least most of the time. Eris had no illusion that Azriel would abandon his friends and the people he called brothers. 

He did believe Azriel when he’d gotten on his knees and sworn his fealty, that he meant to promise his loyalty to Eris above all else. He could share, he told himself rationally. He could let Azriel move through the world on his own terms, so long as it was Eris he came home to.

“Come here,” Azriel breathed, gripping Eris by the neck. Eris had only just locked the door when he was pushed against it. Azriel ground himself against Eris, letting Eris feel the heady proof of Azriel’s need. “You know I—”

Eris knew exactly what Azriel was going to say. That he loved when Eris was brutal, when he was cold. When only Azriel was allowed to see the warmth that lay beneath the ice. They were the exact same in that regard, impenetrable until they were around each other.  

Eris opened himself, the kiss between them rough and inelegant. Azriel always had preferred passion to function which, at first, had frustrated Eris to no end. He’d grown to appreciate Azriel’s disregard for performance, how he gave himself over to base need without an ounce of insecurity. No barriers, no pretense.

Only them. 

Eris pushed Azriel back, still open-mouthed kissing. He needed to get his mate to the bed and away from the walls. He was warded well enough, and knew anyone with their ears to the door would hear the frantic sounds of pulling buckles and laces. They’d hear the soft moan of pleasure from Azriel when Eris’s hand slipped between his legs, cupping the hard, thick length of him. 

It was one thing to know Azriel served him.

It was another to know just how well. 

Eris managed to get the too-tight Illryian leather from Azriel first, well aware his mate had never been one for all the buttons on Eris’s jacket. The moment Eris’s flame-warmed hands slid down the carved muscle of Azriel’s skin there was the distinct sound of fine fabric ripping.

“You’re a brute,” Eris groaned, nipping his teeth along Azriel’s stubbled neck. 

“Shut up,” Azriel replied, clearly delighted with the sight of Eris’s shredded, silken clothes fluttering to the floor. Chest to bare chest, Eris finally managed to shove Azriel back on a large bed draped in gold and orange. Azriel fell backward with a soft breath, reaching for Eris before Eris could reach for his laces and free him entirely. It had been too long and Eris found himself all but writhing as he came astride his mate, the pair scrambling up the bed desperately for hungry, frantic kisses. 

Azriel’s fingers tangled in Eris’s hair, pulling hard enough that Eris moaned in Azriel’s mouth. Azriel merely swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against Eris’s for taste after taste. It was as if he, too, had been emptied hollow without Eris, that the suffering Eris felt without Azriel was not one-sided. 

Azriel’s fingers found Eris’s pants, having so thoroughly distracted him. “I need to taste you,” Azriel groaned, lips gliding down Eris’s arched neck. Eris found himself on his back, legs spread as Azriel trailed his tongue over his collarbone, his chest, his navel. Eris lifted his hips, eyes flashing a warning when his lower half was quickly divested of every stitch of clothing. All Eris had was his ringed fingers and his fear.

“You,” Eris ordered, his voice too breathless to be considered truly authoritative. Still, Azriel nodded only once, a lock of dark hair flopping into his burning eyes. He stood, hands reaching slowly for his waist, and then he, too, was bared for Eris’s hungry gaze. 

Eris wanted to crawl. Wanted to lick Azriel’s carved chest, to leave sucking bruises against the deep vee on either side of his hips. Eris wanted to swallow the salted musk of Azriel’s cock until Azriel whimpered, begging for relief.

Azriel was back over him before Eris could make good on his thoughts. There was no space between them, their skin pressed so tight not even the spooling darkness that trailed Azriel could have slipped between. 

“Eris,” Azriel breathed, rubbing himself like a cat in heat against Eris’s over warm body. Now it was Eris’s turn to grip Azriel by the neck, to silence him with his lips and tongue and teeth. With his free hand, he reached for their touching, grinding cocks and applied pressure with his fingers.

Azriel’s moan was music. Eris stroked the pair of them again, evenly matched in his broad hand. The combined moisture beading on their cocks only drove Eris upwards, desperate to hear another pleasured sound rip from Azriel’s throat. He needed more of the heady pleasure spooling through the pair of them more than he needed Azriel’s mouth on his cock.

Eris pushed, rolling them over so he straddled Azriel’s waist. Azriel responded with a soft growl, teeth sinking against Eris’s lip until they tasted warm blood. 

“Is this what you want?” Eris whispered, holding the pair of them in his hand. Azriel watched with dark eyes, his spine arching off the bed when Eris stroked. Lips parted, exhaling softly as Eris ran his thumb over Azriel’s slit, teasing the sensitive flesh. 

“I want to taste you,” Azriel repeated, his voice guttural with its need. He rose up on powerful elbows to punctuate his point and Eris was so tempted to crawl up his body and press his aching cock against Azriel’s wet mouth. Eris stroked again, trying to convince his worthless mind to make a decision.

“You want to supplicate yourself before me?” he taunted,

Azriel’s fingers dug into Eris’s hips, bruising as he yanked Eris closer. “Your games aren’t half as amusing as you imagine.”

“I like you like this,” Eris admitted, cupping Azriel’s jaw. For a moment he could pretend this was a mere act of intimacy and he wasn’t going to beg Azriel to fuck him when this was all over. Just them, holding eyes—taking the time once denied them by force. 

And then Azriel was tugging again, urging Eris to use him as he so often had. Eris took himself in his hand, rubbing the messy tip of his cock against the soft skin of Azriel’s lips. It was impossible to tell if it was his come or Azriel’s smeared over his skin, and doubted very much that Azriel cared one way or the other. 

Azriel’s mouth opened, tongue sliding forward and Eris pushed himself against the slick, wet slide. He groaned, tugging Azriel’s hair to pull his head forward. Azriel never took his eyes off Eris, content to let Eris take what he needed. 

Eris paused when he was halfway down Azriel’s throat, the blunt head of his cock pressed against muscle. Azriel could take more, and yet Eris was taken aback by the sheer loveliness of the male beneath him. Wings played darkly, mouth open, hands ghosting Eris’s hips. Eris stroked Azriel’s cheek again, forcing himself to say the words he’d longed denied. 

“I love you.”

Azriel fully wrapped his lips around the aching hardness of Eris’s cock, taking more of him with ease. A puff of air pushed itself from Eris’s chest, forced by the sheer, incandescent pleasure of being swallowed by his mate. Eris clung to Azriel’s hair, setting a slow pace in an effort to prolong his pleasure.

“Fuck,” Eris breathed, unable to call up more sophisticated language. He could see the bright spark of amusement in Azriel’s eyes—he always had enjoyed bringing Eris low. Sometimes thought Eris was no better than the accusations he’d leveled at Azriel. If his mate was a brute, well, perhaps he was, too.

Eris certainly wanted no part of a hierarchy in which he was considered above Azriel. They were the same, only made of different rock that, when polished, had a wholly different shine. The edges were still sharp, could still be wielded like a blade. 

Eris pushed deeper, moaning when he heard Azriel gag around him. The vibrations made his erection pulsate, drawing Eris’s release closer. 

“Up,” Eris said, pulling himself with an immense effort from Azriel’s mouth. “I need…”

Azriel’s look was pure exasperation. But he knew what Eris needed. Knew, better than anyone what it was that Eris wanted. He’d known when he walked into the throne room and he knew right then as he pushed Eris from his body, letting the male fall to his side so he could rise upwards.

“On the floor, or will the bed suffice?” Azriel asked dryly. Eris, with a twitch, leaking cock, gestured at the floor. It required the two of them to stand, brutally naked males with heaving chests, eyeing the other mere inches apart. Eris slid his hand down Azriel’s toned midsection, dragging fingers through the bead of precum for a taste.

“We could be fucking right now,” Azriel growled, grabbing Eris by the hair for a messy, passionate kiss. Eris gripped Azriel’s jaw, tasting his own salt against the sweetness in Azriel’s mouth. “You’re so dramatic.”

Dramatic or not, Azriel still bent to Eris’s desire. Falling slowly to his knees like every fantasy Eris had ever had, he gripped Eris’s straining cock in his hand.

“My High Lord,” Azriel murmured, his breath fanning over Eris’s skin. He nearly came from the sight, from the aroused reverence in Azriel’s voice. “My Eris.”

“Gods, Azriel, please—” 

Azriel put Eris out of his misery, swallowing him smoothly before Eris could ruin the moment any further with his begging. Eris threaded his fingers through Azriels thick, dark hair, pushing himself further into the ringed muscles of Azriel’s wet throat—until he felt Azriel’s nose brush the copper hair of his navel. 

Azriel gagged and Eris released, well aware he was not going to last. Threads of saliva came back with Azriel’s mouth, dragging like an iridescent rainbow over Azriel’s lips. Eris’s thighs trembled, his sac tightening at the sight. 

“Az, I—”

Azriel didn’t relent, his tongue swirling the head of Eris’s needy cock before he took Eris again, tears blurring his hazel eyes. Release coiled through Eris hotter than he could ever recall, and when he felt Azriel’s hand reach behind him and merely stroke the puckered hole of his ass, Eris jerked, spending himself roughly into Azriel’s throat. 

Azriel, as he always did, took all of it without complaint, freeing Eris with a wet pop. Eris had to catch his breath while Azriel wiped his hands and eyes with a scarred hand, amusement blazing over his features.

“Am I allowed to fuck my mate, now?” Azriel asked, rising slowly to his feet. The sight was enough to make Eris a religious male. “Or does he want to fuck me?”

Eris wanted both. He would have both, but right then what he needed was the feel of Azriel’s salt-soaked skin against his own. They collided all over again, with Eris yielding so Azriel could turn him and push his knees against the bed frame. Eris went willingly, arching his back into Azriel’s chest while twisting for another hungry kiss. 

“Don’t be gentle,” Eris ordered, controlling until the last. As if Azriel would ever be such a thing. It was worth saying, given how the two had little moments of sentimentality that too often slipped into their lovemaking. There was no need—not anymore. Eris would give up Azriel over his own rotting corpse, and not a moment before.

They had time. As Eris relaxed himself, gripping the bedsheets while his mate lubricated his cock, Eris felt almost giddy at the prospect. A near eternity was penance for the decades apart. The suffering Eris meant to repay in spades, starting with the brutal scars on his mate's hands. He’d work his way forward from there, punishing each mark, every bruise, and the lingering wounds still etched not just in Azriel’s golden skin, but his very soul, if he had to.

There could be nothing else. 

His thoughts were chased off by Azriel’s slippery fingers, sinking into him slowly. One, and then two, and then a third all worked themselves inside him, oiling his body while the other hand slid up and down his spine. Eris shuddered, craning his neck for another kiss.

“Was there anyone else?” Azriel asked, eyes finding Eris’s. “Between now and…”

“No,” Eris replied, unashamed. “There was never anyone else. Only you.”

Pumping fingers vanished, replaced by the press of the heavy crown of Azriel’s cock. Eris felt the breath punch from his lungs, his whole body tight at the prospect. It had been so long since he’d let Azriel have this—since he’d wholly yielded himself, and allowed himself to trust. 

Trust that Azriel wouldn’t harm him. That he could be beneath another person, that he didn’t always need to cling so tight to his control. It was a hard-fought battle, won by Azriel’s near boundless patience. They’d stop if it was too much, and Azriel would flip over, his eyes silently saying, I can do it, too. You don’t scare me. 

But Azriel had always scared Eris, and the depth of feeling between them even more so. Even then, with that inching push, Eris felt the urge to end it all. To lay Azriel out and order him to do exactly as he said. Too much, it’s too much—

And not enough. “Relax,” Azriel whispered, kissing the side of Eris’s jaw. “You’re so good like this. Relax for me.”

And Eris did, sinking into the touch, into the feel of Azriel’s gentle slide into his body even when he’d demanded the male be rough. Pushing against the bed with his palms, Eris claimed a slow, unhurried kiss. Arousal began to stir through him again, shuddering against his already spent cock for a second time. Eris wondered if it was the beginnings of the frenzy or merely his own lust. He was well aware he had the best-looking male for a mate in all of Prythian, after all. Azriel’s face alone was enough to keep anyone hard. 

“Az,” Eris breathed, falling into the rarely used nickname. He knew Azriel liked it, like when he was formal—casual. Behind him, he felt Azriel press his forehead against Eris’s shoulder blades, breathing roughly.

“Yes,” Azriel panted, seating himself wholly in Eris’s body. Eris had forgotten the stretch of accommodating Azriel, of how full he felt. Eris squeezed himself around Azriel, kissing up and down Azriel’s arm. 

“What did I say about being gentle?” Eris asked. There was no bite to his words.

“Shut the fuck up,” Azriel replied with a huff of laughter. “Shut your fucking mouth, Eris.”

Eris squeezed again, delighted to hear the laugh slip into a soft moan of appreciation. “Why don’t you fucking make me.”

Azriel responded just as Eris hoped, drawing himself out only to push roughly back in. They moaned in time as combined pleasure spooled between them. Azriel’s fingers wound through Eris’s hair, pulling roughly.

“Tell me you missed me,” Azriel demanded, each word punctuated by another vicious thrust of his thick, aching cock. Eris’s eyes rolled upwards into his skull, his own cock erect and pressed against the mattress of the bed. “Tell me you missed me as much as I missed you.”

“More,” Eris panted, certain it must be true. 

Azriel’s teeth grazed just beneath his earlobe. “I doubt it.” Eris couldn’t help the whimper of need that escaped him, nor could he stop his own hand from gripping his cock, stroking his skin as Azriel continued to pump in and out of his body. He was mindless, a creature wholly devoted to the male behind him and their combined pleasure. For a moment there was no sound but their combined, synced hearts and the constant meeting of their slick flesh.

A moan slipped from Azriel, unleashed and desperate. He was close and Eris wished he could watch. He twisted, his own hand speeding, to catch the lust-hazed hazel eyes staring back at him. Eris couldn’t help himself. “You’re beautiful,” he said, lips slotting between Azriels. Taste him, his senses called, demanding satisfaction. Eris was going to come all over the side of the bed, all over his hand, his body. He could feel it building just as surely as Azriels’s own release, if Azriel’s trembling legs and rapidly speeding hips were any indication. 

“Az,” Eris breathed, the rest of his plea swallowed by Azriel’s greedy lips. Their tongues collided, tasting and teasing and Eris found it was all too much. He groaned, fingers practically bruising his cock beneath their grip as he came—the very moment Azriel pushed his slick cock in deeper, spending himself with a grunt into Eris’s body.

It was a mad scramble for the bed without wholly leaving the other. Eris knew they were making a mess of the sheets and didn’t care, pulling Azriel against his body, head tucked just beneath his chin. Eris hooked a leg around Azriel’s hip, murmuring, “Leave it,” when his mate tried to go to the bathroom for a rag. 

It could all wait. Azriel pressed a kiss to his pectoral, fingers sliding up and down Eris’s stomach. For a moment, Eris felt a sliver of panic. They’d never been allowed so much in the space of so little. Eris was used to fear, his eyes tracking for the door where at any minute, Beron Vanserra might burst in and ruin the fragile peace simmering between them.

Another kiss calmed him. “Nothing has to be decided today,” Azriel whispered, steady as always. 

Eris forced himself to take a breath. “I love you,” he said instead. That was unchanged. Would never change. He felt a smile spread over Azriel’s lips, pressed now into his shoulder.

“I know you do,” Azriel said, his words soothing Eris’s inflamed soul. “As I love you.”

Eris pressed a kiss into Azriel’s sweat-damp hair. “Mate,” he breathed, drinking in the scent.

Azriel’s fingers tightened around his ribs. “Mate.”

[noughticalcrossings]

Nine People I Want to Get to Know Better

Tagged by @saints-who-never-existed thank you!

LAST SONG? - Parsifal, Act 1: Weh! …Hoho! …Auf! Wer ist der Frevler? Du konntest Morden, hier, im heil’gen Walder

Recommended by a friend, and it’s very dramatic but the titles are sending me. The latter part is Who is the wicked? You could commit murder, here, in the holy forest. But the former? Yeah I had to stop I was laughing and waking the household

FAVOURITE COLOUR? - my answer is nebulous, but I am very fond of extremely rich teals, like think jungle green and then edge it into blue. I have part of my wall painted in a version called Palm Springs and eleven-year-old me was entirely correct to do so

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - rewatching Game of Thrones with my dad and watching him struggle to remember character names. We’re only on season one. He is doomed.

LAST MOVIE? - Crimson Peak. Last time I watched it I was holding my roommate’s hand and I should have repeated that. I was clutching my chest like a cat trying to claw its way out of a bathtub. Beautiful movie tho, I have since bought it so I can traumatise my parents

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - if I can have both sweet and spicy I am thriving. Sweet chilli is one of my favourite flavours of all time but anything from Bombay mix to paprika crisps is peak. Salted sweet things like bacon and maple syrup pancakes are a close second

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - single and likely to remain so until the economy allows me to live an independent life

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - I have been scouring the pdfs provided by @queer-ragnelle for their Palomides content. He is my absolute favourite and I’ve somehow found myself writing self-indulgent time-loop fic where Brangaine tries to unravel the mess that is the Tristan/Iseult romance

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - the Morholt, brother to Queen Iseult of Ireland and uncle to Iseult the Fair. In the Italian La Tavola Ritonda the Morholt (here Amoroldo) leaves behind a young son called Amoroldo Novello which is very cute and very sad. Also when Queen Iseult finds out Tristan killed her brother she tries to murder him in the bathtub with his own sword which I think is very sexy of her

My nine tags: a selection of cool people @revolutionarygold @lieutdreadhands @odyhat @nikoisme @laninlurks @keldabekush @rochenn @jh-newman-opn and you, yes you who’s handle I can’t spell

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - CATELYN XI (pages 760-771)

Catelyn returns to her childhood home of Riverrun, and Robb levels up his liege-ness to King.

-

It seemed a thousand years ago that Catelyn Stark had carried her infant son out of Riverrun, crossing the Tumblestone in a small boat to begin the journey to Winterfell. And it was across the Tumblestone that they came home now, though the boy was clad in mail in place of swaddling clothes.

Well that kinda feels like a double does of feels right off the bat. Sorrow for lost time, and youth, and innocence all wrapped up in the idea of a closing cycle.

Catelyn gazed up at the bars and wondered how deep the rust went and how well the portcullis would stand up to a ram and whether it ought to be replaced. Thoughts like that were seldom far from her mind these days.

I hate that that line of thinking has become an instinctive reflex for her. "how defensible is this, how safe are we."

On the one hand though, depending on how thick the metal is and how recently replaced, that could be a concern. The portcullis is almost certainly made of iron or steel, both of which are highly susceptible to rust. (Rust can chew through iron like a munchlax at a buffet.) On the other hand, the portcullis seems? to be protecting a waterway/water entrance?, which means the ram would need to be on a boat. (... actually if they had a way to brace the boat against the outer walls, maybe some outwards pressure to hold it at the inner archway... ahhh, but not a lot of time to secure it, and only so much force before a boat would be affected never mind the weight the ram would need, and then there's the actually size of the portcullis' full structure versus the visible parts in the archway...)

These are the one's who keep the old gods, she realized. She asked herself what gods she kept these days, and could not find an answer. It would not do to disturb them at their prayers. The gods must have their due... even cruel gods who would take Ned from her, and her lord father as well.

Oh, poor Cat, home at last and her father is dying.

It is interesting to get to see her having this crisis of faith, both as a reflection of her internal efforts to be the Stark Matriarch and let go of the Tully Bride, even though it remains so much a part of who she is, and where her motives come from (not just her as a mother).

But also knowing that the sept in Winterfell was built specifically for Cat (iirc) and to have this assumption of devoutness about her, to see even her waiver in her faith in the face of senseless violence and personal grief...

It's very humanising, but also Cat deserves better. She doesn't need humanising, she needs the gods to suck less. (or for Joffrey to have suffered an 'accident' several dozen chapters/months ago.)

- and over there, beneath that bower, she and Lysa had played at kissing with Petyr. She had not thought of that in years. How young they had all been - she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling in turns. It came back to her so vividly she could almost feel his sweaty fingers on her shoulders and taste the mint on his breath. There was always mint frowing in the godswood, and Petyr had liked to chew it. He had been such a bold little boy, always in trouble. "He tried to put his tongue in my mouth," Catelyn had confessed to her sister afterward, when they were alone. "He did with me too," Lysa had whispered, shy and breathless. "I liked it."

Bull. Shit. You were a child, 9 at the absolute oldest, Lysa. You should have still been believing in cooties. And Petyr... good to know you were always a pervy little creep. I had been leaning towards going with that 'his behaviour is a result of the trauma of Lysa roofie-ing him as children' theory, but I think this predates that, so it turns out they were both always a bit messed up in the head. Like the Lannister twins.

Why are so many pre-pubescent children such "early bloomers" in this series?

What the actual flap-jacking fuck, George?

The arguing raged on late into the night. Each lord had a right to speak, and speak they did... and shout, and curse, and reason, and cajole, and jest, and bargain, and slam tankards on the table, and threaten, and walk out, and return sullen or smiling.

"Gentlemen, you can't fight in here, this is the war room!"

"Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy... but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom. "Well, one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still, If we must trade our four Lannisters for two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

It is really easy to get caught up in the excitement of the fighting and planning and getting one over on the enemy, that it's a simple matter to forget that this was all supposed to be a righteous rescue mission.

I think I want to go back and rewatch this portion of the show, because I can't for the life of me remember this scene, and I don't know if it has just been too long, or if this speech was cut from the show.

It would be a shame if it was cut, the depth it adds to Cat, that she knew it was time to stop, even though it hurt her. That she knew even if they went forwards, none of it would bring Ned back, that here in this moment even hurting and in pain she wanted the war to stop and for peace to resume, and knowing about Lady Stoneheart...

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Whelp, the North would like its Independence back now, Thanks. So peace is off the table I guess.

[armatization-a]

@fatesblade — from here

It's been years since the war ended. Years since Ryoma learned that Kagetsu left. The years haven't lessened the ache, and haven't eased his guilt. Ryoma wishes, even now, that he hadn't pushed Kagetsu as he did. He wished he understood that Kagetsu simply would never be king. He should have known. He should have understood his son better.

It's no wonder that Ryoma never told Shiro that he was a Hoshidan prince, nor had he told Asahi that she was the princess. Never again would he hurt his children. It would be their choice to do as they please when the time came.

The time has long been and gone. They have both made their choices, and he's proud of what they have become, but he has always wondered about Kagetsu. He has searched, he has been searching for years, but he has long accepted that Kagetsu will never come home.

Ryoma cannot blame him. All he can do is wish him well.

He was in the middle of sorting out some paperwork when someone announces that he has a visitor who wishes to see the king - alone. The room is immediately cleared. He can only guess; perhaps it's Xander. He's never been fond of the Hoshidans glaring at his every movement.

But it's not Xander. Ryoma's hands tighten in his lap as he looks at the man entering. He doesn't know how to react. He has his grandfather's dark hair, with the tinge of purple from his mother. How long has it been? Ryoma doesn't know if he wants to run to him or yell, but neither option will help. They will both worsen things. He forces his hands to relax, though they clamp shut again almost immediately.

"Kagetsu," he says by way of greeting. His son is all grown up now; no more is he the boy with the world on his shoulders. His heart aches at the memory, at those wasted years. There's no use dwelling now.

He listens to Kagetsu without another word, and remains quiet for a moment longer. No, he was never the High Prince. It's not because he's incapable, and it's not because Ryoma would never allow it.

It's because Kagetsu is Kagetsu. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"I know." Finally, his hands relax, curled loosely around his knees. "The moment I heard you had gone, I knew you would never return." Even now, he can hardly believe Kagetsu is right in front of him. The urge to wrap him into a hug is stronger now. His wonderful son, who absolutely loathes Ryoma. He would, too.

"After that, I resolved to never force either of your siblings into the role, nor you, even if you returned." But Shiro is learning; after his travels, he insisted on taking the throne. Ryoma had never been more shocked - and more proud.

Until now, at least, when the prodigal son returns. Though this time, it's the shock that wins out.

Ryoma rises. His legs cry out in pain as he's freed from his kneeling position, but he doesn't care. He takes slow, deliberate steps towards Kagetsu, afraid that he'll run away if he rush. He still might. Ryoma hopes he won't. The only sound that fills the room is the slow tap tap of his feet on the floor. He stops just a couple of metres away. He wants to close the distance, but he knows better.

Ryoma doesn't want to speak as the king and his disappointment of a prince. He wants to speak as Ryoma, a man who is seeing his beloved son for the first time in a very long time.

"I was disappointed, at first." Ryoma can't lie, even to spare Kagetsu's feelings. It's pointless anyway. "But I realised my disappointment was misplaced, and I was disappointed at myself instead. I am ashamed of the way I treated you." He fights back the wobble in his voice. He must be strong for both of them. That's what a father is supposed to be.

"I have spent many years reflecting on this. You were never going to be the High Prince, because you didn't want it. You always wanted to be free. Instead of letting you, I crushed you and tried to force you." He hates himself. That old anger rises back to the surface - how could he do that? How could he hurt his son so terribly? If his father were alive, he too would be disappointed. He still feels a twitch of scorn when Ryoma visits the ancestral burial grounds.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have grown up so much since I saw you last." He wants to reach over so desperately, but he mustn't. Kagetsu is not Shiro: he won't take the sudden affection well. "You're a man now, and you've made your own path in life. No matter where you go now, know that I'm proud of you. I have always been proud of you. I should never have pushed you to be someone you aren't."

He inhales deeply. "Kagetsu, I am sorry. I'm sorry for all that I've said, all that I've done, and all that I have even implied. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you." His voice breaks. He must regain himself. He can't. He swallows, and that seems to help. "I can't take back those years, but I can apologise now. You have always been worthy - I was the problem. It was never you."

He can't take it back, but he can make a better future, even if Kagetsu never returns after this. Ryoma won't tell him that it was a learning experience, because Kagetsu is worth more than that. If anything, perhaps seeing his siblings might make him understand how truly sorry Ryoma is, and how he has learned. He didn't hurt them like he hurt his eldest, though Kagetsu shouldn't have been hurt, either. They can't live in the past.

"I understand that you can't stay, but you're always welcome to stay here. I know that Shiro and Asahi would love to see you."

And I would be happy, too. There's no point in saying it.

[tarnishedxknight]

Vayne was baiting Drace.

Her heart lurched and, with little thought, Gylfie moved toward Vayne - careful not to draw attention to how she placed herself between him and Drace. Her back turned to both her and Gabranth, her head angled away from Bergan, Zargabaath, and her brother. Doing her best to ignore the way her heart pounded as she took sight of Gramis's body once more.

"Vayne," she said quietly - low enough for only him to hear, as he angled his head at her curiously. "Should we not have them investigate? I fear--"

He took hold of her arms as if to ground her. "The Senate has been arrested, you have--"

"I am with child," she interrupted, still keeping her voice hushed as her heart faced faster. As shock briefly flashed across Vayne's face before he masked it. "At least allow me to keep one of the Judge Magisters with me. I do not--"

Her ruse worked.

Vayne nodded as he retained his cool composure once more, and drew her to his side as he turned his attention back to the Judge Magisters. "Bergan, Zargabaath, I want you to go to Bur-Omisace and bring Larsa home," he ordered. "Drace--"

"Drace, you are to come with me," Gylfie cut in, and glanced at Vayne with a subtle nod. I can watch her, she wanted to say, but he seemed to understand.

He simply nodded. "Very well. Gabranth, Ynarra, you both will stay here while we... figure out what to do next. Word will spread rapidly of my father's death, no doubt, and we must..."

Gylfie couldn't bear to listen to him much longer. She pulled away from him and quickly made her way for the hall. Passing two of the Judge Magisters she needed alive the most with a curt, "With me, Drace," and without stopping. She knew Drace would follow, as frustrated and furious as she may be with Vayne securely in power, but that was hardly the matter now. No, now she needed to reveal her hand, and make sure she would not lose someone who would be needed to secure a better future without her dear husband.

She remained silent even as she led the way to her study, and even as she closed and locked the door behind them. Her expression crafted and unreadable as she made her way to the large bay window, and stared up at the banners of Archadia and House Solidor. Her arms crossed over her chest in thought. Was this the right move? Would Drace even entertain the notion of believing her? Was it worth risking everything for this?

It had to be.

"You must exercise more restraint around Vayne," Gylfie said at last. "He was baiting you, Judge Drace. He intends to rid himself of any threat or competition for the throne, and you nearly let yourself get caught. And now, more than ever, I quite need you alive."

(( @disillusionedjudge for Gylfie's empress au!))

@disillusionedjudge

No. This would not stand. Drace could not abide this. Perhaps the elections for the position of Emperor in Archadia had favored House Solidor for lack of any real challengers for many generations, but even so, the people deserved to choose their leader. That was how it was done, that was the letter of the law, and for Vayne Solidor to waltz in, condemn the Senate before proper trial, and instantly name himself Emperor of Archadia before his father's corpse was even cold... was an absolute abomination of the law and an abuse of power. And then to vaguely suggest that Larsa was the only other successor, continuing this farce of a autocrat's succession instead of a democratic process and implying a veiled threat against a child...

She had no choice. But as Drace moved to reach for the hilt of one of her swords to make formal her charge against Vayne, she was utterly derailed both in movement and thought by Gylfie, Vayne's loyal wife - now Empress, apparently - stepping between them. Drace blinked and lowered her hand, standing by to see the result of this abrupt conversation between the two, since much of it was at a volume that made the Judge Magisters not privy to its content.

And then the orders came. Bergan and Zargabaath were to retrieve Lord Larsa from Mount Bur-Omisace. Gabranth and Ynarra were to remain to discuss things further with Vayne. And Drace... She... blinked again. What just happened? What had the Empress said to Vayne to cause him to abandon the tense conversation Drace had been holding with him? She did not want to leave. There was more to be done here, this... this was not... finished yet!

As it was said again, this time as the Empress passed her by, no doubt with assumption that she would fall into line and obey, Drace glanced from Gylfie to Vayne and back again. Her lips parted to speak but words would not come. What could she say? Even if she did not respect Vayne's newfound and self-proclaimed position as Emperor, to refuse a direct order from the Empress would be against the law on Drace's part.

With a frustrated and even angry groan that almost took the form of a growl by the end of it, Drace turned away from Vayne and dutifully obeyed Gylfie, following her to the woman's study. Her gaze briefly met Gabranth's as she left the throne room, but nothing could be said or done. They each had their orders, and for now, they must obey them.

But playing nursemaid to a spoiled Empress...

She slipped on her helm to hide her displeasure and wounded sense of justice.

Drace bore Judge Ynarra no love. For as long as she had known him, he had stood for everything that was wrong with and about the Empire. He would not only see Archadia stagnant and refusing to change its ways, but would drive those ways of violence and superiority even deeper. Drace did not know the man's daughter, but if she was loyal to Vayne as was he, then she knew well her type.

Except... once inside Gylfie's study, what came out of her mouth was anything but what Drace had expected. Out of respect, for they were now in private quarters, Drace slipped her helm off once more. "Baiting me? To what end?" As Gylfie finished her statement, her question was answered. Eliminate competition for the throne. She needs me alive... Implying that she would not still be alive had she continued with her course of action.

In essence, Gylfie had saved her life. What Vayne had wanted was all too clear to her now, laid bare and simple, and Drace felt like an utter fool for almost falling for it. "I see," she said darkly. "Then I owe you thanks, Your Highness, for saving me from myself. I will take greater care to keep myself in check in the future."

[kariganelisa]

Genshin hypothesis

I have a hypothesis at the level of delirium that BEFORE the Kaenria disaster the world did not exist. And all the evidence to the contrary -

A) the ruins of a fallen civilization millennia ago

B) plugging chrono-holes and “false history” (possibly correcting information in Irminsul)

Where did it all come from? Written by Celestia as a fantasy author - the backstory of the world.

All tangible long-term events here begin 500 years ago.

It is clear why Nahida and Raiden Ei entered the chat 500 years ago, but Focalors separated Furina from itself also 500 years ago and this has literally nothing to do with Kaenria.

Although it is indicated that Egergia died, like Makoto, ONLY Nahida is stated as the “youngest archon” (who is apparently no longer considered as such due to the merger with the history and memory of Rukhadevatta and the erasure in Irminsul of the difference between her and Buer).

That is, Focalors MUST BE OLDER (and noticeably on the scale of human life) than Buer. But Egergia was replaced by Furina before the people, and Focalors herself did not appear to people at all and this happened 500 years ago. In other words, both Buer and Focalors should have been declared to us as the youngest.

It’s one thing when no one noticed the shift between Makoto and Ei (or pretended to), especially considering that Ei closed immediately and Makoto’s colleagues could assume that she was jammed (especially if they did not witness Makoto’s death).

But Focalors took the throne from Egeria OFFICIALLY. She didn't replace her, she officially replaced her. 500 years ago.

And the question of why she was not initially presented in the same way as Nahida (aka “the youngest”) remains fucking open.

And this is not to mention the fact that we still do not know anything about the “Fokalors policy”, which the Oceanids were so angry about that they left Fontaine.

And Egergia on the frescoes looks generally the same as Focalors.

Which is more like laziness in working out the backstory of the world. No one can work out absolutely everything, and it is possible that at the moment of entering new data into Irminsul, he filled in the blanks in the same way as the existing ones, simply plugging the holes.

Therefore, Egeria, with whom Focalors is not currently related in lore, is depicted as practically a copy of Focalors.

The similarity between Rukhadevatta and Buer is explained by the fact that Buer is literally the “kidney” of Rukha, but what about Egergia and Focalors?

Unplugged holes that Irminsul, not being capable of creativity, plugs with the closest available analogue is the concept that explains this point.

If the author of a fantasy is free not to prescribe everything down to the smallest detail, then Irminsul is obliged, because the world must be completed. You cannot bring a personality into it without an appearance, and the closest available analogue of Egeria is Focalors, and this void was plugged by the appearance of Focalors.

Well, like, why not?

This can explain all the inconsistencies in the lore: Irminsul’s confusing data 🙃

It’s also interesting that the prophecy murals literally depict Furina, not Focalors. So it turns out that the prophecy knew everything anyway?

Then why the fuck and most importantly why 😂

[fadingrebelobservation]

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[senatushq]

NAME. Theo Graves  AGE & BIRTH DATE. 960 & March 30th, 1071 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Vampire. BLOODLINE. Juno. OCCUPATION. Triumvir & Hand to the Queen FACE CLAIM. Jesse Williams

BIOGRAPHY

Born in 1061 as the bastard son of a French monarch, Theo was given his mother’s surname and never knew the extravagant lifestyle that he felt was rightfully his. Nobody questioned the swollen belly of a servant, or the fortuitous passing of King Henry I only later that year. As it happened, Theo would never know his father, but he knew through gossip that the child who inherited the throne was his brother. At night while his mother filled his head with tales of home, of a far away nation that he could only conjure in his mind’s eye, he would listen to the distant raucous laughter of the nobility above and dream of one day being seen as an equal to the Franks. Even at such an early age malice churned in his heart, he wanted everything that was denied to him, he wanted to prove himself. He wanted to be more than a nameless serf working to live upon the lands that should have been his.

Faith came as a comfort to him, in the eyes of God all men, women, and children were equals. In the kingdom of heaven he’d no bounty and fruit like no other in life, and though his mother did not approve he brought himself to be baptised by a priest who was willing to cleanse him of the sin that surrounded his birth. He was a child born out of wedlock, and for this he unjustly blamed his mother. This spite was never resolved, at least not before sickness took the woman away from him entirely, leaving Theo to serve at Philip’s leisure.

In Theo’s time of crisis the church remained the benchmark of his morality, pious, dutiful, obedient. He did not want for the things that were not his to take, not anymore. Though Philip would never learn of his halfbrother, Theo did what he could to banish the thoughts from his mind entirely. The dried lips that his mother had whispered to him through, the grey look of anguish in her eyes as she pleaded for him to run while he still could - this was her punishment for a life walked outside of the grace of God. To atone for the envious way he’d look upon Philip The Amorous, or the spiteful way he’d think of the man who’d sired him, Theo would follow his priest’s instruction and beg for God’s forgiveness.

Piety brought some happiness to Theo’s life, or at the very least, some dull bliss that aligned well enough with submissiveness. He was a faithful member of the flock, one who praised loudly the word of God and willfully defended it with absolution. When Pope Urban II called for a holy war, Theo, along with many other Franks, threw themselves into the crusade in the hope of proving their worth in the eyes of God.

Deus vult, Theo parroted, God wills it.

An untrained soldier with a cross stitched into his uniform, Theo walked willfully into battle and fought with a holy vigour. He believed wholeheartedly that their cause was a righteous one and that the pursuit of Jerusalem was indeed God’s will. Islam encroached upon their world and it was the divine purpose of the crusaders to bring it to an end, to bring the true light of God to every sinner in the world. At night he’d lay in bed and dream of the glories he would win, not for himself, but for God. Theo would close his eyes and see himself before a flock of faithful pride seeped into his heart as he greedily thought of the rewards that awaited him at home. The Pope had forgiven all sins, the kingdom of Heaven awaited Theo even now - if he died tomorrow he would at last meet his glorious maker and swim in the ephemeral waters beneath the tree of life.

Death, as it happened, was not so forgiving. There was no glory on the battlefield, not really. Men shit themselves as swords spilled blood and viscera from their bowels, horse mounted knights drowned in the mud when they fell on their backs, and heaven was not the bright lit place that Theo had been promised. He fell before they reached Jerusalem, his maker’s love awaited him above but a creature of the night had other plans. Dusk settled across the battlefield as a member of the undead stalked the bodies that remained, Theo, mortally wounded, found in his final moments to feel only fear. Terror. He knew then that he did not want to die, the pain was gone but he was cold, heaven was not supposed to be cold. A cruel smile twisted at him from above, then the creature asked if he wanted to die here, or if he wanted to live forever.

A demon. Theo spat at her, cruelly snarked and closed his eyes tight as parables fell from his lips and he tried to wrest the creature away. Sharp and metallic, blood fell through his open lips and Theo choked, dying only when the vampire willed it and waking up under the harsh moonlight above. All the world had changed in an instant, brighter, clearer, sharper, smaller. Theo could hear the fading heartbeats of those closest to death, could smell the stark, rank odour of those who were already beginning to rot from the day’s sun. But most of all, he could taste the blood in the air, it burned in the back of his throat as his limbs seemed to react on their own. Before Theo could stop himself his lips were wrapped around the flesh of someone he couldn’t remember as being friend or foe, he pulled what little life remained in them before he moved onto another, feeding on from both sides of the field before he finally came to his senses.

The creature approached him once more, though this time Theo realised that they had never really left. Theo could feel them as acutely as he could smell what he had done here, as he could feel the morning dew upon his skin that mirrored the approach of the rising sun. Rhiannon was her name, though in her many years she had gone by many. She told him what he was now, a vampire, a child of Juno, and a creature that would be doomed to wander the night until he learned to control his impulses. Abandoned by God, Theo could hear the gates of heaven close above him, and the Inferno open beneath. He followed them, not because he wanted to, but because he feared what he would become if he did not.

A bond between sire and progeny was not something that Theo had ever experienced before, it was akin to what he’d once likened to the love of God. Something that could not be felt tangibly, but was still ever present at the back of his mind. Rhiannon mocked his piety, finding great amusement in how he continued to seek amends after every meal, gradually becoming more and more capable of managing his impulses as he moved from his first year as a vampire and into his second. Away from the church and apart from his beliefs he allowed himself to question it all, the establishment, the order. He encountered priests who were anything but righteous, and men of God who committed abominable sins. What made kings and popes anointed by God? This was his real question, because if it was their own declaration of absolution that removed them of sin then was that not a further demonstration of their own pride? Worse, Vainglory?

In the years following his transformation, Theo returned home to ask his former priest these very same questions. The flock that the man had once been a part of all dead at his feet, sinners, all of them, weak, too weak to stop the approach of a truly righteous man. Idle words fell from the priest’s lips, psalms and parables and pleas for mercy - he promised to absolve Theo of these crimes, of the sin that surrounded his birth, he promised him absolution but instead Theo only laughed. The priest was made a thrall, and followed Theo, singing his praises until his eventual death.

As a reward Rhiannon gifted Theo with a daylight ring and told him that witches, mostly those who live in covens, have the ability to make more. They also told him of a coven’s ability to strip a ring of its power, if he crossed them. Useful, the trinket allowed him to go out during the day once more. Gaudy and gold, the ring served him well as he moved his ambitions towards that which had always been denied to him: royalty. In the mortal world there was the hunt for power, but in the world of the vampires there was power in a hierarchy that he desperately wanted to be a part of. He did not care who he had to hunt, who he had to kill, Theo would do anything in order to achieve his ends.

Theo attended to magistrates themselves, brushed shoulders with the senators of Rome, fed from bars with marshals around the world. It was not enough to be in one place for long, the vampire was creating a network, performing favours for his kind who fell in too deep so he could come to collect when the time was right. While his bloodline lacked the power of compulsion, Theo carried something even more powerful - power over the soul. A strength that he relied on instead of taking lives the old fashioned way. He learned soon that spirits could return to haunt you, that a dead mortal might return as a demon, that would not do.

It was on this quest for significance that Theo first met Elessar, a faiman whose blood the vampire was quickly enthralled by. Normally, he’d have taken the creature’s soul but the rarity of what Elessar possessed within his veins was too tempting to pass over. Ismail spared the faiman some knowledge too, he told him what he was, what had left him behind, and why his blood had given the vampire pause. Fleeting as mortality was, Ismail’s designs took him elsewhere, he expected that in time the faiman would go the way of all mortals, and die.

Sumeyye came as an obsession. A beautiful daughter of Mars that had been cast out by her sire. She was virulent and deranged, her obsession with blood was one that the recently minted marshal couldn’t break if he wanted to. There was a wildness behind her that fed the darkest parts of Theo, one that he could not shake as he broke open those her bloodlust led her towards and drained their soul clean. He hated the thought of her lips being on another, even to feed, though addicted as she was, Sumeyye could not deny her nature. Their relationship ended only when Theo was called to court, drawn towards the title that Eve Boucher put on his shoulders. My Hand she called him. Their friendship now went back centuries. The queen had a long reach, but it was always her right hand that extended.

Theo made a career out of it, keeping in line the regal families of vampires who’d once turned their nose up at him. He’d crawled from the gutter, made the name Graves something that struck fear in the hearts of those who heard him coming. Centuries later and he came upon Elessar once more, the faiman had adopted Theo’s magic for himself, drawing and syphoning to extend his lifespan. Mortals were less than interesting, but Elessar was clearly so much more. The two have been together ever since, an eternal couple led to Rome by the tidings of war, with Theo taking a position upon a senate that is below his station. He cared little for the seat, what he truly wanted was the crown.

PERSONALITY

+ cautious, thoughtful, methodical.  – apathetic, cruel, callous. 

PLAYED BY Shane. EST. He/Him.

[pinkfey]

kat and anora getting married in private,,,,,,, snifts ;-;

[voiddrop]

Eddie Munson with a Cat

So, my good friend @sapphic-florals​ and I were doing our usual, rambling about Eddie Munson and other fandom crushes, when I thought of the idea of giving Eddie a cat. No a totally original idea, but I haven’t seen anyone else talk about Eddie with a cat, usually if they mention him getting a pet they mention a dog. 

So, with my dear friends encouragement, I bring you, my personal headcanons for how Eddie Munson would end up with a kitten. (Ft. a Gender Neutral! Reader)

Content warnings for vague mentions of animals being in bad shape, being sick, ect but nothing too graphic.

I would usually do my whole lay out... but this are some basic headcanons and I just wanna ramble about Eddie with a cute cat for a little while.

There’s definitely a few broods of stray cats that hang around the trailer park, it’s not totally uncommon to see one running around or perched atop someone’s car or trailer. Generally, they’re allowed because they help with any rodent problems. There’s some people that feed them but Eddie wasn’t one of them.

Eddie was definitely the type of person who though he was a ‘dog guy’ and didn’t understand the appeal of cats.

He’s high energy, he’s loud, he’s rambunctious. In his eyes, a dog would match him much better than a cat.

When you talked about your future, it was always: Graduate, get out of Hawkins, move in together, Eddie would focus on his band, and at some point you’d maybe settle down with at least a dog.

Maybe some kids, if you felt so inclined.

That was until you found a small, scrungly little black kitten in the trailer park.

It was late and dark, cold, raining.

Eddie had his leather jacket slung over both of you as you rushed from his van to his trailer.

You heard it before you saw it, the soft cries for help. It was in the grass, absolutely soaked through, tiny and clearly malnourished. A scraggy little black thing with big yellow eyes, missing both of the fur on its tail.

There were no other cats in sight, no sign of a mother, so you ended up scooping it up.

It was too late to take it to the vet, so you brought it inside to try and warm it up, getting some water and tearing up some ham - which the little guy tore into variously.

You decided you’d see if it made it through the night, and then you’d take it to the vet tomorrow.

It took Eddie about an hour to fall absolutely in love with the little guy.

“Black cats are metal, y’know?” He said with a grin, cradling the small ball close to his chest.

He did look adorable, grungy looking man like Eddie, carefully cradling a small kitten.

Eddie decided to name him Ozzy, and he passed out on his bed with the kitten curled up on his chest, you knew right then and there that you wouldn’t be prying that kitten from him any time soon.

Ozzy did well at the vets. Thankfully, you’d found him before he could get too sick, though he was malnourished.

Also, he was actually a she.

“Should we change her name?”

“What? Nah, Ozzy’s a pretty metal name and she deserves a metal name.”

So Ozzy remained Ozzy, and she stayed with Eddie, who she was beyond infatuated with. It was clear to anyone who say them (mostly just you and Wayne) then Eddie was Ozzy’s person.

She followed him everywhere, if she wasn’t curled up on him, she was curled up on his jacket or shirt.

And Eddie immediately went out to buy bulk cat food and everything else he’d need to keep a cat in the trailer.

He’s definitely better at caring for Ozzy then he is himself.

And Ozzy forces him into a routine, because she screams to be fed every morning at seven without fail and it forces Eddie not to skip certain days he usually would - cause he’s up now, might as well go to school.

Ozzy gets better, her fur grows back... and then keeps growing.

Until she is a very regal long-furred black cat that likes to sit on Eddie’s chest like it is her throne and stare down at him.

Also, whenever she abandons him to greet you, Eddie will, every time, without failure, gasp and cry out, “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood. Oz! How could you abandon your father? Does your cruelty know no limits?” Because he is extra like that.

BONUS

Wayne absolutely tried to act disinterested in Ozzy, but then you both caught him petting a sleeping Ozzy who was curled up in his lap while they watched TV.

He loves Ozzy because she makes Eddie happy, and that’s all he wants.

And there we go. I absolutely love this concept and definitely wanna write one-shots or drabbles about it.

[freezaprime]

FAR FROM HOME PART 7 (Frieza x Reader)

*Warning: this story contains adult situations and human trafficking scenarios. Reader’s discretion is advise*

4 decades ago…..

Frieza, in his first form, marches down the hall of the Viagrin castle with Dodoria and Zarbon following behind him. He wasn’t happy today. Not after the attempted assassination on his life which he successfully thwarted. The tyrant wanted answers and he wanted them now. He kicks the doors to the throne room open which startled the guards and the Viagrin king, Penus.

“Lord Frieza?! What brings you here?” Penus asked standing off of his chair.

Frieza nods to Dodoria who had been carrying a brown sack with a dark wet spot on the bottom that was dripping. The pink thorny brute smirked as he threw the sack towards the king but one of his guards stood in front of him and caught it. The guard then opens the sack to reveal the severed head of the assassin who was sent to execute Frieza.

“Quite a clever ploy he pulled for an assassin. Killing one of my men and taking on his appearance in order to get close enough to end my life is something I would commend if only he would’ve considered joining my forces. But I’m not here to compliment you. I’m here today just so you can explain to me why you sent him to assassinate me. And don’t lie to me. I don’t like liars.” Frieza said coldly.

Penus looks from the assassin’s head to Frieza and his expression changed from horror to anger. “You just slaughtered the only race that brought us a bountiful profit! Our economy has plummeted beyond recovery because of you! Why don’t you tell me your reasoning behind that one, Frieza?!” He spat.

A small smile formed on Frieza’s face as he snorted. “Just a bit of spring cleaning and getting rid of the Saiyans was at the top of my to-do list. Besides my army has been undergoing a significant growth over the years since my father retired so much that I needed to make some room.”

“Bullshit! You just did it because of some childish fairytale about the legendary Super Saiyan possessing power so great and unlimited that they would be considered godlike! I’ve heard that shit sputtered around more than once from the Saiyan women.” Penus snapped. “If you’re old enough to take command of your father’s army then you should be old enough to leave those bedtime stories behind and start living in the real world!”

“Oh ho ho ho ho ho! So now you think I’m a child do you?” Frieza laughed.

“Regardless of that, you have absolutely no proof that a myth like that would ever come true!”

Frieza stops laughing. “And that’s how I’d like to keep it as. A myth that will always remain just a myth.”

Penus growled. “Did you even think about how the loss of those Saiyan women will affect our business? Those Saiyans were our most valuable resources and you just obliterated them for your own damn entertainment! Your father would not have approved of this action since it was a part of our agreement to not meddle in the other’s business!”

“Perhaps not, your highness.” Zarbon interjected. “But lately King Cold has had his doubts about your ‘business’.

Penus looks at Zarbon curiously. “What do you mean?”

The green haired man pulls out a holochip and activated it to show the image of a young woman that looked like a nymph of Greek mythology. “King Cold’s latest pet showed a significant number of sexually transmitted diseases, slight ruptures in both the anus and the vagina, and a severe case of malnourishment. The poor thing had to be put down. When questioned on how she ended up in such a state, she said that after the sale of Saiyan women boosted up the Viagrin economy, the rest of them were neglected or handed off to a random horny costumer through a discount sale.”

“In short, your business of selling prostitutes has already come into question by your consumers with similar issues. Not just by my father, but by everyone else you conduct business with. All because you favored Saiyans over the rest and now would be a good time for you to retire, King Penus. Unfortunately because you sent an assassin to kill me, the only place that you’ll spend your days of retirement in is the afterlife.” Frieza said as he disappears from view one second and the next his arm went through the king’s stomach.

“YOUR HIGHNESS!” The guards exclaimed in horror as they charged towards Frieza.

Dodoria and Zarbon quickly took out the guards out one by one through blasting them, snapping their necks and ripped off their heads.

“BROTHER!!!!!” General Hooker had just entered the throne room from the back door to see Frieza pulling his blood covered arm out of Penus’ stomach causing the king to collapse onto the ground. “YOU BASTARD!!!” The general roared with anger as he charged at Frieza tackling him head on. He punched the tyrant as they rolled into the wall but Frieza just smiled.

“How nice of you to join us Hooker. Do you also wish to die by my hand?” Frieza chuckled and threw Hooker off him. He fired several death beams at the general who held both his arms up to protect himself but still got numerous amounts of cuts all over them.

“How dare you do that to my brother, you pipsqueak!” Hooker exclaimed in rage. “What has he done to deserve such a thing?!”

Frieza’s left eye twitched at the ‘pipsqueak’ comment and flew towards Hooker, kicking him to the other wall. “Don’t play innocent with me, General. I know you too were apart of this assassination plan when I recognized your top lieutenant’s face as he was about to kill me. Though you should’ve known that by doing so you practically sent him to his death.” He gestures towards the assassin’s head which laid on the ground.

Hooker groaned as he stood up and glared at Frieza. “He knew the risk and took on the task. He was just as against your killing the Saiyans as we were. I understood him that much. But I had no idea that the great King Cold would entrust his army to someone as immature as you. With the Saiyans gone our economy has fallen and we will most likely go bankrupt with the prostitutes we have now! If only your father gave Cooler control over his forces the Saiyans would still be alive!”

A barrage of death beams fired towards the ceiling as chunks and pieces of it fell on top of Hooker.

Rage filled Frieza’s eyes as he stared at the pile of debris where Hooker was standing. “Never, ever mention that fool’s name in front of me.” He sighs calming down and walks towards Dodoria. “This planet will be purged of all of its current inhabitants at once.”

“Sounds fun, Lord Frieza. Count me in!” Dodoria said chuckling with joy.

“Very well then. Have Zarbon-where is Zarbon?” Frieza asked just noticing his right hand man was missing.

“He said he heard something from the room the general came out of and went to investigate.” Dodoria explained.

Frieza sighed as he walked towards the back door and slightly pushed the unclosed door forward he saw the spiral staircase leading downward. “Zarbon! We’re leaving! Wrap up your exploration and get back up here!”

Zarbon came up the stairs slowly looking really pale.

“What’s the matter?” Frieza asked curiously. “If that was a torture chamber down there then why should you look ill? You too killed a lot of people in various ways and you never shy away from violence.”

Zarbon gulped. “You……might…want….to…s-see this, Lord Frieza.”

“Fine.” Frieza huffs as he follows Zarbon down the stairs. A foul order that smelled like a combination of excrement, urine, and blood wafted as they descended filling their noses to the point of almost gagging. “Disgusting stench. Doesn’t Hooker know how to clean and deodorize his torture chambers from time to time?” Frieza mumbled while covering his nose. After reaching the end of the stairs Frieza froze at the horrific sight that laid before him.

On each blood soaked table laid several naked dark haired women with their legs chopped off. Several of them were crying silently while the rest looked at Frieza and his henchman with pleading eyes. Looking at them, Frieza then noticed their bulging bellies indicating that they were all pregnant. ‘Is this some kind of medical bay for them?’ Frieza thought looking around the room seeing all forms of medical equipment scattered about. ‘Not very hygienic especially for a woman due to give birth.’ He then took a step towards one of the women nearest to him when he felt something fuzzy underneath his foot. The tyrant slowly looked down to see a familiar long brown, severed tail lying on the ground.

“Saiyans.” Frieza whispers looking around to see more Saiyan tails scattered around the room. These women were all Saiyans yet they didn’t look like the ones he’s use to seeing every time he visited planet Vegeta. An average Saiyan would have some sense of pride as both an individual and warrior. These Saiyan women were all broken in both body and soul. ‘If those fools had favored Saiyan women as they claim they did, then why are these ones living in these conditions?’ He hated Saiyans there was no question about that but seeing the state of these women he couldn’t help but take pity on them and at the same time glad that the Saiyans he killed weren’t alive to witness what horror had been brought to their own race.

‘Don’t be emotional, Frieza.’ The words of his father floated into the Frieza’s head. The lizard just shook his head not wanting to remember that day his father said those words.

“Please……Lord Frieza.” One of the Saiyan women spoke in a hoarse voice bringing Frieza back to reality. “Kill….us. Kill us, please.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she said this.

Frieza didn’t dare to speak but walked up to each Saiyan woman and covered up their nude mutilated bodies with blankets that were hardly used. He then randomly fired each death beam straight into their heads instantly granting them a quick death. Frieza uses his telekinesis to move the blankets upward to cover the women’s heads before giving a small silent prayer. He was never one for prayers but given what these women went through it was only appropriate he do so even if it’s only once. Admittedly he was not a good person but all the genocide he’s committed over the years pales in comparison to the suffering these women had to go through at the hands of the Viagrins. After that he fired even more death beams towards the ceiling in a similar manner that he did earlier. The debris fell on the women’s lifeless bodies. Burying them as Frieza gestures for both Zarbon and Dodoria to walk up the stairs and exit that ‘torture chamber’. Now filled with renewed anger, Frieza sets out to eradicate every single Viagrin that he sees as he makes a call to the Ginyu force.

Present day…..

“Feels like it was only yesterday that you murdered my dear brother and slaughtered my precious Saiyan harem.” Hooker said smugly. “Now then have you anything to say before we start this fight?”

Frieza scoffs. “Precious Saiyan harem, you say? How odd considering that those women were going through a fate worse than death. I just did them a favor and sent them to meet their fellow Saiyans in otherworld.”

Hooker charged forward at Frieza but the ivory lizard just stepped out of the way at the last second. Hooker quickly dashed at Frieza again but as he got close he pulls out a knife and tries to stab Frieza with it. “They were all bearing my children! Why would child bearing be worse than death?!”

Frieza grabs the knife and throws it into a random Viagrin soldier’s head and fell dead causing the others as well as Frieza’s forces to step away from the fight. “Well for one; they didn’t get to choose having your little bastards and two; they all had their legs chopped off for some reason. Tell me is it because those women were giving you a hard time breeding with them? Wouldn’t surprise me if they did. They were Saiyans after all.”

“And what would you have done to keep them under control? They were lucky I didn’t hack off their arms like I did the last one!” Hooker growled as he attempted to punch Frieza in the gut but failed when the emperor ducks underneath him and kicks him. “That one was by far the most beautiful woman I have ever bred with. But she was extremely fierce and unpredictable as any Saiyan was. She would attack me nonstop as I fucked her until she went for my neck and nearly killed me. So off with her limbs and I had my way with her every single day.”

“You’re absolutely sick, Hooker. But I will admit that I am no saint myself, however; compared to you I am by far the most sanest person in this side of the universe.” Frieza said using his telekinesis to throw a hurdle of rocks at Hooker. “Whoever this woman you speak of was I absolutely feel sorry for her. Can’t be pleasant to wake up every day to see your hideous face and go through such unbearable pain. I hoped for her own sake she died from childbirth.”

“Ironically she did but didn’t do it alone.” Hooker shielded himself with his arms before he stood up and charged again at Frieza. “My first born son was stillborn!”

Frieza then flew up into the air and cackled. “Thank goodness for that then! This galaxy doesn’t need anymore Hookers running around and sexually assaulting women left and right! Perhaps I should remove that putrid growth of genitals of yours so that way you’ll never procreate again!” He fires a death beam at Hooker’s crotch only for the said general to quickly jump out of the way.

Hooker stares at him while slightly smiling to himself. ‘As long as this continues, that earthling woman will be as good as ours, dear nephew.’

~

You were skimming through the collection of bathing suits when Kuriza pointed out a pretty pink and red two piece bikini with a frilly skirt hanging on the racks.

“What about that one, Y/n?” Kuriza asked.

“It’s so cute!” You gushed as you walked over to check it out. It was soft and elastic yet when you looked at the size of the two piece you groaned in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Asked the boy.

“It’s too small.” You sighed showing him the size small symbol.

Kuriza looked confused. “So?”

“I can’t wear something that will make me look indecent in public.” You said avoiding to explain about one of your breasts possible popping out of the tiny bikini to say ‘hello world!’.

“Might I make a recommendation to you then, ma’am?” A female voice spoke.

Both you and Kuriza turned to see a long, red haired woman with tan skin standing there.

“Sorry but I can’t help but overhear your dilemma. Might I be of assistance to you?” The woman said.

“And you are?” You asked.

“Oh! Pardon my manners! I’m Bebe.” The woman smiles. “I come to this planet quite frequently due to my job as a secretary. You wouldn’t believe the amount of meetings I had to arrange.”

“I bet it is.” You said feeling a bit curious. “So about your help?”

Bebe looks around the store and points to a pink/teal floral pattern one piece bathing suit on a mannequin. “They’re having a sale on that one and it’s real flexible for any body type.”

You awed at the bathing suit and thanked Bebe for showing it to you as you and Kuriza walked over to check the price. It was 9000 credit but since it’s on sale it’s been marked down to 5000 credit. “Is it enough though?”

Kuriza looks at the price tag. “My father sells planets at a higher price than that. You got enough to buy that.” The boy turned only to see your nervous expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Is she looking at us?” You asked getting the dreaded sense of deja vu. Back when you were abducted by the Viagrins on earth.

Kuriza looks at Bebe who smiles at him. “Yes.”

“Is she doing anything suspicious?”

“No. Why?”

“Just keep an eye on her and let me know if she does something out of the ordinary.” You regained your composure after telling him that.

“Okay.”

You picked out the bathing suit and went over to the counter to purchase it.

Bebe smiles to herself as she touches her earpiece in her left ear. “She’s about to leave. Get ready.”

“Roger that, sis.” Her brother said on the other line before hanging up.

Kuriza suspiciously looks at Bebe as she ended the call and slowly moves towards the entrance. He then understood your nervousness about her. Frieza had spent twenty minutes explaining to Kuriza about keeping you safe otherwise Beerus himself would destroy the tyrant for failing to do so. Especially after the deal you made to the deity to make a mouthwatering dish for him. Kuriza had brought it up to his father how stupid you were which was silenced by Frieza stating that to you it was a far easier burden to deal with than what the Viagrins had planned to do to you. For him to say that then the Viagrins must be a really nasty bunch.

“Thank you for shopping! Come again!” The cashier said in a customer service friendly tone after bagging your bathing suit.

Kuriza then remembered his sneezing fits. He always had a bad habit of not controlling his powers whenever he sneezed since he was a newborn. Now seemed like the perfect time to put it to good use and walks with you towards the entrance as he lets his tail tickle his nose. The closer they got towards the doors the more anxious Kuriza got when he didn’t feel the urge to sneeze. But thankfully just as Bebe’s brother was coming into view, Kuriza let out a great big sneeze.

~

“Such a shame you Viagrins never learned to harness your ki.” Frieza mused hovering over Hooker. “Otherwise this fight would’ve been interesting. Though I can’t help but wonder if you got my message or not.”

Hooker smirked. “I did and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Of course you didn’t. Let me guess; you killed the messenger?” Frieza asked nonchalantly.

“Why kill him when I can just fuck him?”

This made both the Frieza force and the Viagrin soldiers shiver in disgust.

Frieza’s eyes widened and his face twisted into a horrified grimace. “Dear god! What’s wrong with you?!”

A sudden surge of ki caught Frieza’s attention as he looks on to the rising smoke. It was Kuriza.

“Well played, Hooker. Well played.” Frieza turns to the general who was now flying towards him and puffs out a pinkish smoke into Frieza’s face making the lizard tyrant cough. “How did you do that?!”

The Viagrin soldiers gasped in shock after seeing Hooker breathe at the emperor.

“Is he even allowed to do that?!” One of them exclaimed.

“He’s not even a woman but the general breathed into his face like that? What is he thinking?” Spoke another.

“I’ve seen enough hentai’s to know where this is going!” The third yelled.

Hooker chuckled and grabs Frieza into a super tight bear hug. “I learned a lot from the last time we battled, Frieza. I spent the last four decades honing my ki to the point where I can take you down.” He then leans into one of Frieza’s domed ear. “Though if you were a woman I would’ve love to take you to paradise and back. Hell why don’t I just do you here and now? In front of your men.” He caressed Frieza’s crotch with his own making the lizard lord feel violated and slaps the general with his tail hard enough to loosen his grip. “Alright then.” Hooker then punched Frieza down towards the ground causing a smokescreen of dirt to erupt upon impact.

“Lord Frieza!” Kikono exclaimed in horror.

“DIE!” Hooker yells as he throws multiple ki blasts at Frieza kicking up more dirt into the air.

Silence filled the air as Hooker seized his attack to watch the dust settle.

An audible chuckle was heard through the air and by the time the air cleared, Frieza was standing in the crater his fall made but this time he was in his golden form. “Very impressive, Hooker. But I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short knowing that you’d want me to be separated from the woman you’re nephew is after.” He disappears for a split second and reappears behind Hooker and brings his clasped hands down on Hooker’s head sending him crashing down into the same crater Frieza was in. The tyrant then fires each death beam into his arms and legs as well as his torso causing Hooker to scream in pain. Frieza relished the sweet sound of agony from his bleeding opponent who’s blood was pooling underneath him. “Anyone else want to die today?” Frieza asked casually.

The Viagrin soldiers immediately dispersed in different directions.

“Good.” Frieza then takes off towards the rising smoke. He let out a disgusted growl as he felt his arousal rising. ‘Damn you, Hooker! You dare try to use that family technique on me so you could assault me!? You are by far the most disgusting Viagrin I’ve ever met!’

~

“Didn’t I tell you to alert me if she was doing anything suspicious?!” You hollered as Kuriza pulls you through the tropical forest.

“The best element of surprise is to do it when the enemy least expects it! My father taught me that!” Kuriza responds running deeper into the forest before seeking cover inside a hollow tree pulling you along. “We’ll stay in here till my father comes.”

You sighed as you looked at your new bathing suit. A loud gurgling sound came from your stomach. “So much for lunch.”

“Tropical planets like this always has native, edible fruits to eat in their natural environment. So there should be plenty of food growing here like that one.” Kuriza points to an apple sized blue fruit hanging high on the right side of the hollow tree.

You set your bag down and start to reach for the fruit which seems impossible due to it being so high. You begin to jump at the fruit but still no luck.

“Just fly up to it.” Kuriza said bluntly feeling annoyed.

“I…..” You wanted to say you can’t but you decided to just try it anyway. “To infinity…and beyond!” You made a Buzz Lightyear pose with your eyes closed.

Immediately Kuriza broke into a laugh. “What was that?!”

You groaned in embarrassment as you looked at the laughing little lizard boy. “Trying to fly?”

“You did it wrong then!” Kuriza chuckled as he calmed down. “ Like this, silly.” The boy floats up towards the fruit and plucked it. He drops it into your hands as you begin eating it. “Hey! I want some too!”

You nod and pull the fruit in two giving the other half to Kuriza. You both sat inside the hollow tree and ate the fruit.

“Can you really fly?” Kuriza asked chuckling a bit.

You sighed. “No.”

“Why not? It’s easy.”

“For you it is. Not to me.”

Kuriza huffs. “It’s only easy because I learned to fly. Learning to fly is no different from learning how to walk. You just need practice is all.”

“Well that’s not the case where I’m from. But I know quite a few people who do fly without riding a plane or a helicopter.” You said.

“Really?” Kuriza asked.

You nodded.

A twig snapped not too far from where you were which caused you to freeze up and drop the nearly eaten fruit.

“She’s gotta be here somewhere.” A man’s voice spoke.

“If we find her I call dibs on that ass of hers!” Another one spoke in a lustful manner.

“We’ll all get a turn with her, guys. Besides we have the same father so it doesn’t matter who fucks her first.” A third chimes in and laughs with the other two.

A knotting feeling formed in the pit of your stomach as you slowly covered your mouth to keep quiet.

“But what about the kid? Bebe said that she was with a little boy that looks like a mini Frieza.” The first one asked.

The third man scoffs. “Kill the brat, of course. Would any of you want another Frieza in this universe?”

You instinctively grabbed Kuriza and held him close. There was no way you would let those bastards harm Kuriza despite the fact that he can defend himself since he’s Frieza’s child.

Kuriza tried to squirm out of your grip. “It’s okay. I can fight them off plus my father should be on his way here after the explosion.” He whispered.

“Then you should meet him halfway there.” You whispered back. It was stupid but right now you were concerned for Kuriza’s safety. “I’ll stay here and wait for him.”

Kuriza narrowed his eyes at you. “No. I’m not going to just leave you. Don’t you even dare suggest that.” The little lizard remembered Baja’s saddened expression as she sent him off in a pod. She had been both his right hand woman and nanny who was always loyal to him and his father. Always took some pride in fulfilling her role and never complained. Baja had been the closest thing to a mother figure than his father. Now she was gone from his side and his life. Kuriza had only met you very recently after that but certain aspects of you reminded him of Baja with the exception of your lack of knowledge with some things that are common to him and that pathetic attempt to fly. Now he doesn’t want to see the same thing happening to you. “I’m gonna create a diversion and we’ll make a run for it.” He said quietly.

“You gonna sneeze again?” You smirked a bit breaking the tension.

Kuriza shook his head in annoyance and pulls himself out of your arms. He peaks his head out looking around the woods. His crimson eyes landed on the Viagrin soldiers who were still mumbling to themselves while searching for you. Kuriza then noticed a huge hive with cat sized bees swarming it. ‘Perfect. Those insects are venomous enough to take out a whole army of those fools with a single sting.’ He grinned mischievously. Using his telekinesis, Kuriza pulls the hive down upon the trio which causes a huge panic among them.

The bees believing that the hive was under attack, stung the frightened Viagrins mercilessly. They attempted to fight back against the bees but the venom was coursing through their veins at a rapid pace to the point of collapsing to the ground as the bees continued to sting them relentlessly.

“Now’s our chance!” Kuriza exclaimed as he pulls you out of the hollow tree and towards the direction of the ship.

“What kind of bees where those back there?!” You asked.

“The kind that can end your life faster than my father could! It’s best to avoid those as much as possible! As a matter of fact don’t go to planets with giant bugs at all!”

“Good to know kid!” A rough voice spoke.

A blur of energy bullets popped out of the trees aiming for Kuriza. However the lizard prince was moving too fast and you ended up with a couple bloody holes in your right arm causing you to scream in pain and surprise. Letting go of Kuriza’s hand, you fell over onto the ground clutching your wounded arm as blood pooled in the dirt.

“Y/n!!” Kuriza looks over your wounds. “You’re gonna need medical treatment ASAP!”

“Shit! I hit the woman.” A voice spoke. Emerging from the bushes was a fourth Viagrin soldier who looked over to see his three dead comrades. “I told those idiots not to go further in. Oh well…” He shrugged. “At least I get the pleasure of dealing with you myself, Frieza’s brat.” The man aims the gun at Kuriza who steels himself to fight back.

A hand suddenly shot through the Viagrin’s stomach catching him off guard. He slowly looks down to see a golden arm pulling back out and turns to see an infuriating Golden Frieza who watches him fall to the ground dead.

“Father!” Kuriza’s smiles but then falters as he sees Frieza’s erected member. “Why-“

“It’s best that you don’t know, Kuriza. Now go back to the ship. I shall tend to Y/n’s wounds myself and we’ll catch up to you.” Frieza interrupted Kuriza as he returned to his usual ivory white.

Kuriza nods before looking at you with both a sense of relief and worry. He then leaves for the ship.

Tearing off a large piece of cloth from the dead Viagrin, Frieza wraps it around your arm. “This will keep you from bleeding out so much but it’s only temporary until we get to the ship.”

You laid there grunting at the pain in your right arm. “What was taking you so long?”

“I got caught in a trap but it wasn’t enough.” Frieza said chuckling a bit. He helped you stand up when you noticed his dick slowly retreating back inside him.

“Were you fucking someone else or just aroused?” You asked.

Frieza glares coldly at you. “I suggest you keep your pretty little mouth shut or I will shove my cock into your mouth and you won’t like how it’ll feel.”

You went silent as you felt a slight knot in your stomach once again but at the same time heat gathers in your nether regions. ‘Why did he make it sound so good when he meant it as a threat?’ You wondered as the two of you headed back to the ship.

~

You woke up in Frieza’s bed and wondered how you got here so fast. ‘Oh right. I was put into a healing tank and I dozed off afterwards.’

“How are you feeling?” Frieza purrs causing you to sit up to see him approaching you with his dick semi showing itself.

You looked at your right shoulder to see that the wound was completely gone as if it never happened. “Much better. Thank you, sir.”

“Good. Now I need your mouth.” Frieza said calmly while climbing on the bed.

“What?”

“Just do it.” He commanded firmly.

You sighed as you gently took him into your mouth.

“No teeth please. You use teeth and I’ll rip your head off.”

You nodded as you sucked on his dick with your lips curled underneath your teeth. It was quite a weird time for oral sex considering how you were almost kidnapped again.

Frieza moaned softly as you bobbed your head slowly and sped up a little. You let your tongue explore his shaft making him hitch a breath.

‘So thick. Can’t believe this was in me last time.’ You thought to yourself as you observe his thick ass penis. Purple as the biogems adorning his body yet fleshy. You sucked on his dick which earned another moan from the Emperor. His fingers slid into your hair as you felt him pushing your head down on him. Gesturing you to speed up. You did just that and not long afterwards he came in your mouth.

“Excellent work, my dear earthling. You may retire to your room until next time.” Frieza dismissed you.

“Are you sure? Is that all the pleasure you need, sir?” You asked feeling your underwear getting soaked from your horny secretion.

“I’m fine for now. Besides you were injured so I don’t want to stress you out by having intercourse with me tonight. You probably are traumatized by today’s event.” Frieza said without much emotion. “I’ve had Berriblu bring you your dinner to your room for tonight. Good night and rest well.”

Something was wrong with him. You couldn’t tell what it was but normally you two would eat together at dinner time. Not this time though. ‘Did something happened while I was with Kuriza?’ You thought while walking out of Frieza’s room.

Frieza let out a disgusted growl as he rushes into the bathroom where he spent a whole hour scrubbing himself down in the shower. “That pig of a man dared to touch me that way! Me! Lord Frieza of all people! And then he puffs that damn aphrodisiac breath into my face to get me aroused…” He held back the urge to puke. “No one has ever dared try to assault me before and I will make sure that it will never happen again.” He murmured still scrubbing himself down.

“Father?”

Frieza looks up to see Kuriza staring back at him with concern.

“Are you alright, father?” Kuriza asked.

“Yes Kuriza. I’m merely venting out is all.” Frieza said rinsing himself off with the shower head.

“Y/n was getting worried about you when she left your room.”

Frieza smirked. “Was she now? As sweet as that is there is nothing to be concerned about since I am not a weak fool. Neither are you, my son. However she did get hurt today so I’m considering on taking her to safer planets.”

Kuriza looked at his father with a confused expression on his face. “But weren’t you going to lure out the Viagrin leader so you could kill him yourself?”

“It still is the plan but today’s incident was unexpected. Besides the earthling could use time to recuperate.”

“Her wounds are already healed though.”

Frieza shook his head. “Healing pods can’t heal mental stress unfortunately.” He takes a towel off the rack to dry himself off. “On another note; I don’t approve of you letting your sneezing fit control your powers but I am glad you did.”

Kuriza smiles. “It was all I could think of at the time to get Y/n out of there.”

Frieza nods. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes father?”

Keeping a smile plastered to his face, Frieza bent down to his son’s level. “You told her how I gave birth to you, didn’t you?”

Kuriza’s face paled. “N-no! I didn’t.”

“Kuriza.” Frieza said in a firm tone as he dropped the smile and stared hard at him. “It’s not nice to lie to your own father like that. You better be honest with me.”

Kuriza gulped nervously. “Yes f-father. I’m s-sorry! She was just asking a bunch of annoying questions and I lost it!”

“I see. Extend your arms and hands out with your palms facing upward please.” Frieza commanded Kuriza.

Kuriza hesitantly did so and in one quick motion got his hands slapped firmly by Frieza’s tail. “OWWW!”

“Never tell anyone else about it. Is that clear?” Frieza huffed.

“Y-yes sir!” Kuriza groaned as he started to walk out of the bathroom but was stopped by a pair of strong arms belonging to Frieza. “Father?”

“Are you alright after what happened today?” Frieza asked softly.

Kuriza turned to see his father’s expression soften. “Of course I am. I’m your child after all.”

Frieza smiles and gentle hugs Kuriza. “Indeed you are.”

~

Hooker sighs as he stares at the purple banana like fruit. He was lucky that he survived Frieza’s ferocious attack to his limbs and thanks to the healing tank his wounds were fully recovered but he had his mind elsewhere. It was only a small glimpse of the emperor’s cock after being exposed to Hooker’s breath but it was enough time for Hooker to admire it. The general peels the banana before licking the tip of it imagining it being Frieza’s cock instead. Slowly he took it in deeper letting out a moan and started to bob his head on it. He could just picture it now; Frieza trembling underneath Hooker’s touch as he sucks him off and that lovely purple pointed dick oozing out some pre-cum.

A demented smirk grew on his face. How could he have not seen it before? How could he not been able to see……….how fuckable Frieza was to him? ‘No matter. He will suffer for my brother’s death but not through death. Frieza will pay with his own body and will forever live the rest of his life as my personal bitch!’

To be continued…..