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azrielbrainrot · 4 months

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

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You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled)

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

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readychilledwine · 1 month

Text

Pieces of You pt 3

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings - self doubt, slight manipulation, discussion of moving forward after the death of a spouse, hurt people hurting people, HOFAS spoilers *slightly* (a lot of us had this theory to begin with and I just played with it to fit this)

A/n - It can only be uphill from here, right?.. Special thank you to @honeybeefae and @thehighladywrites for helping me think through how quickly I should let reader and Rhys move on, and for convincing me that I should continue writing this. (Ps friends - sorry I can't tag you. I evidently hit the max tag amount with my taglists.)

✨️ Pieces of You Masterlist ✨️

The 3 month milestone had changed your and Morwenna's lives forever. Rhys had finally convinced you to move into one of his homes. He was insistently whispering to you over and over that the small cabin wasn't going to work anymore, that Cassian and Azriel barely fit inside it, that once his Little Mor and sweet Nyx began to move you four would need more space.

It had been also heartbreaking, entering the home Feyre had crafted, each room so individually thought of for who it was intended to belong to. Above all else, though, it had been lonely.

It wasn't your home. It wasn't the finely crafted wooden arches your mate had assembled by hand. It wasn't the rooms you had spent hours picking colors for. It wasn't cozy. That lack of security and warmth was why you were once again up at 3am. Despite the babies now sleeping for longer chunks of time, you never did. Regardless of if it was a night Rhysand spent at your side or one he spent tucked into the room he had shared with Feyre.

You leaned your head back against the exterior of the home, looking up at the glittering sky, and it finally happened.

3 months of mourning in silence. 3 months of screaming into your pillow. 3 months of stress, of anger, of overflowing love, 3 months of feeling like a shell of the female you were, of feeling as though your body was no longer yours, it crashed into you like a tidal wave. And it swept and destroyed everything in its path.

Rhysand shot awake in bed, feeling something was off. His chest ached, begging him to get up, to move, to search. He pulled on pants, glancing at Nyx and Morwenna sleeping peacefully, but you, once again, had not come to the room. He waited for the wraith to appear, feeling her just moments after he called. “Is it y/n,” Nuala nodded to the question, moving to admire the sleeping babes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. She is mourning. That is her right.”

Rhys sighed, moving to your room without hesitation. He had hoped getting you out of that house would help. He had hoped the luxury he could offer you would have helped. He knocked on the door, listening for the broken come in that followed. “Why haven't you come to bed?” You were taken back by the question, taken back by him holding that perfectly tanned hand out. “Come to bed. Let me hold you until those sorrows melt away for the night.”

He knew you didn't feel it. That soft string that had made him scream, made him question all he knew about love and life. Part of him hoped you never did. Part of him hoped he would never have to explain to his family how it had taken him a miniscule 3 month period to fall in love with you and for a Mother given mating bond to snap. Part of him hoped he would never have to experience losing you, to add you to his list of things he would bury too deeply to properly mourn.

“I was unsure if I was wanted there.” That hand reached for yours, clasping it. He was so warm. Always so warm. You could bask in his warmth like he was the sun if given the chance. You shook the feeling mentally, though. “It is-”

“Our room,” he finished softly. “It is our room. Where our children are sleeping. Come to bed.”

Morning came much too soon for Rhysand. It had come much too soon for you as well. You took both of the babes, laughing as they spoke to each other in a language only they knew. They had begun taking more interest in each other, in toys, in the world. They were making life the greatest adventure, even if a lingering pain came from both of you seeing them smile so brightly.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were holding Nyx, forearm under his little tummy and letting “fly” as he worked so very hard to stretch his growing wings. Rhysand was watching you from the doorway, Morwenna on his hip as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were jumbled baby speak, all so happy. Nyx's were elated and fast. When you looked to the doorway, your wide smile fell as that string finished itself and settled deep into your chest.

Rhysand had never watched someone's mental walls fall as quickly as yours did. The silence in the room almost made the giggles of the two unknowing parties fade to background noise. “I was shocked too, darling. It's okay.”

Rhysand had dinner without you that night. He flew to the House of Wind with Nyx to eat with the Inner Circle. He wanted to give you time. He remembered the moment Azriel and Nesta came home, questioning their bonds after exploring those damned caves with the Quinlan girl and learning how the Cauldron had been corrupted. He knew you needed to process. He had too after all.

He took his seat trying to ignore the one that sat empty next to him. Everynight a plate was still sitting there. Even when you came, that chair sat empty, plate untouched. It was a screaming sign that the Inner Circle had not moved in. That they may never move on.

“It just makes the two mates theory make more sense,” Cassian and Amren were deep in a debate again. “If the Daglan, asteri, whatever the fuck we want to call them, did something to the Cauldron to ensure the mating bonds were taken over by it's creation for breeding purposes, then the existence of a Mother Blessed Bond must also be there.”

Amren sighed, “So which do you two have then?” Nesta stiffened at the question. “A Mother Blessed Bond is meant to be true love. It's who we are technically meant to find as a soul mate. A Cauldron made Bond is evidently strictly for breeding. Which do you two share?”

The table hushed. It was a valid question and point. “To continue,” Amren took a drink from her glass before setting it down with a gentle click. “If we come out and tell other courts about this, how many other fae will begin to question their bonds? Kallias and Vivienne? Tamlin and Briar? Helion and Saraya? Lucien and Elain? How do we even begin to prove which bond is which? Does it mean they love that mate less? Rhysand would not have loved Feyre less regardless of the bond type. He will never remarry. Never move on.”

Azriel flicked his eyes to Rhysand. He knew about the bond Rhysand shared with you. He had given Rhysand his blessing to move on and pursue. He had asked his brother to find happiness again. He watched the words land on Rhysand's features, watched his eyes dull.

“If Rhysand did find a new mate,” Azriel spoke softly. “We would all support him moving forward with the bond.”

Nesta scoffed from next to Cassian. “Imagine being that poor female. Living in the shoes of Feyre Cursebreaker. No one could compare.”

But you did, didn't you? Rhysand's grip on his thigh tightened before relaxing. You were just as special, as kind, as loving. You were beautiful. Gods knew you were absolutely beautiful. You were selfless.

“I wouldn't want to try to sit in her place. I would reject the bond,” Mor sipped her wine, leaned back with one arm across her stomach.

Cassian and Azriel both looked to where Rhysand was dead silent. “I need to take Nyx home. He's getting hungry. I'll be right back.”

When Rhysand came back to the House of Wind without his son, he had no intentions of coming back to you that night. So, he never did.

3 awkward weeks passed between you and Rhysand. 3 absolutely strange weeks of either heated kisses and touches or nothing. Not even a good morning. You sighed as you laid Morwenna and Nyx down in the nursery before taking the few strides to Rhysand's office.

He was avoiding you, and it hurt. It hurt knowing your mate, this beautiful unasked for second chance was avoiding you. He was hunched over his desk, reading over some papers and signing a few. “Are we going to talk about why you are avoiding me?”

“I am not avoiding you. I am busy.”

“Yes, busy avoiding me.” You sat across from him, feeling so cold and informal. It was as if you were nothing more than his employee. “Our children are asleep. We should talk about this while we can. I deserve to know if I did something wrong.”

He didn't even look up at you as he replied. “You didn't do anything wrong. As I said, I am busy.” This wasn't the voice of the male who coaxed you to sleep. The one who whispered his dreams to you. “You can go.”

The dismissal made the bond go taunt, and when he felt the first wave of your confusion and hurt, he locked it down more. “Rhys-”

“I think we should sleep in separate rooms again. Our relationship has crossed some lines.”

You blinked at him. Stunned and almost dead silent. “I don't understand where this is coming from?”

“It's the truth. I am your High Lord. You are my subject.” It killed him to say it. His own heart was screaming to stop, but that first brick wall now stood, waiting for the other 3 sides. “We cannot continue blurring that line.”

“You're my mate,” your broken whisper almost made him stop, but he dug in.

“Something we will need to discuss at a later date and time. Surely there will be away for us to reject the bond without causing a downfall and hurting your ability to nanny Nyx.” A second wall stood in place of you and his heart. He knew it was a low blow, and he watched your brows knit and mouth slightly open.

“Rhysand.”

“High Lord,” he corrected.

“Why are you doing this?”

“The bedroom you were in previously is fine.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I am establishing a boundary, y/n.” He watched as you began to cry, holding in his own tears as he did. “Our relationship needs to remain appropriate.”

"Do you not want me? We are blessed with this second chance, and you are just turning your back on it. Please, is it me? I know I am not the beauty she was, I know I am not as special as she was. But I'd fight to make you happy, for our children-”

"Nyx isn't yours. Stop acting like he is.”

He watched as you crumbled inside of yourself, that last wall forming around his heart by destroying yours. He didn't mean a single word, but how else was he supposed to save you? All the Mother had ever done to Rhysand was take and take.

You recovered from the blow quickly, nodding as you aggressively wiped the tears from your face. "You have the weekend to find someone else to do what I am. Wen and I are leaving.”

"You can't just take her from me.”

"Yes I can," he knew what was coming, that new bond screaming for him to stop this all. "You aren't her father. Stop acting like it.”

You wanted to slam the door as you walked away before his act fell, before he gripped his chest and warded the room to sob. Little Mor had quickly become his everything. That dark hair, that button nose, those deep blue eyes. She looked like his sister, but you didn't know that when you threatened to take her away. Hadn't known why all three winged males so quickly became attached to her.

And now he was losing her. He was losing you. He was losing everything.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @la-petite-lapin @juniperberriesaries @anuttellaa @luvmoo @mirandasidefics @soph1644 @hungryforbatboys @awkardnerd @bruxa0007 @eerievixen @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @ghostlyrose2 @amygdtjhddzvb @marvelouslovely-barnes @batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @miadialila @12358 @blushingfawnsposts

✨️If you are not tagged but your name is listed, Tumblr will not allow me to tag you for some reason!✨️

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #rhys fic #rhysand fic

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peachesofteal · 3 months

Text

Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology - previous

You haven’t been inside a bar this crowded since you graduated from university.

You settle in the corner, avoiding nearly everyone’s eyes, hands cupped around a chipped glass full to the brim with beer.

You weren’t expecting an island on the brink of a full winter assault to be so… lively.

The room is a party. A party full of people who know one another well enough to call them by first name. There can’t be more than one hundred people living in this town year-round, and you think they might all be inside this dimly light pub, crowded around the waxed cedar bar, laughing and smiling with like they’ve not seen each other in eons. Like they’re long lost, disjointed members of the same family.

Well, all most all of them.

You don’t see the Ranger. The Caribbean blue eyes, brusque moustache and beard, low brim black beanie, all are missing.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you.

He didn’t seem the socializing type.

Still…

You hadn’t expected such a… clipped welcome.

And you surely hadn’t expected your ferry buddy, the spunky six-year-old girl who talked to you for most of the ride, to be his daughter.

Somehow, that made his cold, distant nature even worse.

Here’s a man capable of warmth; his smile said, when he scooped his daughter into his arms. Here’s someone you can trust. Someone who is friendly, genuine.

Just not towards you. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and even though the drive to town was fairly short, he barely spoke to you, answering your questions with the shortest syllables possible.

He was every bit the Ranger you had heard so little about. Every bit the man turned myth.

And handsome. Rugged.

Older.

Your new friend in the backseat was better company than the man you’d be working with for better part of a year, the Ranger who you’re afraid you can’t do it without. Can’t navigate the island or the tides without him, can’t do half the work you needed to do without a partner. The thing his role is supposed to be, when needed.

Worse was, the provided housing is a duplex, and he’s on the other side, a fact he gritted through his teeth this afternoon when he dropped you off, gesturing to the right side of the house with a callous wave. His front door was as green as the forest.

The other was black.

Your boss did warn you.

She was tactful, cautious. The island itself carries a reputation; one some may be intimated by, but not you.

Who are you to fear stewards of the land? They are more akin to you than others, after all.

John though, she lamented with a mournful expression, John was different.

“John is less than pleased about this placement but assures me it won’t be an issue.”

“Less than pleased?”

“He’s… protective, but he’ll warm up to you in time, I’m sure. A few days, and he’ll be showing you the ropes. Don’t worry.”

You keep your nose in your beer. When you’re finished, the next one comes immediately, without prompting, and the bartender swoops low, voice heavy in your ear.

“On the house.” He winks, and the woman to your left slides closer, curiosity wet on her lips between her drink and the question you know is coming.

“You’re the scientist?”

“No, the marine biologist. Cetologist, to be specific.” You cut to the quick and she stares at you, rightfully so. You have the good grace to grimace. “Er, sorry. I’m uh… not great with people.”

“That’s alright. Neither are we, really.” She lifts her drink with a cheers, gesturing to the room, and knocks it back. “So, what’s a cetologist?”

“I study whales.” She nods knowingly.

“Ah. You’re here for the pod.”

“Well, I’m interested in the humpbacks too, but yes. I’m mostly here to study the residents.” You were only here to study the pod, but you never said no to a whale, no matter notoriety, or size. You might be getting paid to study the residents, but you were going to soak up every second you could on this island. It’s wilderness was protected and almost pristine, an untamed landscape of mountain and sea too great of a call for you to resist.

The woman stares at you, intrigued, thin veil of amusement dancing in her eyes. “We’re happy to have you. You respect us, we’ll respect you.” The bartender pauses, shining a glass with a hole pocked rag, and glares at her. “Most of us will. Can’t say how John’ll take to ya.”

“Oh, I work on my own mostly.” You lie, giving her a fake smile that feels awful, and she humphs.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” she flounders, and you provide your name, letting it settle in the air, others turning to give you a questioning look, like they’ve been waiting for it too, and she grins, repeating it with a handshake. “Skip the shortcuts through the forest at night.” She adds over her shoulder, hopping off the stool and wading into the crowd without another word, leaving you confused.

Skip the… skip the what?

“Ignore her.” The bartender hastily reassures you, but the emotion doesn’t touch his eyes, lingering gazes in the room enough to have you swallowing the rest of your beer in haste and beelining out the door.

The walk to your rental is short, up the street and take a left, then another, until you reach the only house at the top of the hill, a duplex with a sweeping, wide planked front porch.

The top step creaks beneath your weight. An ember glows in the dark.

“Jesus chr-“ Your heart slams against your ribs, pulse thundering between your ears.

He’s silent. The cigar illuminates his face, a flicker of brilliant blue, crystal clear and piercing, pinned onto you like a laser.

“It’s late.” It’s the admonishment of a father, and indignant rage flourishes down your spine.

“I’m an adult, thanks.” He’s unmoved by your spite. Settled like the cedars that grow at the heart of this place, tall enough to blot out the sun, wide enough to build houses, boats.

He pulls. The orange cinder burns red, honeyed smoke and mahogany sweetening the air.

The smoking is attractive. It's intriguing, dangerous, and draws you closer, other foot coming to rest on the top step, tempting fate.

"You shouldn't be out around here late."

"The entire town is down at the bar." You shoot back, still rising in anger, rattling with it. You’re a grown woman, who is this guy to tell you what you can and can’t do?

His jaw flexes, mouth tightening into a straight line, invisible string pulling him taut before he speaks again.

"They live here, know their way around. It's not always safe." The protest builds, words coming quick, rapid-fire, but before you can speak, you lose your voice to a chorus of howls.

Wolves.

#peaches writes #john price #john price x reader #this is mostly just vibes #and whales

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redhoodinternaldialectical · 6 months

Text

It's quite important to me that Jason and Bruce's conflict is not a misunderstanding.

I truly believe that if each of them had perfect omniscient knowledge of every detail of what happened surrounding Jason's death, not only would they still have conflict, but they would still have the SAME conflict. Neither the question nor the answer of Under the Red Hood's climax would change.

Sheila's betrayal is often known about in canon (frankly there is no way anyone but Jason should know; it is deeply unclear to me why comics allow others to be aware of this) and it does nothing to change anything.

Bruce's one off attempt to kill the Joker at most changes a few lines during Jason's plea to let him kill him ("Please! I know you wanted to, I know you tried to once, what changed? Did you forget about me? Did you stop caring? Did you fucking well forgive?! You for whom vengeance is your only life?")

Learning about the people Jason saved doesn't do much to assuage Bruce's horror at what Jason has become ("Each life is precious, unique, irreplaceable. It does not absolve him.")

Learning exactly what was done to mourn him modifies the depth and force of Jason's fury some ("You buried and destroyed all trace of me, the actual person, didn't even try to tell Dick, and then blamed my death on my own irresponsibility?!") But otherwise does very little.

Talia's involvement being revealed does nothing, because frankly she didn't do much of anything except stall this confrontation and give him a knife. It's a really cool knife, granted, but it sure as fuck didn't convince Jason this needed to happen!

The exact details of Tim's induction into the role have the largest effect - on an issue that is utterly tertiary to his main conflict with Bruce ("Oh wow, cool, great, the new kid you got to emotionally support you actually volunteered, and has parents so his entire well-being doesn't hinge on your approval. Congrats on approaching the bare fucking minimum! Now, wouldn't you agree that you have a duty to protect him by taking care of the murderer who killed me?! Instead of fucking demanding that he be good enough not to get killed?!")

I have a whole damn post on the can of worms Jason understanding the events of War Games would open! ("YOU LET ANOTHER ONE OF US DIE WHILE I WAS GONE?!?")

I am convinced that the only ways in which their conflict becomes less intense is through a misunderstanding.

And I like it that way. I'm really, really glad it's not a misunderstanding, and that it can't be resolved through better communication. Their issues are real and meaningful and cannot be swept away without one actually conceding to the other's demands.

#jason todd #got big thoughts today #damian's tomfoolery #bruce wayne

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hanniejji · 2 years

Text

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

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thatfreshi · 9 months

Note

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

#comfort #angst #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months

Note

Hobie brown x male!spiderman!reader where they’re “boyfriends” (more like best friends with benefits type thing) from different dimensions and haven’t seen each other in a while due to reader being kind of busy with SM stuff but one day reader shows up to hobies dimension in search of comfort because a canon event caused his older brother to die! Loving your hobie fics btw your whole blog is just good asf😭🫶💞

Here ya go! I hope you like it and I thank you for your kind words, they really mean a lot as I haven’t been feeling that great as of late, so this really made my day.

You felt as though you couldn’t breath, like the breath has been ripped straight out of your lungs, leaving you to struggle in finding fresh, unpolluted air to take in, to revitalise your lungs from the damage they’ve received; But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

Your head and heart were murky with every emotion imaginable trying to overtake each other as your primary feeling whilst your body was screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away because he was already dead before he even hit the ground; reminding you that you could mourn the dead later but as of right now you needed to get to the place you felt safest. But you weren’t going to get that if you were to stay here.

So without putting in much thought into anything anymore with your mind so far from reality and your emotions in a state of self destructive chaos, your change of scenery wasn’t brought into question until you heard the familiar sound of a guitar playing before it immediately stopped, only for it to be replaced by the sound of curious footsteps that grew in volume with they’re impending closeness. You knew those footsteps by heart and the type of shoes that made them but knew the male who wore those platforms like the back of your hand; Hobie’s warmth brought you a comfort that couldn’t be recreated nor imitated because even if it was even remotely the slightest bit off, you body naturally rejected it and would indiscreetly crave for the real thing.

For nothing could bring you more comfort, more sense of mind then being in Hobie’s arms.

‘Y/n?’ Even at the sound of his voice had your guarded walls crumbling.

‘Hobie, please tell me that’s you and not some sick trick of the mind.’ You whimpered, clutching the vest that he had left in your dimension between tightly clenched fists, while remaining adamant on keeping your back to him until you were for certain that he was in the room, talking to you, almost as though you were reassuring that deep seeded doubt that he was alive and okay.

In a couple of strides Hobie had his front pressed against your back as his arms cocooned you tightly in a method of preventing you moving away from his hold. ‘Does this feel like me?’ He asked softly, his heart hurting as he watched you instinctively huddled further into his chest until practically all of you was submerged against him. Just as your tears had begun to fall down your cheeks and creating wet patches against his shirt that you were adamant on clinging so desperately to. ‘Oh pretty boy.’ Hobie utters as he tightened his hold on you, allowing you to weep freely without judgment as all he wanted for you to do in that moment was to let it all out in whatever way you found best; whether it was to scream, cry, punch, or otherwise, Hobie would rather you be vocal about you pain rather then subduing it for a later date.

‘My brother died Hobie,’ you wept. ‘he died and I couldn’t save him, I wasn’t fast enough to reach him, I wasn’t strong enough to catch him as he fell, I wasn’t able enough to change anything.’ You gripped his shirt even tighter as you clenched your eyes shut as the imagery of the prior events proceeded to mock you of your biggest failure as Spider-Man as you added in a near inaudible whisper. ‘I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man. He’s meant to save people, not lead them to their deaths.’ Hobie knew that you didn’t meant for him to hear any of the last part but he very much did and felt that it was within his due diligence to remind you of how utterly bullshit that statement was because he’s making damn sure you don’t quit being what you so clearly love.

‘I want you to listen and listen good because I want what I say to you to stick with you so that when you get like this again, you’ll remember your worth and what you’ve always been fighting for; hope.’ Hobie began. ‘You were meant to be Spider-Man as much as I or any other Spider-Person in existence. Miguel’s bullshit has made you think that your value is based on the pain and the suffering we’ve endured and how there’s nothing we can do to combat it once it comes for us again, and again, and again. Forcing you to your knees in grief and sorrow but you want to know what you should do when that happens?’

‘What?’ You asked, removing your face from his chest to look him into his deep eyes with bleary eyes, practically melting into his touch when his hands moved to cup your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks free of tear streaks. ‘Get back up.’ Hobie tells you. ‘Get back up because the fight ain’t over and it’ll never be over if you decide to give up now.’ He then sighs as he presses his head against yours in order to get closer to you. ‘Look I know it’s hard to keep going when they’re no longer here to root for us, to be there for us when we lick our wounds but it’ll only ever feel like that because you actively choose to stop remembering them, to stop honouring their memory within your heart, stop remembering their love and stop seeing them in everything they’ve touched, that’s when you know true loneliness. But your brother is still here,’ Hobie then brought one of your hands and pressed it against your chest to where your heart lied.

‘He’s right here and he will always be here, I will always be here for you in the moments you seemed to have lost your fighting spirit, to loose the willpower to keep going because I’ll happily carry you on my back until you do because that’s what we do, not only as Spider-Men but humans also. It’s practically in our nature.’ Just as Hobie was about to pull his hand off of yours, you were quick to grasp his hand and pulled it back towards you but only to place it over your heart, pressing you own hand atop of his to keep him there. There was a lot you wanted to tell Hobie that could wait until you were in a much better situation but even then you still had a lump in your throat that hindered your ability to speak your mind freely; which never usually happens when you’re with Hobie and it seemed as though he had caught onto this as well as he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s okay, take your time.’

‘Will you stay with me? Just for a little while longer.’ You finally asked, racked with nervousness and anxiety as you fiddled with his fingers for his response. Hobie’s smile widens as he closed his eyes, brushing his nose against yours all the while making sure to keep you close in his embrace. ‘I’ll stay even long after you’re done needing me because I will always be standing in your corner, pretty boy.’

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frostbitebakery · 4 months

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For the WIP game, how about Surrender? :)

Heeeeeh, Surrender, my beloved. A mini project about evil, insane Codywan meeting canon-setting Codywan. I’ve already posted a bunch of bits and pieces, and more will come over time. Like this bit, from dark!Cody’s POV being confronted with his brighter counterpart.

“Where should I start?”

The Commander looks ready to strangle him already. Cody can see him re-prioritizing his questions, the answers he seeks and dreads. “How did you get here.”

Cody scoffs. “Sith-cursed artifact. The wards on it throw you through time and space.” The skin around his scar itches. He leans forward. “Cody,” he croons, smirks at the disgusted jerking back of the Commander, “we both know what information you are after, really.”

“We haven’t found any items of Sith origin on you,” the Commander says stiffly. “Where is it?”

“Not what you want to know.”

“Is your appearance in this universe temporary or do you control your reality jumps?”

Cody tilts his head, lets the light hit the scars on his face, the reflecting surface of his artificial eye. “Not what you want to know.”

The Commander is in front of him in two large steps, Cody’s collar in his fist, and remarkably familiar eyes boring into him. “Okay, you piece of shit, I’ll bite. Why are you like this. How could you let Obi-Wan turn into— into—“

“Because we thought he had to.”

The fingers are off him like he’s burnt the Commander. “No. No, you both know better than that.”

We did, Cody thinks. It had been a fact with them, too. Obi-Wan withstood the Dark like few else could. Their beacon, their hope.

Cody doesn’t— tries to not reflect on the sheer amount of horror that had happened to them to bend them enough for the horror they put themselves through to not matter. It took a lot. “People change.”

“He doesn’t.”

The bitter amusement is too heavy to bury within, Cody has to admit. Once he had thought the same. “He’s still bushy tailed and bright like in the beginning?” he asks, randomly choosing munition he knows will hit where it hurts the most. “Does he still wrap his fingers around the sleeves of his robes when he’s unsure? Is his beard covering his mouth and expressions yet? Has he started murmuring the names in his sleep yet?”

The Commander doesn’t move, doesn’t twitch. Clones learn at a young age to let words go through them without showing how much they’re taking away. “Death is a fact of life. We mourn, we grieve. We don’t let it consume us. People die in war and it is our duty to try everything to not let their sacrifice be in vain by becoming the enemy we’re fighting.”

Ouch. Seeing that fire, the need for justice, for good… that had been him. Naive and faithful in a system which had designed him and produced him and sent him to die like cattle to a slaughterhouse.

#my wips #commander cody #dark!cody #surrender au

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celaenaeiln · 8 months

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Ok so I guess this is a weird question, but what do you think about wally and dick being in a relationship? would it be healthy? would it last long? all those types of questions. I've been getting into dc recently, and I've been starting to realize alot of people ship those two, admittedly I can see why, I'm starting to like them too. Pretty sure I saw someone call them every Dick Grayson/Wally West stan "required phase", it would be a life if I said I didn't snort at that. But I've been curious if they would even work out, with their plans for their lives being so different, clashing with each other

Absolutely!

In fact I think that if Dick and Wally ever got into a canonical relationship, they would never ever break up which would be a massive problem for DC because DC needs their IT boy Dick Grayson to be shipped with as many people as possible. lol.

No but really the reason they're so great together is because Wally really, really cares about Dick's mental health. He's canonically made it his mission to make sure Dick is happy and safe and he loves his best friend so much. Dick has grown up with wally since they were tiny kids and he knows every detail of Wally's life and loves him. The Flash Plus comic is just the two of them being best buddies.

So considering the amount of love and care Wally and Dick have for each other. In Titans (2016) Wally literally writes a love letter to Dick. (they call it a friendship letter but c'mon who're they tryna fool.)

Titans (2016) Issue #15

Do you know what Wally does? He literally turns back time in order to prevent Dick from dying. Wally is retiring because he has a heart condition. He can't run. He can't be the flash anymore.

But.

Titans (2016) Issue #15

For Dick he killed himself.

I genuinely don't think it's possible for Dick to have a healthier relationship with anyone than he does with Wally. They're like cotton candy, white snow, salsa mix love. The purest, softest, fluffiest romance with a whirlpool of fun and excitement.

Something Wally mourns a lot in the comics is his loss of contact with Dick.

The Flash (1987) Issue #210

The reason they don't talk as much is because Wally is busy with Linda and Dick can't just third wheel a marriage. I mean he sort of already does but anymore than now and he would be living with them. Permanently.

I think the only issue they would have is the different cities. Neither of them would be willing to move because Wally loves Central City and Dick loves Bludhaven. However they would still be able to maintain a long distance relationship easily because even as friends they go on annual vacations, just the two of them, simply to hang out with each other. Also the occasional drop ins.

As soon as Wally heard Dick and Barbara broke up-

Nightwing (1996) Issue #88

The only time Dick and Wally have fought is when Dick is refusing self-care and Wally is so mad at him for neglecting his mental health. But even then it's more of a - fine. I'm leaving you alone for now until you get your stuff together. I know you can do it. - type thing. They would definitely work out despite the separate cities thing because Wally has unconditional trust and love for Dick and Dick loves Wally .just as much.

Besides, living in two cities is no problem for a speedster

Nightwing (2016) Issue #15

They're the classic childhood friends to lovers trope without all the backstabbing and betrayal stuff you see in movies. It doesn't matter if people even ship them or not at this point because if you asked them they would probably just marry each other and call it "bromance."

#dick grayson #nightwing #wally west #the flash #birdflash #thanks for the ask!#cl anon asks

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lovelykhaleesiii · 4 months

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Hi! Can I request a smut modern aemond comforting reader after a family tragedy and she ask him to help take the pain away by distracting her and he gives her comfort segs with lots of love because reader really needs it. Thank you!

Comfort Zone

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!girlfriend!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 1,175.

WARNINGS: mentions of death/grief, fluffy!Aemond, Daddy kink, female oral receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, cum play.

A/N - because I'm delving into my Aemond era again, this was a request I couldn't resist!

Death was an intriguing aspect of life. Not a foreign topic, however scarcely brought about in day to day conversation. It was taboo for most people, until faced with.

You had lost your beloved great aunt tragically. An inevitable loss, yet no less profound. She was dear to you, her existence was significant in your life, throughout your childhood to the grown woman you had become now.

Mayhaps, death had ended her own suffering, yet brought about your very own. You wept for her, mourned for her, and grieved with others family and strangers alike that knew of her. Days since the funeral, one constant remained at your sorrowful side, the warmth and relentless comfort of your boyfriend, Aemond. He refused to leave you alone, knowing how remarkable her loss was for you.

Whatever you desired and needed, he would summon in a heartbeat for you. Nonetheless, despite the circumstances, you had grown even more intimate with one another...

“Baby, what's the matter? You've been quiet since I've come..."

It was true: normally you would be a bit more upbeat basking in Aemond's comforting presence. You had no doubt that eventually time would heal your loss. Although, you knew some days would be easier than others, and today proved that. Running some mundane errands, you had come across something that ignited a core memory, a happy one of that, and yet you felt only for a fleeting second, a happiness, before the anguish struct you instantly, catching you off guard, you felt vulnerable and exposed to the elements. Rushing home, you immediately called for Aemond to come and see you, to watch a movie or anything to distract your mind. Without question, Aemond arrived a few solid minutes later, pulling up to your gravel driveway, with a bag full of your favourite snacks and goodies, he knew you would appreciate.

"N-Nothing, babe. I-I just saw something that reminded me of her-"

You had both been laying cosily, snugged together in the warm softness of your bed. Aemond kept an arm tightly wrapped around you, thinking all the distance had been spared, he somehow managed to tug you in closer against him. His other hand, softly brushing aside your loose strands of hair.

“Oh, baby—”

“It’s okay, Aem, really—”

“No, no it’s not. From the moment I came in, I knew you weren’t yourself. Tell me, what can I do.”

Your intrusive thoughts rocked backwards and forwards trying to decide whether the truth was fitting or not. Somewhat ashamed of what you truly desired.

"I-If I'm being honest, Aem... I just need a distraction. I don't want to feel this feeling anymore, I hate it. I-I just wanna feel good again."

The momentary, tense silence that filled the room had ceased, as Aemond nodded to your honest words, merely responding to no coherent sounds other than a "hmm."

Just as you were about to resume the film, adjusting your position to something more comfortable, Aemond swiftly intercepted your movements, lifting you and pinning you down against the plush mattress. His body leaning over your own, the sudden exchange had caught you off-guard yet you did not question him. By the unapologetic look in his hungry eyes, you knew precisely that he understood your needs.

"I think I can make you feel good again, baby. If you'll let me, hmm?"

You spared no exhaustion contemplating an answer, as you rapidly nod in agreement, encouraging his motives.

Guiding himself down, you found yourself in a compromising position: as your bright boyfriend, occupied himself intently, slowly pulling your panties down below, skirt lifted up, as he exposed your eager cunt face to face with his curved smile.

"Angel wants to feel good again, Daddy can make that happen. Daddy only wants what's best for his angel."

Like an ignorant pup, your obedient nods fall flat as your head rests back against the comforting bed, bucking your hips forward, your throbbing folds collide with Aemond's keen, moist lips. His long, ravenous tongue prying you open, as he nestles his head against your cunt, burying his face between.

His mouth suckles on your wetness, guzzling at your velvet folds, with his tongue lapping at your tingling bud. Your helpless moans begin to fill the vicinity of the room, as your hands find themselves tightly gripping and pulling at his strands of hair.

"Gentle, baby, gentle- So eager for me, huh? Angel's been craving for this for a while, my poor baby."

"Mhmm-Y-Yes-"

His occasional bursts to utter filth were not sparing enough in seconds to regain some sense. Your mind flutters back and forth from worldly consciousness, to sheer mindless ecstasy.

"Yes, what, angel? Don't you dare think you can forget your manners, now."

"Y-Yes, Daddy."

He had resumed long enough without uttering a word more, enough to have your folds slicked with your wetness, his mouth completely coated in your glistening mess. By the way he desperately wiped at his mouth, licking your ooze off his fingers, he was enamoured by your taste, like a man devouring his last meal, before removing his clothes with ease.

"On Daddy's lap, angel. Spread your legs for me- That's it, good girl-"

Softly tapping at your thigh, one hand snaked around your flesh, as his palm met with your ass cheek: the other preoccupied with guiding your hips down, planting his aching, hard cock deep inside of you. Your walls clenched tightly around him, engulfing his long length, feeling his tip thrusting viciously against your clit. Engulfing his mass, you swore you could feel the vibrations between your dull throbs in sync with his pulsating cock, sending electric chills down your naked spine.

His warm, blush lips remained latched to your soft skin, as he firmly suckled on the meat of your tit, his teeth nibbling gently against your flesh.

"D-Daddy makes me f-feel s-so good. W-What would I d-do without you?" Your stuttering words echoed closely against his ear, your nails digging and clawing into the pale skin of his lean shoulders and muscular back. You caught a fleeting glimpse of the reddened nail marks etching against his fair skin, before your eyes shut close with lust.

"Angel gets what she deserves- umghf- Been such a good fucking girl, taking care of everyone, but who's taking care of you?"

His muscular chest heaving with every breathless word uttered from his defined lips. Your sweat beaded body bobbing up and down, pressed closely against his own, you had never felt as intimate with him until now.

"D-Daddy takes care of m-me."

"That's right, s-so fucking right-"

For a few, endless nights it seemed and felt like, Aemond remained lovingly by your side. Whatever you desired and needed, he was at your beck and call. His company provided a distraction, although it eased the pain of your loss eventually. The hardship you endured, he endured with you, cementing your love towards one another. He was your comfort zone, however dire the situation may be, you knew you could endure anything, with him by your side.

general taglist - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby

@harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond fluff #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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brucewaynehater101 · 8 days

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Okay okay, so Tim finds out Bruce is stuck in the timestream and gathers all his siblings + Barbara for a meeting, presenting his evidence, a drafted plan of action to save Bruce . . .

. . . And asks what to do with this information

They all come to an agreement / majority vote

l e t h i m d i e

=========

Once upon a time they thought that Gotham, the world, that they, all needed Batman

Now that isn't the case anymore

Oh he was mourned, by the Justice League, by his allies, by civilians . . .

But the Batfamily has grown into their own, they've found a way to fight for Gotham, Bludhaven, Crime Alley because they've inherited the Fear of Batman

They've found their own ways to instill the fear of them into the criminal world

Their territories are becoming better even despite their Patriarch being dead

And they feel less dead than they were becoming under his thumb

The Dark Knight is Dead; Long Live The Dark Knights

· · ·

People questioned what would happen with the Prince of Gotham dead

Tim tried becoming CEO, but Jason stepped in himself to take the mantle from right under him, citing he was too young and should enjoy his childhood while it still lasted

That started quite a fight between them

Duke Thomas was adopted by Jason and while not technically joining the family's nightlife, Signal could always be found while the sun was up

Gotham's bones broke, organs failed, and flesh was bitten off

Gotham has never been better since Batman or even The Second Robin died

Praise the Batfamily

This is happiness . . .

=========

Somebody finds out they let Batman die

Be it the Justice League, other heroes, their rogues, or another hero's rogues, or somebody else entirely

They find out

Do other groups learn by themselves? Does this knowledge come into the hands of people who would spread it?

Either way, the Batclan is going to have to confront that it's known they let Batman die

Is the knowledge it used maliciously, is the accuser wanting answers, or is it a mix of both

Gosh, what will Alfred think if he learns? I imagine that even if he enabled Bruce's abuse they kept him around, stick close enemies and friends after all

(me thinks personally that Joker is throwing a fit with his nemesis dead, and he may not even be able to abuse the fact his own kids killed him cuz it was a child abuser who was killed by his abused)

(but I'd love to see your take on Joker's pov when he only knows Batman is dead and if he learns his kids left him for dead and if he learns they were abused by him and that's why they let him die)

Now I'm wondering what would happen if it got leaked to the public that the Batfamily knew Batman could've been saved but did nothing about it. There could be so many different reactions from different groups

Crime Alley people, criminals, people outside Gotham, Gothamites themselves, and Bludhaven residents would have different takes collectively methinks

Fucking hell, that isn't even accounting for all the fuckery you could do w/ Bruce Wayne = Batman and I'm not talking about an post-mortem identity reveal, I'm talking identity shenanigans

Like say the bats knowing they could have saved Bruce but left him for dead and somebody/some group learns this and leaks it

And then Jason steps in to say "you know the FUCK what? We knew our old man could have been saved and since he was shit we voted/agreed to let him die!!" And all hell breaks loose

And that's just one example!

=========

Inspired by that ask on Jason calling for a family meeting after learning Bruce is stuck in the timestream to figure out what to do from there

+ the one post where Dick tries and fails to get Tim to give up on Bruce so he doesn't embark on BruceQuest and Bruce dies in the Timestream

w/ Cassandra in particular, it'd be fun to explore her psyche in the Vote branch, if she votes to let Bruce die or not considering her "No Kill" stance

Heck, with both branches they alone bring so much fun to the table, even without the flavor of The Reveal

Agreement: You get the explore a world where all the bat kids + Barbara want Bruce dead, by why is it? You get to see all their reasons for it, and how their reasonings may mesh or clash and how they come to make their decisions!

Majority Vote: You get to see the conflicts between those who want him back and want him dead + what they do and think knowing who voted for what then onwards

Bonus if a batsibling or two start of wanting Bruce back but then decide they want him gone, or the reverse, or they flip flop again and again until they make their choice

Either branch I think would overhaul the Batfamily's relationships w/ each other in a major way and not just because someone has to take Bruce's spot as the family head or whatever, but because they chose/voted for said Patriarch to die

That's a big fucking deal

Oh yeah, Duke; is he ever taught about the (technically not) Patricide committed? Or do they keep him ignorant because ignorance is bliss?

Because if he learns through means other than them, yeah it'll be a shit show the Bats won't be prepared for beforehand

Oh yeah what about Gordon? Do you think he'd be in the know or learn via leaks or a leaker cuz he's kind of Barbara's family

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Tw: abuse, death, murder, child abuse, suicide (let me know if I need to add more)

I love this idea, and I'm totally up for breaking it down.

If it's not an agreement, then it's likely that the ones who disagree will try to save Bruce regardless of what everyone else wants

This will turn into an all-out war as those who want Bruce dead try to prevent the others from succeeding. It would be like a weird version of capture the flag, clue, and escape the room. The save-Bruce team (whether out of love or duty) would need to gather all the evidence that Tim did while fending off attacks and working against the clock (there comes a point in time that it's too late to save Bruce).

Even if they all agree, it's still complicated feelings wise.

Bruce is an abusive piece of shit (especially in this AU), but it's hard to not love your abuser. The cycle of abuse is difficult to break out of. I think Dick and Jason would be at the point they are more apathetic to Bruce's care/love. They are adults who don't rely on him. They might still love Bruce, but it's easier for them to put a defense against the man emotionally to the point of condoning his murder.

Babs and Steph aren't his kids, so, while their feelings aren't black and white, it's easier to distance themselves from Bruce.

Canonically, I think Tim recently got adopted by Bruce. This makes it harder for him to outright reject Bruce. When given evidence (and shown what Bruce did to his other family members), Tim might come to the conclusion that it's better off without Bruce.

Damian is a child who just got to meet his dad. I doubt he'd be on board with this plan nor, with his hero worship, would he be able to find faults in him. He simply hasn't spent enough time with Bruce (and lots of angst to be explored there. Basically, his "siblings" that he's just met are telling him it's better for him if their dad is dead).

Cass loves Bruce. She trusts his mission, what he's supposed to stand for, and that he does love his kids (she can see that he truly does love everyone). At the same time, he hurts her siblings. She doesn't agree with leaving Bruce to die, but her feelings are complicated on the matter.

How the batkids feel about Alfred is similar (although not categorically per a kid) as they feel about Bruce

If they've reached the point where they have acknowledged that Alfred will never be on their side nor protect them, they still love that old man. They want him to be around, they would be sad at his death, but they know Alfred could and has hurt them. They know Alfred would choose Bruce over them.

The JL find out Bruce isn't actually dead with the Black Lantern battle thing.

Theoretically, other heroes can then start trying to save Bruce. Without canon Tim's information, though, they might not be able to. Bonus points to this batfam au if Oracle and others actively sabotage their efforts.

Gordon would be presented with all the evidence that Batman was an abusive piece of shit.

The Commissioner would try to bury any feelings of grief out of guilt for what he's unknowingly allowed his ex friend to get away with. If he knew that Batman was the same boy he threw a jacket over at the scene of that kid's parents' murder, he would sit at his desk with a bottle of scotch and a lit cigarette trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Jim would blame himself, curse Batman, and, as he curses himself for always allowing, do not a damn thing against what the masked vigilantes tell him to do.

Crime Alley and Bludhaven respectively probably would either not give a fuck, say "good riddance," or whistle at the fact the Bat's own kids refused to save him.

Gothamites know their vigilantes. If the batkids had refused to help Batman, than they trust the kids. There's nothing out there that would turn a man's entire family against him besides the man himself. By the end of the week, all Batman related stuff is burnt and replaced by the many symbols of the birds.

Anyone outside of Gotham (besides Bludhaven) will criticize the batkids. Gotham becomes fiercely protective over their birds after that and will fist fight anyone who tries to talk shit about them or their decision.

Fuck Joker, but here's how I think he felt about it.

Man definitely lost his shit in a fit of giggles. It seems (though Joker is slightly disappointed he wasn't part of the final showdown) that Batman was dragged down to the level of madness he swore he'd never go to. If Batman's kids turned against him, oh that must mean that the furry freak truly did horrendous actions against them!

That clown spends several weeks coming up with twisted fantasies and theories to ask out of the Birds to tease out their reactions for when he next sees them. He wants to know exactly how the Dark Knight fell and what was so dastardly to turn children against their father.

After he solves that mystery? Dealer's choice. He doesn't quite get as much joy without Batman around. He can play around with Red Hood and Red Robin specifically (if JJ happened), but nobody is the Dark Knight.

Maybe his melancholy turns into rage where he starts seriously gunning for all the Birds for not returning Batman to him. That, or Joker kills himself cause his nemesis/obsession is gone. Both are likely responses.

Anyways, I also love the positive notes you had that I didn't address. The hopefulness of them doing better for Gotham and Jason adopting Duke is fantastic. I'd love more of that as well as everything else

#dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#bruce wayne #bruce wayne bashing #dc au

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madcatlad · 3 months

Text

Aaron Needs Friends

Having him be aloof and mysterious was cool for the first few adventures, but for the amount of time that Aaron was traveling with Aph he should have been making SOME sort of relationship with her squad. This man was present since BEFORE Garroth was lost to the Irene Dimension. Yet all anyone had to say about him was "I didn't know much about him" "he was a good man". The group didn't even need to know him all that well, or be super close. He didn't need to expose all his secrets or be particularly socialable. But you're telling me that during the span of time that Aaron was around the same people, all the time, risking their lives...and he didn't interact with them on a more personal level? He ONLY interacts with Aphmau. That just isn't human nature.

I vaguely remember multiple characters getting shamed or dismissed for being concerned about his intentions. But looking back that is completely valid! From Aph's perspective, Aaron is a good guy who had proved himself, and doesn't need to explain himself ever. From everyone else's perspective, he is a complete stranger, with vague intentions and questionable goals, who they have know for at least a year in close proximity but goes out of his way (quite literally every single time) to interact with NO ONE but Aphmau.

Suspicious Behavior. That or he seems rude. But their distrust of that kind of put out is not unbased. Especially when his past comes to light, yet he is still no more than a stranger, and shown to be purposefully secretive. Suspicious Behavior. But the cast is supposed to ignore all that because...? "He's a good guy" how would anyone else know that?

I mean he doesn't have to open up to them in great lengths and cry about his tragic life, but by time he died he should have had a surface level relationship with the main gang. More than never knowing jack about him as a person. Training/mentoring with Laurence, amicable acknowledgement with Garroth, maybe teasing flusterable Katelyn. A joke or two outside of Aphmau. Just any amount of relationship outside of Aphmau. Please.

Otherwise his mysteriousness becomes an archetype instead of characterization. And it became more of a hindrance to the story, especially later on.

Having Aaron never build relationships with anyone BUT Aphmau sets him aside in a way that is very odd. Aaron is essentially NOT a character, but a plot point. He only exists to advance the plot, add suspense, or subvert the plot. But he himself had no character- other than grief.

And it especially took away from the significance of his DEATH! When he died the only person really grieving HIM was Aphmau. Everyone was sad for HER. It made so Aph could be sad but - "oh nobody else understands my grief". While Aph was grieving nobody could really grieve with her. It isolated her in a way so jarring and disconnected from the story it felt more like a plot diversion than a plot point. And everyone just continued with their respective plots, yet the STORY had to come to a screeching HALT after Aaron's death because aph was mouring and she is quite literally OUR EYES.

There in lies the problem. NOBODY could mourn for Aaron, because he was a stranger. But HE DIED! He died without ever getting to grow or build new relationships as his story was clearly building up to do. HE DIED with no mourners! What kind of depressing precedent is that?!? "You don't need to grow past your grief, and build new relationships after great lost! You just need to be HOT and (somehow impregnate) the main character! Plot 😃".

What a Lackluster death for a character!! A main character!!! To be mourned by no one. It should have been Aaron's death that brought the story to a halt, the fact that they had lost HIM. Not that Aphmau had lost him.

Aaron's death should have affected the entire cast, or at least the main one who had traveled with him so long! Yet everyone else is allow to move on as they would because essentially they lost nothing.

Yeah, we were all sad when Aaron died as kids. Because Aphmau was sad (that scream was something else). And, yes, Aaron's death was sad. But imagine how devastating it would be if EVERYBODY knew him- to some capacity- if everyone mourned his passing. Imagine how much more significance it would bring to his SACRIFICE.

Aaron was a man with nothing to lose from DAY ONE. BUT HE STAYED THAT WAY! He never grew! What kind of sacrifice is it for a man with nothing to live for, no mortal ties, to sacrifice his life.

It dumbs down his death to in essence, achieve his ONLY goal in life: revenge, and make his girlfriend-not-girlfriend happy.

He A STRANGER. Not because HE necessarily wanted Garroth back, but because Aphmau wanted Garroth back. It doesn't work well. Aaron should have sacrificed himself for Garroth because HE wanted to, because HE cared for Garroth.

It objectified him in a sense. His decisions- his world revolves around Aphmau, and only her? (And Zane strangely enough). He has free will but his choices like agency, desire, depth. He's a means to and end, hardly a character. He experienced no growth, no change, no discomfort.

He only experienced pain and Aphmau. Tragic.

#minecraft diaries #mcd #aaron mcd #aaron lycan #aphblr #aphmau

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whackk-kermitt · 5 months

Text

Remember Me?

Genre: Oneshot

Summary: Years after Ragnarok, Kratos finds a familiar face knocking at his door. Turns out he's not the only God who abandoned Greece.

Warnings: Subtle mentions of classic Greek gods and their treatment of women👎. No explicit content, but some suggestive conversation. (also mentions of young Kratos- who was quite the Playboy)

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Spring had come in flush with bright florals and on-and-off rain. The cabin was glowing in the early evening light. Birds and crickets chirping goodnight and hello to each other. The day had been a peaceful one.

Kratos had returned from a hunt, deer meat cooking above the fire. The smell wafted through the small cabin making it feel a little more homely. Kratos spent these days in between Atreus's visits home, mostly alone. Yeah Mimir was there, and he was good company, but there's not much they had to say to each other now a days.

Kratos was finally enjoying his retirement from Godhood without death, pain, and struggle around every corner. But these mundane days are starting to way on him. Nothing to do except hunt, built, and intend to the land. He very rarely ventured farther than Midgard, or the realm between realms. His days of adventure were over. He couldn’t help but admit to himself that he did feel quite lonely; having no one to enjoy these moments with.

Yes, it was peaceful, but peace is often an illusion.

Atreus would stop in every month or two and stay a while. They'd catch up and he'd rant to his father about the places he's been and the people he's met. Every now and then, when Kratos wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, he'd come up with something he needed to do, so Atreus would tag along.

But a simple knock at the cabin door made both him and Mimir- who sat on his perch in front of a book- perk up. It was not but a few days ago Atrues departed for another journey, so it wasn't him- and he would not knock anyway. Freya? No, she's busy in Vanaheim. The dwarves do not come to visit him, so not them.

Kratos grunted to himself, standing from the table and approaching the door. He hesitated only a second before pulling it open.

It would be out of character for him to gasp, but he almost did. Before him was a face he had not seen in a long time. A face he had thought he never would see again- someone who he had believed had died.

“Well I be damned, it is you.” She smiled.

“Y/n.” He said plainly.

“Kratos.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, taking in each other’s appearance. it had been years, and both their ages have begun to show. More his than hers, he'd noticed. The years have been kind to her.

“Aren't you gonna invite me in?”

“No.” She may have been an old friend, but she was still a goddess, and nothing good comes from a God knocking at your door. “What do you want?”

“Simply to see you.” She shrugged. Her eyes were bright and her body was relaxed. “I heard your name mentioned in a village by the lake. Had to see for myself if it was truly you.”

“Why?”

“Why so abrasive, Kray? Been to long for you to trust me still?”

Yes, but he couldn't say that to her face. It felt wrong. They had… history.

At his silence, she sighed, “I will leave if it's what you wish. I just missed you old friend.”

Before she turned she fought a glimpse of his lips hesitating, she waited to give him time to find the words. He sighed long and deep.

“I thought you had fallen with Olympus.” It was not a question, or him digging for an explanation. He sounded so tiered, and his eyes seamed so mournful. He was voicing how he had hurt when they parted, a hurt she knew all to well.

“Same here.” Here eyes cast downward for a moment. “It is why when I heard your name, I- I had to see.”

Her eyes were always so easy to read.

He stood aside and she looked surprised for a moment that he had changed his mind so quickly. This was new for him, and she won't complain.

Smiling softly she entered the home.

“Well hello there, Las.” Mimir greeted with admiring eyes. Kratos warned him with a glare. “Off the table then?”

“Kratos,” She began with a sly chuckle. “I'm beginning to think that you have a thing for severed heads.”

Mimir gave an offended gasp. “Brother, there was another? I thought we had something special.” He joked but he was genuinely curious as to what the pretty lady had meant. The questioning look he gave her said it all.

“Medusa,” Y/n stated, a sad look briefing her features. “A tale for another time, uh…”

“Mimir.” He supplied.

“Y/n.” She introduced with and alluring smile.

Kratos motioned her to follow him around to the table. She sat as he prepared cups and cutlery for dinner.

“What are you doing here?”

She read between the lines, similar question as before but with a different meaning.

“After the fall of Olympus, there were no more burdens chaining me to Greece.” She paused, remembering something unpleasant. “I traveled away, similar to the way you did, I presume. I found myself in a world called Egypt. It was fun. Chaotic and full of interesting people. Yet it never felt like I could build a home there. After a few years, I grew bored and began traveling again. Eventually, I found myself here in Midgard, and you know the rest.”

He hummed listening to her talk. Her voice was the same as he remembered. Even and calm, almost like a song every time she spoke. As far as he knew, her words were the only ones he heard during his time in Greece, that never came around to be lies. Anytime she had spoken to him before, she had always been honest if she was unsure about anything. She had never lead him astray, and it was the only reason he had ever trusted her in the first place.

But if he was being honest with himself, trust had little to do with allowing her into his home.

“Any you?” She eyed the room. Taking note of all the years of life spent here, and presumably not just by Kratos. “You have family?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “My son Atreus, and the head.”

“Oi, brother.”

“And Mimir.” He corrected himself. Y/n chuckled at that.

“And his mother?” She asked softly, unsure if she still had the right to ask personal questions such as those. She had already come to the conclusion that the mother had passed, looking around the state of the home. There was evidence of a woman, but not for a long while.

“Dead,” He said simply. “She fell ill, nearly ten years ago now.”

“My condolences.” She bowed her head.

Kratos placed a plate of seasoned meat before her with a cup of water before serving himself and joining her at the table. She chuckled at his newly found ability to cook. She would not comment on it at the time.

As they began to eat, they indulged in comfortable conversation. It had been a long time since Kratos had been around someone who knew him. Truly knew him. Not just the stories and prophecies he's been tangled up in. It felt nice to have someone's eyes on him. He had felt before, and again now, that she had been a true ally to him. Y/n had never cared for the God of War, nor the rumors and stories amongst the residents of Greece about him. She had only ever spoken to him as Kratos. Talking to her awakened feelings in him that he feared died with Faye. A feeling of comfort in being seen.

She asked some questions about his life, and where it had taken him since they parted. He talked briefly about Faye and his journey with Atreus after her passing. He told her of Ragnarok. And she commented on how he'd always found himself in trouble with other gods.

While they ate and caught up mainly him talking about Atreus- his eyes had a life of there own, not shying away from admiring her. She had not changed much. Something Krotos noted was her laugh lines; she's had a happier life since abandoning Greece. Much has happened, but he can honestly say the same for himself. He was happy she found some joy somewhere.

“And what of you?” He turned the conversation away from himself. “Did you ever marry?”

“No,” She laughed shaking her head slowly. “No man ever worth my hand.” A sad look in her eyes for only a moment. If he had not been staring so intently he would have missed it.

“You had many options before..”

“None who were worth my hand.” She stated again. “Or at least none who were worthy and willing.”

This he did not quite understand. She was as intelligent as she was graceful in her beauty. A humble and modest woman. She was the most sought-after for marriage in all the time he knew her. He had figured it was why he had never been able to pursue her more than idle flirting. She was above him, worthy of more.

She laughed slyly at his eyes moving over her, confusion written on his face.

“That is way, Kratos.” Her head shook. “Few men has ever looked past my body, so few men were worthy.”

“Hmm.” He nodded. Kratos was guilty of this. He knew it. All his years, encountering her by chance and seeking her out for aid in his quests for revenge, they had flirted and bantered, but that was it. He had gotten to know her without ever asking questions or listening.

He was ashamed of the man he used to be, a womanizer. She had always worn loose-fitted gowns, but he had still seen glimpses of her figure through it. He'd flirt and she’d flirt back, but she'd never let him touch her. Never let him have her the way he wanted to. Her eyes would always make him feel like she wanted him to, but her words always told him no. She'd often leave him with an itch he'd let any other willing women scratch. Because he would not cross the line so many other gods did. But all the same, he had once treated many women as throw-away fun.

He is glad she never swayed from her standards and belittled herself for a man. It was respectable and dangerous considering the men of Olympus.

She would've made a fine wife if he had the maturity then to recognize it.

“I am sorry.” It came out more pitiful and emotional than expected. He regretted the things he'd elude to with her back then.

“For what?” She asked stunned by a sudden apology.

“Not seeing past your beauty.” He chose his words carefully. if she was planning to settle in Midgard, it would be nice to have an old friend to talk to. offending her was the last thing he wanted to do.

“But you did.” She smiled. “You were just not willing.”

“I was not.” He refused. He couldn't believe anyone would see that version of himself as worthy of women like her. He had had trouble believing Faye would see him as worthy once he opened up to her about his past, once she knew the kind of man he was once. So surely not a woman who had seen it firsthand could truthfully say he was- then or now.

“It is a shame you do not see you as I do, Kratos.” She sighed deeply. “Sure, you were a man led by emotion and hormones,” Pausing to chuckle. “But you treated me kindly and fairly. You never hurt me.”

“Aww.” Mimir sighed happily.

Kratos groaned eyeing the back of his head. Y/n laughed nervously, forgetting someone else was in the house. She did not mean to get that personal in front of a stranger.

“Sorry, ignore me! I'll be reading.”

“Anyway.” She stood grabbing the empty plates.

Kratos stood taking them from her hands, making her frown.

“You cooked.” She demanded.

“You are a guest.” He retorted, taking them to wash. She smiled at his back, enjoying being in his company again. He smiled ever so slightly for the same reasons.

“What will you do now?”

“Oh,” She thought, looking up to envision her coming answer. “Likely travel a bit, find a cozy place to settle for a while.”

Kratos hummed turning back to her, watching as she leaned against the table. His eyes took in all of her. Her body was covered in a gown and light armor. Boots and straps fitted by no blacksmith or tailor known to these realms. The colors complemented her skin and hair fairly. She seemed to be traveling light. Her gear would not aid her well in traversing these realms.

“You're staring again.” She mused.

“You travel light, it will not do you good in these parts.” He explained. He did not want her to conclude that he was the same man driven by lust, as that was not the case anymore. “Before you go far I will introduce you to the dwarves.”

“Dwarfs?”

“Blacksmiths- good ones.” He nodded. “They will fit you with what you’ll need.”

“Thank you Kratos,” She smiled to him sweetly. “But I do not see myself going far.”

“Good.” He smiled back ever so slightly.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Not proofread.

•Kermitts Masterlist•

#god of war ragnarok #gow x reader #gow #gow ragnarok #kratos #kratos x reader #kratosxreader

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partycatty · 5 months

Text

liu kang > in the new era

reader used to be a sweetheart and hero in the previous timeline, but something changed this time around.

warnings: :(, i'm a bit of a yapper in this one

notes: idk this one kinda flew off the handle but i had a vision

masterlist <3

•liu kang creating everyone with the strength and humility he carried in thunder god raiden's honor following becoming keeper of time

•he made everyone beautiful, everyone worthy and capable of good, honest work and for that he was proud

•of course, some of them strayed from the ideal path and sought to increase their strength, but perhaps it was always in their character to conquer. that, liu kang couldn't change.

•but you... it was you that he least expected to abandon that honor you always had.

•you were a good fighter, an honest worker and a force to be reckoned with when it came to kicking shao kahn's ass. the shaolins looked up to you. the shirai ryu used you as an example. the lin kuei knew not to fuck with you. the special forces practically begged you to lead their army alongside the Cage-Blade family.

•he could have had you, the romantic attraction was heavily implicated. but alas, the only time you two interacted was during a horrific Koliseum brawl or otherwise breaking bones.

•the last time he saw you was before his battle with kronika. you said you hoped to see him after the battle, and perhaps get to know each other sometime.

•he was sad to see that version of you erased from existence, but you were absolutely first on his list of people to shape. it felt wrong at first, to create you from nothing like the god he was. but he wouldn't be able to make a perfect world without you.

•when he came to your home to recruit you, he was nearly winded with your beauty. you looked just like he remembered, but with an innocent sparkle in your eyes, the eyes that were yet to see murder and magic. skin that wasn't stained with deep red blood. clothes that were neat and ordinary.

•you were always so curious, so willing to step in where you were needed. so it came as no surprise when you asked the fire god where to begin to defend earthrealm.

•months of training passed, and you naturally found that fighting skill. you joked about how it must be in your blood to know how to fight, and liu kang would hold his tongue, his eyes staring down at you with that deep feeling of loss and longing. he would simply smile and innocently agree.

•the time came for you to confront shang tsung in his laboratory and take him in for questioning. you went with the other earthrealmers, yet found yourself naturally leading the way.

•kenshi lost his eyesight, johnny got his shit kicked in, and kung lao got clotheslined. you were the only one of the group to remain conscious. shang tsung inspected you closely, claiming that you were just what he was looking for.

•you go missing for over a month. liu kang gets the help of the royal family despite their lack of knowledge about the mission in the first place. everyone is searching for you, and he has to resist the urge to burn down every forest and smash every boulder until he finds you.

•the hunt for you turns into a search for your body, as most presume you dead. it brings a heavy blanket of depression over the earthrealmers and liu kang.

•liu kang spends far more time than usual in his personal quarters, meditating with a tense posture. how could he let you get away from him? it nearly drives him mad, missing you dearly, but he wouldn't be able to express it. you were your new era self, with no clue about your previous self.

•the mourning only lasts so long before an all-out timeline war begins, and liu kang has to shove past the grief eating away at his godlike heart and gather the titans and heroes of other timelines to band together and defeat titan shang tsung.

•liu kang stands at the foot of the pyramid, fists clenched and jaw shut tight. behind him are hundreds, thousands of pure-hearted titans, ready to combat evil. the tension only grows when titan shang tsung saunters into view, a dark aura surrounding himself.

•"there is nowhere to run, shang tsung," liu kang shouts upward at his mortal enemy, channeling his anger of his lost love. "nowhere to hide. we have banded together to rid all timelines of your evil. the threat you pose to them ends today. in all timelines, the arc of history bends toward justice."

•"such certainty, liu kang, that this battle will end in your favor," shang tsung replies with a devilish smirk, a peculiar confidence radiating from his words. "in this timeline, it bends toward me."

•and from behind shang tsung, you walk out, eyes dark and wearing armor that resembles an enemy. your mind had been corrupted by power. after being captured, you were passed onto titan shang tsung, who knew of your strength and potential from the previous timeline. he filled your mind with ideas of power and endless possibilities at the cost of betraying Earthrealm.

•liu kang does not often feel physical emotion, but seeing you in that moment crushed him. his stance faltered and his arms lowered to his sides. the once innocent glimmer he saw in you was now gone.

•liu kang fights his way up the stairs, sending various evil versions of his friends into the green, hellish pit. he knocked the glasses off of dark star cage, beat kitana kahn into submission, and even took down a fiery scorp lao.

•when he makes his way up to the top, winded but still ready to battle if needed, he feels that pang in his chest return when he sees you stand beside shang tsung in a fighting stance.

•"please... i do not wish to fight you," liu kang tries to reason with you with a hint of desperation. "it is not too late to return to the light."

•"i know of your deceptive behavior, fire god," you reply with a nasty tone, mind corrupted by shang tsung's lies and delusions. "i will not hesitate to take you down."

•liu kang really, really did not want to fight you. he couldn't even use the defense that you weren't his (y/n). but you were. you were from his timeline. he made you, and fucked up. bad.

•all he could do was stand there, fists clenching and unclenching rapidly as he debated his options. but all the while, he held eye contact with you and your snarling face. you looked at him like he was a villain, because you were convinced that he was.

•for the first time in eons, liu kang wondered if resetting the timeline would be best. he knew he shouldn't, he saw what the power did to kronika. but god, it had never been that tempting until this very moment.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #liu kang #liu kang x reader #crying screaming throwing up rn

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fan-goddess · 15 days

Text

MY ANALYSIS OF THE SCENE BELOW

Gif and photo credit goes to @barbieaemond

A/N: First of all! I want to say these are personal opinions and ideas I have come up with and discussed further on! None of the things I will say are confirmed! I am merely speculating and debating theories! The start is less on topic but it gets more focused the more I talk.

I didn’t want to bother users by directly tagging but there users are there and in some cases links to their posts are added in bold. I also bolded certain quotes.

Okay, first of all I want to discuss the words they had playing when they showed this scene before we look into the scene itself. When listening to the voiceover I couldn't tell who it was who was saying the quote, but after putting on the captions I found its Larys Strong which is interesting given his character is pretty much the master of whispers. He's the man who knows everything on everyone the man behind the curtains as shown in season 1 when he manipulated Alicent to make her believe she was responsible for Harrenhals fire and therefore make her guilty enough for her to feel the need to keep Larys in kingslanding where hes at his most powerful. Why go back to Harrenhal and trust his birdies to bring him the information while he sits back when he can do the dirty work himself? That is a key aspect of his character which is why it makes the quote so noteworthy.

The quote itself though is this: The enemy without may be fought with swords. The enemy within is more insidious. Even the use of camera shots which are placed while he's saying that have meaning, as when he says the enemy without its showing Rhaenyra who has lost her daughter, her son, her crown and her throne. And when he says may be fought with swords Aegon shows to be possibly mourning the loss of Jaehaerys, and it's known that after finding out about blood and cheese Aegon went on a rampage killing all ratcatchers in the city. This is showing the shots they’re showing in this line have meaning, meaning we need to take into consideration the scenes/words they show next.

The shot saying The enemy within shows Daemon walking down in a dimly torch lit tunnel somewhere underground with no real indication of where he is. Perhaps they'll play around with blood and cheese by having Daemon come with them to show them the tunnels needed to get to Helaenas chambers, but that would not make sense as it's been highly discussed how Dyana (A maid shown in season 1 who had been a victim of Aegon) would be a part of season 2 for a few episodes, so its much more likely she'll be the one guiding blood and cheese to Helaenas chambers. Though I must say I feel Dyana will most likely be punished and killed for this as she has affectively been part of a plot to kill the innocent son of Helaena. I suspect her guilt will show, and maybe Alicent or maybe even Aegon himself can see that she knows something and questions her, leading to Dyanas confession and death.

Though the scene with Aemond as Larys says is more insidious, that is what caught my eye and no doubt brought you here. We can still that the whole line as part of the reasoning for the use of that scene, as I have discussed with @/anjelicawrites and we have thought of the possibility on this being Aemond crumbling down from his usual, "Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should be-" This is a new side of Aemond. A version of him which we beleive is him finally directly suffering for his actions in the war, AKA killing Luke and indirectly causing the death of Jaehaerys. He looks as though he is becoming something that even he said he would never become as he even says to Criston, as Anjelica mentioned to me, that the two of them were people with morals. It's honestly quite an interesting take as by having the usually stoic Aemond break down in front of this woman, the identity of whom I will talk further on later, shows even he is not safe and that no one is truly immune to the grief of war and that sacrifices must be made by all.

Now we do not know the setting in where the photo takes place but if this truly is a brothel then maybe Aemond went back to the place which truly psychologically hurt him in order to enact punishment on himself, as what punishment can really be done after what Aemond has had to go through. Torture is not an option especially since he's already had to suffer through the major damages of loosing an eye which has already permanently damaged not only Aemonds vision but his whole nervous system. There is a post where a lovely individual goes through the medical side of Aemonds injury which I shall link here for those who would like to take a further look. Going to the brothels as well could be a sign of him becoming what he hates most of all. Aegon. Aegon has always been Aemonds biggest jealousy as he has everything Aemond wants. Aegon has the title of first born son, two eyes, a valyrian wife, heirs, even an actual inheritance and yet he throws it all alway and very easily wanted to when Aegon tried to convince Aemond to allow him to board that boat to wherever he was planning to run off too (Probably Lys when you think about all the people there who have silver hair and the violet eyes.) To see Aemond slowly develop into Aegon would be almost strangely poetic to see as he becomes the epitome of what he hates and wanted most, especially when its just the worst side of Aegon he becomes and not the good parts.

Now onto the context of the scene! The way Aemond is laid on the women suggests intimacy, as he has his hair put down naturally, has his sapphire eye on pure display, and most noticeably of all is naked as the day he was born. He also has his back to the person, which to him especially given his lack of vision on his left side, means he trusts them enough to be vulnerable. People are heavily implying that Aemond is in a brothel, but when you think about how Aemond reacted to the brothel owner in the first season, who it turned out to be the woman who SA'd 10 year old him, I do not believe he would go back there willingly with that much sense of vulnerability around those sort of people. But when you think about the idea of him going back there to punish himself for his misdeeds then it cannot be ruled out as a possibility. Though someone mentioned it didn't seem right how Aemond was the one in the nude while the woman he is laying his head on is still fully dressed, which is certainly odd especially when you remember that when we got a first glimpse of the whores they pretty much walked around the room stark naked with very little clothing. Perhaps Aemond walked in with her naked and demanded she dress in clothing that was either laying about or even brought her clothes for her to wear (possibly Helaenas or even his mothers) we will not know until we watch the scene on screen.

When discussing the position Aemond is in with the woman too like I said earlier defenitely gives an idea on intimacy, possibly bordering on motherly. We know that when Aemond returns from storms end and tells his family of what he had done, 'Queen alicent went pale when she heard what he had done, crying "mother have mercy on us all." nor was ser otto pleased. "you only lost one eye" he is reported to have said. "how could you be so blind?" In the books it is said that since Aemond did kill Luke with intention to kill, he was expecting to revieve pretty much a heroes welcome. But since they changed that and make Lukes death accidently Aemond will no doubt go back to kingslanding feeling grief and regret, with maybe some happiness that he finally in his own way got revenge back for Luke taking his eye. Going back to the almost motherly seeming position he is in, I suggested that perhaps Aemond went to the brothel for a sort of motherly comfort for what he has done as Alicent almost certainly will not be giving it to him for what he has done. Perhaps he went there to get comfort from women but not in a sexual way but in an emotional way so he can feel less at fault for what he has done, even when the physical reminder haunts him daily.

Some people have suggested this to be Alicent who he is with, and whilst that makes sense given the intimacy of the position he's in it does not make much sense to me as why would he be naked with his mother. That to me is more of an Aegon move than an Aemond move. Though it was also brought up how she possibly came into his chambers at night whilst he sleeps nudes which very well could be a possibility so I've decided not to rule out that idea.

Another possible idea on who the woman is is the brothel lady from season 1 who I talked about earlier as being the one who SA’d Aemond when he was 10 years old. When looking at how other people have viewed the picture and came across a user named @/scaly-freaks who gave great insight on this topic which I shall leave a link for here. Firstly they mention how of course CSA is a sensitive topic, I want to mention that first. Though what they further talked about what how in some cases a victim can subconsciously find traits of their abusers in romantic partners (which thinking about it may be why he went for Alys given that she was a much older woman similarly to the brothel worker) or they can return to their abuser even at an older age. I won’t discuss these two points further as consideration for those who may feel triggered with this topic and so I will just say to click on the link for the post and read the rest there. Like I said about Alicent, I will not rule out this brothel woman as a possibility especially as it’s supposedly been confirm that she has filmed some nude scenes for season two. We do not know if she will be the woman in the scene, especially since in the picture the woman is seen wearing clothing, she may have filmed some general brothel scenes involving Aegon. I read another user @/lovelykhaleesiii theory about who the woman was and she said it was the brothel women and that it was her, as possibly Aegon may have taken him to the brothel to celebrate Luke’s death as we’re apparently getting scenes of Aegon at the whore house. This would make a lot of sense given the evidence shown and makes it a lot more believable as to why Aemond is in a brothel in the first place as like I had mentioned earlier it’s a more Aegon thing to do not really an Aemond act. Also a user named @/magnificentdelusionr has spoken out about how apparently the woman Aemond is with and the brothel lady share the same scar, so my belief in this being the woman has increased I’ll tell you that now. Though like I said, I will not rule her out as a possibility. The evidence for the brothel is bellow. I think this may be the most likely theory honestly given all the evidence that has been shown for her to be the one Aemond is with.

Now, this third possibility for who the woman is technically unknown as we do not know who she is. The actress from the scenes shown appears to be a dancer and the theory as it shows in the photo shown bellow is that she may have been sent by Mysaria as a distraction for Aemond. But looking at the scenes (pictures of which are shown in the twitter post down bellow) I don’t believe the scene in the top right is of Aemond and her, purely from the fact Aemond does not wear rings and the fact it looks very similar to Daemons ring. Furthermore the woman looks as though to be a younger Aemma purely from her face shape so that is why I’ve decided to rule out this theory. I will admit that it’s a high possibility that Aemond would be seduced by a dragonseed, as in my mind Aemond wants tradition of his culture. If he could’ve he would’ve married Helaena, as those are the ways of his people and the culture he cares for. He also, as was shown in the scene where Driftmarks inheritance was called into question, is seen to have a great admiration for Daemon who has married two women of Valyrian blood and has fathered technically 6 children (two of which did not survive past the womb). Aemond in my mind if the war never happened would’ve 100% been a sort of student under Daemons wing so in my mind it is not hard to imagine Aemond as wanting to mimic Daemon in his own way, that way being bedding a Valyrian woman. Yet even so when looking at the dragonseed people believe to be the woman Aemond was with I believe she plays a different part of season 2, my belief is that her role of season 2 is to be one of the dragonseeds team black or team green hunt down to try and recruit, as it was said team black went around Westeros finding anyone of dragon blood and offering them a chance of a dragon. So I do not think she is who Aemond is with.

Now the final idea on who the woman is is Alys Rivers. I have seen people freaking out over the idea of Alys changing her looks to seduce Daemon, and that is who we see in the scene shown at the top left of the twitter post screenshotted above. But that is not Alys style as there is honestly less of a chance she could get shit done with Daemon. What there is though is a chance she could use Aemond given he was younger, more naive and ultimately more emotional and needing an outlet she is happy to become to ensure her freedom. Though in context with the scene, when discussing the idea about Alys with @/anjelicawrites, she brought up the idea about Alys possibly visiting Aemond in a dream. This lead me to think about her doing this which would ultimately force Aemond to come to Harrenhal and fulfil his ‘duty’ of coming to Alys and giving her a son of pale hair. I spoke to her saying how I like the idea of Alys visiting Aemond in his dreams, as this would further the witch allegations. With the context of the scene though I believe she could put this image of a finally calm Aemond who is finally at peace with himself in his mind and make him crave that part of himself. This would ultimately force him to come to Harrenhal in the future. One thing I do want to bring up is this connection that was brought to my attention by user @/boundlessfantasy. They made the connection about Alys possibility being the woman holding Aemond in a dream since Ewan said in the interview with TGC where they discussed three scenes from season 1, that the process of killing Luke haunts his dreams possibly hinting at a dream aspect of the season. This may end up being just a sarcastic comment, but if this actually a hidden Easter egg then I must applaud Ewan for being so sneaky. There is a screenshot of the interview down bellow with the line also a link to the interview here.

We cannot see the woman’s face therefore we cannot be sure on this woman’s identity, but out of these four main theories on the woman’s identity I think this is most strongest in my opinion. Though us could very well be some random women we’ve never seen in the series before so I very much am not exoecting my theories or anyone else’s to be particularly right. I accept them all (pretty much) but am expecting pretty much for the unexpected.

Some other theories though I would like to take into consideration is the idea it’s Helaena in the picture. I do like that idea as it brings further this idea of Helaemond, a ship I do enjoy personally, especially as they hinted at the idea that Aemond was the father of Helaenas children. The clothing the woman is wearing by the looks of it does seem to be a similar shade of blue that Helaena is usually seen wearing, and there are seem similarities in the hands (this idea was brought to my attention by @/lady-phasma who has talked on this idea on their account) Though I do suggest you click on the photos bellow to see them much more up close as then it’ll be a clearer image. Helaena and Aemond have been shown to be close together so it’s no surprise if he’d want to break down and show weakness with her. It’s a very intimate position as his back is to her showing he in his own way trusts the woman, making it believable this woman could be Helaena. I haven’t made this a main theory as there are some more compelling evidence for the other cases but still I will say this theory is quite strong especially when looking at other theories like the idea the woman is Alicent.

And the final theory on who the person is which I would like to take into consideration is that the person Aemond is with is Aegon. Now I’m sorry to have to break it to the Aegmond shippers but I do believe out of all these 6 theories I’ve talked about this one is least likely. For one it’s clearly a woman who Aemond is with, given the way the body is shaped, even when we cannot see her breasts. I will admit I have seen people though speculating it’s Aegon which is why I’ve decided to mention it and discuss it. One user named @/cyeco13 has done some incredible art of what it would look like if Aegon was the person Aemond was with and I shall link it here for those who wish to go see it (I do recommend it!)

Okay, out of the six Ive decided to rank those that I believe are most believable to be the woman!

1) The brothel madam

2) Helaena + Alys (as I’m tied with these theories not gonna lie)

3) Alicent

4) The unnamed dancing dragonseed woman in the trailer

5) Aegon

This is all I really can say on the matter as there are constant new theories daily and sad to say I cannot directly talk about them all. Still send me your favourite theories I am interested in hearing and if people would like debating them with me.

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