#this one is... probably 7 chapters? i think... 1 for the beginning 5 for each of the rings and 1 for conclusion

[hiemaldesirae]

unbelievable

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, morning sex, come marking?, cock warming) DOWN BAD!DAEMON, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: this chapter became 6k+ words so i had to split it T_T. at least that means i'll be updating relatively faster lol. i hope you enjoy since all the fluff is here HAHAHAH and if you do, please leave a comment/reblog to let me know <3 <3 <3. once again, the high valyrian is internet translated, so it might be wrong. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Otto nods as he passes a group of clergy members. He makes his way down the otherwise empty temple, eyes forward as he clutches a firm figurine in his hand. He grunts as he gets down on his knees in front of a fresco of the seven pointed star.

He lights three candles in front of him, saying three different names each time. He places the figurine he brought with him beside them. Of course, it wasn't a figurine but a woolen doll. He says another name, your name, then starts this prayers.

"Father, guard my family through this trying time, my son, my daughters... my daughter," he brushes the face of the doll then closes his eyes. "Stranger, put the souls of the departed Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon to rest.

"Warrior, strengthen my daughter and spare her and her unborn child from succumbing the same fate. Mother, grant her comfort and good health through her journey to motherhood. Crone, guide her and grant her good discernment, so that she may not fear the unknown. Maiden, preserve her beauty, her light."

He opens his eyes and stares at the point that represented the Smith. He grits his teeth before sighing in defeat, "Smith, fortifier... mender... I beg," he sighs, "mend her heart. Mend her body. I beseech you. Let not my prayer fall deaf on your ears any longer."

The candlelight before him glows as he waits another day for the answer to his decade old prayer.

Meanwhile, the candles in your room have long been put out, including the one you normally keep lit by your bed. You are first to rouse today, and yet you could not rise from bed, as you were pressed beneath the body of your husband. Daemon sighed contentedly on your chest, one arm and leg draped over you. You have never slept together (or so you think) so you figured that Daemon probably moved a lot in his sleep, which is how you both ended up in this position.

You stare at the top of his head, continuing to brush through his silver hair. In truth, you did not want to rise. You wanted to stay in this peace, in this stillness. It would not last long, you knew it— you dreaded it.

Goosebumps form on your skin when you feel your husband's hand brush over your belly before hooking on to your hip. You begin to feel your heart race as you remember what your father told you the night before.

How could you tell him? How could you possibly tell Daemon that you were with child, when you knew he was so diligent in assuring you would not be? Was it even possible to carry his seed when he never finished inside you?

Against yourself, you remember the day you caught Gwayne kissing a lady behind a curtain, and how you attacked him because you thought he had gotten her pregnant. The poor girl ran away as you beat your twin, and Gwyane defended himself, saying that's not how you do it. You did not know any better, so you told him you did not believe him and nearly forced him to go to your father to announce you would be marrying the lady. He, in turn had to explain what he knew, to both your horror.

You were no fool to simply believe the words of your stupid twin, so you made it your mission to find out the truth. After sneaking books from the Citadel itself, you read many a book only to find out your twin was telling you the truth.

That was why dread rippled across your skin, for could there ever be a world where Daemon purposefully pulled out and is not angered by this news, where he does not accuse you of infidelity?

You go between worry and peace as you brush your fingers across the prince's skin. You try to convince yourself that all will be well, but each time you do, another part of your mind raises that nothing's ever been well with you. You decide then, even if just for this moment, you will pretend the calmness of your husband will remain.

But the world is cruel, for at this same moment, Daemon awakens.

He stirs with a groan, face rubbing against your sternum. The robe you had on was no longer covering your chest. Your heart races as he looks up at you, his violet eyes still sleepy, "sȳz ñāqes."

You do not understand, but you assume it means good morning, and so you say, "good morning."

Daemon sighs as he pushes himself up, removing his pants. You tense as he comes atop you and kisses your neck. He nudges your head to the side with his own and soon, he pushes your legs apart with his knees.

Your hands come to his hip bones, where you then dig your nails in, making him groan. You whimper when you feel him grind his groin into yours. He is half-hard.

"Sesīr isse ñuha ēdrugon, jaelan ao." Even in my sleep, I want you.

You whimper yet again when he begins to rock against you, digging your nails deeper into him.

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters as he fully parts your robe, repeating in common tongue, "calm down."

You are taken aback by how he pecks your lips once before kissing your neck again.

"Dreamt about fucking your pretty cunny," he mutters lowly between kisses, "wanna make it real."

His words make you ache and throb. In a way, you were comforted by the thought Daemon wanted you, even if it was just your body. You close your eyes and let yourself relax. You sigh against his ear, nuzzling into his shoulder, and brush your hand up his back. As your hands trail to his biceps, his skin breaks out with gooseflesh and a high pitched whimper leaves his lips.

"Fuuuuuuck," he whines out rather pathetically.

There is a languidness to his movements unlike you've ever experienced. His normally brash and pointed demeanor is soft and gentle, his kisses even more so. There is no sense of urgency whatsoever as he rolls his hips against you. If you didn't know any better, you would have believed that he wanted to savor the moment.

He did. He wanted to savor your body, as dreaming of it had him feeling some indistinguishable way. You would never know this though, for he would never tell you.

By the time you've become shaky and your cunt was absolutely sopping wet because of Daemon's now fully hard cock rubbing up against it, he finally pushes into you, drawing out a deep groan from your throat. You tighten your legs and arms around him and your teeth sink into his shoulder.

Daemon grips your thighs as he thrusts into you. He barely pulls out, seemingly determined to go deeper and deeper each time, wanting— needing to be pressed flush into you. His hands sneak beneath you, fingers raking up your shoulder blades to your nape before tangling into your brown hair. He breathes heavily against your ear as your bodies grow hotter and hotter.

You both remain in this snug position, doing this constricted dance until your bellies begin to burn. He doesn't speed up at all or pull out any more than he already has. You feel your body begin to tense and your climax begin to build, and then, just then, a spirit overcomes Daemon.

The next moment, he has his hand on your jaw, forcing your head back. Just as you reach your peak, he pulls out and thrusts his wet cock on your slick folds, once, twice, until his hard member is soft and twitching. His load shoots out up to your chest and sputters down on your belly, garnering a surprised gasp from you. It's hot and viscous against your skin and you wonder what it would have felt like had he released in you. There's so much of it too.

"Fuck, fuck, fu-" Daemon repeats, thinking the exact same thing you were.

You expect him to roll over, because there is no way he wouldn't after soiling you, but you gasp yet again as he comes crashing down on you, skin sticking with a squelch.

He is arrested by your warmth and wants nothing but to plunge into you again. So, in his greed, he grabs his still twitching cock and pushes it into you, releasing a long and throaty groan as he does so. It makes you tremble and whimper his name. You were not expecting the intrusion, so you brush your cheek against his, hoping he understands to give you a moment of repose before going again.

After a while, though you still felt tender from your orgasm, you brush your cheek against him once more, signaling you were ready for him again.

He does the strangest thing however, and simply brushes his cheek back. He pulls his head back, looking down at you, "litse riña." Pretty girl.

You notice the softness of his violet eyes and knit your brows at it. He is so overwhelming you cannot help but kiss him. There was still remnants of morning breath in your mouths, but neither of you cared.

Daemon is loathe to have you pull away. He leans into your touch as you brush his unruly hair back. You slowly shake your head, "I do not understand, my prince."

"iksā sīr rāpa se bāne," you are so soft and warm. He brushes your noses together, "ñuha ābrazȳrys," my wife.

A line forms between your brows at the foreign tongue. You wait for him to translate as he brings his hand to your cheek. He stares at you for a long moment, thumb brushing your skin.

He makes no attempt to decode the High Valyrian for you, and soon, a knock comes upon your door.

Daemon is instantly irritated as he glares over his shoulder, muttering, "who the fuck is that?"

"My servants. I-"

Before you could even finish, your two servant girls are waking in, and Daemon watches them as they head for your bathroom, horribly and painfully unaware of him. He waits for them to reemerge, and the moment they do, he is instantly screaming, "FUCK OFF, CUNTS! THE DOOR'S CLOSED FOR A REASON."

You hear their gasps, squeals, and apologies before scurrying off, slamming the door behind them as they did.

Instantly, yet again, Daemon relaxes and nuzzles against your neck.

"D-Daemon," you whisper, sinking your fingers into his long hair, "they normally wake me up at-"

"I don't give a fuck," he quips, tightening his hold on you, "they'll know better now."

You clench your jaw and sigh, making mental note to apologize to your girls for the prince's actions.

You begin to doze off, as does Daemon in all his gluttonous glory. The two of you stay in bed until lunch time, which is far longer than you've ever personally stayed.

Arryk, who had been stationed outside your door for a while now, is concerned by this. He raps at the entrance to your room and calls your name. When he receives no response, he peaks inside and inspects the stillness of it all. Unnerved by the idea you were sleeping in, he thinks the worse and walks in, calling your name again. His breath is forced down his throat when he sees the flash of white hair on the bed. He sees a hand rub down a toned back and he immediately reels back, quiet and as quick as he possibly can.

You wake the second time because of the growling of your stomach. It is loud and painful, so much so, it wakes your husband.

He groans, brushing his nose against you, "hungry?"

You huff, craning your neck to look at him, finding his closed eyes, "clearly, I'm starving."

A rich chuckle rumbles from his chest. He opens his eyes and they twinkle with mischief, "I could feed you something meaty."

Your face contorts, "I do not think you'd want me to bite your cock, my prince."

Daemon laughs, hard enough to fully awaken him. He wheezes, and rolls of your chest, "I did-" sigh, "not say it was-" wheeze, "my cock."

You hum, "oh, of course not. Apologies."

Your sarcasm only maddens him further into amusement.

You take this as a chance to wriggle away from him, and so you do. The semen still on your skin is tepid and pasty as it smears against your chests. Your robe is completely lose as you come to a stand. You decide not to dirty your garment with Daemon's seed by covering yourself, so you head for the bathroom with your robe open.

You gasp at the swiftness of how your are grabbed and pulled back. Your body collides into Daemon's chest. Your care for your satin robe if for naught, because it sticks on his come anyway. Daemon's is hypnotized by your scent. He is quick to brush your hair over shoulder and mumble against your nape, "you wound me with your eagerness to flee me, wife."

His hands come to squeeze your breasts and you whimper as you turn to him. You knit your brows and pout, "that is not true."

"No?" he says a little louder than he ought as his emotions slightly get ahead of him, "are you not running from me this moment?"

You frown and fully face him, having to peel your robe off his chest as you do, "I'm simply going to bathe." You stare at his chest, "you've made a mess of me."

Daemon tilts his head, "not nearly enough, in my opinion."

You find the self-satisfied grin on his face, "you should too bathe with me."

"Mmm, well then," he takes your hand, "bathe we shall."

The water that your servants had brought was now cold, but you both made do with what you had. Daemon is simultaneously unsurprised and taken aback by how you tend to him first, he does not know why. You've bathed him once before, and yet it somehow feels different. You scrub his chest with cloth and inspire him to do the same for you. You lean into his touch as he washes you off, and it makes his stomach roll.

He takes a good look at you, your skin, the marks he left on it, your nose, your knees, your hair, everything, and he cannot believe something so... so immaculate, so resplendent could be borne from a man so detestable.

"You are not your father's daughter," he says so casually.

You look up at him, freezing because of his random sentiment.

"You are the gods promise to me. A woman made to sate my fire."

Your brows knit at his words. You tilt your head and it makes him nearly goes mad. How darling you ask, "I sate your fire?"

He hums and pulls you into him, kissing your arm as he did, "stoke, perhaps, is truer."

Your breath hitches when he brings you to his lap. He sighs as he feels your flesh against his, it wont be long until he's hard all over again. He licks a stripe up your left breast, "I am, in fact, insatiable."

Your heart races and he peppers kisses up your neck. You lean your forehead against his after kissing your lips. You whisper in earnest, "I will try."

Daemon pulls back, hands coming to your neck as he looks at you.

"I will try to sate you."

Fuck. The thought should have made him laugh, but it doesn't. It makes him burn. He cannot say anything, for his mouth seeks yours. He kisses your lips and you two sequentially spend another hour or so turning the water warm as it splashes all over the floor.

You're antsy and eager to feast by the end of it all.

You help each other get dressed, and Daemon finds the way you hastily button his doublet ever-so-endearing. When it's his turn to help, he shushes you and rubs your shoulders before securing your corset from behind, "your food will not fly off the window."

You rub your aching stomach, "I pray it flies into my mouth soon."

He snickers as he finishes tying your laces.

You quickly run towards the vanity and hastily begin to brush your still damp hair.

He watches you bounce your leg and the faintest of smiles graces his lips. He watches your chest begin to rise and fall rather quickly, and soon his brows furrow. He walks up behind you, "aeritta run." Restless thing.

He takes your hand and your jaw, but it is unlike most times he does so. His touch is gentle. He does not force you to hand your brush or look forward, but you do. You look at each other from the mirror; your chest continues to heave.

"Paez ilagon," Daemon enunciates, "say it for me, won't you?"

Your brows furrow in slight confusion. You release a breath, "pez ilegon."

"Paez," he corrects.

"Paez."

"Good," he nods, "ilagon."

"Il... Ilagon."

"Rōvēgrior," Daemon leans in and mumbles against your temple, "excellent. Now..." he kisses your temple, "once more: paez ilagon."

You take a breath, doing your best to mimic his accent, "pa...ez i- ... lagon."

"Arlī," again, he motions with his pointer, "speak confidently."

"Daemon."

"You can do it," he tilts his head at your reflection, "paez ilagon."

You sigh and nod your head, "paez ilagon."

His violet eyes twinkle, "rōvēgrior," excellent, he claps his hands, "spoken like a true Valyrian."

You turn to him, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, "wha-"

Daemon takes your face and makes you turn forward.

You look at his reflection and grip your skirt, fearing you'd upset him. But then he begins to style your hair and butterflies overcome your belly. You try to ignore the thump of your heart by clearing your throat, "what d-does it mean?"

"Paez ilagon is slow down."

"Ahhh," your jaw drops in slight embarrassment, "I see."

Daemon points, "hand me your pin."

You get the hair pin on the vanity and hand it over, "and the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"Ro... roz- rovevegregor."

Daemon tilts his head as he chuckles through his nostrils, a soft smile remaining on his face as he finishes securing your hair in a similar manner he does himself.

You witness all of this and your heart skips a beat.

"Rōvēgrior," he repeats, "try to roll your tongue."

"..."

"Go on."

"RRRRozeofoieve-"

He laughs and takes a hair tie from the table. He quickly does his own hair then takes you by the hand. He ushers you to the door as he continues to chuckle, "we should get you something to eat. You sound ill."

You are hypnotized by his melodic laugh. You don't dare interrupt it, so you whisper under your breath, mostly to yourself, "but what does it mean?"

"Excellent," he says, hearing your whisper. He opens the door for you, "it means excellent, gevie."

You do not notice Arryk as you exit your chambers, "but what about that?"

Daemon does not notice him either, "what?"

"Ge- gevie?"

"Gevie?" he repeats.

You nod.

Arryk bows and greets you, "princess."

You turn to him as he bows again, "my prince."

Daemon does not spare him a glance. Beautiful, it meant, but he instead tells you, "it is a secret."

You do not respond to Daemon, but he does not mind. He is fully content to stare at you. You smile at your ward, taking a second to guess who it is, "good morn, ser. Are you... Erryk?"

Arryk examines you, finally breathing a sigh of relief to know you are unharmed. He is also glad to see you are not dressed in attire that... exposes the good works of your husband. In the same second, he notices your said husband, and how keenly is gaze is set upon your beaming form. He clenches his jaw, "nay, your grace. Neither am I my brother, nor is it morning."

"Oh," you purse your lips, "my apologies, dear Arryk."

Daemon quickly pulled out of his haze, raising a brow at dear Arryk, "you may go."

Arryk turns to him.

"I will keep my wife company today," he says, wasting no more time in idle chatter, taking you by the hand.

You both walk off and you offer Arryk a smile and nod in regard.

Arryk clenches his jaw but forces himself to smile back at you. He is uneasy by the prospect, knowing how fickle and volatile Daemon can become regarding you. He stares at your joined hands as you walk away, deciding to trust the prince for your sake.

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

MDNI! 18+ Content ahead

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (f recieving), soft sex, love making (?), protected sex, badly written smut, love confessions, sappy,crying after sex (bothJack and reader)

Summary: They go on their planned date.

Again: MDNI! 18+ Content ahead

A/N: Hey everyone! So first of all I have to point out that this is my first time writing smut so please be forgiving, another thing is this it not proof read because I think I might delete this if I proof read this. This was planned to be the last chapter of ‚First meetings‘ but I have decided that after this I will be writing an epilouge (time skip) to take a quiet peek in what happened to Jack and reader afterwards. I hope you enjoy even though this is probably not my best work.

The news had spread like wildfire, well except towards the admin staff. It was like everyone was talking about it and yet no one dared to mention it towards either of them. People gave her knowing glances when she walked through the halls, no one seemed to judge them, though there seemed to be questions, questions that neither her nor Jack would answer or even knew the real question to. Still it was obvious that there were some people that seemed to be confused about the whole dynamic. Since the beginning of the week, since the confession he was harder on her than he had been before. Not rude, not brutally so, but he pushed her harder, made her work on perfection. She wasn’t mad at him, he didn’t do it to give her a hard time, no he did it because he cared, he did it so that no one could accuse him of playing favorites. Something she really understood, something she knew he needed to prove to people.

The week had dragged on like gum stuck to the soles of your shoes. Not because of the work she had to put in, no that had made her realise of what she was even capable of, made her understand that sometimes doubt was her worst enemy and that when he pushed her he overcame that doubt for her in some strange way. He had already done that before, though now it felt like he had stopped holding back. Maybe she had also just gained confidence she needed from the fact that she knew someone had her back. No, the week had dragged on because of the date she was meant to go on. It felt like it was never going to be Saturday night, though on Saturday morning seven thirty felt like it was ages away.

Sitting in front of the mirror she had tried to calm her nerves, already ready she checked the clock again, it had been seven fifteen. Trying to keep her nerves at bay she fiddled with the hem of the dress she was wearing.It was mid length, showing off everything she wanted to show off, though the most important thing about this dress was that it made her feel pretty, made her feel gorgeous even, confident. Masie and Tommy had been angels the entire day, helping her out with picking the dress, as well as the jewelry and other accessories. Masie was a lot more excited about the whole endeavour than Tommy.

It had felt kind of weird to give Jack the address of the apartment she shared with Masie and Tommy, telling him that she was able to get to the restaurant on her own, but he had insisted on picking her up. Jack had shown up at seven twenty five, holding a bouquet of white lilies. It was beautiful and she had put in a vase on her nightstand, offering him to come in, though he had politely declined.

The place he had taken her to was nice, a mexican place, the owner an old friend of his. The food had been some of the best she had ever eaten and the company had been almost as good. They had spoken softly with each other, their voices always slightly hushed, their hands brushing together. It was like someone had cast a spell on them, like they were in their own little world while they ate. Time flew by and it got late when they walked out of the restaurant, their fingers intertwined, the blazer jacket Jack had been wearing draped over her shoulders after she had shivered slightly when the cool air had hit her skin. His smell swirling around her like some kind of promise.

As they stood in front of his truck Jack gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, the skin of the pad of his thumb rough against her flesh. Leaning into his touch she let out a soft sigh of content, the cool air whirling around them. Jack gently coaxed her towards him, so that she would look at him. His second hand also went to her face, gently squeezing her cheeks as she smiled at him.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he whispered softly as he leaned in closely, their lips brushing once again. He pressed his lips against hers, slowly moving them, she joined in his rhythm, his tongue slipping between her lips. Her hands had found their way into his shirt, clutching the dark fabric at his sides, trying to pull him closer. As they broke apart it felt like she was fighting for every breath, wanting to kiss him again was an overwhelming urge in her mind. The feeling of him pressed against her, even with their foreheads simply resting against each other, their breath mingling together as they kissed again, this time quicker, but a few kisses in succession. The stubble on his face tickled her slightly.

“You know…” she paused softly, trying to speak as quietly as possible, “That suit looks really good on you, but I think it would look a lot better on your bedroom floor,” as she finished speaking, she pressed a soft kiss to his throat. He tutted softly as he pulled her back slightly, a soft glimmer in those beautiful hazel eyes.

“You are going into dangerous territory there, sweetheart,” his voice was slightly gravelly as he looked down at her, his pupils blown wide. A slight tingle settled in her lower stomach as she smiled coyly at him, batting her lashes as innocently as possible.

“Am I?” she tried to sound as innocent as possible while blinking slowly at him, eyes wide. A small smile on her lips as she saw his jaw clench.

“Yeah, how about we go back to my place?” he suggested, trying to keep his composure. Like it wasn’t what both of them had been planning for. Nodding softly she grabbed his hand, gently squeezing it. Jack opened the door to the passenger seat with his other hand, letting her get in the car before he closed the door and rounded the truck before plopping into the driver’s seat. The ride back to his place was filled with playful banter and soft laughter.

The moment Jack had parked the car and they were in the elevator to his place their lips met again, moving in a familiar rhythm, his hands holding her waist tightly as he pulled her close. Jack’s lips found her neck, coaxing her head into her neck he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to the column of her throat. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he sank his teeth into the soft skin where her throat met her shoulder. Pressing into him she closed her eyes, sighing as he carefully pressed a gentle kiss to the spot.

A soft bing and the elevator halted. Jack moved, though her mind stalled for a moment, he had taken her hand in his, urging her to move. Opening her eyes she followed him out of the elevator, the heat in her stomach and the tingling between her legs almost consuming everything as she followed him through the hallway.

It was like the hallway grew longer with every step she took, his hand in hers like a burning reminder of his presence. His smell clouded her mind as he stopped in front of his door, the sound of the key turning, the lock clicking, it was all just on the edge of reality. A quiet squeaking from the hinges of the door was the only indicator of Jack pushing open the door. Quickly they moved inside, Jack dragging her along, carefully closing the door behind them he was on her again.

He backed her against it, his hot ips on her jack, carefully biting, kissing, moving up towards her mouth. Their lips met again, moving together, her hands travelled up his torso, gently stroking his belly as she let out small whimpers. One warm hand had wrapped itself around her waist, gently keeping her put, pressed up against the door, the other had found its way into her hair, gently tugging on it while they kissed. Moving her hips slightly she tried to grind down on him, her arousal growing with every passing second.

“Jack,” she whispered softly as they drew apart, the hand that had been on her waist now hovering above her breast, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the still covered flesh, not quite touching yet.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” his voice was slightly strained, she tried to move her head forward, but the grip on her hair was too tight for that, though it did not hurt. Moving her hips against his she felt the bulge in his pants, grinding down on him as best as she could.

“Ah, ah, sweetheart,” he whispered softly, gently pressing another kiss to the column of her throat, “What do you want?”

“Please!” she whimpered softly, trying to get more friction from him. Arching her back against his hand she hummed softly as she looked at him.

“You have to tell me what you want, darling,” Jack hummed softly as his hand slowly travelled from her hair towards her jaw, cupping it, pressing a thumb against her jaw.

“Please, Jack, please touch me,” she whispered softly, the slickness between her legs warm and aching. Her hands slowly went upwards gently brushing over the fabric of the shirt he was wearing.

Suddenly Jack grabbed her, a squeak escaped her as her feet left the ground, throwing her over his shoulder she had to laugh involuntarily letting herself be carried to where she knew the bedroom was.

As the door fell shut behind Jack and the light clicked on she was gently placed on the bed, laying on the edge with her feet dangling off the mattress. Toeing off her shoes she watched as Jack tossed the blazer she had previously worn onto the chair in the corner of the room. A small smile on his lips as he looked at her, those hazel eyes burning with something she could only describe as hunger locked on to her.

Slowly she sat up from the bed, opening the zipper on the side, then letting the dress pool around her waist, blinking slowly at Jack as he seemed to have frozen in his movements as the black lace bra she had opted for became visible.

“Damn,” he whispered softly, stepping towards her his hand hovering above her breast, fingers twitching like he was fighting with himself not to touch her.

“Please,” she whined softly, puffing out her chest slightly, the soft flesh brushing against his fingers. Carefully he cupped her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze as his other hand went into her hair again, pulling her upwards slightly. Hot lips pressing against hers again, moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm as he slowly brushed his fingers against her breast. Trying not to break the connection she shimmied out of the dress, letting it fall to the ground beside the bed. A soft whine came from her Jack’s lips left her, the whine turning into soft moans as he began to suckle and bite into the soft flesh of her neck. Gently nibbling on some spots. Reaching out her fingers brushed against his bulge, carefully palming him through the dress pants. Low groans and moans came from Jack, his hips bucking into her hand as he continued his assault on her neck. She was sure that there would be marks of his little adventure in the morning.

A gasp left her lips as she felt a finger brushing against her slit. Jack hummed against her neck as he repeated the motion, slowly stroking his fingers from her entrance to her clit.

“So wet for me,” he whispered in her ear as she bucked against his fingers, trying to get more from him.

Slowly the hand which had been on her breast moved to her back, unclasping the bra with ease. Carefully he pulled off the bra, discarding it on the ground, pushing her back on the bed, latching onto her nipple, swirling his tongue around it. Soft gasps and moans came from her as she arched into him, his legs settled beside her hips, keeping her in place.

She clawed at the shirt he was still wearing, the pulsing between her legs getting worse as she whined and writhed. Slowly Jack moved away from her breast, his hands ghosting down her sides as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses on her ribcage and stomach. Gently nibbling at the skin from time to time until he reached the panties that had matched the bra. Slowly he pulled it off her hips, discarding it somewhere.

“Come on pretty girl,” he gently coaxed her, her thighs falling open. In one smooth motion he knelt at the edge of the bed. His head between her thighs as a cool gust of wind hit her she let out an involuntary whimper, the bastard had blown air at her core. Writhing slightly she tried to reach for his head.

“Shsh,” he gently brushed away her hand. He started at her knee, pressing gentle kisses to it, then travelled up her thigh, stopping at the junction between her hip and leg, the moment she thought she might finally get the sweet relief of his lips on her he drew back again. A whine escaped her as she looked at him.

“Please, Jack,” she whined softly, trying to get him to speed things up a bit. A chuckle and a shake of the head later he repeated the process on the other leg, then finally his mouth met her core. His lips pressed soft kisses along her slit before he licked a long, slow stripe from her hole to her clit. It was like something inside of him snapped after that. He ate her out like a man starved, like he had not eaten in years and she was the first thing he saw.

“So wet for me,” he hummed softly against her, the vibration sending shivers down her spine. With every lick, every movement the tightness in her stomach got worse, the tingling spreading to her legs, which were beginning to shake slightly. As he slipped in one finger a mewl left her lips grinding down on his mouth and hand she tried to get him to move more. Soft pants leaving her lips as he moved his finger inside of her, finding the spongy spot that made her see stars every time he hit it. Soon a second finger was added and the coil in her stomach became too much to bear.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know you can do it,” he encouraged softly. That made her snap, she felt herself fluttering around him, her visions going blank for a moment before she came back to reality, breathing heavily she looked at Jack. His mouth glistened softly, licking his lips and fingers like he was savouring every single drop she had given him.

“You taste so damn good,” he groaned softly as he looked at her, still dressed in the shirt and suit pants he had been wearing during dinner, hair dishevelled, more so than usually. A soft groan left her lips, the shaking in her legs not quite gone yet.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she muttered into the blanket as she turned her head to the side, feeling her face get hot from the sight of Jack kneeling between her legs. A soft chuckle came from him as she heard movement as she looked at him, his eyes glistening softly in the light of the room.

“You doing okay?” his voice low. She knew that there was more to the question than just asking if she was okay, he was asking if she was okay to keep going.

“I am doing fucking fantastic,” she grinned at him, she paused for a moment, “Though I think I would be doing a lot better if would get rid of that suit,” she hummed.

“With pleasure,” Jack hummed softly. It was slow, but he rid himself of the shirt, revealing the toned pecs and soft belly, something she loved so much about him, the well trained shoulders moved as he opened the belt of the pants, then sat down on the edge of the bed, cursing quietly as he took off the leg, then shimmied out of the rest of the pants. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a silent command with his stare. Scooting up the bed she placed herself against the headboard, the pulsing and need getting more again, like they hadn’t ebbed away a bit a few moments ago.

Slowly Jack crawled up the bed, the black boxers doing little to conceal his straining cock as he hovered over her. Carefully lowering his head, their lips met again, moving together, she could taste herself on his lips, drawing a soft moan from her. She could feel him moving then a kick, slowly reaching towards his cock she felt the soft skin of him, gently running her fingers from the tip to the base. A low moan came from Jack as he thrust into her touch. Drawing away Jack looked at her, moving away he sat on his knees moving slightly to grab a condom from the nightstand, quickly opening it and putting it on before he came back down to her their lips meeting again, hot and slow, their mouths moved. As he drew away again his held her gaze, slowly moving to push into her, the stretch was delicious a quiet moan escaped her.

As he started moving slowly it was strange for a moment. This was different from the first night they had spent together, not bad, but there was no urgency, there was something else behind his slow thrusts, her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to her. It was like they were both trying to melt together, like they were trying to become one single entity. His movement never faltered, he kept the same pace, one hand finding her clit, gently drawing circles, she wasn’t sure how long they kept going, both her and Jack whispering soft encouragement, soft praise, then Jack’s movements began to stutter.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he muttered softly, she moaned softly as she nodded, the tightness in her lower stomach close to snapping.

“Yeah, me too,” she whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his lips as she felt him press himself farther into her than before, hips twitching as he came, his hands did not still and soon she followed him over the edge. It was intense, everything around her became blurry, the smell of their bodies suddenly became more intense than it had been before, the feeling of their skin pressed together the only thing she could feel. She was not sure how much time had passed, but she could feel hot tears running down her cheeks, Jack had buried his head in the crook of her neck, his body resting on hers, his arms pressed up against her ribcage. Her arms still wrapped around his neck, gently she threaded her hands through his hair, the tears still running down her cheeks.

“I think I love you,” she whispered, her voice rough, a soft sniffle from her, she felt hot liquid hitting her neck, a gentle kiss to where her pulse point was, though she received no words, she did not need them, knowing that this was his way of telling her that he did too.

—————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88 @moonshooter @wowitsafemale @qardasngan @starlightmoon2020 @loonyloomis

[omanotherstory]

Welcome Exchange Students, to Obey Me! Another Story.

An Interactive rewrite lesson by lesson by @devildomditzy

This is a playable rewrite of the original Obey Me! game’s story, using clickable dialogue options to progress the story. 

Please read the Quick Start Guide below to learn how to begin your journey to the Devildom.

Obey Me!, its characters, story, content, assets, etc., belong to NTT Solmare. This blog has no affiliation. This is purely a free-to-access fan work.

If you like what I do, I have a ko-fi - any contributions will go towards funding my mammon card gambling addiction 😌

Obey Me! Another Story is a rewrite of the original Obey Me! game’s story. As such, it will contain elements, dialogue options, plot points, etc. from the game.

If you have not played the original Obey Me! Game, only Obey Me! Nightbringer, it is highly recommended that you finish the original game in app or read the entire story through Obey Me! Nightbringer’s time chronicles function. 

The first few lessons will heavily lean on the in-game writing and dialogue.This will change as we move away from the first few lessons/set up of the story, though this entire experience will follow the plot of the game. 

I will be posting this lesson by lesson. The beginning of each lesson will have a post labeled “START STORY HERE”. Please begin there for each lesson. Ignore the additional posts, as the linked dialogue options on the initial post will bring you to the next part of the story. 

The last post of the lesson (for all dialogue options) will be labeled ‘LESSON END”. If that post does not have an additional link that takes you to the next lesson, that means the next lesson is not out yet. 

To begin, please click the link in the “Lessons” tab below of the lesson you’d like to read. Of course, if you are just starting please begin at lesson one. The posts will take you through to the next lesson if available.

If you are following along as I am uploading this rewrite and caught up to the posted content during one of your read throughs, please access the next lesson you need via the “Lessons” tab below, like a chapter book. The lessons will be organized exactly like the game (lesson 1-1, 1-2,1-3, etc.). 

If you are currently reading and a dialogue option does not have a link attached, I am most likely currently uploading and editing that chapter. If you believe you have found a genuine broken or missing link, please send me an ask on @devildomditzy.

For all questions and inquiries, please inbox me @devildomditzy.

If for any reason this blog becomes inactive, it will be stated in the description.

THE DIALOGUE IS FORMATTED AS FOLLOWS:

You are MC.

Your thoughts look like this.

(Your actions look like this)

MC: Your dialogue looks like this.

Other character's actions look like this.

Character: Other character's dialogue looks like this.

Once lessons are fully uploaded and ready to go, their starting page link will appear here!

-----CHATPER 1 ------

LESSON 1-1

LESSON 1-2

LESSON 1-3

LESSON 1-5

LESSON 1-7

LESSON 1-10

LESSON 1-13

LESSON 1-15

-----CHAPTER 2-----

LESSON 2-2

LESSON 2-4

LESSON 2-6

LESSON 2-8

Who else works on this project?

This is a solo project and a labor of love. As such, uploads may be slow.

What is the upload schedule? 

As of right now, it is whenever I can. I am a full time university student with a full time job. As such, uploads may be slow.

How long will this run for?

As long as I can do it without burning out, it will continue through the entire story. Also if this gets like no traction, I probably won’t complete it. The project might get cancelled if that is the case, since this is such a big undertaking. 

You said you were going to edit screenshots of the game in photoshop to go with the story. Where are they?

I decided I really don’t think I’d like getting sued.

You really like Mammon. Is the story going to be Mammon x MC centric?

No, I will be fleshing out all options (including romantic options) for all brothers and dateables so you can pick your favorite!

I have a question. Where can I contact you?

Please send me an ask on my main blog, @devildomditzy.

I don’t like the way you wrote ‘such and such’! 

The great thing about fanworks is you can go make your own and it can be however you’d like! However, this is mine. So if you don’t like it, don’t read it! 

Have fun be safe love you!

[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (there’s also a Yandere Scenario here, but please be careful when reading!)

Chapter 8: In Your Eyes

Chapter summary: It looks like Hyrule has a way for you to see ghosts. Sounds like a fun project while you wait for Time to pop up

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

“Time is still gone?” Twilight stresses as the clock strikes three. Warriors rubs the back of his neck, and Sky bites at his nails.

“We looked as far as we could, but his range is better than ours. It’s possible he just wandered away, but it’s also possible… They described something like a time slip. Time’s only ever been able to make those during the witching hour.” Sky mumbles, glancing nervously at the polished Ocarina of Time on display on one of your bookcases. He doubts you even recognize the instrument, but you still clean it the same as everything else in your house.

“He wouldn’t… pass on from a time slip. He must just be resting.” Twilight growls, running his hands through his hair. Warriors hums an agreeing sound, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“This is no time to be arguing. The others succeeded in calming our living friend, but they’re still upset by whatever they saw. Unfortunately, we don’t have the answers they need, but we can start working on a way for them to get the answers from Time themself.” Warriors tilts his head towards the wall seperating the office from the living room, just in time for Hyrule to stumble through, quietly corralling the rest of the ghosts into the office.

“Sorry we’re late for the meeting. Is Time back, yet?” Hyrule asks, glancing around, only to deflate at the negative responses he receives in turn.

“We’re discussing how to help them see and communicate with us easier. You said your book had a potion for that, right?” Warriors asks, and Hyrule glances away nervously.

“Well, yes, but… T-they probably wouldn’t want to see us. I mean- we aren’t the prettiest to look at.” Hyrule gestures to himself. When a person becomes a ghost, they look just like how they did when their body passed away. Hyrule, for his part, has a myriad of scratches slowly bleeding down his arms and legs, and lichtenberg scars crawling from his right eye, spreading out and disappearing under his tattered shirt.

Silence fills the room as each hero takes in their own scarred and tattered appearances.

“…It’s true that none of us look how we used to. But I don't think that would matter to our friend. They accepted us as invisible ghosts who could hardly talk. I think they’d be willing to accept us like this, as well.” Warriors whispers, holding his mangled left arm close to his body. Everyone looks away, quiet for a moment.

“If that’s what you think, Warriors. I trust you. I’ll guide them to my book tomorrow.” Hyrule agrees, looking to the simple brown tome placed on one of your shelves. The others mumble their thanks before the meeting is concluded, and everyone disperses to do their own things for the night.

~~

“This is what you wanted me to find?” You ask, pulling a dusty tome off of your shelves. You didn’t even know it was there, much less that it held some sort of significance to your ghostly friend. Regardless, Hyrule flickers happily, and you tote the book over to your desk to begin flipping through it.

The book is pretty nondescript, other than the strange language decorating its pages. It looks like old Hylian, and you end up pulling out a translator to be sure. It’s not one-for-one, and there are notes in the margins written in a completely foreign language. But you’re glad you paid at least some attention in history class, or else you wouldn’t be able to translate the tome at all.

“Are these… spells? Hyrule, were you some sort of mage?” You ask, pulling out a notebook to really start translating the writing you’re looking at. You doubt you’re getting the translations right, but it’s better than nothing.

The lights flicker every now and then, letting you know that Hyrule is still with you. Is he waiting for you to find something? It must be a spell relating to ghosts. Surely there’s not a resurrection spell in here?

A certain page sticks out to you. It claims you can make a potion that lets you see and talk to the dead. This must be why Hyrule wanted you to look inside this book.

“This is what you wanted me to find?” You ask, looking towards the light in the room. One flicker. That’s a yes.

“Haha, I guess you guys must like me if you want me to see you. Are you sure that’s okay? I… I’m just a normal person.” You flinch at your own admittance. It’s unfortunately true. You aren’t some great hero who vanquished evil. You’re a person who just so happened to buy a house without researching why it was so cheap.

For a second, it feels like a hand lightly rests on your shoulder, but the moment is gone before you can process it. Still, you understand the message loud and clear.

“If that’s what you really think, Hyrule. Wanna help me find the ingredients for this? I’ll admit I have no clue what a silent shroom is.”

~~

It takes two days to gather all of the ingredients. Some of them apparently went extinct since whenever the book was made, but Hyrule luckily helps you find substitutes. His notes must be the ones in the margins of the book. Warriors explained that the language was Gaelic, which is also an extinct language.

You’re beginning to think that Hyrule is ancient and probably died naturally of old age.

“So we have to cook these in a cauldron over low heat for two days. Question- would a crockpot work?” You ask, rifling through your cupboard and eventually pulling out an absolutely ancient slow cooker. Apparently it was your grandmas, and your mom eventually passed it down to you.

The lights flicker three times, which is code for ‘I don’t know‘. You figure this potion won’t work anyway, so what’s the harm in trying.

“I’m gonna make it in here. It’s the closest thing I have.” You admit. Silence greets you, and you feel like Hyrule is turning his back on you. Traitor.

The ingredients are dumped in the heavy Mason pot along with some water from the tap. You turn the power on low and just… step back.

Well. You have better stuff to do than watch this potion cook. You shrug with little fanfare and wander to your living room, digging further into Hyrule’s spell book for your nighttime activity.

~~

“Ugh this thing smells awful. Did I burn it or..?” You wonder, waving your hand through the blackened miasma drifting out of your kitchen. You woke up on the first day of your weekend to an awful burning rubber smell and quickly dashed into your kitchen to find the ‘potion’ smoking from its place on your kitchen counters.

Hyrule tells you that, no, you didn’t burn it. And yes, it is safe to consume now. You look at where you think he might be and throw him an alarmed look, completely untrusting of his assurances.

“Hyrule. It looks like something scooped out of a swamp, and it smells even worse. I don’t know if I actually want to drink this.”

Silence is the only answer you get. You suppose even the ghost can’t argue with you, although that fact makes you feel guilty for some reason. It’s not like there’s any other way, really. It’s either this, or be haunted by invisible ghosts for the rest of your life.

So you grab an old mug that you’ve been meaning to get rid of for a while, ladle up the lagoon green substance, and wait for it to cool down (no you are not stalling, stop pushing the cup around the table Wild-)

Eventually, you figure the potion is cool enough and carefully hold it in both of your hands before breathing out a long sigh and throwing the cup back.

The potion is earthy, but not completely unbearable like you thought it would be. Like, you would never just casually drink this stuff, but for a one-time thing, it’s pretty okay.

“Huh. That wasn’t so bad.” You admit, wiping your mouth off before glancing around. You half expect ghosts to start popping up before your very eyes, but no such luck. “Did I make it wrong? Hyrule?” You ask, already reaching for the ghost’s book of magic.

You flip to the page the potion was first noted, flipping through the torn out scratch paper you were using to note your translations. A hand reaches over your shoulder. It’s tinted green, the tips of each finger caked with blood, half-covered by a leather glove that reaches back around behind you. You just about feel your soul leave your body when you look behind you and find a blood stained face, tinged green and smeared with blood. One of his eyes are dead and blind, and the skin around the damaged organ is burnt and shriveled. His working eye twinkles a gorgeous emerald green, and a slight smile plays at the corners of his mouth despite his state of disrepair.

“I couldn’t tell you before, but you actually need to be in contact with the ghost’s anchor to see them,” He speaks, and you let out an unidentifiable sound, mouth hanging open as you take in the ghost before you.

And then something in your mind snaps like a frayed string, and you feel yourself beginning to pass out.

The last thing you hear before the darkness takes hold is Hyrule shouting for someone that you can’t see.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 8

Hello! Thanks to WIP Wednesday I managed to finish a chapter of each of the stories so things are moving right a long with this story and the others. With any luck, I'll have Secret Tunnel (game show AU) finished by the time the weekend is over with. Fingers crossed.

In this Steve goes on a bit of a roller coaster of emotion. Also a bit of naughtiness in the middle, so 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve put together the package he had be planning after he ate his burger. It was no chili burger from Benny’s but it was really good. It had caramelized onions with a thousand island dressing on the bun which was some kind of fancy bread.

Now the fries, that was something to rave about. They were seasoned and deep fried. He had eaten almost all of them before he even touched the burger.

Then once he was done with the package, he went down to the front desk for them to mail it off. Now he was at loose ends again. He could go back up to his room, but he really didn’t want to.

It had only been three days since he got kicked out and he was bored. So he looked around the lobby for inspiration. Then he spotted a discarded newspaper. Probably someone who wanted to read the financial stuff and found their stocks had tanked.

That was what his dad did every day. He didn’t understand it anyway. You were paying for nothing. Even when things were really good, you didn’t want to sell your shares because things might get better. But if the stock drops than you’ve lost money. It was gambling in the worst sort of way.

But he picked it up and began flipping through the pages, looking for the movie listings. When he found them he looked through the ads to see if there was anything good. Which there wasn’t.

With a sigh, Steve put the paper down. He chewed on his nails for a moment or two. Then he snapped his fingers. He’ll call Dustin. See if the kids wanted to go to the arcade. He had money to burn, so why not let the kids go nuts for a couple of hours.

He looked at his watch and then winced. Oops! Maybe that would be better for tomorrow as it was way later than he thought. But he could call Eddie.

That brought an instant smile to face and he dashed back upstairs. He walked into the room just as the phone began ringing. His smile turned into a grin as he walked across the room. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello!”

“You sound happy, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “You have a good day?”

Steve laughed and kicked his feet. “Much better now that I’m talking to you. I sent off your surprise and it should get to you by the time you get to LA.”

“Aww, baby,” Eddie said. “I can’t wait.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to apologize to you about Chrissy. She was fucking rude to you and I chewed her out for it.”

Steve blinked for a moment. What now? He was used to people being rude and dismissive to him. No one ever apologized for that. “You did?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said sternly. “I did. She thought that this little arrangement of ours was going to be temporary, but when I told her I had paid for the room for six months, she was very upset. She told me I couldn’t just throw money around like that. That’s when I told her about my little presents for you. Then she really hit the fan.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “I don’t want to cause you trouble with your management, but I–I don’t have anywhere else to go. My dad is still out there trying to make my life difficult.” His bottom lip began to shake.

“But don’t worry a thing, pretty bird,” Eddie cooed. “I got her sorted out and now she understands how important this is for me and somehow my impassioned speech managed to sway my bandmates too. I don’t think they knew how bad things had gotten for you.”

“What–what did you tell them?” Steve asked softly, his voice beginning to break.

“Nothing that they didn’t already know,” Eddie soothed. “I just made it as dire as possible so that they got the message loud and clear.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. That–that he could handle. Because as much as he wanted to shrug this off and pretend he didn’t need or want help, the truth was that he did need Eddie’s help and if getting that help meant getting all of Corroded Coffin on board and their manager, too then that’s what Steve would have to accept that.

“I really appreciate this,” he murmured. “I knew my dad was going to make trouble. I just didn’t think he’d go this far. To make sure I didn’t have anything but my car and my clothes.”

“I know, little Canary,” Eddie said, “just put your trust in me and I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve breathed. “I owe you so much and I don’t know how I can pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, I’m just happy to be able to help you.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes as tears began to well. He was just so overwhelmed from the kindness of a stranger that he was about to start bawling right there on the phone. A hiccuping sob escaped his lips and then it was like the floodgates had opened. He just sobbed and sobbed. No one had ever been this kind to him before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I wish I could be there to hold you. So this will just have to do.” And then he started singing softly. It was gentle and slow and spoke of having a safe place to land.

Slowly his sobs slackened and he gave a final hiccup. “That was beautiful. Did you write it?”

“Sure did,” Eddie said proudly. “First song I ever wrote in fact. Wrote it the night the court awarded permanent custody of me to my Uncle Wayne. I knew from that moment on that my dad couldn’t come back and hurt me again.”

Steve rolled over onto his belly with a sigh. “That must have felt so good. Having someone you trusted to step up and take care of you.”

“He’s a good man,” Eddie agreed warmly. “And this is me paying that kindness forward to you, little Canary.”

Steve let out a small shuddering breath, letting the knot in his chest loosen. “So tell me about your concert tonight,” he said. “Where were you playing again?”

Eddie made a small huff of laughter. “We were in Texas tonight...”

Steve let Eddie’s warm voice wash over him.

“You feeling sleepy, my little Canary?” Eddie murmured after awhile.

He let out a little sleepy snuffle. “No.”

Eddie chuckled. “If you say so sweetheart.” And he continued to talk until the snuffles became a soft sonorous snore.

“Good night, Stevie.”

~

Steve woke up to the dial tone in his ear again. He moaned as he rolled over on his back and ran his fingers through his hair.

He needed to stop falling asleep to the musician’s voice. It was really becoming a problem. It always made him wake up hard as a fucking rock. He picked up the phone and put back in its cradle. He flopped back on the bed. He lifted the covered to glare at his aching erection.

He palmed his cock in an attempt to get it go to down. But instead it made it worse. He pushed down harder, but his own roughness made him moan. He could feel the outline of cock as it throbbed against his hip.

He hadn’t gone this long without at least rubbing himself off since he was a stupid freshman. He knew he should wait until he was in the shower, but the walk would be so fucking painful. Steve threw off the covers and then shoved the front of his shorts down to free his cock. He then slowly unbuttoned his sleep shirt. Rubbing his nipples and stroking his chest to get himself really riled up.

If he was going to this, he was going to wring out as pleasure out of this as he possibly could. He lifted his hips and slid the shorts off as slow as he could.

He brought his hands back up his legs, his thighs spreading as his palms cupped his cock. It was leaking at the tip and he dragged his thumb over his slit, smearing it across the glans. He moaned again. This time louder. That felt so good. He did it again, going the other direction. Slow and rough.

He imagined Eddie watching him. Directing his every move. How hard he should pull. How rough he should get.

The way he came hard and long was a testament to Eddie’s raw sexual power, and Steve’s vivid imagination. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the tissue box next to the bed and cleaned himself up the best he could.

Then he shucked off the top and waddled into the shower, tossing the tissues on his way.

~

It was a little bit before noon by the time Steve got to call Dustin.

“Steve!” Dustin greeted warmly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“What are you dorks up to today?” he asked bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Dustin whined. “I don’t think we really have any plans. At least not together.”

“Call up the goon squad and find out,” Steve said. “And then call me back.”

Steve could feel the kid’s skepticism through the phoneline as he thought about it. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call you back.”

Just before he hung up, Dustin bit out. “We call ourselves The Party, Steve. Not the goon squad.”

“You call yourselves the party Steve?” he murmured. “That’s so sweet of you–”

There was a click and a dial tone. Steve grinned at the receiver before putting it down on the cradle. He threw open his wardrobe and started shifting through his new clothes. He was going somewhere with a lot of kids and soda and greasy pizza, so nothing too fancy.

Not finding anything fit the bill, he went through his drawers. He decided on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue tanktop with a black short sleeved button up over the top. He fixed his hair in the mirror and then pulled on his old sneakers. He didn’t want to get any of his new shoes sticky.

He had run his fingers through his hair one more time when the phone rang.

“Hello!” he greeted.

“Well, hello to you too little Canary,” the warm velvet voice sounded through phone. “You sound happy today.”

Steve’s gut felt like warm chocolate had pooled there. “Hi-ya, Eddie.”

“I was just calling to tell you that I’ll be out of rang cell phone wise and so you won’t be able to call me until I get to Arizona tomorrow.”

“Awww...” Steve huffed. “Way to make me sad.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie purred. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, so that I didn’t think I was avoiding you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that.”

“Have a good day, okay?” Eddie said.

“I’ll try!” Steve chirped back.

He barely hung up the phone before it rang again, his hand never leaving the receiver. “Hey.”

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “I tried to call you but your line was busy!”

Steve let out a long slow sigh. “Other people do call me, Dusty. Like the guy who’s paying for all this?”

Dustin huffed. “Well if you would just tell me who he is, maybe I would be more forgiving...”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Dusty,” Steve bit out. “I don’t want it getting back to my dad who it is. And before you tell me you’ll never tell. You’ll say something when you think no one is around and someone will hear you. Until my dad gives up his little Crusade, I ain’t tell you shit.”

“Come on, Steve...” Dustin begged.

“I was going to take everyone to the arcade today but if you’re going to keep hounding me about it, maybe I won’t.”

The line went silent.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin murmured. “I just want to make sure he’s a good guy and not taking advantage you.”

Steve let out a breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes tightly. “He isn’t even in Hawkins right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.”

Then he held the phone away from his ear.

Wait for it.

Wait…for…it.

“You want to take everyone to the arcade?!” Dustin screamed.

“Sure do, bud,” Steve said once it was safe to do so.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Dustin screeched. “When? What time are you come over? Details please!”

Steve worked out all the details and sorted out rides. When they finally hang up, Steve positively beaming.

Eddie was paying forward the kindness his uncle gave to him to Steve. And Steve was paying it forward to his kids. And that left a warm feeling in his chest like nothing else could.

~

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[triptychgrip]

Yuuri’s love of Viktor’s extraness

Something that I've seen a lot of in Yuri!!! on Ice post-canon fanfic is a tendency to write Yuuri exhibiting a certain amount of chagrin around Viktor's extra-ness.

Perhaps I've misinterpreted intent and simplified instances that in actuality were meant to convey something completely different, but at times, I've noted this implicit (or explicit) weariness attributed to Yuuri when it comes to his reactions to Viktor's behavior.

Specifically, his excitability and charisma.

To reiterate: I'm talking about post-canon content, meaning that Yuuri and Viktor have already bridged that initial gap between them and are in a committed relationship. I say this b/c a certain amound of overwhelm/wariness in response to larger-than-life Viktor is very understandable in the beginning, when Yuuri is not only struggling to understand why the hell his idol has come to Hasetsu, but is also realizing that the public persona that Viktor exudes doesn't match up with the flesh-and-blood being that is the real him.

This "God, why in the hell am I engaged to an excitable child?!" characterization of Yuuri confuses me, because one of the most endearing parts of the show is the fact that Yuuri is capable of 1) being just as extra as Viktor (but in different ways) and/or 2) matching Viktor's extra-ness in the way of the whole "meeting him where he is" theme.

I think there are plenty of examples of #1 (that quad flip at the Cup of China!!), and the Chihoko incident is a perfect encapsulation of number 2. With the latter, note that Yuuri doesn't minimize Viktor's insecurities by being all "you're being ridiculous, Viktor, why is THIS your way of trying to get my attention?"; instead, he tells Viktor that he could search the entire world and still find no one better. Oh, and then at Viktor's request, he strips down and joins him on the top of Hasetsu Castle.

Writing him as only being tolerant of Viktor's extra-ness (rather than celebrating it) also confuses me because as they get to know one another, I would imagine that Yuuri is able to see more clearly than most how Viktor was at a breaking point before coming to Hasetsu. You don't get to be a 5-time World Champion without being somewhat of a workaholic with extreme discipline, and there is more than enough evidence to support the idea that prior to coming to Hasetsu, Viktor hadn't really allowed himself to let loose, have fun, and do something entirely for just himself in a very long time (aside from that Sochi banquet night, of course).

So then, after coming to understand just how much Viktor might have been suppressing his true nature prior to their coming into each other' lives, why would Yuuri make Viktor feel bad about this intrinsic part of his personality? I've always gotten the impression that Yuuri would adore Viktor's innate curiosity and excitability, especially when he comes to realize that Viktor is keeping true to his episode 4 request to just be himself.

I might make a part 2 to this post, because there are honestly a lot of Viktor headcanons floating around in my head, particularly with respect to the fact that he seems like a man who has been told his entire life that he is "too much". Thus, to perceive this same attitude from the love of his life (again, maybe not explicitly, but implicitly) would probably tear him up inside.

I actually explicitly addressed this in Chapter 7 of my post-canon Olympic Games series, by way of a GQ "Couples' Quiz" appearance that the Katsuki-Nikiforovs make. Their last question to one another asks them to list the things they think their partner loves about them the most, and frankly, it was healing for me to be able to write Viktor answering that he thinks his husband loves his charisma/excitability 😭🥹

[cherrywhite]

TSV Fan Favorite Survey Results

Last week I made a small TSV survey for the heck of it and ended up getting way more results than I originally expected!! Wanted to share the results.

When I'm in a "Who's your favorite TSV main character" competition and my opponent is Carpenter 🤯 (Okay but.. is anyone surprised?)

Fun fact: for a while Hayward had only one or two votes and idk why that surprised me so much. Though I'm shocked he got more than Faulkner overall

Top 5 minor characters, as voted: Val > Shrue > Sibling Rane > Gage > Sid Wright

Also unsurprising! Though I regret that I didn't word the question as "Pick up to 5" instead of top 5. Val almost got 100% of the votes in this category... off by 4.. I respect you but also who are you 4 I just want to know

Top 5 side characters, as voted: Acantha > Nana Glass / Greve > Charity / Elgin > The Homesick Corpse > Chuck Harm (though Cross came very close to tying!!)

Acantha at the top is also unsurprising! Though.. looking at the top one.. looks like we all have a thing for old ladies, huh? Definitely my mistake in that I didn't add Em and Vaughn in there to begin with💦 Shoutout to the one person who voted Helen. Also, we love to see that Daggler got 0 votes.

Favorite God, as voted: Th Cairn Maiden > The Many Below > The Trawlerman > The Watcher in the Wings > The Saint Electric

The Beast that Stalks in the Long Grass and The Last Word each got one vote. Also, The Chitterling got a vote. Henge, the god Hayward mentions in s1, the one that takes things people wish to lose, got two votes! :D Idk why, but it's such an unexpected pull to me, it makes me happy to see it was remembered!

Top 5 s1 episodes, as voted: Chapter 4 > Chapter 7 & Chapter 15 > Chapter 1 > Chapter 13 > Chapter 3, 8, 11, & 12 (tied with 3 votes)

Fun fact: of season 1 episodes, only 4/15 episodes weren't picked as someone's favorite!!

Top 5 s2 episodes, as voted: Chapter 24 > Chapter 29 > Chapter 19 > Chapter 17 > Chapter 23

Also not surprised because chapter 24 is also my favorite (probably my most relistened to episode and it still makes me cry). Though, I will say, I was surprised chapter 20 didn't have more votes since that one also seems to be a favorite writing wise!

Fun fact: of all s2 episodes, only 1 episode wasn't picked as someone's favorite! (okay, idk why it's important to me to point out, I just think it's interesting!! Though I can admit I could probably phrase it better. I think the fave episodes are spread out pretty evenly for each season though, which is really neat in my opinion.)

Top 5 s3 episodes, as voted: Chapter 46 > Chapter 38 > Chapter 37 > Chapter 36 (we are not immune to a good tragic love story, I see) & Chapter 43 > Chapter 44

For a while, Chapter 38 had the most votes which I thought was.. idk how to better phrase it, but.. sweet. Because Carpenter's returning home episode was the fave of s2 and if Faulkner's returning home episode had also been the fave... something something we sure do love these terrible siblings, huh? But! Unsurprisingly the finale is the big fave of the season. How many of us have recovered from it??

Fun fact: Of season 3, only 3 episodes weren't chosen!

Boooo I shouldn't have given y'all the option to abstain from picking!! "Don't make me choose," you cowards!! /lh

mandatory link to this recommendation

Favorite episode title:

Hi. So, um. I'm an idiot. And didn't realize that Google Form automatically turns short answers into a bar graph. So unfortunately, the results for this one is..well

And half of these are the exact same title with slightly different phrasing 🙃

BUT I'm nothing if not determined so I went through and organized everything though I didn't make a pie chart. Needless to say. I think we all know the favorite episode title (care to make a guess?)

Favorite episode title: But We'll Never Be Rid of Each Other (25%)

Its Wrath Shall Scald the Sun came second with only 9% of the vote. We sure do love our doomed siblings, huh?

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 6: Fury

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, everyone! I know, I know - yeeting these out, aren’t I? A small change of plans, in that this one is the OG Chapter 4 split in half; I’m THIS close to having Chapter 7 done, too, and after that, it’s minor edits to the existing work. I’ve done the major reworking for this instalment, so yaaaaay! Only gotta rephrase/add slight things to upcoming chapters to make it all round out cohesively. As always, thanks to my slap daddy @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ for reassuring me that this makes sense! YAY!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap, dubious consent.

Luring you in is easier said than done.

He finds you when and where he can, your seemingly untraceable movements easily resolved through quick conversation with Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander himself. A stolid, serious man, he’d taken little issue to his prince’s request, providing Cole’s whereabouts with an ease that speaks to the white cloak’s acclimatisation to your routine. He does not particularly enjoy searching you out by means of the stormlander knight, but needs must.

Daemon does it all, too. He spends what time he is able in your company, taking care not to press his suit too forcefully and scare you off; he regales you with tales of his nobler deeds and escorts you to meals with your family; he unearths his old stockpiles of accrued riches and selects the few among them he thinks you might like; he plies you with adulation and declares you to be the fairest maiden in all the known world, the envy of every creature fortunate enough to lay eyes upon you. He gives this endeavour all the effort he possesses, more so than any past conquest, for you are infinitely more valuable than some cheap fuck, and he is so sure that you will receive his attentions with a sweet smile and a ready spirit, all too willing to take the hand he is silently offering with every look and every word, urging you to accept him and—

And nothing. It drives him mad. So distracted is he that he begins to draw further and further away from his old associates, declining their entreaties wherever he might. The most recent occasion had left a rather sour taste in his mouth.

“Come on, man! Where is your head tonight?” Dargood asks, leaning across one of his many acquaintances to yell over the din. “You’ve not said a word all evening!”

Daemon lifts the tankard and takes a lengthy draught. “Ah—perhaps you bore me, then.” A wan smile curves as their gathered companions roar with laughter.

Truthfully, he’s been avoiding the lot of them. They desire little else than to drink and fight and fuck. While his taste for such pastimes hasn’t exactly waned, his enthusiasm has taken a great blow. He can only presume it has something to do with you, blasted tempting girl you are. Each time he resigns himself to one of these outings—each time he must playact at interest in the whores Dargood parades before him in yet another reputed establishment—all he sees in his mind’s eye is your face, wounded disappointment clouding your beauty and transforming it into something haunted and sorrowful.

Kettleblack snorts. “Of course he’s bored, what with his Delight waiting for him in the keep! Probably wishing he was back in her right now!”

“Or is it his Delight in that shithole that he’s craving?” Hollard asks. The reminder of the whore—of that embarrassingly public affair in which he’d shouted your name in a fucking brothel, of all places—churns in Daemon’s gut.

He looks suspiciously towards Dargood, who shrugs innocently. Dargood had been the only one to pay attention as the whore had led him away and up the stairs; and, when he’d lurched from that shabby chamber after spilling himself like a green boy, he’d come across the other man loitering in the hall outside, expression alight as though he’d just learned some great secret.

He’d have to impress the importance of silence upon his longtime comrade a little more forcefully, it seems.

“Whatever will he do—two silver-haired lasses ready to spread their legs for him?” One of the men whose name he cannot recall grins, revealing his missing front teeth in all their hideous glory. Eyes glittering meanly, he adds, “Who has the time?”

Daemon dislikes the turn in conversation. “Now, now, lads,” he says with a conceited sneer, though his heart isn’t in it. “It’s poor form to tell tales of the royal bedchamber. Or one’s exploits in them.”

“Lucky bastard!”

He levels a look at this unknown. “I assure you, my mother and father were wed.” The manner in which he emphasises it, with a raise of the brow to accentuate, leaves no man unaware of his intent.

“Oi!” he exclaims, indignant even as the others guffaw. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Nothing at all. Only, they say bastards have a certain”—here, Daemon pauses and lets his gaze travel assessingly over his form, settling back with a smirk after completing his observation—“ look about them.”

Uproarious mirth follows his pronouncement, though it did not nearly warrant the volume with which the varied cackles and chortles now ring in his ears.

Hollard slaps his back, guffawing all the while. “Stop terrorising him, my prince! He’s wroth enough as it is, what with you getting to tumble two Valyrian whores!”

“One cost me a single silver.” Daemon waves him off drolly. “You’re welcome to her. The other”—he thinks of Rhaenyra’s penchant for glittering jewels with a snide sort of affection—“well, you cannot afford her.”

“Tell you who I’d like to have a go with, eh,” Kettleblack slurs, having been in his cups for far longer than the gathering had taken place. “Our People’s Princess.” Daemon’s chest tightens at the mention of you. “Reckon she’d be a first-rate fuck, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Dargood smacks his lips after slamming his tankard back on the table, an unreadable stare trained upon his prince. “She’s a shy little thing, isn’t she? Thought the confident ones were your type.”

“If there’s a cunt between its legs, it’s my type.” This ignites a wave of jeers and more than one crass comment about whether or not he’s taken up horse-fucking. “Oh, fuck off!” Kettleblack says irritably. “Not what I meant. Besides, she’s a looker. None of you would refuse, surely! Can you imagine? The sound of her—”

He’s speaking before he even realises. “That’s enough.”

The harshness in his voice spurs them all to an abrupt silence.

Daemon had left not long after, unable to stomach spending longer than he had to their presence. Their ribald banter was by no means the most vulgar it had ever been—in fact, it was positively tame in comparison to some of the sentiments expressed in past encounters—but hearing them discuss you so crudely made him uncomfortably aware of how tasteless many of his own thoughts of you had been.

After this disturbing epiphany, he seeks distraction by throwing himself ever more into the task of winning you over, only to be thwarted at every turn.

His flattery is for naught. Your lips curve up shyly when you look at him, but so too does this occur when any other compliments you. You absorb yourself in his stories, probing where you will and exclaiming in pretty ahs of girlish fascination, but so too does this happen when your half-sister natters on about her own day to your keen ear. You accept his gifts with earnest solemnity, clutching them to you as a child with a prized doll, but so too do you hold tight the flowers young Jacaerys presents to you after a morn spent in the sun.

Ever agreeable, ever kind, ever polite you are to his overtures—but you do not warm to him in the way he expected you to. The way he wishes you would. In truth, he isn’t entirely sure you are even aware of his motives, for you do not regard him with the same hesitance you do the Tyrell lord or Lannister or your idiot brother. Is that a terrible thing? he wonders. It is not as though you particularly like any of them. Nonetheless, he remains, frustratingly, your uncle and nothing more.

This is partly his own fault, he knows. The court had once had its pleasure in the scandal wrought by Daemon’s calculated seduction of Rhaenyra, obvious to all but the king himself—and what had resulted? His banishment, her ruination, his years in exile and her marriage free of passion. No such occurrence is to be the conclusion of this attempt. Thus, he is resigned to stepping out from the shadows, conducting his business in the safe light of day. Never once does he dare to hint at anything less than what is proper in the presence of others—and never once does he dare meet with you alone. There can be no errors this time.

As such, his suit remains overlooked. He can do nothing else but persist, waiting for you to finally realise his intentions.

How tedious it is to lower himself to such a competition with no real opponent! He is the only one worthy of your pedigree, a man of high enough birth that you would not be ridiculed by wedding below your station. A man who could ensure you kept your familiar life in King’s Landing with your family, who could garb you in the finest velvets and silks and jewels this side of the Narrow Sea, who could give you trueborn Targaryen children worthy of your royal womb.

And yet, strangely, wooing you excites him. For all his many pursuits and passions, he had never once played the role of valiant suitor, and the sight of your pleased face as he offers you presents or walks you around your garden in amiable conversation tugs at a long-buried part of his soul. He wants to be your hero, wants you to worship him. In the bedchamber, yes, but also on his arm for all to see, to know that he has won your affections as assuredly as he has won your hand.

It is this that goads him to seek you out today.

You had welcomed his presence in the dank library, the scent of stale leather and rotting parchment permeating the echoing space. It’s fucking cold, too, in a tower so high up in the Red Keep he can swear the air feels thinner. You’d pulled out your winter furs, draping them over your shoulders to stave off the chill, and he’d noted with amusement that you’d done the same to your guard. Ser Crispin is fetchingly shrouded in flaxen hide, complementing his armour rather stunningly. His attempts to get a rise from the man at this had failed, with the cunt obstinately refusing to acknowledge his existence.

“Finnaan anha ezak sewafikh,” you say, grinning at the dubious twist of his lips. He has come to find that, for all your solemnity, it is easy to amuse you. “Go on, kepus—try.”

“Finnaan… anha—ezak swafeek.” He grimaces at the words as they leave his mouth. The flavour feels distinctly wrong.

“Seh—wa—fikh.” You correct him gently, nodding at him to try again.

Your Ser Lysan Marios is in the corner of the room, chin to chest as he snores in the only comfortable chair in the room. He truly is an old man. With dark skin and white hair, Daemon has never seen a person with so many lines on their face, looking more like the craggy hills of his dead bronze bitch’s prized Runestone than actual human flesh. A man of acuity and hilarity, it is no wonder you enjoy his company.

“It is best to let him rest,” you had said as the man’s lids had drooped and his head had lowered forward, slumping in his seat. “He has been unwell lately—I worry for him.”

You had since obliged with his entreaties to teach him some phrases in Dothraki. It is a hard-won process. His jaw and tongue are unused to situating themselves for throaty dialogue, being far too used to the lyrical fullness of his ancestral native speech, but it is entirely worth it to watch your sweet face light up.

“Sewafikh,” he says. 

You gasp excitedly, wiggling in your seat. “The whole thing!”

“Finnaan anha ezak sewafikh,” he says, smirking at you when you clap. He can’t help but find you endearing in your joy, eyes shining and smiling bright. “Now, little girl—what have you just made me say?”

“I thought you would find this phrase most useful.” You grin impishly. He narrows his eyes at you.

“And this useful phrase is?” His brow quirks.

You’re already giggling. “You can now ask ‘where can I find the wine?’ should you discover yourself surrounded by a khalasar.”

A startled guffaw bursts from him at your cheek. You are a surprisingly witty little thing, and he has found himself more and more charmed with each hour he spends in your presence. A consummate royal youth, you are exceedingly well-versed in the politics of social niceties, navigating your exchanges so expediently that he has learned he must actively work to keep up.

“Impudent brat.” He chuckles, eyeing you as you catch your breath and making a list of all the parts of you he intends to get his hands on when you are his. 

Curls of silver bundled into a braided coiffure, strands threatening to escape—and he finds this more and more apt a metaphor for your character, a timid little bird just waiting to be set forth from its cage. The damnable temptation of your throat thankfully encircled with the abundance of precious stones forming the Valyrian steel necklace he had gifted you some days prior, a welcome respite from being besieged by the involuntary seduction of pale skin. Voluptuous waist and widened hips in perfect shape for his hands to span. Rounded cheeks and pouty pucker and dewy-eyed gaze…

You are a maiden strumpet waiting for her first lesson in the art of carnality. He is determined to be your instructor in this. Your only instructor.

“Here,” Daemon murmurs, withdrawing the reason for his visit from under his chair. He leans forward and places the item upon the desk before you.

You had paid little attention to the wooden case tucked under his right arm as he sauntered in, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon his as you uttered a courteous greeting, mildly perplexed as you always are when he seeks you out. He watches you as you open the chest now and lift out the carving inside, the same size as the little book before you. Your small hands turn the object curiously as you ogle the fine details of the gift, a soft little gasp of wonder escaping bow-lips.

You glance back at him. “Is this Caraxes and Athfiezar?” you ask softly.

He nods.

It had not taken long to realise your partiality lay less along the lines of ostentation and more meaningful simplicity. He’d only need to recall your lacklustre enthusiasm for Jason Lannister’s lion pendant to form such a notion. (Though, it may very well be that the gift had come from Lannister that had inspired such indifference, he thinks amusedly.) He had solicited the services of a common toymaker entirely by accident, having taken notice of the man’s goods during a nightly stroll through the city. 

Daemon had been absent-mindedly making his way back from that eve of tension with Dargood and his crooked companions, only to find that his feet had taken him entirely past the route to the keep. Instead, he’d moved north along the kingsroad to Cobbler’s Square, idly observing the shopkeepers flog their wares along the street. One look at the stall upon which were arranged brightly-coloured carvings—an array of lions and horses and dragons, of knights and ladies and kings in an assortment of sizes, shapes and poses—and he had known that the skill of the man would be something you’d enjoy, honest and artful. The peasant had been overawed when met with a request from the Prince of the City, eagerly accepting the task of producing a miniature replica of your dragons.

The man really had spared no detail, he muses as he surveys your inspection of the sculpture. It is truly a fine piece, carefully depicting his crimson mount snarling and wound around the central figure of your own reptilian steed. They are posed as though they are about to take flight. From the whittled minutiae to the meticulously applied paints, it is a worthy representation of the pair. He would have to make further commissions of him.

“It is beautiful, Uncle,” you breathe, running the tips of your fingers over the hewn surface in concealed awe. You are careful not to disturb the layers of colour affixed to the wood. “I love it. But you should not have bought me anything”—you look back up at him with a frown as your hand lightly reaches up to touch his previous gift fastened at your nape—“for you have already given me something very valuable.”

(“I will treasure it,” you had said, stunned wonder muted by the veil of decorum. He has yet to see you without it. He likes to view it as almost a brand marking you as his.)

Cole is glaring at him from the entry to the library. Daemon sneers, lip twitching in smug enjoyment as the man looks away.

“Why ever not? I was thinking of you,” he asks gently, reprovingly. If I push too hard, she will withdraw. “I enjoy giving you things. Allow your old uncle to indulge, sweet girl.”

You smile unbidden, a flush blooming on the tip of your nose.

“You are not old, kepus,” you whisper, refusing to look at him, and a thrill tingles at the top of his spine at your receptiveness.

He is about to respond when there is a knock upon the door. It reverberates through the room, the bare stone floors serving to propel the noise around. Cole opens it to reveal the mousy form of a servant girl, the plain red linen of her dress and the cream caul adorning her head denoting her as one of the royal staff members. She colours as she notices his presence, quickly glancing away.

“Forgive me, princess,” she says, bobbing a curtsey to you and lowering her head, “but the Lord Tyrell is awaiting your presence.”

He seethes internally as you resignedly stow away his gift, giving it a final caress before latching the box closed. Fucking Denys. He’ll be damned if you dare entertain the notion of wedding that flowery cunt, all too eager to bend over for the Hightowers as he is.

“I’ll escort you, niece,” he chooses to say, solicitously stowing the chest under his arm once more as he heads off your weak protestations. He walks around the desk to offer his arm to you.

“I think you’ll find that I will be escorting her, my prince,” Cole says stiffly, striding forward several paces. The knight stops when you turn to face him.

“Actually, Ser Criston—could you ensure that Ser Lysan makes it safely back to his chambers?” You beseech him quietly, and from the look of the man, he has no doubt you are gazing up at him with wide, imploring eyes. It is entirely too winsome an expression on you, and he deliberates whether there is a being alive or otherwise who could resist the power of your pleading. “I would hate to awaken him, and my uncle can surely manage to escort me to my sister’s solar to meet with Lord Denys.”

The fastidious man insisted on meeting you for tea, of all things. Fucking ridiculous. Loath to leave you to contend with the obnoxiousness of his presence alone, Rhaenyra had insisted on playing host to the courting. Needless to say, the food and drink were to be the best part of the event each time he paid a visit to you.

Cole nods yieldingly as you thank him, sighing a defeat as he steps back and allows you to pass with Daemon.

Your hand is firmly wrapped underneath his arm, grip tight. The journey is quiet, and he notes that you have retreated into yourself once more. Though he hates to see you unhappy, he cannot deny how well it bodes for him that you are.

“Chin up, sweetling,” he whispers conspiratorially to you as you approach the Princess of Dragonstone’s solar—the room adjoining the chambers of the royal heir to the right—and stop.

You smile weakly at his attempt to cheer you, though it does not reach your eyes, as he knocks on the door for you. Rhaenyra appears in the opening, her countenance morphing into perplexity at the sight of you and Daemon. It is clear she had been expecting Cole instead.

“Uncle,” she says with a wrinkle of confusion. “I didn’t think—why are you here?”

Her gaze shifts between you and him, noting the grip of your hand upon his arm and the manner in which he is angled toward you.

“Cole’s been tasked with an obligation by our princess,” he replies, and it is a breath of fresh air to be able to look her in the eye and feel nothing but affection and the throb of old guilt and hurt. The desire has finally worn itself out, though the memory of it still lingers. He supposes you may have had something to do with that. “I felt it best to accompany her to your rooms myself.”

Rhaenyra nods, brow raised and mouth pressed in a thin line as she opens the door wide to let you both in. You whisper a small thank-you to him as you slip away from him, politely moving forward for the visitor to make his introductions to you.

Denys Tyrell is surely the most repulsive man to grace Westeros, Daemon thinks disfavourably.

The man stands aimlessly in the centre of the room, appearing to be idly examining the tapestries depicting the Targaryen Conquest adorning the walls. A stout, rotund lad, he is encased in a garish, ill-fitting doublet of pale sky brocade with gold flowers, straining mightily at the buttons. His features are diminutive among ruddy flesh, save for the huge, meticulously groomed moustache decorating his upper lip. The son of the late Lord Matthos, he is probably one of the few suitors close enough in age to you to bond with over the delight of being young.

And yet, he is still not good enough for you.

“Princess.” He bows dramatically, a ridiculous flourish of the hand punctuating the finish.

Daemon has to restrain the urge to scoff at the fawning grandiosity of the gesture. He observes with half-hearted intrigue as the lad’s eyes flick to him and his lip curls in an abortive sneer before quickly returning to you. Another one of his ‘supporters’, he expects.

You politely tip your head and engage in small talk, asking after the quality of his lodgings and the welfare of his family in a manner that suggests you have gotten this routine perfected over the course of these meetings. He wants to roll his eyes as the man brightens, loudly beginning to chatter his poor niece’s ear off.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra hisses from next to him.

Glancing over at her, he sees she has a forbidding look upon her face as she jerks her head towards the open door. Bemused, he follows her out of the room, casting a brief look back at you as you engage in conversation with your suitor. Flowery cunt.

Rhaenyra shuts the door quietly before rounding on him in the middle of the hallway.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing, Daemon?” she asks, looking around quickly for any loiterers. The corridor is silent.

“Can I not walk with my own niece now, Rhaenyra? You really must apprise me of the new laws. I wasn’t aware that it was now a crime to chaperone my own blood—”

“Oh, do shut the fuck up.” She scoffs, waving her hand toward the closed door. “Finding her all over the keep? Staring at her constantly? The gifts? The flattery?” She steps forward threateningly, though her womanly disposition and her lack of height serve to diminish the effect. “She has told me all about it—I know what this is.”

He smirks down at her, arms crossing. “And what do you think this is, then?”

Her hand clenches into a fist. He wonders, entertained, if she would dare to hit him. “Do not play the fool, Uncle. It doesn’t suit you. I will not let you spoil my sister the way you did me.”

He scoffs. “As I recall, princess, I took no part in your spoiling.” He is callously satisfied by her spreading flush at the imputation of his words.

Oh, yes. I know about Cole.

He continues, timbre colouring with aggravation. “And I have no intention of ruining her.” Well, not yet—not until the wedding night. “Why does everyone in this fucking city always assume the worst of me?”

“Because that is what you do!”

She has escalated to a near yell now, whipping around in her frustration, the end of her braid lashing across his chest with a thump as she moves away. When she turns around, her eyes are bright with the gradual swell of moisture.

“You pick a target, lay them thick with pretty words and affection, and then cast them away when you have grown bored. You do it with Father, with your lickspittles and your precious City Watch, with your whores and your women… You did it to me, and now you are going after my sister—”

It infuriates him to hear her slander his character so thoroughly, for all that it is true. Perhaps it is this fact that upsets him more.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” he asks cruelly, turning the attack upon her. He presses forward, allowing the fury to infuse his step, his words, his countenance. “Such a bitter shrew you’ve become. It’s no wonder I’ve moved on to more enjoyable pastimes. After all, your sweet sister really is exquisite—she’ll make a fine little bride for me.”

He watches with vicious gratification at the unmitigated outrage that overtakes her.

“How dare you—”

Suddenly, the door opens. Lord Tyrell steps into the doorway, lip curled and cheeks red. “I believe this meeting is at an end, princess.”

The man sneers, shoving past him as he exits. Behind him, Daemon can see your distress clearly. You are still in the middle of the solar, wringing your hands and biting your lip, refusing to look at anything other than the floor before you.

Rhaenyra tries to gather herself in affecting a disposition of regal indifference, though the cracks in her façade are clear to see. “You are leaving so soon, my lord? I am sure my sister would so enjoy—”

“I think I understand what the princess… enjoys.” He scrutinises you, then turns to Daemon and looks him over disdainfully. The insinuation is obvious. It is clear that he and Rhaenyra have been quarrelling louder than intended. “And who she enjoys it with. I’ll suffer no harlot as my wife, royal or otherwise.”

How dare he. How fucking…

It is a flagrant offence to one so pure as you. Of all the women in the city, you deserve such affront least of all.

At the sight of tears welling in your eyes—brows drawn, lilac blurred by the tear-sheen collecting on your lashes, “will I ever see you again?”—the familiar, burning fire of rage overtakes him completely, the dam bursting and breaking as he swings his fist directly into the foppish lord’s face.

“How dare you insult the princess’s honour!”

 The bestial part of his nature revels in the satisfaction of feeling the man’s flesh tear under the force of his knuckles as he drags him to the floor, of feeling the grinding frisson of pain in his bones as they collide with the insipid cunt’s nose. The blood spills hot and wet over that ridiculous outfit, over his fists and clothes, spraying over the floor. The lord can only cry out as Daemon rains down punches upon him, seeking to erase the image of the man who’d dared to malign you so. The Rogue Prince thinks he can hear voices, but the sound is muted, muffled, like listening to a scream underwater.

“You stupid piece of shit, how dare you—”

He aims for Denys’s nose, hoping to smash it in entirely, when he is abruptly dragged off the man and forcefully shoved away. He presses forward wildly, attempting to finish his mission, straining against the hold of Breakbones—and by the gods, the Strong boy really lives up to his name, does he not?—until he takes in the sight before him.

He slows as he views the scene. The Tyrell attendants have run in to kneel next to their lord with rags already mopping at the blood oozing from his face, Ser Willas Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne of the Kingsguard stand with hands on pommels, and several servants are looking on with curiosity and fear at the sight before them.

And you. You are enfolded in the arms of Rhaenyra, a look of abject horror on your sweet face. His heart clenches.

—the horror in your expression feels like the edge of a blade carving to his very soul. “But… you promised—”

This is not what he wanted. He has made you fear him, he can see it. He knows you are afraid. How could he? How could he?

“The prince attacked me—this is the gravest of abuses, ser—” cries Lord Denys in response to Ser Rickard’s quiet inquiries, clutching a cloth to his swelling and bloodied eye.

I have to get out of here, he thinks rashly, pulling out of the City Watch commander’s hold and spinning away, stalking out of the hall—

“My prince, you cannot leave while—”

“Daemon, stop—”

“Kepus—”

He runs.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/121060219

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[unknown-ends]

Bottle of melodies

Okaaay, I'm making a list of projects to see if it'll get me into finishing and posting them. The order doesn't matter here, I'm adding them as I remember.

(You'll find them at @sometimeslwish hopefully, if I ever do post them)

Color guide:

Original text has no color

March 12th edit

March 22nd edit

April 5th edit

April 10th edit

April 14th edit

1. A Dance 'Round The Memory Tree series: Xavier's, Zayne's & Rafayel's

No Caleb because I started this before he was released and currently he doesn't have a past life myth. His myth got released and I don't know if I want to make a version for him or not, I have to think about it.

2. Pegging series: Xavier's, Zayne's, Sylus's & Caleb's

I already started Rafayel's. I have ideas for the other 4, I just gotta write them down. I started writing Xavier's, so now we got two, I just gotta figure out the rest.

3. Full cat series: Caleb excluded.

I have all of the beginnings for the other four. Caleb won't get one unless they do a rerun or a special or something where they show what cat breed he'd be. I might drop this, Imma be honest.

4. Kintsugi: Zayne essentially getting pussy drunk as mc rides him into oblivion.

I have the beginning, some descriptions of the middle along with some dialogue, and the way the sex is going to end.

5. Magic Shop Au: Polyamory with all 5 included.

I have a written outline and a bit of a mental outline. I know the order they are going to meet in and how the meetings will go, I know how some of the sex scenes are gonna go, I just gotta write it. It's pretty much about being!mc who owns a literal magic shop filled with magic items. Don't ask me no logistics, I'll start rambling.

6. Hijo de la Luna: Xavier x male oc

I posted the outline, however, I'd like to actually write it and go into details 'cause I have the beginning scene.

7. Skyfall: All Things End

I haven't forgotten about this, I still think about it. I'm in the theorizing stage because I gotta make sense of everything before I can even start writing the rest of it.

8. Let It Happen: Xavier x Rafayel.

They're in the middle of sex, I just gotta carry on with the writing and actually fucking finish it on paper. (Ps. It's in the same universe as "It Happened Quiet")

9. Dark In My Imagination pt. 2 & Sumber Party

Both are headcannons, DIMI is separate headcannons while Slumber Party is polyamory thriad combination headcannons. Both are sex related, although I'm trying to make SP both sfw and nsfw. Edited the Slumber Party headcannons to add Caleb and made some progress with certain pairings.

11. Pirate Sylus x Village mc

It's an enemies to lovers. This one came while I was trying to find music that would inspire me to write for SCRC and failed at getting inspiration for it but succeeded in getting inspiration for a new idea.

12. A Xavier smexy morning sex one shot where he's still cursed with the whole cat thing.

I started this last year (along with Kintsugi), and I've been slowly making progress. God dammit do I want it to end.

13. The subby Raf awakening I mentioned here.

I don't have much to say about this one, unfortunately. I have the beginning, not the rest.

14. Glimpse of us idea?

The explanation is pretty much on this post, go check out the story that inspired me.

15. God's & Monsters

A chaptered (!!!) crowfish x mc fic that was inspired by this fic and then kickstarted by this one. I gotta stop writing (not really)

16. Mutual masturbation fic with Caleb

I don't remember if I mentioned it before or not, but there's also a male!mc version of that on the works.

17. More headcannons

These one's are about how cock warming would work with them and their reactions to you calling them daddy.

18. Male!mc x Caleb

This one leans heavy on the whole brother Caleb, and it's kind of one confident gay (Caleb) and one slightly in denial gay (mc) having sex with each other.

19. Rafayel x male!mc

It's essentially a worship Raffie fic because self indulgence. I'll probably make more male!mc stuff as I progress and get comfortable.

20. Succubus!mc x poly!lads college au

This one came in a dream and I've been slowly writing it (like with the rest of my stuff) I had to look up floor plans last time, cause I'm jackshit at visualizing houses.

21. Hybrids!lads au

We have: Bun Hybrid!Xav, German shepherd hybrid! Caleb and cat hybrid!mc. Raf is still a lemurian and Sylus still has his dragonic tendencies and, much like in the game, Zayne is the only normal one of all of them.

22. Royal au with gender bent royal knight Caleb (her name would be Caela)

I've been thinking about it, spoke with Bunbun 'bout it, created a vague outline that keeps changing the more I think about it. It's from Caela's pov and we get to see how mc gets courted by the other four while they pine for each other but do nothing about it.

23. Another Xavier oneshot

It's an au, idk if I dreamt about it or only daydreamed but it don't matter cause I couldn't stop thinking about calling him "baby boy" while he called me "angel" so... yeah

24. A role reversal au with Rafayel

It spawned from nowhere, Imma be honest, and I don't know how to continue it.

25. Caleb got my attention again

And I ended up writing about another one of my dreams, it's this one, I've been writing it along with Xav's and Raf's

26. Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) – a mess of a fic

It started as a reader x mc fic, and then I got a little too carried away with the self indulgence and turned it into an isekai/get thrown into the future type fic and.... *sigh* can you tell I have a thing for complicating things for myself? I've gone so far in that, at this point, it could read as a self insert.

28. Five Guys

This post explains what happened. I may or may not write it, I might make it a headcannon post, it may or may not be in the same va!lads universe. I haven't thought about it enough to guarantee anything, I'm merely mentioning it here. If I don't write it, I might make a prompt inspired on it. Let's see what happens after I'm done with the va headcannons.

Slight success??

10. Second Child, Restless Child

Posted the first chapter on Monday, April 7th, I'm figuring out the schedule while writing the rest of the chapters and figuring out the story line.

Great success

— The Caleb fic I've been writing – T'is done as of Wednesday, January 29th

— Santa little drabble – Sunday, February 9th

— save your breath – Officially completed (and ready to be posted) as of Tuesday, March 25th.

27. Va!lads headcannons – I think I'm done, they are ready to be posted as of Tuesday, April 22nd.

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Masterlist

It's not pretty and a quick fix but considering the speed of my output I should probably have one I guess.

House Rules:

This blog is 18+, empty, ageless or minor's blogs will be blocked and also

Backup blog is @alwaysahotmesswithprivilege

Writing for: Jake Seresin; Bradley Bradshaw; Natasha Trace; Bob Floyd; Javy Machado; Beau Simpson; Tyler Owens; Rip Wheeler; Ryan (Yellowstone); Lee Dutton; Kayce Dutton; Jim Street; Dominique Luca; Chris Alonso; David Kay

Jake Seresin

Happy Ever After Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 ||

synopsis: One could easily forget that behind all of Hangman's bravado and the cocky smirk there is an actual human with a beating heart. But Javy has been the one Jake ranted to. How he wished for women to see him, not the pretty face or the GQ body and the uniform. At Javy's suggestion that maybe Jake is looking for love in the wrong places he just throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes. That's when Coyote decides that it's about time for things to change. Sitting down with the rest of the dagger squad they create a profile on a dating website. One where the goal is finding a committed relationship. The general response to Jake's profile is overwhelmingly positive so now all they need to do is hand the account over and let Hangman do the rest...

Butterfly Effect (OS)

synopsis: Enyo and Hangman are known as the Top Gun power couple and after almost a decade of being with each other and Jake facing a 7-month deployment he asks you to finally meet his family in Texas. Knowing what kind of wealthy background he's coming from makes you more nervous than flying a mission in your old girl. And like you expected. The family dinner turns into a Seresin Family Inquisition interrogation and the garden party the following day is the worst warzone you've ever been in. All you want to do is leave, but then you overhear a conversation not meant for your ears and everything changes.

Aphrodite (OS)

synopsis: When Jake hears the voice of the new air-traffic controller he's a goner. If anyone were to ask him what the goddess of love and beauty would sound like, he'd play them a recording of your voice. And when he's finally brave enough to ask you out you turn him down. Little does he know that even with you refusing to meet him at the Hard Deck his life is still changing tonight.

Bradley Bradshaw

Never Alone

Part 1 || Part 2

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

Robert Floyd

Ocean Eyes (OS)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!”

Tyler Owens

Wildflowers (OS)

synopsis: When Tyler asks you to move to the States you know it's a batshit crazy idea. You've known each other for only 7 months, but then you look into those beautiful green eyes and you know there is no other place on planet Earth you'd rather be. So you do it. You move across half a continent and an ocean only to arrive in your new home, no longer knowing if the man you came for still wants you.

Jim Street

Save Me

synopsis: When Street joined SWAT he ran into you on his first day, quite literally. After pulling you back up from the ground he gave you a blinding smile and then hurried over to where the rest of his squad was waiting for him. It was the beginning of what should turn into his favourite part of the day. Not crashing into you, but meeting you, gentle smile, kind heart and all. And he has you wrapped around his little finger before he even utters a word. You learn pretty quickly that he's a flirt and you give as good as you take. It is only a matter of time until your banter turns into something more. A one-time thing you think, considering his reputation but then it happens again and again until he demands space and you give it to him. But sadly like with most things in life, you only realize what you had once it’s gone. A lesson Street believed he already learned countless times before but this time it wasn’t someone else’s fault that he lost someone he cared for. It was his and it broke his heart to know that he had been the one to burn the bridge. Now he has to stand there and watch you from afar, not sure if he'll ever find a way back to you.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Two

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Reference Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Eventual Smut

A/N: More tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her.

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket.

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of blood, vague references to hunting and killing animals

Chapter Two: Scattered Magnolias

One need not be a chamber - to be haunted One need not be a House The Brain - has Corridors surpassing Material Place -Emily Dickinson, One Need Not be a Chamber - to be Haunted

--

“You didn’t.” 

The tone of Satoru’s voice is reproachful, as if he is scolding an unruly child for misbehaving. He can almost envision Satoru at the other end of the phone line, on the other side of the world: tapping his foot impatiently, rolling his eyes, wondering how Suguru could be so reckless, so stupid, so sentimental.

It irritates him. “I did,” he replies. 

“Why? I didn’t think you were in the market for a pet.”

“Stop it, Satoru,” he snaps. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.”

“But isn’t that what they are?” His husband asks it reasonably, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world to refer to humans as though they are domesticated animals. “They’re weak and fragile. They die too quickly. And they need all sorts of troublesome things.”

“The last time I checked, food and water weren’t ‘troublesome things,’” Suguru sighs witheringly. 

“I’m not talking about that,” Satoru rebuts. “I mean the other stuff. They need reassurance, affection, praise. Who has time to waste on that?”

Not you, clearly. If you did, you’d be here, instead of all the way on the other side of the world. “I have to go,” he says aloud. “She’ll probably be waking up soon.”

“Don’t forget to pick up after her when she shits,” Satoru snickers. “I’ve heard you can get fined if you don’t.”

Suguru doesn’t bother to answer him, simply disconnecting the call instead. 

--

She’s listening through the crack in the door and can hear exactly when he stops talking. The silence after doesn’t last long - the end of his one-sided conversation is followed by a bang, as though something has been knocked over. 

“I take it that wasn’t a pleasant phone call,” she offers softly, cautiously stepping out into the hallway. 

He doesn’t seem to be startled as he turns to face her. Her eyes fall on the vase of flowers that’s very clearly been thrown to the floor. The vase is shattered, water and magnolia blossoms littering the floor in a mess at his feet. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he murmurs, setting the wastebasket in his hand down. 

“I’ve been awake for a while,” she answers. “Though I don’t know how long ‘a while’ is,” she adds thoughtfully. 

“You slept for a little more than a whole day.”

The news should surprise her, but it doesn’t. She looks down at her wrists. They’ve been bandaged up. “I thought I did it right,” she says, her voice soft. “I guess I fucked it up, just like everything else I do.” She adds that last with a laugh, but it sounds hollow and sad to his ears.

“You… if you mean your technique,” he starts, “that wasn’t done wrong. You cut exactly as you should have if you were trying to kill yourself.”

“I was trying to kill myself.”

“Were you?” 

Something about the way he has asked the question makes her realize that he doesn’t believe her. “What did you do to me?” 

“Stopped your bleeding.”

“How?” Her heart is racing. She asks it, not sure she wants to know the answer. There is something in the pit of her stomach, some feeling that she can’t put words to. It chills her. 

“Do you really want to know that?” He’s turned away from her now, collecting the broken pieces of the smashed vase and the scattered flowers, dumping them into the wastebasket. 

No. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I have the right to know. I remember how the cuts looked. At the rate I was bleeding out, stopping the blood flow would’ve been almost impossible.”

He pauses in his movement, his back still facing her. “Maybe I’m just really good at first aid.”

She doesn’t believe him. “I don’t believe you.” Her hands are trembling, and so is her voice. 

Letting the last of the broken pieces of porcelain fall into the wastebasket, he sighs. A moment later he stands and turns to face her again. “No, you don’t believe me… but you also already know what the truth is, don’t you?”

“I thought I might have been dreaming,” she admits. “Or maybe that I’d… that I’d already died.” She looks away from him. “You killed something.”

“I did,” he agrees. The swift candor makes her flinch, but she says nothing. “I went out to hunt,” he continues, “and found you. I thought it was better to take from a creature I was going to kill anyway than to take from you.”

She knows his blunt, honest words are meant to reassure her, but she can’t stop herself from trembling. 

“You’re frightened.” 

He’s still speaking softly, his tone gentle. She wonders if that is just his way, or if he speaks that way because he thinks doing so is less likely to frighten her. 

She looks back at him, trying to keep her heart from racing and her breathing even. “Was that a question?” She asks, knowing very well that it wasn’t. 

He doesn’t answer her right away. Instead, he inclines his head to gaze openly at her. There is no hostility in his expression, and it gives her the courage to study him right back. 

He is beautiful, this enigmatic man. He towers over her - not because he is using his body in an imposing way, but simply because he is so tall. She scans the broadness of his shoulders and the rounded peaks of muscle beneath his long-sleeved shirt… and suddenly it makes sense why he was able to carry her as though she weighed nothing.

But that isn’t the only reason why he’s so strong and you know it, her brain reminds her. If he is what you think he is, he has inhuman strength. 

She ignores the thought, bringing her gaze back up to rest on his face. Beautiful, she thinks again, taking in the features of his face. Dark lashes that fan out over pretty purple eyes. The sharp, handsome angle of his nose. The way his lips seem perfectly formed to fit his face. 

His eyes are kind. The thought comes to her, uninvited. She looks closer, wanting to prove that thought wrong. No… I was right the first time. His eyes are kind. 

He begins to close the distance between them in just a few strides. The closer he gets, the higher she lifts her chin in order to sustain the eye contact between them. Gentle tone and kind eyes aside, she will be damned if she allows herself to forget what he is. 

When he reaches up with one hand and draws it near to her face, she grits her teeth in an effort not to flinch. “I won’t hurt you,” he tells her, his voice soft. “It would be against my interests to do so.”

“How do I know that?”

His hand continues along its plotted course until his fingers make contact with her skin, cupping her cheek in his palm. She tries not to lean into his touch, but it’s difficult. He is warmer than she imagined he could be for what he is, and it has been so long since she’s felt the warmth of another person this way.

“You don’t,” he answers, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he offers her a smile that is just as warm as his hand. “But I hope you’ll trust me long enough to see the truth of it for yourself.”

She inhales - a small, shallow breath to remind herself that she is still alive. For whatever reason, he has seen fit to use his power to keep her around. Letting her breath out slowly, she shakes her head. “I don’t know enough about you to trust you.”

“I know.” He’s still smiling at her warmly. “I know you don’t.”

“I may never trust you.”

“I know that, too.” His smile never falters, but there is a flicker of sadness in his eyes. 

“Then why bring me here at all?” She knows it’s an unfair question; he saved her life, and she should consider herself lucky and be grateful that he intervened where he wasn’t obligated to. Having been snatched back from the precipice of the death she was so sure she would meet, she realizes that perhaps falling over the edge of that precipice wasn’t what she wanted at all. 

She shakes her head, struggling to find a way to rephrase her question and coming up empty. “I’m sorry.”

She isn’t sure why her words make him chuckle, and she’s even less sure why she finds herself wanting to make him laugh again. His laughter is warm, just like his eyes and his hand. It’s enticing, inviting. She’d like to hear more of it. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he tells her, when his laughter has subsided. He strokes her cheek with his thumb. He reaches out with his other hand, gently holding her left wrist and running his fingers lightly over the bandages there. “I made you a promise.”

“A promise?” Confused, she scrunches her nose up. 

“A promise,” he repeats, but he elaborates no further.

Hesitation grips her, making her tongue thick and slow to respond. She lowers her head, her gaze on where his hand encircles her wrist. “Thank you,” she starts quietly, when she finds her voice again. She raises her chin so she can look directly into his eyes once more. “For saving me.”

He blinks at her, a beat of silence passing between them before he gives her a nod. She thinks perhaps he means to say something else, but he doesn’t. He drops his hand away from her face instead, and she laments the loss of its warmth. “You must be hungry,” he starts, turning away from her. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

Chapter Navigation 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Chapter Three: Coming Soon

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I wonder how much Sisters are in the HQ. Because even if the selection is hard, a lot much sucess.

Isabella's orphenage ship 6 children by year, so 6 new kids must be given to her.

There are 5/6 orphenages for Grace Field. So 30/36 children shipped by year and 30/36 new given to the orphenage. EVERY YEAR. So even if it's sure that the Sisters gave birth of more than one child (only the Mother can have only on).

Because if 30/36 children must be given by year to orphenages, 30/36 must waiting their turn in the nursery and as much sister must be pregnant. I think that every sister has the right to take a break after a pregnacy.

For Exemple if Sienna is the mother of both Emma and Carol, seen there are more or less 10 years between them, it probably mean that there had at least one kid between them. Maybe more.

So i think that, even if the selection is rude, a lot of girls survives. Because if they need 30/36 new babies by years...

And it's just Grace Field. It must be worse at Great Vallley (especially that Barton must have took a lot of children for his huting ground)

[Response to this ask]

I'm not sure where you're getting all moms having only one child being common from?

From your previous ask:

Isabella is an anomaly when it comes to moms in that she's the youngest one to ever be selected in the history of at least the current incarnation of Grace Field that's been around for roughly 400 years.

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 1 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 181.2 | Chapter 181.3) Her excellent test scores at the farm and later at headquarters combined with favoritism from Sarah led to her placement being expedited. With there being an extremely limited number of mom positions, most sisters (because they're all sisters first, Isabella being the exception and not the rule) are left waiting for years, and this is what results in them having multiple children if they don't retrain for another path, not that moms are limited to having a single child. If anything, you'd think they'd want more children bred from those who reach that position, so the time spent waiting for spots to open up would be beneficial for the demons. Sarah had enough sway to persuade those in charge to get a recent graduate of the sister training in there, though, so Isabella was able to skip to the front of the wait list.

And it's confirmed there's five plants plus headquarters for Grace Field.

(Chapter 29 | Chapter 100 | S1 Episode 4)

So assuming there are no oddities, they're averaging 30 kids per year between the five, and if each plant maintains the same number of children plant no.3 normally does, there's around 190 kids at a given time outside of Grace Field headquarters prior to Isabella taking over as grandma when she reduces the number of shipments beginning in mid-January 2046, which is kind of wild given how low it is already.

(Chapter 181.3)

So I think that, even if the selection is rude, a lot of girls survives. Because if they need 30/36 new babies by years...

The second light novel does say this, yes.

Even if it's hard to calculate exactly how that math works out with how gleeful Sarah seems about eliminating Cecile and Krone's entire class, along with not having any information about how often the moms are recommending girls for sister candidacy.

(Chapter 181.2)

Chapter 166's bonus sketch gives us headquarters' layout, but no listing of how many people it accommodates, though it does look massive between this and the amount of running around the kids do in the Return to Grace Field arc.

It must be worse at Grand Valley (especially that Bayon must have took a lot of children for his hunting ground)

To be fair, those children were going to be eaten regardless, so Bayon Sr. taking some for his hunting grounds isn't altering the general death count, just where it's being distributed.

(Chapter 84 | Mystic Code Book Chapter 7 Series Timeline)

Sometime between 1801–1900, Bayon is looking so miserable some of the staff of the farms he's in charge of start shipping children to him alive.

I'm defaulting to this being at Yverk's or Leuvis' behest—Yverk as a means of keeping Bayon comfortable in order to maintain the status quo of Legravalima's regime, Leuvis as a means of satisfying the hunger he knows still resides in his friend—but maybe they just decided to do it on their own because of how bad he looked, who can say.

Regardless, he's approached by another party to begin his hunts, and it isn't until he's given this push that he gives into his impulses again when he told Leuvis centuries ago he was committed to upholding the promise, in a similar manner to how we see Bayon Jr. adhere to upholding decorum and duty during the gathering for Tifari in 2047.

Bayon Sr. starts off with one human every three months, but after that it's hard to gauge exactly how the numbers ramped up. Over two hundred years, it was in the hundreds to potentially thousands.

I'm assuming it maxed out between five and ten at a time, though. Enough of a significant gap where Bayon accepts Peter's offer to use Goldy Pond, originally meant to be a village of refuge for escaped cattle children in James' plan, as his new hunting ground starting in late 2031 with more humans and supplies being available to him.

(Chapter 98)

63 - 17 (15 Grace Field escapees and 2 adults not counted among the Goldy Pond population by Bayon) = 46 children who escaped from Goldy Pond on January 29, 2046 after a hunt had taken place the previous day. We don't know how many children are killed during regular hunts, but I'm guessing they would keep the population between 50 and 60 at any given time. Enough of a thrill to entice Bayon to take Peter's offer, not enough between the 18 farms he supervised or was in charge of to give unaware staff pause to want to stick their noses into noble business because the yield between them was vast enough to make it negligible.

(Mystic Code Book Chapter 3)

Grand Valley, Glory Bell, and Goodwill Ranch are large enough that the demons don't invest in implanting trackers in the children like at Grace Field because it's too costly, though once the mass production farms begin during Peter's tenure as the 36th head of the Ratri Clan, the minuscule dent Bayon's hunts put on Grand Valley's output is even less conspicuous.

[queenie-official]

Chapter Nine: ‘the uncovered Tragedy’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

a/n: seat belts on everyone ☺️

Change was inevitable and you were now realizing just how quick it came. small things for starters, for example when you’d rung the bell in your room to signify you where ready to begin your day someone new had joined your morning routine, a stranger at that. see normally you’d only have Eleanora joining you this early in the morning to help you get ready, today however there was a man with her. he waited outside the door of course but as soon as you’d finished he was at your side in a instant. you tried to ignore him at first, he was in proper attire so he had to be apart of the castle staff. but as he followed behind your every move it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

you turn quick on your heel causing him to stop abruptly as to not bump into you. “who are you?” you did not hesitate to ask, looking over him suspiciously. the only thing that stopped you from reacting more drastically was knowing the guards would step in if anything was truly amiss. “my name is Braeden your majesty” he responded casually as if that was all you needed to know. “right…and why are you following me Braeden?”

“i am your Valet your majesty” you raise a brow at that “my Valet..” repeating his words and scanning your mind for what that entailed. “i am to be by your side always, 5 paces away whenever you may need me” he speaks up before you can come to that conclusion on your own. “hmm.. alright then” you say airily, pursing your lips in thought before continuing down the hallway. sure enough each small step you took wether it be to the left or right, front or back he mimicked. it was like he was your shadow, you didn’t like it.

“oh you have one as well” you say to Anakin as you peaked behind him. you had apparently woken up later then you thought, having to eat breakfast alone before you went off to find your husband. you’d found him walking through the halls reading a book, initially curious as to what he was reading until you heard a second pair of footsteps behind him. “what?” he asked confused as he looked up from what he’d been reading.

“a Valet” you answer and he looks behind him to the man you where staring at. “oh yea i met him this morning, his name is Rex” you weren’t sure what to make of this. having people follow you around like some kind of dog on a leash, it felt odd. “nice to meet you Rex” you greet the man and all he does is give you a polite nod, odd indeed. you take another step closer to Anakin and he raises a brow, silently asking what was wrong.

“this feels off” you whisper to him, it didn’t look like he understood your sudden discretion but nonetheless he went along with it. “i wouldn’t say off” he whispered back and you scoffed softly “then what would you say?” he takes a moment to look off to the side and think of a better choice of words, all the while Braeden and Rex now stand beside each other practically mirroring you and Anakin. “okay yea its off but not in a bad way more like just odd.”

“Exactly!” you whisper shout, you felt relieved to know you weren’t alone with these thoughts. “i feel like my every move is being watched” you add, looking behind you at the two men as you do. they stare blindly ahead as if took look over you rather then at so it seemed like they weren’t listening. “that’s because your every move is being watched” he pointed out and all you could do was deadpan at him. obviously you knew that but you meant it more in a ‘i can’t make a mistake they’re watching me so closely’ kind of way, at this point however you also knew that he probably knew what you meant but was just trying to mess with you.

“we are the king and queen surely we could dismiss them so they aren’t always so…” you begin, trailing off as you try to find the right words not wanting to sound rude but Anakin ever the blunt one cuts straight to the point “close” he finishes for you. “yes” you turn to the two men who continue to stand still, they both finally look at you ready to be called upon. “would you two mind leaving us, we are not in need of your assistance” is what you end up coming up with, it was simple enough and you figured they’d leave after that but to your surprise they remained.

“sorry your Majesty but it is our jobs” Rex was the one who spoke, the statement throwing you off completely. “but i am the queen and he the king” pointing to yourself and then Anakin as you speak. “yes and we are your Valet’s” he said it as if it where obvious why they couldn’t listen to your command and all it did was cause a furrow between your brows. “well as your king and queen we need you two to leave us be” Anakin tried this time as if the order would be received differently from him rather than you.

“For what your majesties?” Braeden spoke this time, they really weren’t going to make this easy.“this isn’t working” you don’t even bother whispering this time as you speak to Anakin. “not one bit” he sighs out, closing the book in his hands and letting his arms fall to his side. you both go quiet trying to think of something that might get them to leave.

“Braeden” you address your valet first and then Anakin’s “Rex” both men look solely at you now “i have stuff i would like to discuss with the king alone” you try, putting emphasis on the last word to get the point across. they still don’t budge, that was it. you grabbed anakin’s forearm and tug him along with you as you walk- or rather he let you pull him along to wherever you had in mind.

one staircase and a few long hallways later you were now at your fathers study, stopping just out front of the doors before you went in. “no you two aren’t allowed in here” you stop both men from continuing in alongside you “but-“ Braeden began and you immediately shut him down. “i said no, this is my fathers study no one is allowed in here unless i say so- I mean it” you weren’t going to debate this one, your fathers study was special to you. although it was yours you’d kept it exactly how he left it, a peace of him frozen in time and there was no way you’d just allow two strangers in there regardless of there jobs. “yes your majesty. we will wait out here then” Braeden said, accepting the fact you weren’t going to sway on this matter.

“good” you walk inside the room turning back just to see Anakin staring at you plainly rather then following along. “Anakin?” you raise a brow and he blinks a few times at you “hm?” you give him a tight lipped smile before gesturing into the room “oh” he quickly rushes into the study evidently he’d thought what you’d said applied to him as well.

“i think this is the best we’ll get when it comes to being alone for the time being” you close the doors to the study as you speak. “i feel like we should be allowed to dismiss them if we wish” he answers while looking around the room, taking in the new scenery before plopping himself down lazily on one of the armchairs. “surely we can, but what are we to do? have them taken away by guards.” he raises his brows up before shrugging “well it’s not like we can’t do that” you roll your eyes at his suggestion. “they’ve not done anything inherently wrong to us.”

“speak for yourself” he says whilst sitting up more properly in the chair. “Rex has wronged you?” you ask curiously and he sucks the inside of his cheek in thought before answering “he’s annoyed me since i woke up.” you snort, taking a seat in the arm chair beside him rather then at the desk “that is not the same thing” you laugh and he rolls his eyes “feels like it to me.”

“An-“ he cuts you off before you get the chance to speak your mind “what did you want to speak about?” the question throws you off and you have to think for a good minute to what he’s referring to “oh, no i just said that so they’d leave us be” you finally answer and he quirks a brow and gives you a sly grin “so you just wanted me alone then? you could of just said so, i would of gotten us away from them much quicker.” you blush at his implications “that is not- i was not-“ his smile grows as you stutter.

“what’s that? need some help finding the words sweetheart” he adds, only making it worse for you. turning your head away in hopes you could breath easier and form a coherent thought by avoiding his gaze, he just laughs. the urge to kick him out of the study was strong for a moment but instead you allow yourself to scan the room and look for something else to talk about, that’s when your eyes land on a specific stack of papers that still needed to be addressed.

“you know what there is something i’d like to talk about” you turn back towards him and he leans forwards more towards you. “brilliant as it so happens there is also something i’d like to talk about with you” you pull back a tad tilting your head in confusion at his words. “what do you want to talk about with me?” his face softens this time, turning to a more serious expression rather then his usual playful demeanor with you. “i heard from the staff that you never truly left my side”

“what’re you-“ he puts his hand up to stop you from speaking so he can continue “while i was sick.” he answers the question you where going to ask “unless i’m mistaken?”

“you… you really shouldn’t listen to gossip” you respond, looking down at your hand and twisting the ring on your finger. that just seemed to be the confirmation he needed. “you said it yourself the servants talk, and i may have been in a feverish state but i know i talked to you. saw your face. felt your touch.” he presses and your face burn more. “is there something you want me to say?” you huff.

“no your reaction is plenty, tells me all i need to know” he gives you a smug smile leaning into your personal space. “i have something much more important to discuss then my actions while you where sick” you quickly change the subject, and he sits back examining your face before nodding. “what’s wrong?” he asks completely switching to a more serious tone.

“i need your help convincing the council that a bill they want to pass cannot be allowed” you stand up and walk over to the desk, grabbing the papers you needed and holding them out to him. he pulls himself up, taking the papers and silently reading over them. “i’m not sure i understand” he says confused as he reads. “what don’t you get?”

“you’re the queen, if you don’t want the bill to pass then say so and if people get mad let them be mad” he looks up from the papers to you. “it doesn’t feel that simple Anakin” he was right of course and you knew that but something in you said going about it in such a way wasn’t the best decision and you trusted your gut. “no it is, what it doesn’t feel like is easy. which it won’t be” he corrects you. twisting the ring on your finger again and biting your lip as your go over his words. once more he was right but still…

you aren’t sure when he got so close to you but your chin was being tilted up and your eyes now met his. “if you need my support i am here, you do not need to worry about that. but you must realize you have a lot more power now than you did then y/n.” the softness and sincerity of his voice made you feel like putty. you could count on him and he was making sure you new that.

“thank you” he didn’t say anything after that instead kissing your forehead, a silent way of saying your welcome.

pretty much for the rest of the day you and Anakin worked together to come up with a solution that worked for you. writing speeches, practicing them. it was both successful and unsuccessful, at the end of the day you wouldn’t truly know if any of it worked until you tried. still you needed it to be perfect so even after you both turned in for the night you found yourself right back in your fathers study as quick as you’d left.

a knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts looking up from your desk as you tried to think who it could be, maybe it was Anakin and he’d realized you were back to work. “come in.”

one of the doors creaked open, unfortunately the person on the other side was not your husband. probably the worse possible person it could be was there instead. “Chancellor Valorum, what are you doing here at this hour?” your stomach twisted as you asked, this was weird and something in you was saying to run. you watch him carefully as he enters further into the room, closing the door behind him.

“i’ve come to check in on how your fairing with that new bill that was drafted” he answered casually, walking around the desk towards you. your body moved before your mind did, pulling you on your feet and putting distance between you both. “at eight?” you tried to keep the suspicion from your voice not wanting to read to deep into it, maybe you where just tired and your mind was playing tricks on you.

“well i meant to check in sooner but i was told you where busy with the king, how is he by the way? i’ve received word he got sick towards the end of your honeymoon” he didn’t move, instead he stayed still leering eerily at you. it felt like a monster looking at its prey, something was definitely not right. “…he’s fine, you saw him at the coronation” you force yourself to answer. “i did but looks can be deceiving” he shrugs, his demeanor switching to a more friendly tone. he moves back around the table and takes a seat in one of the chairs. he was completely playing of his previous behavior the smile on his face hollow.

“right, i’m going to be honest with you chancellor i find this meeting inappropriate. you could of waited till morning to discuss matters with me” you try to sound authoritative wanting to put him in his place but also remain professional. “yes but this is urgent, and parliament is breathing down the council and I’s necks. they want to know what your decision is” his face falls again, the constant switching of attitude truly unsettling you. “they will know when me and the king tell them” your voice wavers as you speak.

“you’re being exceedingly difficult about this, i have reason to worry you have your doubts about the bill.” standing up again he begins to walk over to you. “doubts is an understatement, i will not be approving of it. its vile- cruel even. to take away something they only just received” you argue, refusing to back down. probably not the best time to do this but you had to try. as Anakin said you are the queen. “better to get it done now while it’s still fresh than later when they’ve had a good taste of it” he counters and you can’t help but scowl. “i’m sorry do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?”

“i do, do you?” you wanted to scream at him, how could someone be so cruel. “Chancellor what on earth could you possibly want this bill to go through so badly for. i see no reason what benefits have you from this?”

“a lot of the kingdoms money is going towards providing free education to those lower class. money that we could be using elsewhere” you feel yourself physically recoiling at his words. “this is about money!?” you shout angrily. “you’re shocked” he scoffs looking down at you like you were a bug he could squash at any second. “Alderaan is not a struggling kingdom we have money to spare. what could we possibly need the money back for?” you retort and he rolls his eyes. “wars are not cheap your majesty.”

“we are not at war” you say incredulously and he smiles at you like a mad man “not yet” he quips. “we will not be having a War Valorum.” his voice darkens at that reply “Chancellor Valorum” he corrects. “well if this conversation proceeds the way it is i don’t see that title remaining for long.”

“are you threatening me your majesty” he stands directly in front of you now. your backed into a corner, the only thing you can do is cower or stand tall. you choose the latter. “i’m warning you, but you may take it as a threat if you please” you practically spit at him. “This is not how this works, you are to approve the bill. you don’t have a choice.” you push him away from you “i have a choice, I am your Queen!” you shout.

the anger on his face makes you regret your sudden burst of confidence but you refuse to show him that. “you’ve only just got that title if you disagree with the council and cause a fight you’ll see how easy you can be made out to be an incompetent Queen” he threatens. “i will not sit here and allow you to use me as a pawn for a kingdom that is not your own!”

“No! This is not how this works! i did not kill your father just for you to rebel against me.” he shouts back. you felt the whole world cave from underneath you then. the way it stopped so abruptly, like you’d run head first into a wall. your heart raced fast in your chest, you could hear blood rushing through your ears. “what..” you couldn’t believe it- you didn’t want to believe it “my father died from illness”

“did he? or is that how it was made to look.” you felt like you where going to pass out. “you…he-“ it was growing harder to breathe. “let me make myself Clear your majesty, if you wish to live a long life i suggest you rethink your current decision on that bill.” you felt your eyes burn as you watched him walk away “glad we had this talk” was the last thing you heard before the doors shut.

part 10

Tag List: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06

and the pieces fall into place 🧩🤭 so much to unpack from this chapter 😀 anyways i hope you all enjoyed i won’t bother you with a long note because i want to know your thoughts 👀 love you all 💋💋 Xx<3

[devieuls]

The way of love pt.VIII

Neteyam Sully x Tayrangi Fem Reader (Na'vi)

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Dom Neteyam x Fem Reader; SMUT; ANGST; FLUFF; Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; Blood; Spit; Power Play; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; Enemies (because of you, Neteyam treats you well). Aged characters: Neteyam 19 y.o / You 18 y.o. SERIE

Synopsis: After a great loss happened in your family, you are forced to take a role that before did not belong to you, following a path that you will feel like your only in time. Just when you thought you were finally overcoming the loss, your clan shows up with those you blame for the great offense received. You are the daughter of the first Olo'eykte of all clans and are about to take your mother’s place to lead the Tayrangi clan, but first you must follow Neteyam (the eldest son of the man you detest with all your heart) To train him, despite your contempt for the Sullys and everything about them, you inevitably bond with the boy, unknowingly falling in love with him.

CHAPTER WARNING: ///////

Lenght : 4.6k

Notes: I’m praying that you like the series, because it’s getting closer to the end. Leave a comment to make me understand how it’s going, luv u <3

NA'VI WORDS: TANHI: Star; KARYU: Teacher; 'ITE: Daughter; kenten mì kumpay: a sense of being in an environment where you’re prevented from acting naturally or doing what you want to do; nga yawne lu oer: i love you

Character Cast: NEY'NARI: Your dead sister; IKEYNI: Your Mother; TSENTEY: Your Father; YÌMKXA: Your Ikran; ULEYTE: Your bestie; TUL'PEY: Your future Mate

PART: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; 9 ; 10

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

"Does she know?" Lo'ak’s tone became serious for a moment. "No, not yet. I’ll tell her about that when the time comes. " "Our father will skin you alive,bro" said the youngest. " Probably…" The conversation turned to the end.

You had taken a basket of Spartan fruit and steamed Teylu; you would have liked to hear the conversation between Lo'ak and Neteyam but most of the words were a mix of Na'vi and that language you couldn’t understand. When you were ready you came out of the hut, you looked at the boys with a slight blush on your face. "I took what I came looking for… please, take the water…" You whispered with a thread of voice as you passed the two boys. You could see out of the corner of your eye that Neteyam had tried to touch your elbow when you passed in front of him, but he retracted his hand after his brother’s gaze fell on him. You didn’t give much importance to this detail, taking it for granted that he had made this choice in order not to make you feel further uncomfortable with his brother. When you returned to your family’s hut you noticed that your mother and Neytiri kept talking about some strange event they had faced when they were young; Jake arguing with your dad about warrior stuff while the one you recognized as Tuk and Kiri were talking to each other. You put the basket on the table and then you were invited by the little one to sit with her and her sister, at the beginning you were reluctant to approach them but then you had the courage to sit down with them; Kiri hadn’t looked at you most of the night while Tuk was anxious to meet you.

"I’m Tuktirey! You’re Neteyam’s friend, aren’t you? Your hair is so beautiful, wow!" the voice of the little girl was ringing but pleasant to listen to as she touched some of your braids, admiring the small jewels that were wedged between them. "I love your clothes and your jewelry! You are really beautiful, y/n!" she continued, making genuine and sincere appreciations on every part of you, only to be stopped by Kiri who could feel your slight embarrassment as you thanked little Tuk. "Tuk, if you keep this up, she’s gonna run like a hawk" said the girl who must have been about your age, as she touched Tuk’s braids, making her peel off slightly from you. "I am Kiri, but I think you know us at least by name, Neteyam never misses the opportunity to talk about us" her eyes rolled as if she already knew that 100% he had done it, in fact she was right. "Coincidentally he did it just today, It’s not like we had a lot of time together outside of class hours or formal events," you bit the corner of your mouth slightly as your eyes fell on the floor. Kiri noticed that there was something deeper, but remained silent to not make you uncomfortable, after all she had just met you.

At that moment the two young Sullys also entered the hut with some Dapophet leaves that contained the water all of you would need for the long night. The lanterns that were placed inside the hut began to light up with the arrival of the eclipse of the day, while the two boys took their seats near you and the two sisters.

Neteyam sat between you and Tuk, often holding her when she needed the affection of his older brother. You found out that Tuk was particularly close to Neteyam, you could tell by how she whined at the thought of going back to the Omatikaya clan without her brother, and how she complained that Lo'ak couldn’t braid her hair like Neteyam, or by her laments for how Lo'ak always prohibited her from following him into the woods. It softened you the dynamic between them, you could see yourself so much in Tuk, at least 'the old you', the one a little rebellious and mischievous, but endured by the older sister. You also laughed at the way Lo'ak was reprimanded by Kiri when he said something extremely stupid or when he appeared in the stories as a powerful warrior. After a long time you felt happy, you no longer had the burden of thinking about tomorrow or your duties, In one night, your shoulders shook thanks to those who until last month considered 'demons'. The thing that left you most enchanted was how Neteyam smiled and tried to keep all three brothers quiet, almost like a father to them. When it came your turn to speak you found yourself bickering with Neteyam, as he was too modest to be complimented on his skills or improvements; Sometimes you two find complaining and contradicting eachother about some funny scenes that happened while you were training, like the fact that he almost drowned that morning while trying to stay under the water as long as possible.

Suddenly Tuk opened her mouth to talk, drawing your attention. "Neteyam, you and y/n are mated? Becaus-" Lo'ak plugged Tuk’s mouth with Teylu, getting a tender pout from the little girl. "Tuk, you’re talking too much, eat something" Lo'ak said embarrassed as Neteyam blushed and looked slightly away as he scratched the back of his head. "No, just friends. We’re just friends, Tuktirey" you said smiling, while Lo'ak held back a smile that was certainly containing a laugh. Your eyes shook him in the moment, while Kiri had managed to connect the dots in her mind. Kiri looked first at Neteyam and then at you, noticed how the brother swallowed in embarrassment and tried to hide the blush on his cheeks, and how you looked at Lo'ak badly for his expression and embarrassed smile. The marks on Neteyam’s chest and the small scratches behind his back, and then he noticed some hickeys in the upper thigh and closer to your intimacy. She nodded in silence, while a dark veil covered her face after realizing, feeling bad for you, since most likely you did not know yet. "Friends? You seem so close though" Tuk said with his mouth still full, as Lo'ak sighed with relief as he hadn’t mentioned that little detail that only Neteyam could have told you. "is because I am his Karyu, in this month he spent more time with me because of the lessons that with the other Na'vi of the village" Neteyam’s head nodded agreeing.

The evening continued along the same lines: funny stories, Tuktirey insisting that you and Neteyam were a couple, Lo'ak and Neteyam trying to silence her in their strange language and Kiri maybe contemplating death and then talking to you gently. Towards the end of the evening, the Sullys went to sleep in Neteyam’s hut, as they would leave the next day late in the afternoon. You were happy to have met the Sullys, you had discovered how they were simply Na'vi with their flaws and merits; it made you laugh as Jake seemed so trained when Neytiri spoke over him or corrected his grammar, you found them tender… Now that you were lying in the part of the hut dedicated to you, you couldn't help but smile as you looked out of the window hole, still lying on your carpet, talking quietly to the stars and the wind. This was something you often did when you needed to vent both positively and negatively, it made you feel so close to your sister, and you hoped she would hear you tell her about your experience with the Sullys. A gentle breeze came into your room and made you smile, thinking it was Ney'nari’s answer, interpreting that breeze as your sister’s encouragement to move on and continue to bond with that family you were afraid of before and disgusted with.

"Y/n… y/n, are you awake?" a voice coming from outside made you get up from the ground and look out the window, and then notice Neteyam looking for something on the ground, as to hit the window to attract your attention. "I’m awake. What are you doing here at this hour?" you said noting the late hour. Neteyam’s face rose and smiled as he looked out the window. "I told you, I can’t sleep if you don’t say good night, Ma Tanhì," his voice was slightly lowered, so as not to attract the attention of sleepers in the village. He approached your window, albeit slightly higher from where he was. "Skxawng, go to sleep. If they found you there they would skin you" you whispered, trying to make your voice heard only to him. You had to hold back a smile for that gesture as foolish as it was sweet, which had particularly impressed you. "Then say good night, so I have quiet dreams." His eyes chained to yours, watching the little smile that was born on your face. "Goodnight, 'Teyam," you said quietly as you put your cheek on the palm of your hand, noting how happy and uplifted Neteyam seemed after your words. "Good night, ma eywa," you blushed when he called you "Eywa," you didn’t expect it and he knew it. He looked up to you as you smiled like a carefree child thanks to him. After seeing you smile like this, he would surely have had more than golden and serene dreams.

Your gaze fell on him again, his eyes open as he watched you as if you were his entire universe, so much love in those golden eyes that made you blush and smile. You looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, while he was mimicking you with sweet words that you could understand even without hearing his voice. "ma eywa, sweet dreams… nga yawne lu oer" The boy’s voice made all the love and adoration he felt for you, making you smile. You sent him a kiss with your hand, which he took theatrically and carried to his heart, doing the same with you before leaving. Now your back was leaning just below the window, while your hands were resting on your chest, at heart level, squeezing that flying kiss that Neteyam had left you. Neteyam had become the cure you needed after all the years you spent hiding your unhappiness from the world; small gestures like these simply brought you closer to that precipice that was love. You should have been afraid, you were a woman already mated for years, soon the rite of Tsaheylu with Tul'pey would have come, but your mind was poisoned by Neteyam. You fell asleep with a sweet smile on your face, asking Eywa to pass the night quickly so that you could see Neteyam again as soon as possible, you were already missing his sweet touch and scent.

Eywa welcomed you into the dream world and granted your wish, bringing the morning quickly. When your eyes opened, the rays of the two suns hit your face, and for the first time it didn’t even bother you. You got out of bed with a smile on your face and when your parents saw you so sunny they were strangled, they smiled at you and you needed some berries and fruits that they had gone to get from the shed. "Ma'ite, today you shine more than the suns." Your father’s voice made you smile and nod as you savored the sweet juice of the Yovo fruit. "It’s true, what delights your heart so much, ma'ite? We haven’t seen you like this for years." Your mother continued, before passing a hand through your braids and giving you a maternal smile. It was true, Ney'nari’s death had marked you in everything: the smiles were false and if they were true you noticed with how much weakness you held them in face; your character more off and calm to emulate that of your sister, totally making you another person; the way you seemed to sprinkle joy and tranquility made them think for a moment that their sweet, rebellious and old y/n was back. "It’s just a beautiful day, no big deal." You whispered with slight blush on your cheeks as you squinted under your mother’s caresses.

After breakfast, you changed your clothes and rushed out of your hut, hoping to see Neteyam soon. You arrived in front of his hut and welcomed by Tuk, who had apparently just woken up, but did not deprive you of her sweet welcoming smile. "Looking for Neteyam? he went to the village with Lo'ak a little while ago" Her sleepy voice made her even more tender, made you think if Neteyam had the same tenderness as a child. " Thank you Tuktirey" You answered her and then laid a hand on her head, slightly upsetting her braids, while she laughed softly. You thanked Tuk before going to the center of the village to look for the two brothers. You met Lo'ak right away, and he seemed quite insistent on not letting you go looking for Neteyam, not understanding why he was so ambiguous. "Lo'ak, please, let me go find Neteyam" you said gently, repeating yourself several times before abruptly departing from him, following the sound of two voices, one of which sounded vaguely like Neteyam’s. Once you got to where the voices came from, you could distinguish Neteyam’s shoulders and back, but not with whom he was speaking, even though the female voice was unequivocal. "Shit, I tried to stop her…" Lo'ak said once he reached you, spinning Neteyam and showing the figure of a beautiful and tall Na'vi, with long black braids adorned with feathers and flowers typical of the forest; Her clothes were obviously well-made, and you could tell she was of a high status other than that she was definitely a warrior. Your eyes passed from her to Neteyam, failing to understand who Na'vi was close to him.

"Who's she?" Your voice was slightly absent as you looked Neteyam in the eye, looking for sincere answers, but reading only embarrassment and fear in those golden pools. "'Teyam, w-who is she?" you repeated again, not understanding why he didn’t answer right away, and why he wasn’t reassuring you "MaTanhì… she is…" His voice was broken as he searched for words he could not find. Your heart beat in your throat as you felt Lo'ak gently take you by the wrist, as if to take you away from there. "His mate. I am Reyin'al te Sxeke Ninat'ite…" Replied proudly the woman who before was behind Neteyam and who now wrapped her hands around his arm. "… Tsakarem of the Omatikaya" The surprise crept into your gaze, your eyes widening in disbelief before the stark reality that was revealed before you. "Tsakarem of the Omatikaya…" You yanked your wrist from Lo'ak’s grip, as if to get rid of it. Your heart seemed to have stopped like your breath, your eyes that were before on the woman, now they returned to the face of Neteyam who did not have the courage to look at you.

All the happiness that was before in your body evaporated like water under the scorching sun, your eyes went out of disbelief and it hurt you that Neteyam now didn’t even look you in the eye, giving you a tacit statement to what the girl had said. You would have wanted him to say 'No, it’s a misunderstanding' or something to cheer you up, but he didn’t. You searched in vain for his gaze for endless seconds, and then you tightened your jaw and nodded at the Na'vi who answered you, and then you turned around and left as your heart fell apart. You heard footsteps behind you following you, but you didn’t turn around for a second, because you knew if the steps were Neteyam’s, you would collapse in front of him. You found yourself immersed in a whirlwind of emotions as you ran away from him, a tumultuous tornado that tore your soul apart. A wave of pain swept over you, like a fist to the chest that left you breathless. Your heart, first filled with joy, broke into a thousand pieces, leaving a deep wound burning inside you while. The feeling of emptiness warmly welcomed you, as if something essential had been ripped from you. Anger enveloped you like a burning fire, a flame that blazed in the depths of your being. The bitterness is mixed with tears running across your face, cursing you for not being strong enough to hold them. The confusion struck you, and along with it the overlapping questions in your mind, looking for an answer that can make sense of what you heard. You felt lost in a maze of conflicting emotions, unable to find a way out. Sadness envelops you, a heavy mantle that oppresses you and makes you feel deaf to the words of the boy who was following you. Your world has fallen with such speed that even your certainties were dissolved.

A warm hand but too strong to be Neteyam’s kept you from running away. Once you turned to the owner of the hand you noticed that the person who followed you was Lo'ak, and a sense of desolation covered your face. "Y/n… I tried to-" Lo'ak’s voice snapped when he noticed your shiny, slightly red eyes, immediately realizing he had no excuse. " He would have told you… he was waiting for the right moment." He said before he looked away from you, lest you feel uneasy at the tears that streaked your face without your will. You swelled your chest several times, trying to regain the gift of the word, which had been taken away from you by that storm of emotions that had exploded in you. " Isn’t it too late for that? He had plenty of time to talk to me about her." Your broken voice made an idiot hear the boy in front of you, as if anything in his brother’s defense would be in vain. "Y/n.. I understand, I tried to keep you from looking for Neteyam because of that, because I knew he wanted to talk to you first," he continued, letting go of your wrist. "If so, he would be in your place now." Your tone was sour and poisonous, to this statement of yours Lo'ak did not know how to respond without looking like a complete idiot.

He knew you were right, you were absolutely right to feel that way and to be angry. Before he snapped to follow you, the look of Neteyam watching you leave gave him the courage to do what his older brother couldn’t. He was sure Neteyam would tell you, he wasn’t a liar, you could trust him and his word, but Reyin'al’s sudden arrival had ruined all the plans. Neteyam had never loved Reyin'al, they had grown up together, known by the whole clan as the two strongest and most admirable warriors, Mo'at had paired them from an early age saying that their union would bring greatness to the Clan. Despite this, Neteyam had always seen Reyin'al more as a friend than a mate, he had grown up with the love stories of Neytiri and Jake and dreamed of meeting his soulmate like them. He had always felt too close in that relationship, so much so that he had never really tried to make it work, he wanted to try 'true love', fight to meet it and have a sweet ending like his mother’s. Neytiri had always supported his son’s dream, clashing with Jake who agreed with the decision of the elderly Tsahik, reminding him several times that she was destined for another man but still chose her partner. And Neteyam had finally figured out how his mother felt about her father when he saw you, falling in love with you day by day.

"Just yesterday he was under my window, sending me kisses and sweet words, and then…. receiving this poisoned knife. Don’t tell me you’re gonna tell me because I don’t believe a word of it." You hissed before you walked away from Lo'ak, hearing him say something remotely like "Kenten mì kumpay…" Blood was boiling in your veins for trusting him. The pain spread in you like a fire burning in your chest, a feeling of weight that oppresses your breath. Every beat of your torn heart seems to recall the bloody wound that made you lose your breath, a excruciating pain that spreads in every fiber of your being. Feeling you vulnerable as your knees found peace on the grass, near the precipice where it faced the sea.

A reluctant hand landed on your shoulder as you growled. "Lo'ak, go away." Your tone was high, it was releasing all the pain that was building up in you. "Ma Tanhì… I-" You walk away from that delicate touch as if you were struck with burning iron when you realized that voice belonged to Neteyam and not to Lo'ak.

Neteyam had found the strength to follow you and his brother only after a few minutes of derealization and shame, but when he managed to reach you you were already gone and it was Lo'ak who showed him the way to find you. His remorseful look was on your back, hoping to see your face and explain the situation. "Go.away." You spelled it with clenched teeth, giving him your back as you wiped away tears that seemed not to want to stop coming out of your eyes. He swallowed, taking a long breath to start talking. "Ma Tanhì… let me just explain, please" His voice was broken as he tried to explain himself, seeking your consent to speak. You rose from the ground and looked him in the eyes with contempt and disappointment, your shiny and slightly swollen eyes destroyed him more than your words could. You shook your hands in a fist to try to condense your anger as Neteyam’s gaze became increasingly guilty.

"Explain? What do you want to explain. You have a partner and you didn’t tell me." Your words hit her skin like arrows. "You knew about Tul'pey, and you didn’t tell me about that 'Reyin'al'." Your voice was filled with hate as you yelled at him against words that scratched his skin and soul. "I wanted to-" you stopped him with a wave of your hand, and then growled at him. " You lied. You lied and deceived me." Neteyam’s jaw twitched as he listened silently. "You made promises." You started pushing him backwards.

The tension was now palpable in the air, not the usual pleasant tension, a destructive and cramped. Your eyes burn with anger and disappointment, your hands hit hard on his chest making him back, trying to vent all his frustration and pain in one blow. Driven by the anger and wound that had crept into your heart, you struck his chest at other times, letting each blow be a cry of protest against his actions. Each punch, slap or push was accompanied by sharp words, screams of pain and growls that intertwined with your anger. But unlike Tul'pey, Neteyam accepted your desperate cry and took each blow in silence, letting you vent on his body if it would help you feel better. "I hate you. I hate you, Neteyam. I hate you with all my heart," you yelled at him in the face as you held back every tear, as your fingers sought a foothold on him, scratching his chest before pushing him again. He wanted to hug you and let you cry over him, but he understood that now your wound was still fresh and bleeding brutally.

"I want you to leave. Now. Never come back. Go away with your parents today. I don’t want to see you again." You said to then walk away from him, while your hands were still shaking from the rush of emotion that passed through your body. "Go away. Take away your promises and your partner. I put myself at risk for you…. and you ruined everything! " This time Neteyam’s hand approached you, and then was struck by your hand. "Everything I said, I really meant it. Every promise, every compliment, everything was true… She's not you. I never wanted her, I want you, ma Tanhì…" Your eyes still looked at him with disgust as your heart betrayed you by beating so hard for those words. " You lied. You’re a liar. I don’t believe you." You answered with clenched teeth, before screaming to relieve the tension. "I didn’t lie to you… please, ma Tanhì, listen to me." His voice was broken as he tried to get close to you, being rejected. He felt guilty, he promised never to make you cry again, love you and make you happy, but now he was holding in his hands the pieces of your broken heart. "Go away. I said you have to go away!" You yelled at him, his eyes lowered to the ground. He didn’t know whether to listen to your request and let you go or be deaf to your voice and insist on his position.

Neteyam took a deep breath, approaching you and taking your arms, looking you in the eye. "Ma Tanhì, listen to me and if you want I’ll leave. I never wanted to be with Reyin'al, we have been mated all our lives, without choice. I fell in love with you, just you and every aspect of you. I feel horrible, a monster, seeing that I hurt you so much, it was not my intention… I swear to Eywa" A tear twisted Neteyam’s face and laid his forehead on yours. You took a deep breath, repressing all those feelings sent from your still bleeding heart and growled at him. " I would have told you, I swear, I would have… Reyin'al came unannounced and ruined everything, believe me. Let me fix this… I-" "Do not touch me. Don’t touch me anymore." You said growling, then try to get away from his grip. "I'm begging.. Don’t reject me" he whispered in a tone of voice that died in his throat and let all his pain shine through, but also the desire to keep you close. "Go to your partner. Just go." you made sure to spell the words, then feel his hands let go and hesitate before leaving. " Go. GO AWAY!" you yelled at him again, clenching your jaw and struggling with the conflicting feelings that were being born in you.

It was clear that Neteyam wanted to continue the speech, you could read it in his face: his shiny eyes that hesitated on your hands and then your eyes, as his jaw twitched, the way his tail sent you specific signals, or the way his voice died in his throat. He accepted your request and disappeared into the forest, while you dried your tears and your hands spoke the cold ground beneath you, as if to seek some comfort. You wanted him to stay, but at the same time you wanted him to leave; to kiss you, but you wanted to hurt him, to hear his words, but you were deaf. You spent a few hours in that place, letting nature embrace and welcome you, remembering that you could ask for advice and receive comfort from your sister by making Tsaheylu with one of the voices trees that was placed just a short distance from there. You needed guidance and someone who understood your emotions, so who better than your sister to help you figure out the way to go?

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 2

chapter 3:

1. loving how immediately the chapter begins with sirius warning reg to stay away from the knives

2. omg i forgot that james is gonna have a dagger kink in this. lmao like how ahb james definitely had a gun kink

3. 😭😭😭 james immediately saying he’s good with his hands. i’m losing my mind he’s so flirty

4. james and sirius both know that james will 100% sacrifice himself for regulus. but regulus doesn’t know that. that HURTS

5. “"Are you—flirting with my brother?" Sirius asks, baffled, and then he reaches out and swats James over the head. "Stop that. Don't do that."” FUCK YEAH! the flirting has begun

6. the death eaters ☹️

7. holy shit. finding out that sirius killed twelve people was a jaw dropping moment

8. james is good with a hatchet. istg that this will probably come back to haunt me. he’s probably gonna brutally murder someone with that

9. MARLENEEEEE

10. dorlene mayhaps?

11. sirius being seen as the hollow’s sex symbol is so devastating

12. peter pettigrew mention 😔 he’s probably gonna die

13. EVAN ROSIER MENTION!! god i hope he doesn’t die. but alas, he probably will. i’m not getting my hopes up for this fic. as of know, i only think wolfstar and jegulus are guaranteed to survive.

14. god, i love remus’s characterization in this fic

15. awwww wolfstar is already flirting. sirius is gonna be company for remus when he’s in the kitchen!

16. REMUS POV!! HES 100% NOT GONNA DIE

17. reading the authors note and i realize that everyone was worried about remus. not just me

chapter 4:

1. “Sirius never said it. He has never said it, and Regulus thinks he will die before he ever admits it, but Regulus is sure that Sirius regrets taking his place.”

No! i don’t think you understand regulus!! sirius has absolutely zero regrets in taking your place

2. “Regulus feels like a child stepping into a sweet shop, except it's just him and a variety of pointy weapons. He would like one of each, please.” i should be scared. but like, that’s so funny. i-

3. “"Oh, sorry, I thought the question was if I could still put a dagger in the side of your fucking skull."” CACKLING

4. 😭😭😭😭😭 this is the moment james discovers he has a knife kink. pleaseeeeee

5. not everyone flirting with james 😭😭 plsss

6. dorcas my beloved 😌🩷✨

7. aww peter and james freindship <333 i wish peter wasn’t doomed to die

8. james has such a knife kink omg 😭😭

9. their sparring is so homoerotic. they can’t even train without flirting 😭😭😭