#So You Can Have Your Freedoms Back...that were never our right to take them away in the first place...

[xveenusx]

Three Seconds

Paring(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

Summary: three seconds is all it takes for things to fall apart

Side note: A lot of my writing is going to be either smut or heavy on the heartbreak lol, very few happy endings

Part 2: And Yet...

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One. Two. Three

Three seconds.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds of silence was all it took for him to completely shut me out. His blonde hair striking against the hue of the sky while his piercing blue eyes stare at me, pleading me to agree.

I opened my mouth to speak yet nothing came out. Instead, a wave of panic spread throughout my body causing an intense feeling of suffocation. My thoughts raced as I realized how serious the situation was.

“We’re sick of your shit.”

“Oh, my shit?” JJ let’s put a humorless laugh before shaking his head.

Kie’s eyes dart to mine before she takes a step towards him, looking at him with such disappointment. “You’re pulling guns on people shit.”

I can tell they’re all waiting for me to jump in, to talk some sense into JJ but for some reason my feet are glued to the floor and my throat is tight and no words are coming out.

Instead, my gaze is locked on the grey duffel bag set at his feet, filled with cash.

Cash that he stole from a drug dealer who had a gun to my head an hour ago.

Anxiety coursed through my veins as my stomach swayed with nausea. I wring my hands together trying to create some type of grounding.

“You need to tell him. Tell him this isn’t what we’re doing.” Pope steps in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders.

JJ’s gaze was burning a whole right through my head and it took every bit of strength I had to meet his stare head on.

I understood him. Everything he’s ever done, as rash and reckless as he was, there was always a reason. That was something our friends never understood about him, they just played it off as JJ being JJ. This money, as stupid as it was, he needed. It could give him every bit a freedom JJ needed away from his dad.

Luke was cruel and uncaring. Consistently spitting venom at him, reminding of how disappointing and useless JJ is. So, I understand. I would have taken the money too if it gave me some peace away from home.

Sarah and Kie, as sweet and loving as they are, will never understand. They were born Kooks, had homes on figure 8 with parents who love them. They didn’t need this money, but we did. And yet, I knew he couldn’t take the money. We were entering entirely knew territory with gold and guns and there was no certainty that we would be safe.

Barry knew exactly who we were. The moment he pulled the gun, the nuzzle pointed directly at JJ, the boy I’ve been in love with since I was 14, all color drained from my face. My body trembled in fear as I let out a shout and reached for him but Barry switched positions. Suddenly, the gun was pressed against my temple as he shouted demands. But for a brief moment, there was a sense of relief because it was no longer on JJ and I could breathe again. This feeling, this sickening choking panic, I don’t ever want to feel again.

The cut was a small place and if not taking the money meant JJ would be safe then it was a small price to pay. But, I know him. I know he’s not going to understand how I see it but rather take it as a betrayal.

One. Two. Three.

JJ says nothing as his eyes rake over every inch of my face. Three seconds was all it took for him to completely close off.

That choking panic I mentioned earlier? Came back tenth-fold as it finally clicked.

“Jayj…” I reached out to touch his arm, the bracelets I gave him mockingly dangling from his wrist as he jerks away from me.

“Don’t.”

My chest tightened as I drew my hand back, fumbling with my fingers nervously.

JJ ripped his hat off his head before roughly running his hand through his hair. He started to pace, twisting the hat in his hands before stopping in front of all of us.

My heart ached at his obvious distress but I knew my input was the last he wanted now. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t care about him.

Pope let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re acting like a maniac-“

“Pope, I took the fall for you man. Do you know how much money I owe because of you?”

“I’m going to pay you back. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I just did. I just did pay it back. “ JJ takes a step forward, pressing his palms on Pope’s chest, shoving him back. “Right here, right now, by myself.”

“Let’s just calm-“ JJ’s glare stopped me in my tracks. He regarded me coldly, his face giving nothing away to the storm that raged in his ice blue orbs.

“Oh what? You suddenly decide you have something to say? Where were you five fucking minutes ago?”

I swallowed hard. “Can I please just explain-“

“Explain what? The fact that you know I need this money and you’re going to act like this is some big moral issue, ” JJ kept his hard set gaze on me, drilling holes into me, daring me to move. “How did you like having a gun pointed at you, huh?”

“You mean the same gun that I stepped in front of because seeing it pointed at you nearly made me sick to my stomach?” I spat, shaking my head at him.

This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to do this to me. Not now.

He said nothing to me, instead he turned his gaze to the Twinkie, twisting his ring around his finger anxiously.

“JJ, you take this money, you open the door for a whole lot of other shit. You think Barry’s just going to let you take it?”

“Listen to your girlfriend, man.” John B stepped up, clapping JJ on the back.

JJ shrugged him off as he took three quick steps towards me, forcing me to tilt my head up at him.

“What girlfriend?” He spat, his eyes darting in between mine, before settling into a sick satisfaction at my sharp in take of breath.

“JJ-“

“You know what?” He stated, bending down to grab the duffel. “I’m going to go off by myself.”

“You don’t get to do this shit.” I snapped as I reached for the duffel and tugged it towards me. “You want to treat me like shit? Fine, I dont care as long as I don’t find you dead in a ditch.”

JJ blinked at me and said nothing. The only thing giving away his emotion is the tightened grip on the bag.

“Go, then. Since you’re so eager to leave, but you’re not taking the money.” My breath came out short as the anger pounds through my blood.

“Or what? You’re gonna stop me? Last time I checked, I didn't need a god damn hang on.” I wince at the anger in his voice and fight the urge to shut down.

"Stop acting like you don't care , JJ. "

“I expected this from them, but never you.” His ring covered fingers danced along my chin, before he gripped it tightly forcing my eyes on him. “You were supposed to have my back. You told me that you got me, that you understand me. All I know now is that you a fucking liar.”

“I’m trying to protect you.” I plead, “Why can’t you see that?”

JJ scoffs, “Protect me? What do you think is gonna happen if I don’t pay back the restitution?”

“We can find another way-“

“I DONT have anything else.” He shouted in my face, his façade finally cracking under the pressure. “What don’t you understand? This is all I fucking have.”

I felt my grip on the bag weaken as I processed his words. It was normal for JJ to lash out when he felt cornered, but it was never directed at me.

My body trembled as I stared at him with a look I can only describe as broken. “You have me.”

I spoke the words softly knowing if I spoke any louder, the shake in my voice would give me away.

One. Two. Three.

Three seconds was all it took for him to completely and utterly break me.

“That’s not enough.”

Whatever fight I had left, fled from my body as my fingers let go of the duffel. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting back the tears that threaten to escape.

“You win, JJ.”

My eyes slowly traced every part of his face. From the sun grazed blonde strands that laid in a messy heap on his head, to the bronze tan arms from spending hours out on the waves that complimented his bright blue eyes.

I waited for what felt like hours, but was a mere moment, for JJ to take it back. For him to apologize and pull me into his arms. Instead, we just stared at each other, no one saying a word.

Then, he tilted his head turned around and left, leaving what felt like a blazing trail of carnage in his wake.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body. Small hands wrap themselves around me as my legs suddenly feel like they’ve been kicked out from under me. The familiar sweet scent of Sarah filled my nose, as she pulled me into her arms, physically holding me up.

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow smut #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #jj maybank angst #outerbanks imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank masterlist #obx3 #outerbanks imagines

[gi4hao]

☆ in which a bag of groceries make seungkwan measure the extent of your love

☆ seungkwan x gn!reader — cw: food, seungkwan’s tits are out (._.)

there’s a tension growing in your upper back from carrying so many grocery bags on your own. giving yourself a quick shoulder rub, you make your way to your bedroom whose door is still shut.

carefully opening it, you’re relieved to see it’s still pitch black inside; you’ve apparently been quiet enough not to wake seungkwan up. or at least you have been until now:

“hey sunshine”, his drowsy voice greets you from the bed. in the dark, you can barely make out his arms stretching over his head. “where were you? what time is it?”

he leans to the side to turn on your bedside lamp; the sight of his messy hair and sleepy eyes make your heart swoon just a little.

“10 am. i went grocery shopping, figured the supermarket would be less crowded in the morning”, you reply, sitting next to him.

and you were right, there was practically no one in the aisles today; which was more than welcome considering you had to buy enough groceries to feed all twelve members’ stomachs tonight.

“you should have woken me up!” seungkwan protests, but the way his eyes are still struggling with adjusting to the light proves how much he needed to sleep in. “…did you find everything you wanted?” he asks, lifting one end of the covers to invite you in.

you nod as you happily snuggle against his bare chest, something that might be due to the fact that most of his comfy t-shirts are hidden away on your side of the closet.

“i bought some peanut butter for the cookies, of course i’ll also make regular ones for vernon”, you start explaining, trying to remember the items in your bags: “some paper towels too. i also got some mangos to make those smoothies cheol told me about. oh and i found jun’s shampoo! the one that was sold out everywhere! he asked for two bottles just in case.”

cheek pressed against his skin, you can’t really see his smile growing a bit more with every sentence. but something about the way his fingers start to gently rub your scalp lets you know how grateful he’s feeling.

because not only have you made active efforts to remember these little details about the people he loves, you’ve made them happily and willingly. as if loving him and loving the people he cares about naturally came hand in hand to you.

“i think it’s about time i start gatekeeping you”, he eventually blurts out, bringing the covers up to your nose. “i’ll call the guys, tell them tonight is cancelled. i’m never letting you out in the world again.”

a bashful smile tugging on your lips, you prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him: “you can’t do that. you love showing me off too much. besides, we can’t rob the world of our insane chemistry.”

your words draw a chuckle out of him, because not even him and his usual wittiness can’t deny what you just said.

“i love you”, he simply replies, his fingertips lightly scratching the back of your neck.

you’ve been hearing these three words on a regular basis for the past couple of years, yet you’re still unable to suppress the giddiness in your eyes.

“i’m glad you do… because i paid the groceries with your credit card”, you reply teasingly, but it doesn’t take more than a few seconds before you add a sincere: “i love you too.”

basking in the intimacy of your old lamp’s yellowish hues, he leans forward to leave a delicate kiss on your lips, your breaths intertwining as his hand lays a bit flatter on your neck.

his smile echoes on your face when you finally break the kiss, as you watch him readjust his position to rest more comfortably on the pillow.

“you know, i might not actually gatekeep you forever… but i’m gonna borrow your freedom for one more hour”, he says, arms keeping you close to him, “i’m not ready to start the day yet.”

and for the next hour, neither of you can find their way back to sleep. instead, the room fills with waves of mundane conversations, laughter and soft kisses, reflecting the simple happiness of knowing you found the right person to spend a lifetime of mornings with.

#yes shirtless seungkwan was purely self indulgent #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan drabbles #seventeen imagines

[balkanradfem]

I remember back in the old days, when I first found radfems, I kept feeling it is inevitable that something will destroy them, someone will argue them down, shame them, point out that they’re doing something they’re not supposed to, and I kept reading on and on just waiting in fear, waiting for men to attack them and to humiliate them for speaking against the system.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, I found radfems arguing directly with men, over and over again, and defeating every single argument like it was nothing. Being raised in patriarchy, it was something I had never experienced before. I couldn’t understand the courage, the boldness and the dare to do it, I knew they were doing something dangerous, and I didn’t understand how was it possible that they couldn’t be shamed, couldn’t be guilt tripped, could not be humiliated or bullied into backing down.

They weren’t arguing with men for the chance they would persuade men to change their opinion, they were only showcasing for the other women, how to defeat those arguments, why are they wrong, why was it okay for a woman to fight back, to argue back.

I can remember the exact moment of reading one of those arguments, that reprogrammed my brain. I only wish I could find it again.

A woman was arguing against a man who kept saying things like ‘And how does this benefit us? Feminism is for everyone? You’re not helping anyone by being sexist and excluding men! What about the men who are abused, who are dying, traumatized, disabled? You’re uncaring and selfish **** and you should be shut down! You’re generalizing and demonizing half of the population! What about what we feel? What about our mental health? Men are victims too!’

And these arguments are something I’d heard so often I had them memorized, and reading radfem ideals, these arguments would constantly activate in my head, that we’re selfish and cruel if we don’t take care of the men in need, that compassion towards men is something we absolutely must have if we are good, normal human beings, that it’s only reasonable for men to despise us unless our movement is also proving useful to them, that they must have benefits too otherwise we’ll never get their support, never get anything done.

But the woman arguing back was having none of it. She asked right back ‘Why should you benefit out of it? Why should men get anything from a movement of women’s liberation? Do you only support women’s freedom and women’s rights if you directly benefit from it? Women are a half of a human population too, and you never once sacrificed anything to benefit us, yet you expect every single time that we sacrifice ourselves in order for you to get more benefits.

Why would I be uncaring and selfish if I don’t care about the men? You’re our primary predators, you are the number one cause of death in women, you are the reason we cannot go out safe at night, you’re the reason most if not all of our ancestors spent their lives in servitude, never getting to pursue their passions, never getting acknowledgment, money, land, legacy and matriarchal line of last names they deserved. You are shaming me like a wolf would shame a prey for running away from him, do you think a woman’s morality is to be questioned if she doesn’t feel compassion for a man who is holding a boot on her neck? Who is most likely to kill her? We have to put our safety before your feelings, for the sake of our own survival.

Why would men be what everyone and everything else must benefit? You think the rest of the world exists as resources to you, you believe we exist for you, to be used and violated and exploited by you, and you treat us accordingly, shaming us for having one place where we care about ourselves, and not you.

We have said nothing but the explicit, factual truth about the men, and if you find this demonizing, that’s on you. If mankind hasn’t oppressed and violated women’s freedom and lives for thousands of years, there would be no such facts to tell. If the truth reveals something rotten and demonic in you, that is not on us. We won’t shut up about what happened just because it makes you feel bad. Your feelings do not trump reality.

When men are victims, it’s primarily caused by other men, and in those situations, what do you expect us to do? Fight other men to save you, when we’d likely be killed? Fight for men, even though these exact victimized men are more than happy to go and victimize women, because now they have a great excuse of being victimized themselves? Men use everything, even their own victimization, against women. We do not have to feel compassion for those who have never, and will never feel it for us.’

-

It was while I was reading this, that I realized. I have been living all my life, until that moment, brainwashed to believe that I exist for men. That we all exist for men, that we’re around to make their life easier, that giving them whatever they want is mandatory, that we’re to be used. I believed my every word, action, thought, even appearance, has to be pleasing and approved by men in some way, or I would be shunned, punished, despised, and eventually, tortured and destroyed, for not being of use.

I believed that was reasonable, because men kept claiming it was, because they were arguing it loudly, with a threat of violence and humiliation for everyone who disagrees. I also believed it because I’ve never seen anything else. I’ve only ever seen women in servitude, acting like it’s natural to be so. All women in my family were servants of their husbands, almost all women in media were sexualized for men’s pleasure, almost every grown woman I’ve known was inclined to jump at male attention. Institutions, jobs, education, everything was favouring men, and we could have a try at it, but would ultimately be expected to be caretakers, or if we have a job, contribute money to men, to take off pressure from their responsibilities. We were supposed to believe they knew ‘better’ about what to do with money anyway. I’ve never dared to question it because the backlash was so hateful, violent, abusive and terrifying, I believed I would be a bad person if I thought otherwise, if I shut my compassion down.

But now, a handful of women online could argue it out without any fear of retribution because they were anonymous, they could not be touched, they could say anything, and no violence would reach them because it was anonymous platform. Men could rage at them but not touch them, never beat them. The power in that was unbelievable.

Realizing all this made me enraged, distressed, mortified, and determined to get free. From that moment on, I’ve not spend a second longer believing I exist for men. I never again considered if anything I wanted to do benefited them or not, or if anything that would benefit me would be well received with them as well. They never did this for us. They never took us into consideration when building the entire goddamn world. We do not exist for them. We are humans too. We are not selfish for not extending our patience and compassion to oppressors and predators. We are not responsible for troubles they create for themselves. And we do not have to sacrifice our rights for their convenience.

#radical feminism #radfem #anti patriarchy #old radblr #male arguments #anti male

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Birth of Dragons

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targaryen sibling in*est

Words:2625

Summary: It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

Part 2

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart. She was the baby, needed the most protection as she was the youngest. Visenya and Rhaenys agreed on this as well, for she was their favorite and most beloved. Many often speculated that Aegon married Visenya out of duty, Rhaenys out of desire, and (y/n) out of pure love.

With such a sweet demeanor it was a shock to all the day she mounted Balerion. The Black Dread wasn’t phased at all and allowed the third Targaryen queen to climb onto his back She was just a small speck among his black scales. Even he wouldn’t let Rhaenys or Visenya on top of him. He would bare his sharp teeth at either of the sisters if they dared try. Not (y/n). She coaxed him with a soft voice and delicate caress to his nose. (y/n) had her own dragon, an albino that she lovingly named Renoxa. The bond between rider and dragon was a strong one to begin with but (y/n) and Renoxa seemed to always be in such perfect sync with one another. Dragons couldn’t truly be tamed yet Renoxa was close to it. While even Balerion snapped at Aegon a few times, Renoxa would never dare do such a thing to (y/n). She was something different.

She had a way with all matters of beasts. Whether they were dragons or men, she was a beast tamer. In Visenya’s fits of rage, (y/n) was the only one to soothe her anger.

(y/n) was equally fierce though, determined to stay by her siblings’ side no matter what.

When she started showing signs of sickness, the other three Targaryen rulers were quick to forbade her from riding alongside them to conquer the north.

“Really, I’m alright. All of you worry too much.” (y/n) says and once again tries to reach for her armor, but Visenya pushes her aside and back down onto her bed. The youngest didn’t put up much of a fight since she had been vomiting all morning, her energy greatly drained.

Rhaenys shakes her head. “Look at yourself, sweetling. You’re in no shape to be riding.”

Aegon agrees. “She’s right. I’m not about to put you at risk.”

“What risk? We have four fully grown dragons. They’ll give up easily.” (y/n) tries to protest. Large violet eyes beg them to let her come. Normally they would have bent to the will of those lovely Valyrian eyes. No one wanted to risk (y/n) getting hurt though.

“No (y/n). You can barely even sit up. If you were to ride in your state you would fall off of your dragon and to your death.” Aegon firmly tells her. “You stay here and let the maesters tend to you. That’s final.”

Outside their fort they could catch the screeches of Renoxa and the other dragons as they leisurely roamed around their territory, loving the open air and freedom as dragons should have.

With the tone her brother had used (y/n) knew there was no way of making him budge. His rule was law. She looks away from her siblings feeling ever like the petulant child, her fingers fiddling with the dragon head ring she wore. Rubies in the eye sockets glistening in the daylight that crept through the window.

Unable to bear her sister looking so rejected, Rhaenys takes (y/n)’s face in her hands and gives her a kiss on the lips. “Don’t look like that. We’ll be back before you know it. Like you said, we have fully grown dragons on our side. What are direwolves compared to our beautiful dragons?” Her fingers brush away (y/n)’s silvery bangs and she places another kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be upset ñuha jorrāelagon.”

*

It was hard for you to not feel left out as your siblings donned their glorious black armor and set off on their dragons to finish taking over the rest of Westeros. You had been with them through it all, through every battle. You and Renoxa paving the way to Targaryen victory and conquest.

What else were you supposed to do? You could tell that even Renoxa was getting restless. You wanted to go outside and comfort her but the maesters that Aegon had put in charge of your welfare refused to let you out of your chambers. Any other time you would have tried to threaten them, stating that you were their queen and could not be kept locked up but in all honesty you were tired.

You spent most of the time sleeping. Any little thing made you so incredibly tired that you wanted nothing else but to take a long nap. You would sleep for hours and many times you wouldn’t even be aware that you had fallen asleep until you had woken up. It was then that the maesters had started bombarding you with questions. When was your last moon’s blood, when was the last time you had sex with Aegon; questions that had you blushing. You were still young after all. If they had asked the same thing to Rhaenys she would have just smiled and coyly replied without feeling any embarrassment.

When the third week had rolled in of your siblings being absent, the maesters gave you the news that you were pregnant.

The news was quite shocking to you. Of course you weren’t naive enough to not know what happened after sex. Pregnancy was a possibility. You just never thought you would be the first one out of your sisters to become pregnant.

To have a living thing growing inside of you was an odd thought. Your stomach was still flat and showed no signs of there being any baby. When you placed your hands over your stomach though you swore that you felt a heat that wasn’t usually there. Like a fire suddenly lit inside of you. You were going to be a mother. Your child, if they were to be born a boy, would be Aegon’s heir. His first heir.

Smiling slightly to yourself you grow even more antsy for your family to return.

The news that Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar had been spotted nearing Aegonsfort had you sprinting out to greet them. Maesters yelling after you, you slowed down remembering your condition but walk quickly.

Renoxa is already up in the air, almost as white as the clouds. Even from way up there she spots you and begins her descent. Your hair whips in the gusts she builds up as she lands on the ground, her mighty wings beating against the air as she steadies herself. Her scales were bright, almost to the point of blinding. It was a great contrast when she stood next to Balerion or any of the other dragons. Her blood red eyes gaze at you, unblinking as she gingerly nuzzles your cheek with her snout.

You kiss her giant nose, you could feel her hot breath from her nostrils. Lovely, smooth, scales like priceless ivory. She was a gorgeous creature despite her small size; she was as young as you were after all and was still growing. Renoxa was slightly larger than Vhagar but not by much and no bigger than Meraxes. Still she was perfect to you. Even though your siblings loved their dragons it was nothing compared to your adoration for Renoxa and it showed through your strong bond. You doted on one another. You were as protective over Renoxa as she was over you.

And now you hoped she would be equally protective over your child.

“You must know that I’m pregnant.” Smiling against her snout, a gentle sound vibrates from her barrel of a chest. Yes, she knew.

There’s a cry in the air of a dragon, Balerion’s cry to be exact. They were closer now and you noticed the Black Dread picking up speed as he tilted downward to the earth. Both him and Aegon must be excited to see you.

Renoxa cranes her head, opening her mouth to bellow out a greeting. To others it might have been ear piercing, a sound of horror, but to you it was the sound of utter joy. You grin when Meraxes joins in with Balerion in wanting to see you.

Soon enough the three dragons were shaking the earth as they landed. Normally there would have been a crowd to welcome back the king and queens, but people were still standoffish when all four dragons were together. They made for an intimidating sight. Bannermen cheered at the arrival, the good news of Torrhen Stark bending the knee had already reached Aegonsfort.

Balerion lowers down onto the ground so that Aegon could dismount him.

“(y/n)!” Aegon’s smile is big at the sight of you and you have to control yourself from yelling that you were pregnant. “You look much better! How are you feeling?” His fingers weave through your hair, slightly undoing the braid that the maids had spent a while in designing. His eyes were sparkling as he leaned down to pepper your face in kisses. Sometimes you forgot how young your brother actually was. Being a ruler made him act so much older, but his true age always came out when he was lavishing love and affection upon you.

You giggle and cling to him. Rhaenys was soon to join the two of you while Visenya chose to stand off to the side with her arms crossed yet holding a gentle smile on her otherwise harsh face.

“Oh my (y/n)!” Rhaenys sings and nearly pushes Aegon out of the way to hug you next. Aegon only chuckles and allows his beautiful sister to coddle you. When she took in all of you though her face changed. Not in a bad way, but in disbelief. “Your pregnant.”

Aegon’s eyes grew large at what his sister had said. It wasn’t even posed as a question but a fact. Even Visenya let her arms fall down to her sides. The news must have been a little upsetting to your older sister as she had yet to get pregnant despite being the first to marry Aegon.

Scared to jinx the news, Aegon asks with hopefulness in his tone “Is it true (y/n)? Are you really pregnant?”

Giddy you nod your head uncontrollably. “Yes!”

Rhaenys breaks out into tears. “My sweet (y/n) is going to be a mom!!” She hugs you, refusing to let you go or share you with Aegon.

Even though there was still much left to do, Aegon refused to leave your side during your pregnancy. That is why Aegon put Rhaenys and Visenya in charge of overseeing the rest of what needed to be done in order to truly construct a kingdom for the Targaryens to rule over for generations to come. And you were playing the part of beginning the future generations.

Aegon marveled as your belly grew larger and rounder. He loved showing you off to his new vassals at how much your child was growing and that surely they would grow up to be a strong leader of Westeros. Even other noblewomen who were pregnant as well didn’t have a belly compared to your’s. It worried you at first, the size of your belly. Wasn’t it too large? You would ask Rhaenys if it was normal but she had as much knowledge of being pregnant as you did.

“Perhaps it’ll be an actual dragon.” She teased. Her hands roamed all over your exposed abdomen, feeling the heat coming off of it. Rhaenys pressed her cheek against your swollen belly. “Or maybe you’ll be having two.”

You gawk at your sister. “Two?!”

Her laugh is as clear and tinkling like a bell. “Yes, women can have two at once. It’s not that common but it does happen.”

“Dear gods I hope it’s not two.”

“Regardless of how many you have we’ll love them all the same. Even if you do happen to pop out an actual dragon. It’ll just show the people how strong you and the Targaryen family is.” Quiet in contemplation, Rhaenys kisses your belly. “You have done our family much pride (y/n).”

Regret eats at you for your older sister Visenya. “It should be Visenya who is pregnant. She’s been married to Aegon longer.”

A frowning Rhaenys rolls onto her back next to you on your grand bed. She had forced Aegon away from you so that he could be part in building his kingdom. The only thing that soothed Aegon was the idea that she would be with you. “She has never been happy in this marriage, (y/n). A baby would have made no difference. But yes, I suppose it does sting her a little bit. She knows though, knows out of the three of us you would be the first one to be pregnant with Aegon’s child. He may warm my bed a few nights but at the end of the night he goes back to you.”

“He loves you too, Rhaenys.”

“Oh I know he does sweetling.” She taps your nose dotingly. “But there is one thing that Aegon and I can agree on and that is that we adore you above anyone else. He loves you more than me and I love you more than I love him.”

You curl up against her, you had always found Rhaenys’ heartbeat to be so soothing. Ever since you were a small child you ran to her for comfort. She would always embrace you with ready arms.

And Rhaenys stayed to comfort you during your labor. She never left your side and held your hand as you screamed in pain. Her hair had been braided and pulled back into a bun as to not get in the way as she was assisting with the birth.

Aegon and Visenya had been forced to wait outside and listen to your wails of agony. They had never heard anything like it. At first when you started screaming,

Visenya had gone for her sword with fear that something had happened to you. That maybe an assassin had snuck into the labor room. Aegon had stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and had her wait with him.

You had never gone through anything as painful in your entire life. Many times you had been wounded in battle but no wounds compared to the pain you were in now.

Finally after hours of screaming and pushing, your son was born.

A beautiful baby that screamed much louder than you ever managed to. Hair as fine as white silk. Even if he was covered in afterbirth you wanted to hold him close to you.

But he was taken away before you could even touch him.

“M-My baby. . .” You reach out imploringly to him.

Rhaenys scowls at the midwife. “What’s the meaning of this. Give your queen her baby.”

“I-I’m sorry your grace, but she isn’t finished yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“There comes another baby.”

“WHAT??!!”

“Visemarys and Baelyx Targaryen.” Aegon smiles down at his newborn sons. Rhaenys held your firstborn Visemarys while Visenya awkwardly held onto Baelyx. You were exhausted from giving birth to not one, but two babies and had no energy to continue to hold them.

“How will you tell them apart?” Visenya asks skeptically as she looks from one scrunched up face to the other. “They look the same.”

Right then Baelyx started shrieking out of nowhere, startling Visenya. His older brother merely looked at him, puzzled as to why he was crying. Switching from his crying brother he looks back up at his Aunt Rhaenys and gurgles in delight.

Aegon chuckles. “Well that could be one way.”

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the conqueror #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #asoiaf fandom #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones reader insert

[noroamenial]

Light my Heart Aflame

Here is my full Raphael x Tav fanfiction!! Tav is afab and I doooon't think I gave them specific pronouns (I wrote in second person)

I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR POETRY

Spoilers for end of Act 2

cw: smut!

Summary: you and Raphael have a sweet consummation in an empty bedroom in moonrise

You sat on the steps of the main throne room. Ketheric’s empty throne sat behind you as you stared through the hallway’s open doors to the vestibule and out into the night. The only lights were the flickering torches mounted on the wall. The air still smelled like blood and the dead, even with most of the bodies removed. Only a few hours ago you were grappling with an avatar of Myrkul. You can still recall the exact feeling: your heart beating so loudly you thought it would jump from your throat, the smell of necrotic undead, and the weight of the glaive in your hands. You had witnessed your own death a hundred times over in the moment you had looked into its eyes. 

You inhaled deeply, it didn’t matter that the air was tinged with iron, the upper floors of the tower breathed with relief. You yawned, shucking your gauntlets for the freedom of your hands, you had been waiting for this moment of relief. You rotated a wooden pipe in your hands, it was packed and slender with a curve. Halsin had handed it to you before you had slinked away from the night’s camp. ‘My gratitude can not be contained to only a gift, but allow this to be the start of my many thanks to you.’ He had said softly, with a hand on your shoulder before sending you off with an understanding nod. You puzzled over it for a moment, in your haste to escape socializing, you had forgotten a light.

“Even the smallest embers can be stoked to a wildfire. It is the consumer, fueling on whatever its claws can grasp.” A voice echoes off of the brick from behind you. And as soon as you are able to turn, Raphael stands above you, leaned over at the waist to stare curiously down. 

“If you’ve come to deal, I’m in no mood.” You sigh, turning around. Your body aches too much to stand up in your armor and face him. 

“A bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush. I have what I want.” He sits down beside you with a shrug. “I thought perhaps you could use a lighter.” 

You don’t even realize how much your reaction time has slowed until he’s lifting your hand with the pipe by the wrist, and has vastly closed the difference between the two of you. He offers you a light—a small burning flame, produced from one finger. And as you light the pipe and test the contents—something herby yet sweet Halsin must have put together—you’re greeted with a pleased smile from Raphael. 

“It’s the least I can do for my little mouse.” He hums, and you’re so close you can pick out the streaks of white scattered through his black hair. “You went out of your way to take care of a deal meant for the vampire spawn. I feel as though I owe you more than him.” 

You shake your head, before sighing. 

“I would never let Astarion do that alone, much like he would not let me do that alone.” You explain, looking down. “I did it for him, so you don’t owe me anything.” 

“Then allow me to wipe our slates clean, if not for you, then for me.” He hums, “allow me to service for what has been paid.” 

“What service?” You laugh, rolling your eyes “what could you possibly give me right now that can be achieved? Bring me the netherstones? Remove the tadpole from my brain?” 

“Alas, those are things I can not give you. But don’t underestimate me…I have tried. Had I the ability to succeed you would be indebted to me more than just one orthon.” His eyes glaze over, just a shimmer of an ember behind them. Perhaps lost in a fantasy, but he is back in a mere moment. “But no, what I offer is momentary relief. I can alleviate the ache in your mortal body, sate your mind, and in doing so allow you the pleasures that only the unholy can provide.” 

If not for the seriousness in his tone and how close he had sidled up to you, you would’ve laughed. Instead you sputtered choking on your pipe and he tenderly had your wrist in his hand again, moving the pipe away from you. 

“…free of charge?” You ask quietly, your voice catching as you regain your composure. 

“Darling, you already paid.” He chuckles, face so close to yours you could smell brimstone and just about taste his lips. 

“You’re going to kiss me here?” You hum, quiet enough just for him to hear—keeping this moment a secret from the ancient stone and battered walls.

“And on the throne, and in bed, and everywhere I can reach on your flesh.” He murmurs back, equally quiet and no less sultry. 

The wooden pipe is carefully stowed, and for a moment you hesitate regarding your bulky and bloody armor, but you aren’t given the option to think for long as Raphael’s hand guides your face back to him. 

The kiss is surprisingly sweet and a little clumsy, but his tongue deepens it so easily you forget. His hand graces the side of your face, thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. Maybe it was your own emotion or maybe it was an infernal charm but a sense of adoration bloomed from your chest and replaced the biting cold. Tentatively one of your hands weaved into his hair, well groomed, soft, and warm, he was so very warm.

One of his hands goes to your chest and you have to stop him. 

“Not here,” you sigh, leaning back.

“Not interested in prying eyes, dove?” He asks, a slight tilt of his head. “Or do you recoil in the cold despite the warmth I will bring you.” 

“Somewhere softer, somewhere private, if this truly is for me then let it be so.” You say back, allowing his words to roll off of you. If he was going to fuck you, it sure as the hells will be in a bed. 

Raphael makes a noncommittal noise that is between a huff and a laugh, an amused smile gracing his expression. “Let it be so.” He murmurs. 

You barely blink and suddenly you’re on a bed, you recognize it, an upper floor room you had ransacked earlier. It smelled less like blood and more like old books. Raphael is standing at the edge of the bed, surveying the room. He snaps his fingers and the oil lamp on the bedside table illuminates his face. His gaze lands on you, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the devil who will be bedding you tonight. 

Imposing figure, horns, wings, tail and ember eyes trained on yours. With the mere flick of his wrist he’s in a silk robe. If you knew him better, you’d understand how important this performance he was putting on for you was. Not only was this a show of his autonomy—but of yours, a performance to convey the delicate trust he has placed in you in hope of a continued alliance. Tonight, you’re the one thing he’ll let break his fetish for control. 

You swallowed, pushing any fear down with the rationalization that Raphael would not let up on his side of a deal—even if it was a deal you didn’t know was happening. You sat up to sit on the edge of the bed, removing your boots, undoing the straps of your armor. In doing so Raphael came to sit beside you, unusually quiet, perhaps mulling something over with the look he had on his face. You felt very dirty in comparison to him with dried blood and slowly healing wounds, this was the first time in a few days you were able to let down your hair—it sent pangs of shame to your stomach. 

“Don’t look like that,” he hums, “Shame isn’t pretty on you, dove.” He reaches over to undo your breastplate and your shoulder armor comes off with it. 

“In an ideal world I am not dirty and bleeding as you come to me in the night.” You sigh, finally shucking the rest to your feet and scooting back on the bed to lean against the headboard. 

“My ideal world is having you as you are now.” He turns to sit on his knees, hands folded in his lap neatly. Even now he was gentlemanly, but the way he looked at you with a piercing primal gaze made your stomach flutter. “What a waste it would be to tame you in any way.” 

“I like being tame.” You counter as he crawls toward you, “and well kept, and bathed.” 

“Not in that way, dove.” Raphael reaches for your cheek with one hand, his other steadying himself in the sheets. “Not like that.” 

He smiles slowly, wings splaying behind him and half of your face has a shadow cast over it. He’s waiting for something…he’s waiting for you. 

So you reach for him, bringing him in and he accepts so easily. His kiss is ravenous, eager to fulfill its promise. His hand on your cheek traces gentle circles as if comforting a lover, and his other cups your waist. After such an overwhelming lack of affection as of late, Raphael easily coerced a flame to ignite in the pit of your stomach. 

“Sweet thing,” he coos, leaving sultry kisses down your jaw to the softest parts of your neck. You allow a relieved sigh to escape you. Your hands trail down his back and you make an amused noise finding the slits in his robe for his wings. His tail flicks and you gasp as he nips you. Your attention returns to him as his hands squeeze your thighs, parting your legs further for him. Raphael slots himself between them with a content hum. 

“Tell me, dove. What do you desire?”

You. Was your first thought, and your heart fluttered as you hesitated to speak. This side of Raphael you had only seen in bits and pieces. In the brief moments he could catch you alone: a touch to the shoulder, a more genuine conversation, poetry, letters…You could describe your relationship to him as more than a potential victim to barter with…but perhaps a confidant.   

And if only you could see behind his eyes. Raphael was searching for your answer, for whatever unspoken thing you could tell him with your body language. He wanted to trust you, he wanted to want you. 

You were brought back with the flick of his tail in the corner of your vision. You weighed your options while gazing at him.

“I desire you,” you hum languidly, “To have you in this manner. To kiss you. To have you come to me as you did; wanting to be the means to the end of my suffering, and I want to be able to come to you, to be yours.” 

Raphael’s hesitation told you he didn’t expect that answer. Perhaps he had run over all of the possibilities in the several moments you were allowed to think, and your answer hadn’t even graced his thoughts. He was a creature of well controlled performance masking something that you had only seen glimmers of, like sunlight through barely parted curtains.

And so you responded for him, kissing him sweetly. That seemed to pull him back as he cupped your face and returned the action. His hips roll against yours as his wings flutter and span out behind him. One of his hands guides your hips along as his kiss trails down your jaw and to your neck. 

You let out a pleased and almost relieved sigh, nuzzling him as he marked your neck. You grind your hips against him, eager to gain more friction as heat pools in your stomach. 

“You are mine.” He affirms, pulling up to look down at you, and his claws are able to so easily tear through the fabric on your chest. You think he must be using magic because how else could his other hand so gently hold your face. “And I would do anything for you if you asked.” He spoke so plainly it made your breath hitch. 

You splayed your hands against his chest, parting the silk of his robe. 

“Right now, all you have to do for me is make passionate love to me.” you laugh, “I have already chosen to be yours.” 

A ghost of a laugh leaves him in return as he kisses down your sternum, fondling your chest as he goes. 

“Good,” he mutters, hands on your waist as he makes his way to your stomach. His lips were ticklish, and his claws were already curling under your waist band. And with a quick discard of your undergarments you are barely able to react before his mouth is on you.

Hot, wet, slick, his mouth gladly devours your cunt. With languorous strokes, his tongue teases your entrance only to slide up and hit your clit with the flat of it over and over. Your legs tense, but his hands hold them apart as he eats you. 

Your cries of ecstasy only get louder as you grow closer to climax. Raphael’s piercing gaze is on you again as one of your hands curls into his hair and the other into the sheets. His claws hold you to his mouth as he focuses dutifully on your clit. All too suddenly you are coming undone, hands buried in his hair as you are gasping his name...an unholy prayer.

Raphael pulls away, your slick arousal on his lips. He wipes it away with an amused huff.

"Sweet thing, aren't you?"

Your chest rises and falls as he stares down at you. his hair is disheveled, his smirk lazy yet endearing and your cunt clenches down on nothing as you notice his erection. Raphael shifts, discarding the silk robe from his shoulders and giving you a great look at his exposed body.

The warm lighting really did him justice as you looked him up and down.

"I want you," you finally say, sitting up to face him.

"I know, I am glad you do, my dove." he laughs, "now give me your hands."

Your brows furrow, but you offer them up anyways. He turns them around in his own grip to have your knuckles up. As he does, you're more focused on watching his chest expand with each breath, steeling your resolve as your core continues to ache with arousal.

You are pulled back by the tingling warmth blooming from your palms, traveling up your arms and to your chest. You look up at him for an explanation.

"Relax," he coos, "I’ll allow you a taste of Avernus’ great fire, the seat of power in the hells. Consider it a gift and we can be on equal standing.” 

“What does that even mean?” you scramble for words. The feeling now not only is physically warm, but mentally. As if Avernus could reach into your very desires and passions and stoke their flames. 

Raphael doesn't answer, simply intertwines your fingers in his and guides your back to the bed. It is like he created a circuit, your connected palms the conduit. It made your eyelids heavy, you knew there was some importance to this carefully guided ritual, but you were not sure what it was yet. You had placed a great amount of trust in him and it seemed this might be part of the way he was placing trust in you.

Raphael kisses you again, and you don't think you could tire of it. As you kiss back the material plane wavers for a moment, allowing you a space between; your body a little lighter and your soul a little heavier.

One of his hands untwines from yours and instead slides across your slick aching cunt. You keen and gasp as his finger enters you, curling ever so slightly. He kisses your cheek, and you move your head to capture his lips in yours again. Your hips grind on his finger, eager for more stimulation.

Eventually you're sure he can't help himself anymore. Raphael pulls back, panting, fingers leaving you to instead wrap a hand around his cock. He pumps from base to weeping tip, coating what he can in your arousal. His hands settle at your waist. The sweet whisper of a groan that left him was heavenly as he entered you.

This was truly for you, while Raphael surely was getting something out of this: whether an orgasm or simply the pleasure of watching you plead and beg and shudder underneath him, this was all for you. He so softly wormed his way into your heart you almost didn't recognize him.

It was only with a, "yes, my dove?" and a confident kiss to your cheek did you recognize him again. Also were you suddenly aware of your trembling flushed body with his name perched on your tongue.

You've been to bed with a partner, had a myriad of experiences in your time courting, but nothing really compared to this. Perhaps it was the way the stroke of his cock that tugged you part way from the material plane that made it so good. Or it was the way the pleasure doubled back over through that tentative tether tied to your heart. Either way it made it easy for Raphael to make voracious love to you.

As the cambion pulls away, you're back. This night has been as though you have been through several states of limbo. Guided gently by Raphael as pleasure, form, and love collided.

"By sunrise, you should be well rested." Raphael pulls hair out of your face, laying at your side. His silks had been returned to gently hanging from his form. He was obscuring the bedside lamp, casting a shadow over your form, but his eyes remained as a soft glow.

There were words to say, words you wanted to say, but they were stuck at the back of your throat. Thankfully, your silence didn't seem to deter his claws running through your hair. It was hard not to drift off, your energy was fully and truly spent.

Your eyes flutter, you will them open just a bit longer to look at him.

"Sleep, dove." he chuckles, and it reverberates in your own chest. "This is not the last time you will set eyes upon me."

~~~

In the morning, you wake up as the sun peaks from the horizon. It should not have been a restful sleep, but sure enough the devil was true to his word. You were allowed a touch from Avernus’s flames. Your ambition had new fuel. Your body healed. The only thing he left was the ghost of a touch and a tether on your heart, marked dutifully by the master of the house of hope.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #baldur's gate raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #cw:smut #they have sex #im very proud of this #even though it took forever #and I have a different idea of his character again #i love developing

[waltzingwithspirit]

PICK A CARD: MESSAGES FROM THE COUNCIL OF LIGHT

LEFT : 111 ; RIGHT: 333

Disclaimer:

🪈Disclaimer in highlights applies here

🪈Take what resonates and leave the rest

🪈No one is allowed to copy my work under any circumstances

🪈All personal readings are paid. DM to book a personal tarot session.

🌙111🌙 “Better to wait than force things to happen” “I want my life to be beautiful, wild and filled with things I never imagined so forgive me if I ignore everything  you think is important and get right to it” “Stop Complaining and Start Doing”  “Fulfill your duties towards your body, self, and family, even society, do your part.” Patience is virtue that needs to be restored within you. You want your life to look a certain way, beautiful and wild and like your Pinterest mood baords and for so long you haven’t lived that, you have been engulfed with the noise and drama of the outside world, you waited so long for things you didn’t want, why not be patient for the things that you do, it takes time to undo the social conditioning and live truly free, give yourself some grace. It is not your job to be likeable, your job is to be yourself and the right people will find you.  The council of light is reminding you that while you are on your way to fulfil your dream, do not forget to give back. A lot of being gave you comfort in your journey. I can see someone talking to street or colony dogs, and just sitting beside them and telling them about stories of their life, and playing, don’t forget them when things get better, they listened to you when you were in need. Do not forget your roots, sometimes we fly so high we can’t pinpoint where our home is from the clouds, do not forget your home, where you came from, your lineage, your villages, these things matter. They are your anchor. Connect with your loved ones, do some gardening. For some of you: Rescue Animals, help them in any way you can.  Comment ‘111’ to claim. 🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙 🌙333🌙 “You came with nothing, you will go away with nothing” “You are not aline no matter how you perceive it to be. There is someone praying for you” If you are facing difficulty in making a choice: the council of light says: Make the choice that sets you free, that makes you feel lighter. Check your feelings, does it feel a weird hesitation or disappointment or sadness, even though logically it makes sense? Do not choose that path, please! Let lightness, freedom and joy be your guide in making decisions and you’ll be happy how things turned out in the end.  Love yourself more, your day starts when you wake up so create a solid morning routine for yourself, take care of what you are consuming in different aspects like food, water, virtual content, engaging in conversations, everything. Assess this, eat good food that gives you energy and life, engage in manful conversations instead of gossip. Everyday for an hour do something you love, actively. Like you like to draw? Transfer half the time you spend following art content into making your own drawings, they don’t have to be the best, just start doodling even.  You have all that you need to become wealthy in the most holistic sense, use them, There is no harm in writing in a pretty journal but you can just start journaling in any dairy whatsoever, sometimes just taking the first step is good enough, do not go in the mindset that I don’t have this so I can’t do this, use the resources you have currently.  Comment ‘333’ to claim. 🌙 DM TO BOOK A TAROT READING 🌙

- EL TAROT

#pick a card #free tarot #pac tarot #pick a photo #pick an image #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #future spouse #future spouse pick a card #shakti #tantra #navratri #guidance #tarot pick a card #lord shiva #mahadev #hindu #spirituality #divination #divine feminine #the divine masculine #manifesting #manifesation #333 #1111

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

A slashxreader fanfiction

༺☆༻

Chapter Seven

Rocket Queen

wc: 2800

smut warning

The one y’all been waiting for lmao

The anticipation of seeing Slash again was completely palpable. You bee lined your way to the stage door. A familiar sight of a dark alleyway surrounded by shady figures. But this time you felt less….afraid. All you could think about was him. You felt brave enough to let yourself in the stage door after a random crew member leaves and you slip your way inside. The backstage was a dark seedy cavern of chaos and crewmen. You feel a large heavy grip on your shoulder. You turn around hoping it’s him but are disappointed to see a large intimidating bouncer. “No groupies back here girl. “ he bellows. “It’s cool she’s with me.” A voice says from behind him. The bouncer doesn’t care much to verify that and walks away. “Looks like you found your own way in then.” He smirks as he approaches you. He’s almost stunned and takes a second to examine your obvious style change. His eyes eat up your body from head to toe and you blush. You pull nervously at the edge of your mini dress. Almost confident but not quite. “Look at you Foxey…” He says quietly eyeing you. As much as you want to be simply eye candy, you want to get to the bottom of his query of inviting you tonight. You nervously cross your arms. “So….you called…” you start

“I called.” He confirms cheekily, still eyeing you.

You shift anxiously. “ ….so?”

“So?” He replied again even cheekier.

“Soooo- is there something you wanted to tell me or?” You pry, desperate for answers.

“Does there have to be something to say? Cant a guy just want to see a pretty girl?” He replies boldly smirking down at you as he walks closer.

You nervously look around the two of you to confirm no one is witnessing this private moment.

“Follow me.” He turns sharply and heads to the back of the stage. This backstage was different. It was larger and had rooms. Private dressing rooms. While not fancy by any means. You follow discreetly behind him into a main sitting area where the rest of the band was passing around a bottle of whiskey. You join them. Slash taking a widespread seat on the couch and pulls you on his lap. This time, less layers of clothing lie between you and him. You could feel him underneath you. Hard.

Knowing and feeling this gave you a jolt of electricity and heat in the pit of your stomach. Did you sitting on his lap feel good to him?

“Our groupie returns!” Axl proclaims excitedly. “Fuck you.” Slash laughs. “Oh Right boys, this is slashes special toy, don’t be messin with her now or Slash will kill you in your sleep!” They joke. You wonder if they are at all serious. Special toy?

Slash snakes his arm around your waist from behind and holds you on him. This touch gives you butterflies. You need more of this, of his touch. As the conversation peters onward you can’t help but want things to go in a different direction. You start making small adjustments on his lap, slight shifts in movement that gave friction to him. You can tell it startled him in a good way and he tightens his grasp around your waist in response. He felt good underneath you like this. While you had never been sexual with a man before, all of this felt and flowed naturally for you.

You got more brave and decided to start tracing the denim seam on the outside hip of his jeans. A simple yet effective choice. You wanted him to know what you wanted but were too shy to say. What you’ve been wanting. The rest of the group too drunk or pumped up to notice or care, the backstage lights low gave way to much more freedom in the low light. As the conversation loudly carried on, the two of you slip into your own exchange. He leans you back on him so that his mouth is next to your ear. His warm, cigarette flavored breath heavy on your ear as he whispered to you. “Need something Foxey?” He whispers sultry. His words and cadence makes you weak. A feeling of warmth between your legs as his words warmed your ear. You can’t help but smile mischievously. Torn between the nerves of having never gone to such sexual lengths with a guy before and the animalistic ferocity that was taking you by storm.

You look to him. He looks at you with a bloodthirsty gaze. The two of you in a mutual agreement of sorts. He returns back into the conversation at hand. His hand wrapped at your waist begins drawing little circles in the side of your dress. Casual to any outside but agonizing to you. His reply in this little game. The group is getting up to go somewhere. “We’re gonna hit, you coming?” They ask as they all round up to visit the bathroom together. “We’re gonna hang back.” Slash says. Once they file out of sight it takes Slash all of one second to get off the couch and lifts you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a yelp of delight. “Slash!” You chirp as you laugh. Now what?

Slash doesn’t respond and proceeds to carry you down a dark hallway into a small dingy dressing room. He locks the door and as soon as he sets you down you’re up off your feet again and pressed up against the door by Slash. He lifts you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Slash!” You giggle again. Slash roughly presses his lips against yours. Sparks fly again. Harder now. His curls hiding your face into his in a little curtain. You melt into him. His touch is addictive. The way he holds you like your going to get away but that’s the last thing you want. He towers over you, cradling you entirely in his grip like it’s nothing. His hands grip your ass hard and he lets out a heavy breath against your lips. “You know how long I’ve wanted you?” He growls. The two of you fall desperately deeper into the kiss. His wet tongue dominates your lips and slides its way into you. He tastes so good. One of his large hands slides it’s way up from your bottom to your waist, and then up your side and finally, hugging over your breast. You let out a soft moan of pleasure. Something he had been imagining in his own head for some time. How you looked, how you sounded…He smiles viciously. “God I need you to do that again for me sweetheart.” He pants out in a frenzy and gives your breast another loving squeeze to which you oblige another soft moan out into his lips. He smirks again.

He shifts away from the door and carrys you over to a beaten down futon in the dressing room. Setting you down roughly. As he sets you down he stays low and comes to his knees, yet met you at your height sitting down. His large hands rested heavily on both your hips, he kisses you and then works his way with his lips and his hands down your chest, to your stomach, his hands slipping down your thighs, he firmly prys open your legs but for some reason, maybe due to the pure foreign nature of the action you reflex and slightly close them accidentally. This takes him aback and he looks up to you with a devilish grin turned concern. “What is it Foxey?” He asks while pecking sweet kisses on your knees. “Oh - sorry I don’t know why I - I - go ahead I-“ you stumble to find remedy. Slash looks at you in a total realization. “Foxey…have you ever…?” He asks. You shake your head shamefully. “Oh Foxey…” He coos sweetly and lowly. “Let me show you baby.” He continues without further conversation. You didn’t need convincing but hearing that helped you relax again and your body surrenders to his touch. He continues on and prys your legs open gently. It takes him all his strength to not completely devour you so quickly. He smooths his rough muscular hands up your inner thighs, mirror one another’s movement. He hikes your dress up further. Speckling sloppy wet kisses across your waistband and over the top of your panties. He looks up at you through a curtain of dark curls to watch you. “ I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, I just need you to do one thing for me.” He whispers and he slides down your panties and discards them. The cool air hitting you. “Yes Slash?” You ask with a breathy desperation. He smiles at your eagerness. “ I need you to moan for me baby.” He says and slides a finger inside of you effortlessly with the already slick wetness that had accumulated down there. You let out a soft gasp and moan. “Oh god!” You gasp. He smiles. “Good girl.” He smirks with barely an ounce of morality at his deflowering. He begins pumping his finger inside you. You feel something cold and realize it’s the finger with the snake ring. He never took it off. Nevermind that now. Pleasure swayed within you echoing through with each gentle pump inside you with his finger. “I wanna hear you baby.” He whispers desperate to hear your moans and adds a second finger. It only hurts for a moment but the pain turns to pure pleasure. He’s not hard with it, just soft gentle pumps into you like he’s fingering a guitar. You let out another moan. He exits you with a grin and climbs up to you, leaning you back onto the couch. He brings his wet fingers to your mouth. “Open up Foxey.” You obey his sweet command and he sticks his fingers into your mouth softly. “Suck” He commands in a low gravelly tone. His eyes piercing you as he watches through darkened eyes. You obey again. “You taste so good huh.” He affirms. This seemingly strange action gave you coils of hot sparks through you. You keep eye contact with him while you wrap your tongue around his fingers and suck generously. He returns to you below and this time flattens his tongue across your lips in one long broad stroke. You throw your head back again and let out a moan of surprise and pleasure. “Slash.” You moan.

Your voice moaning out his name drove him to his limit. He stood up and unbuckled his jeans. You take off your jacket and hike your dress up further. Need more of him. “I want you inside me. Please.” You blurt out in a breath. As if you even had to ask. He smirks devilishly at your admittance. “Just do it just go.” You beg. You’ve never wanted anything more. He pulls your towards him with your legs wrapped around him . In an instant you feel him push into you. Pain and pleasure spark out of you. “Fuck” You moan out. He lets out a sharp breathy groan and throws his head back and pushes his hair back although it falls back over him immediately. “You feel so fucking good Foxey girl.” He groans out. He slowly begins pumping in and out of you. Watching for signs of displeasure from you but all you feel is ecstasy. He throws his shirt off, exposing his sweaty happy trail to which you could now finally see where it led to and it was in-fact- happiness. His abdomen glistening again with sweaty specks. He looked so good on top of you. Thrusting into you faster and faster. He leans down and cradles your head in his hand while holding himself up with the other he rests it forehead atop yours as the frequency increases bigger and bigger. The two of you moan in harmonious rhythms, he rocks his hips into you. This incredible dance of rough and romance. His moans sound so pretty. His curls swayed with every thrust into you.

You both pant heavily into each others faces as knots of pleasure twist inside both of you. “Here.” He pants out like a dog and reaches his fingers down over your clit. The added stimulation sending lightning strikes down your legs. You start to feel yourself tensing up and be did too. “Slash-“ You pant out softly. “I-“ you don’t succeed in your speaking before stars are spinning through you. “Oh fuck-“ You cry out. He cradles your head through it and watches you squirm underneath him in pleasure. You dig your nails into his back. He doesn’t stop. As you begin to descend slightly, the sight of you underneath him. Everything. You, the way you moaned his name, the way you dressed, the way you looked, spoke, laughed, walked. All of his deep seeded infatuations with you built up finally coming to a grand release. He lets out a concealed rough grunt and quickly exits you as white hot spurts out over your legs. Still dizzied with pleasure, you watch. He finally halts and slightly collapses himself onto you. The two of you stay silent, staring into one another’s eyes, catching your breath. You had never felt so connected to something in your life like him, like this.

“What’d you think Foxey?” He asks smirking arrogantly. You blush as you come to your senses. Slightly embarrassed by the scene you made. “It was..so good.” You grin. This makes him happy and he comes back down to you and gives you a hot exhausted kiss. “God I could kill for a cigarette right now” you laugh at that sentence coming from your own mouth. He laughs and gets up. Before his pants are even fully buckled he’s got a lit cigarette in between his lips again and passes it to you, you take a big inhale and total cool bathed your entirety. You stay half naked lying down, staring at him and the smoke leaving your lips. “Do you think anyone heard that?” You ask him. To which he chuckles - “probably.”

You smirk. “ Good.”

#slash #slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash x reader #gnr smut #slash smut #gnr #saul hudson #gnr x reader #saul hudson x reader

[arealphrooblem]

Mutually Assured Destruction Pt 2

THANK YOU SO MUCH to the huge response to this, I never expected that being so new to this circle of writers. I squealed at every like and reblog and comment.

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

Part 1 here. Tagging @heroes-villains-side-blog and @follow-me-into-the-fog

The taqueria was dimly lit with Formica tables and brightly colored murals of vaguely Mexican landscapes, which meant the tacos were obscenely good.

Civilian tried hard not to be grateful as they bit into their taco as delicately as they could, their fingers stained with the mess of the previous taco. Jonathan’s tacos, on the other hand, had remarkable structural integrity and did not break once.

“How are you doing that?” they blurted out.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as he dotted away taco grease with his napkin. “Doing what?”

“Your tacos don’t fall apart. How?”

“Perhaps that’s my power.” He smirked.

Civilian rolled their eyes, trying not to let the spike in their heart rate show on their face. So caught up in the surrealness of a dinner date, they had almost forgotten just what a precarious position they were in.

In fact, despite the blatant coercion to be here, this did not rank as the worst date Civilian ever had. Not even in the top ten. Jonathan paid for dinner, fetched napkins and extra beer, and allowed Civilian the space to quietly freak out while he ate in contented silence.

“I’ve never had a taco shell that didn’t break in my entire life, so I almost believe you.”

He gives them that same calculating stare he did in the elevator. “You’re not curious about what I can do?”

“No.” (A lie).

“Really? Not even a little?”

“I think knowing would make it worse.” (The truth).

Just knowing his aura has garnered too much attention as it was.

He smirked. “Afraid if you knew, I’d never let you go?”

Hearing their deepest fear voiced aloud caused a dizzy swoop in their gut. It wasn’t just Jonathan Civilian had to worry about. If anyone knew their true power, they would be a target to the Agency, to other villains, to the government. They could kiss their freedom goodbye.

Being “courted” by Jonathan was the least of their worries, and yet it meant the the threat of their freedom as a constant presence. If there was a chance Civilian could talk their way out of this arrangement, they had to take it.

Civilian swallowed. “You’re not actually serious about this, right? This fake dating thing?”

“Of course I’m serious.” He leaned forward across the table and Civilian unconsciously mirrored him. “I have certain plans in place. You are the one person who could disrupt them.”

“The last thing I want is to get involved with whatever the hell it is you’re doing,” Civilian hissed. “I’m not a hero.”

“There’s no way I can know right now that with any certainty. And so, until I do, you will have a very dedicated and considerate partner.”

Civilian bit back a groan as they imagined the kind of gossip this sudden relationship would inspire, especially since Civilian tried so hard to avoid Jonathan before. Wait a second . . .

“HR doesn’t allow workplace relationships,” they said triumphantly. “They would fire us.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he found Civilian’s protests amusing. “That rule only bans relationships between superiors and the people that work under them. It doesn’t apply to us. Don’t worry, I will file our relationship with HR tomorrow morning since tonight marks our first date.”

Shit damn fuck. Civilian could protest the relationship or they could report Jonathan to HR for stalking or harassment but that only puts a target on Civilian’s back for his retaliation. He could kill them or worse -- report them.

Mutually assured destruction.

Jonathan drains the rest of his beer before nodding to Civilian’s unfinished food.

“Let me get you a to-go box and we shall be on our way, then?”

He drove them back to the parking garage at work and walked Civilian to their car. Civilian wasted no time getting their keys out, gripped by the sudden fear that perhaps Jonathan would reconsider letting them walk free.

And indeed when his hand darted out and gripped their door before it could shut, Civilian’s heart leaped in their throat.

“You’re going to leave before our goodnight kiss?” he asked, his gaze expectant and serious.

“What?” Civilian choked.

He held that stare for a moment before an evil smirk broke across his face.

“The look on your face. I should be insulted at how abhorrent the thought is to you. Goodnight, Civilian. I will see you in the morning.”

A threat and a promise.

Civilian feels the weight of his stare all the way out to the streets.

Part Three Here

#my writing #not a prompt #mutually assured destruction #civilian x villain #villain x civilian #hero x villian #villain x hero #now with fake dating!

[tojisun]

our shallow graves — 02

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fwb outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; reference to (made up) past; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; switching povs; weapons; reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 5.1k words

: luvv writing from a chara’s pov n not just the reader’s <33; my bff wanted a love triangle but noo there would never be, i swear; replaying lady gaga and thenbhd as i write this; i hope u guys would luv this!!

↦ hydra - recom machine gun (not the door gun in the samsons); y70 - bullpup rifle/skel bullpup

prev // m.list // next - tbp

camaraderie with the colonel seemed to deteriorate overnight. your only saving grace is that it seemed like no one understands why his slight recognition for your talents evaporated quickly, the team having been reduced to shooting you with concerned glances whenever quaritch continues to ice you out.

you wanted to believe that it didn’t bother you much, but the taste of failure sits heavy on the tip of your tongue. quaritch is your superior, someone you were willing to interact with at an arm’s length, but now, even that seems impossible. 

“give him time,” walker says as you two enter the gun range, modified with an open ceiling to allow your na’vi bodies to breathe without the need for the respirator. “he’s probably still pissed because recon was delayed but c’mon now, we need extra time to take on the hellhole pandora’s about to be.”

you hum, your mind far away, as you begin to line up in one of the shooting stalls. you feel bare without your hydra but walker insisted on practicing with the Y70. 

“for good time’s sake!” she said, laughing when you rolled your eyes at her, calling her out on the fact that she only preferred the rifle because it was what she was exceptional at. 

your tail swishes behind you slowly before stilling, suspended in the air – a perfect imitation of your focus. you purge your mind of all thoughts, steadying your breath as you gaze at the moving targets. thrill runs down your spine at the first fire, the bullet going through the head of the target in a clean, single shot right at its temple. it is almost too natural how you were able to fire off the other bullets, muscle memory kicking in as your years of experience rush back to you, engulfing you with a single focus.

clean shot upon clean shot; head, heart, lungs – every vital organ and artery that you were aiming at were hit. it is like nothing existed in that moment, not your new life or your repeating nightmares of your death or even quaritch. it is just you and that rifle, against the world.

it was the first real taste of freedom you ever had from the moment you woke up in pandora, fifteen years after the war. 

walker stalks towards you with a grin, her rifle slung on her shoulder, looking smug as she shows you her perfect tally. you grin at her, feeling your tail finally untense, swishing around in languid satisfaction. 

“look at you with the perfect shots,” she says, dramatically whistling as though she wasn’t a better marksman than you are. 

“i have a good teacher,” you reply, winking at her. she chuckles, shaking her head, and you wish she had her braids down just so you can see them bump against each other. 

“and you are welcome.” walker places a hand on her chest before bowing theatrically, making you erupt in hearty giggles. 

comfortable silence settles as you two walk back to your quarters, ears flicking at each sound that rumbles from the belly of the compound. 

the sensitivity of your heightened senses brings you back to the night the colonel caught you sneaking out of mansk’s room, pure anger shimmering within his beautiful golden eyes and poison coating his hissed-out words. you do not know what set him off – you do not want to believe that it simply had been because you and mansk fooled around, not when quaritch has done worse.

(in your brief encounter with the human colonel quaritch, you have seen them together only once. the babe was swaddled in thick blankets, leaving only tufts of sandy hair visible to curious eyes. 

you tried not to linger when you saw how the colonel walked around with the child in his arms, cradled gently, carefully, his usually-stern face melting into something kind. into something human.

the harbinger of destruction. a father.

you couldn’t wrap your head around the man. not even as you watched in silence, obscured from his line of sight, as he nuzzled his nose on the boy’s forehead, breathing him in.

pandora’s real first human, a boy blessed by eywa, and there he was, held in the hands of the man who would threaten her balance.)

“maria,” you call, slowing down your steps and turning to look at your friend.

walker hums, tilting her head to meet your gaze. “what’s up?”

“do you, uh, know what happened to the kid?” you didn’t need to specify who it is that you meant. 

she stops walking, her brows furrowing in hesitant confusion. you lick your lips, wondering if you might’ve overstepped, after all, walker may be your friend, but her loyalties will always be with the colonel. even back in hell’s gate, she always separated her friendship with you from her duty – it felt like she constantly lived two different lives. 

“it’s just that i can unwind with you,” she used to say, huffing when the clips she used to pin her bun got lost within the gelled strands of her hair. you would pull her to your bed, chuckling quietly, before taking over, gentle hands familiar with her hair like it was yours that you were grooming. 

“why do you ask?” walker responds, twisting so she can fully face you.

you shrug. “i don’t know,” you say, a half-truth. “the memories are coming back to me slowly and one of them is him.”

walker remains quiet, studying you with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, before a sigh creeps out of her lips. you feel your heart lighten up, your body uncoiling from the tension, and you shoot her a small smile, grateful for her trust. 

“i dunno, to be honest,” she says as you two begin walking again, your steps this time are more languid. you two don’t entertain the gawking humans who scurry out of the way as you and walker make your way back to your rooms, busy murmuring to each other.

“they probably sent him back to somewhere in terra where relatives could take care o’him.”

you grunt, nodding, choosing not to prod any more. 

just before the two of you can part ways to enter your respective rooms, lopez comes running down the hallway, hollering your names.

“les’ go! colonel’s back from the meeting, and word is that we get our mission today!”

“thank fuck for that!” walker whoops. she meets your eyes. “rico, come on!”

you try to ignore the sudden swoop of paranoia that settles in your stomach, choosing instead to follow as walker and lopez run to meet with the others. you had hoped that you would’ve been able to fix whatever it was that happened between you and the colonel before the mission, but it seems like you don’t have that privilege anymore.

it seems like with quaritch, you don’t get mercy. 

-------

just like what lopez said, the colonel returned with orders from the brass that you all would be sent out soon – the omatikaya stronghold changed upon the return of the humans, and now you are all tasked to draw jake sully out. you are all given a week to prepare for pandora’s beasts – you are aware that they meant the na’vi more than the actual animals roaming the lush jungle.

recon was cancelled, the new schedule no longer permitted such opportunity; the general had, instead, ordered your squad to move in and navigate the hard way. you tried not to shrink at the withering look that quaritch shot you as he mentioned that. mansk shifted close, as though to show that he stood with you even against the colonel’s seething glare, but it seemed like it was the wrong thing to do as quaritch only seemed to grow angrier. 

you tried your best not to react, but your tail dropped, coiling around your thigh in the face of the colonel’s disapproval. you are too ashamed to look at the others, not wanting to see their own disappointment or even their pity so you kept your eyes on quaritch, using his authority to hide from the attention that your squad was giving you.

the meeting reaches its end, the colonel ordering wainfleet and zdinarsik to take over. mansk hovers, falling into step with you as you both move to leave the room together when the colonel’s voice stops you.

“rico, you stay. mansk, y’r dismissed.”

mansk shoots you a quick glance before nodding at the colonel and leaving with the rest. wainfleet had taken the lead as they all marched out with zdinarsik covering their back, the taller recom nodding at you upon meeting your gaze before closing the door behind her.

there is silence in the war room as you stand still, waiting for quaritch to make the first move. you rack your mind for another fuck up that he can berate you with, but nothing comes up, leaving you grasping at nothing but the bubbling anxiousness gnawing at you. 

“i suggested to general ardmore that we bench you, rico.” he raises his hand at your visceral reaction – your jaw falling open as you flinch, protests about to slip from your lips, as a now-aborted step almost draws you close to him. “listen to me first, corporal.”

you blink at the realization that his voice doesn’t denote any malice, the rich baritone is painfully neutral, and you think, then, how hearing his indifference just stings a whole lot more. 

you remain silent, watching with bated breath as quaritch pulls a chair out and motions for you to sit down. your legs feel like lead as you fall into it with no grace, your body going taut with tension when the colonel takes the one just in front of you. 

the space between the two of you is decent – it is the normal distance – but you can’t help but feel the warmth emitting from his bigger figure, almost like your body is singing for him. you try to breathe through your mouth, afraid that you will get a whiff of his scent, reducing you into a puddle of uncertainty and need. 

you blink your glassy eyes up at him, trying to focus, to listen, but it is like all those times that quaritch pushed you away had made you hypersensitive about him. he is all you can focus on; past the need to prove to him of your worth, he is all that fills you up. the way he smells, the way his eyes study you, the way his voice rips through the static – you want all of it. 

heat builds up in the pit of your stomach.

fuck. 

“you doin’ ok there?” the colonel asks, his indifference melting as worry bleeds into his tone. 

“i, uhm,” you begin, your voice faltering. you try to reel in your mind, grinding your teeth to snap you from your trance. 

“yeah.” you clear your throat, breathing in shakily. “i mean, yes sir.”

quaritch grunts, his eyes still pinned on you. “this is exactly why i wanted to leave you behind.”

that brings you out of the haze, your attention snapping back into a singularity. “permission to ask why, sir?”

quaritch sighs. “the science pukes mentioned how y’r still lagging behind. kid, i’m gonna be honest with you – i can’t afford a weak link.”

his words feel like knives carving into you. you’ve always thrived in your capabilities – you wouldn’t have gone far if you weren’t good, if not one of the best, and yet, in his eyes, your single fumble has cost so much. 

“pandora is gonna eat you up and spit you out – well, it already did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. and yet, general ardmore still insisted that we take you.” 

you watch as the colonel leans over, eating up the miniscule distance between yourselves to peer at you. “tell me, rico. just why are you so important to her?”

you wish you have the answer; you wish you have anything to give to him, to make sense of your own purpose, but nothing comes up. it is like you’re constantly floating around, untethered, and yet severely burdened at the same time. they tell you how the general favours you, and yet she has yet to tell you that herself, leaving you alone in navigating your position amongst the other recoms. 

the loneliness doesn’t stop eating at you.

“colonel, i really don’t know,” you finally utter, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. 

quaritch clicks his tongue. “no, there’s gotta be somethin’ i’m missin’. i read your files, you know that?” he grins meanly when your eyes snapped back to him. “oh yeah, i did. and imagine my goddamn disappointment when it showed me nothin’ noteworthy.”

he stands up, his voice gaining strength, and you realize that you can now see his fury in its entirety.

“yeah, you’ve got a way with flying, but that skill’s practically useless unless we can get our own banshees. and even then, they ain’t machines – your skill’s obsolete. y’ve got a way with guns, sure, but so do the rest of my squad; it ain’t just lyle who’s got a great shot, after all. and yeah y’r hand-to-hand combat is good, but it ain’t the best.”

you feel tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as quaritch continues his admonishment. you feel like everything that you are is suspended in the air, carelessly peeled off and overturned until you are nothing but your skin and bones.

“y’know what i saw?” the colonel asks in a barely-contained snarl. 

you do not reply, but it doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“i saw how y’r just a goddamn nobody because if you were any better, i would’ve taken you in before. so tell me rico, just what the hell are you doin’ here?”

you do not know what urged you to do it, but next thing you know you are standing mere inches before the colonel, breaching his personal space to poke at his chest. “i don’t need to prove myself to you,” you hiss. 

(it was a lie. after all, it was all you wanted to do. for him to acknowledge you. for him to – what do the na’vis call it? – see you.)

quaritch scoffs, pausing, before he lunges forward to grip your jaw, forcing your head to tilt up and making you look at him. you feel your breath leave your lungs, the blood rushing to your ears and deafening you. anything else seemed to stop, leaving you alone with your petering rage as you gaze up at him.

his breath tickles your lips and you gasp, soundless, feeling the desire exploding in your chest. you do not know what it is that he originally wanted to do because in the next heartbeat, just a slight stutter, all you feel is his lips meeting yours. 

quaritch devours your hiccuped squeak, his searing lips moving against your own, pulling out more of the little desperate sounds from your throat only for them to be swallowed hungrily by him. the kiss is hot, messy, but you can’t help but be obsessed with it.

his scent fills you up, settling deep in your chest and making you throb with want. you grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to touch more of him. but at the feeling of your hands, quaritch rips his lips from yours and scurries to back away from you.

you stand there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, feeling your lips tingle from his kiss. you watch as his face crumples at the realization of what he’s done before it reverts back into faux stoicism, as though he isn’t affected by the kiss. as though he doesn’t feel the same burning desire that engulfed you whole.

“colonel-”

“no fraternizing with a squad member,” quaritch utters before he lifts his hand up to rub at his lips with the back of his palm.

“oh, so now we’re following the golden rule?” you mutter, the words bubbling out before you can stop them. 

you know that you crossed a line at the mention of what he’s done with socorro but you are too filled with a blazing storm of conflicting feelings, rendering you uninhibited as they clash in your chest and drain you of all your energy. you feel yourself shake at the intensity of your emotions – of your yearning – but the colonel continues to stand far away. far from your grasp.  

he’s made his decision. 

“get going, corporal. y’r dismissed.”

you run out of the room, not caring of the way the tears slip from the corners of your eyes to drench your cheeks, and pretending that you cannot smell the faint scent of the colonel sticking to you.

pretending that you do not feel something in you break. 

-------

looking for mansk was the easy part. not using him to drown out the weight of your conflicting feelings, that was the hard part. 

mansk has taken you in his arms, cradling you close as you wept on the crook of his neck. he was silent, like he already knew what it is that aches you, and you wonder how could he. you barely knew why you feel betrayal sit in the pit of your stomach; why you feel so drawn to quaritch – attuned to the sound of his voice and the staccato of his footsteps.

why do you ache for his touch?

if it is heat, if it is all biology, mansk does a good enough job in extinguishing the flames of painful need curling within your blood. and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from seeking out bigger and rougher hands and a gruffer voice, the southern accent looping around the vowels, making your stomach clench with desire.

quaritch is all that you’ve ever wanted ever since he first called your name, unknown familiarity sinking in your chest like a rock chucked to the ocean – the paradox is a metaphor of your feelings. funny, isn’t it?

“i don’t understand,” you murmur, sniffling as you pull your head from mansk’s shoulder. you wipe at your eyes, groaning at the futility of it when fresh tears fall and drench your cheeks anyway. 

mansk remains silent, his hands have fallen from your back to grasp at your wrists, the warmth from his palms not doing anything to soothe your nerves.

“it’s like he needed that little blip in my performance to finally rationalize the hate he feels for me, and then it just didn’t stop,” you continue, breathing in shakily. “and i wish i could just ignore him but, fuck, i can’t.”

you shake yourself from mansk’s touch, standing up from his bed to pace around his room. the pads of your feet are quiet on the metal floors and you ignore the shot of coolness that comes with every step. your braids, chopped just below your jaw, frame your face with stray strands sticking on your damp cheeks despite your frantic moving. 

“he’s there and he’s nowhere at the same time, devin. like, i try my best to avoid him but he’s always a consistent presence in my life. it doesn’t fucking matter if he’s ignoring me, not when he’s always in the same room, within the same space.” your voice raises, scratching your throat as anger and hurt bubble up, ever-so expanding until you are grasping at the remnants of your rationality. 

“and i want him. i feel like dying when i’m not with him and he-” you pause, a choked sob getting punched out from your lungs. mansk startles, clambering from his bed to hover by your side, not really closing in but standing just near enough that you can see the downturn of his ears, his worry etched on his face. 

“he doesn’t feel the same way, dev.” 

you crumble, feeling lightheaded from the explosion of anguish burning at your seams, and mansk finally embraces you. 

the first kiss was hesitant, chapped lips meeting bruised ones, and he doesn’t move until you are pawing at his shirt and tugging him close. mansk falls into his role easily, nipping your bottom lip as a distraction which you take eagerly.

quaritch’s snarl from many nights ago creep into your mind, his southern accent tearing through the sudden buzz of mansk’s touch, taunting you – “you reek.” 

you think just how upsetting it is to feel your desire expand into fanned flames at the memory of quaritch. at the memory of his anger – the only thing of him that he’s given to you freely. 

mansk rips his lips from yours, panting, his eyes dilated with desire. “rico, y’smell so good.”

your shirt is torn from your body, your cargos thrown over broad shoulders – not broad enough, not tall enough, not angry enough. 

you try to forget, to stop thinking, as mansk fucks you; thin fingers sliding along your slit and sinking into your heat, curling to prepare you for his length. not even the way three of his fingers overwhelm you with the feeling of being stuffed can silence the thoughts – ‘not thick enough, not long enough, not rough enough’ – and you bury your face on his pillow, trying to smother the tears. 

the slide of his cock should’ve rendered your mind into white static, but it seems like your veins are thrumming with a visceral need, one that you know only quaritch can quell. 

“choke me,” you mumble, blinking wetly up at mansk, your chest heaving at the muted desire filling you up. 

“what?” mansk asks, breathless, his body shaking from the crashing heat. 

“choke me,” you repeat, this time clearer. 

mansk hesitates, his wide eyes growing bigger, his scent curling into something darker. the wrap of his hand around your throat is sure, gentle despite your plea, before he squeezes. the pressure grounds you, feeding into your desperation. into your delusions. 

(you think of quaritch. it seems like you never stop thinking about him. 

he will take you the same way lava takes everything – devouring beyond flesh, nipping right into the core until all it leaves is the flames of a thousand suns. his desires will crush you, filling up the spaces between your blood vessels and your synapses with nothing but him. 

and you will love it. you will let yourself be scorched because ever since you have met him, all you knew was fire and how they lick up into your chest, swallowing your heart, almost like they are branding his name directly in you. 

like you have belonged to him even before.)

mansk wipes you with a towel, murmuring soft apologies when your body jolts in oversensitivity at the rough drag of the cloth. he passes you his shirt and then pulls you underneath the sheets, tucking you in for the night. 

“thank you,” you say, weakly smiling at him.

mansk returns the smile, brushing your braids away from your face. “just like old times.”

your eyebrows furrow, confusion triumphing over exhaustion. “old times?”

“yeah,” he grunts, falling beside you. “you’ve always liked the colonel and granted we didn’t fuck then, but you always vented to me so, y’know?”

mansk’s words wash over you like a crashing tide, pulling you from the shore and submerging you into the depths of the unknown. you grasp at your memories, flitting from one to the other, trying to find pieces of your affection for the colonel only to fall short. surely, you would’ve remembered. surely, the feelings, with how intense they are, did not just go away; that you did not just lose a piece of yourself.

you think of the haunting, how the colonel and socorro appear in your memories in fragments, and feel a twinge in your heart. was it not indifference? that all this time when you remembered her, when you used her to learn more about quaritch, it was because you liked him too? 

were you always a fool like this? searching for bits of quaritch in the hands of another, trying to claim the stray parts like they could be yours to begin with. 

“rico?” mansk’s voice breaks through your reverie. 

“i… i don’t remember.”

he turns to you in surprise. “what do you mean you don’t remember?”

“just that,” you say, your voice faint. “i don’t- i can’t remember.”

-------

the moment miles saw his reflection – blue and distinctly not human – he knew there was little of himself left in the hellhole that pandora had become. autonomy and freedom no longer meant much, not when he’s become a weapon. 

he’s died once, they said. had he still been the commanding officer in the compound, he’d have the shrink do drills at the stupidity of pointing out his untimely and obvious demise. 

no fucking shit he died. miles would’ve remembered turning into a goddamn na’vi if he didn’t. 

but, at the end of the day, his anger didn’t matter. like a freak show, he’s back – not really as the same man, but similar enough that the old colonel’s ghost thrums with hymns of vengeance, carrying over to miles’ own person. because miles may not remember his death, but he remembers jake sully’s betrayal.

the boy had chosen his people and miles had chosen his, it is that simple. 

the mission was straight-forward, but miles isn’t deluded enough to assume that it would be just as easy. he’s failed once already, after all. perhaps being a na’vi could switch the tides; perhaps being one wouldn’t matter – whatever it may be, miles is ready to carry the burden of killing jake sully.

with a single focus, miles lets the unfamiliarity of his new body roll off his skin like dew before forcing himself to learn and to adapt. painstakingly, he even tried to salvage the pieces of augustine’s research, hoping to find any scraps of information regarding the na’vi in her ramblings, but the compound has scrubbed themselves off the traitor’s books. don’t mind the fact that augustine’s the best goddamn na’vi expert, apparently, they rather bitch around under the pretence of unnecessary patriotism, instead of taking advantage of her research. 

when he asked who he should talk to regarding their physio, he was told that augustine was replaced by cooper. unsurprisingly, cooper was unable to fill in the shoes that augustine left, but miles preferred him anyway. the man has lesser empathy, lesser curiosity about the wonders of pandora. 

‘that’s good,” miles thought upon meeting cooper. ‘checkups will be clinical. none of that bitchin’ about morals.’

which was why it should’ve been easy transitioning into his recombinant body. it should’ve been.

then, you came along.

sweet, little, pretty thing that you are. you don’t even know what you do to him, walking around looking like you’re pulled straight  from miles’ spank bank material. you look darling with your short braids, pulled back with little clips like those that he remembers walker using, as your smooth voice ripples against the heavy tension building in miles’ chest.

there’s always this sweet scent that follows you, and it reminds miles of something that he couldn’t really pin down. it’s faint, teasing his senses with the little bursts until he began to be addicted to it. to be addicted to you.

he had been content with only getting a whiff from every time the two of you crossed paths, your chin ducking down in respect, saluting so beautifully that it had miles pretending that he didn’t have the itch to pat your head in approval. 

(you looked like the type to adore praises; the type to want to hear how you’re being such a good girl. all for him.)

he didn’t want to pursue more, remembering what happened when he last made that mistake, but it just felt so impossible to dismiss his interest in you as something that is only fleeting; something that is only physical, bound by the biological nature of his new body. 

maybe if he just pushed back harder against the general, then maybe he could be rid of you. maybe there would be nothing thrumming underneath his skin – he refuses to call it desire, afraid that by doing so, he would chain himself to the ache that he feels – and maybe you would no longer be his growing problem.

then: a spike in the air churned the insides of miles’ head, bolting his legs onto the floor. there was a sort of static, a rumbling charge that pierced past metal walls and choked miles into madness. 

he didn’t even realize what it was until he picked up the sound of your voice, pleasure curling against your words as you cried out a name. miles felt lightheaded, warmth crept up from his fingertips to the base of his neck.

(a shackle, one that spelt out your name. 

again, do you know what you do to him? what you reduce him to?)

the scent of your euphoria sent him into a feverish state, molten lava replacing blood as he burned. his breaths came out in ragged rasps, and miles gulped down the air as though he could taste you from it. as though that would’ve been enough.

miles knew what danger looked like, he knew what it smelt like, but he never expected that it would take your shape, testing him past his capabilities. so he lied, spitting in anger and lashing out as he held your hand, ignoring the way his skin tingled when it met yours, and he watched as your eyes glimmered with hurt.

fine. that’s fine. miles repeated this mantra until he clambered into his room, almost tripping over his boots, and made his way to his bed. 

there was a heavy pressure in miles’ ears as he tore off his belt, his teeth snapped together as he pulled his length out and fucked into his fist, breathing into the other one to chase the fading scent that you left. 

he lost himself in his thoughts, imagining that it had been him who reduced you into a moaning mess. that it had been him who you came to for your heat; that it had been him who made you cry, your whimpers slipping past shut doors until everyone could hear your sweet cries.

miles has always been possessive, he doesn’t need the soul drive to know that.

his orgasm ripped through him in muted pleasure, not enough to stoke the heat rumbling deep in his belly.

“fuck!” he growled, frustration bubbling up into his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to forget the way you look; the way you walk, the way you shoot your hydra or the way you maneuver a bird as though you and the machine are one. 

but it was futile. he’s ruined. 

you’ve ruined him.

prev

tagging (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed!) - @hinataashoyos @babyduk213 @ilovebluedilfss

#suns.f #miles quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch #atwow quaritch #quaritch avatar #avatar the way of water #suns

[temis-de-leon]

Solomon x gn!reader in trad goth attire

Characters: Solomon, reader

Masterlist

Anon request: Hey again! ☆ can i request Solomon reacting to !gn reader dressing in traditional goth wardrobe for the first time?

Prompt can be changed to you liking and whether it's in the form of a fic, headcanons or shitpost is up to you ♡☆

.

A/N: I based MC's clothes and makeup on 80's trad goth fashion. MC is a lil' black sheep and Solomon (and me) are simping for them. This is set at the start of season 2 in the OG game. Hope you enjoy it!

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Solomon didn’t really think about the way you looked. He’d seen Asmo make infinite assumptions about your appearance and he had to admit he put some input from time to time, but he didn’t really mind. He was content talking to and seeing your adorable miniature bovine body, black wool and all.

And it was that, the wool, what they should’ve taken into consideration when wondering about the real version of you.

There he stood, mere feet away from you, gawking as you talked on the phone; one of the brothers, perhaps? Your figure seemed impossibly tall, clashing against the crowd on your black attire: long leather coat almost touching the floor, a concoction of lace and velvet on your upper body and fishnets making your legs even lengthier.

He couldn’t stop staring; not even when the people around him looked at him in reprimand, surely taking him as a creep.

Then you blocked the phone and his plans of reinserting himself into your life as his usual mysterious self were forgotten. Rushing towards you, still transfixed by what he was seeing, Solomon called your name.

“Over here, MC!”

“Solomon?!”

He relished in your dumbfounded expression, giving himself the freedom to study you from up-close. Your face was as white as a sheet of paper and your eyes were framed by a complicated design of thick black lines. The hair on your head vaguely reminded him of the wool you had as a sheep, wild with no sense of direction, and he couldn’t help but smile at the comparison.

“You’re staring an awful lot and saying little to nothing”

Solomon chuckled, not embarrassed at all, and you smiled. The colour of your lips matched the makeup surrounding your gaze.

“I’m merely admiring you, MC. I never expected you to have this fashion style”

“And? Does my fashion style live to your expectations?”

He checked your lips again and didn’t bother to hide his interest when you bit your bottom one. Its contrast against the white of your teeth and the rest of your face didn’t let him stop staring.

Obsessing.

“I’d say it does more than that”

There was silence for a few seconds, other humans around you going through their lives without knowing what was happening between you two. Did you even know?

You finally laughed and lightly punched his arm, breaking the trance and leaving a certain tension behind. Solomon smiled in return and chose to leave the topic, at least for the time being.

“What are you doing here? It’s been so long!”

He sighed in a dramatic flair.

“Well, you know me… I’ve been occupied”

“And you show up now because…?”

You raised your eyebrows, making him laugh. He couldn’t distract you even if he tried, probably because he himself was distracted.

Your lips were so black.

“I was thinking…”

“You think too much”

“I was thinking. How do you feel about a brief visit to the Devildom?”

He enjoyed your immediate interest, back straightening as you got close to him in delight.

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you miss the brothers, right? And of course they miss you too, so, wouldn’t a quick trip be worth our while?

The mistrust in your eyes was quickly overpowered by your eagerness, the crosses in your earrings and your necklaces calling for his attention when they clanged like a wind chime.

“Perhaps you want to take those off”

“Oh, yeah”

Fingernails were black too, but your jewellery was entirely made of silver and stones, big and small, carefully placed in all your digits, your wrists and everything that allowed to wear something.

It became hypnotizing and he couldn’t avoid blushing in embarrassment when you finally snapped your fingers in his face while laughing in amusement.

Solomon couldn’t help but redirect his vision to your lips one last time.

How would he look with black lipstick?

Care to stick with him a little longer, MC?

.

.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x gn!reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me requests #obey me fluff #obey me writing #solomon x reader

[aspiringwriter1111]

I'm just thinking about if Adrien got the ladybug miraculous instead of the cat, because we were totally robbed of fluffy Tikki and Adrien.

Like, imagine she sees his life, completely taken aback, "Is this... All you want????"

And Adrien answers, "As long as my dad's happy, and we have our monthly scheduled breakfast, everything's okay."

"But you could have better than 'okay'????"

She explains to him that he's allowed to want things outside of the bubble his father puts him in, and that it's normal to want more, even if your life is "Perfect".

How she's lived for so long, and with all the things she's seen over history (wars, famine, violence, injustice, etc.) there's been many times when she's felt like nothing could be made better.

But the wanting of better things was important.

Being the kwami of creation, she explains that a big part of her is wanting. You can't CREATE, unless you WANT.

Which is somewhat new to Adrien because he doesn't really allow himself to want. If he wanted, there's a good chance he couldn't have it, because, he realizes, what he really wants is connection.

But, gosh, she makes it sound so... easy???

Adrien starts to realize that maybe what he wants, ISN'T what he has.

"Is it, really that easy, to have what you want?"

And she's like, "Yup. 🐞👍"

And you know how Tikki is such a good life coach/encouragement expert?? You can't tell me Adrien wouldn't soak it up like a sponge.

All the support he never had, is suddenly there. All the faith that she has, in his decisions and what he wants.

Like, the freedom from that??? The comfort??? The connection he's been longing for???

We all know what speaks to Adrien is people listening to him. Like, actually SEEING and HEARING him for who he wants to be.

(In the OG series, his connection to Marinette is partially based on it. She was the only person who saw what he ACTUALLY wanted, and wanted it for him too.)

And Tikki, being the kwami of creation, would love nothing more than for her holder to create. To see him grow and blossom into what he WANTS to be.

And the guilt that held him back starts to melt away.

In place of it grows curiosity!! The seeking of what he wants, which is something he's never done before!! It's all so new and exciting.

+ We get Adrien comforted by Tikki.

Imagine him, sad and alone, and then this tiny little thing squishing into his face, "You can do it Adrien!! I believe in you! It's okay!!"

And maybe his father doesn't change (He probably wouldn't smh-) but he kind of doesn't have to anymore? He says Adrien can't go to his friend's party.

So Adrien brings the party to him, hosting it in their foyer. Or he video chats them, with his disco ball on, and his music up so high his dad can hear it from his lair.

And this happens over, and over again, with everything.

His father gives out, because he knows whatever he takes away, Adrien just makes it over again, and WHY IS HE SO DARN DETERMINED NOW?!? HE WAS NEVER LIKE THIS BEFORE?!???!

So he starts to just let him do what he wants, because if he keeps him locked up, the "annoyance" is right in his house, messing with his plans.

In school, Adrien would probably join the debate team (Being seen and heard), and start going with Mylene and Ivan to their protests. Being the son of a famous fashion designer only adds to the causes they fight for, (Also, being seen and heard).

First day of school he immediately goes towards Nino, now knowing what he wants.

With a firm, "I'd like to be friends with you." Instead of a, "Chloe is my only friend, I have to stay with her."

He sees Chloe putting gum on the bench next to them, and immediately cuts contact with her (Blocked).

He's trying to take the gum off before the people who sit there show up, doing his best, because he doesn't want them to even know what happened at all.

And this girl taps him on the shoulder, and asks "What are you doing?"

And he goes, "Taking the gum off."

"You don't have to do that?" She says, setting her bag down, "I can just move over."

The girl was Marinette.

"I know you!" He says, standing up, "Your family runs the bakery around the corner!"

She snapped her fingers, "You always order the big assortment boxes of macarons!"

It's an instant friendship.

And Adrien silently thanks Tikki in his head for refusing to eat anything other than the Dupain-Chengs' macarons.

Circling back to Tikki and Adrien fluff,

IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES!!

Cuddling, Squishing, Supporting!! A friend who believes in him!

The physical affection he never got!!

She thinks he's so SWEET, and she leaves him notes of encouragement everywhere!!

Giving him a pieces of her macarons, and him bringing her around to all the best patisseries?!!??

Asking Marinette to make a tiny bed for her?!!!!?

TINY PAJAMAS-

You can't tell me he wouldn't. You can't.

#miraculous #miraculous au #miraculous ladybug #tikki #adrien agreste #mister bug #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #mlb adrien #miraculous adrien #mlb tikki #ml ladybug

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 3

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: a bit of fluff, a bit of angst

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main

After only a few days, it was easy to make her forget all about wanting to leave. The sun woke her up with its warm rays, and they had breakfast together in the rose garden, and food apparated before them — all of it cooked to perfection by the house elves — and then they spent hours and hours all day, in rebellious freedom, like it was the best weekend at Hogwarts… Even Ominis could tell she hadn’t been happier in years.

She delighted in the library as well, the second largest room in the mansion after the dungeon, and spent every evening there for the first five days.

“You never told me your family had a first edition copy of Magick Moste Evile!”

“We also have a copy of a manuscript on poisons by Hereward, the author’s son. I’m sure it’s somewhere around here...”

“How did your family acquire all of this, Ominis?”

“You don’t want to know,” he grinned.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“To be fair, most of it is inherited from past generations of Gaunts. Our family went through a period of obsessive academic interests.”

“Now that you’re in charge, those days might come again,” she said with a cheeky smile.

“Who’s to say I’m in charge?”

“You can be subtle about it all you want,” she said as she turned a page, causing the book to moan and shiver. “But it’s clear something nefarious happened to your parents. Your sister and brother too…”

“My brother, in fact, is still in London.”

“Plan to take care of that, do you?”

Ominis bit his lip and said nothing, but kept walking along the shelves while his guest sat reading at the large oak wood desk in the far back of the room. He couldn’t guess whether she approved of his actions, and perhaps it helped her conscience not to even know what they were. He comforted himself with the thought that she seemed to have approved of what Sebastian did well enough — so she could very well show him the same courtesy.

“I’m curious,” he said, trying his luck, “what do you think happened to my family?”

He heard her turn another page, browsing through the curses.

“With such a library at your disposal, anything could have happened to them,” she said with a smile.

Ominis stopped, his back to her, and brushed some dust off the thick spine of a herbology almanac from 1664. She sounded… indifferent, even tacitly approving.

“I should have expected you to be tranquil about such topics,” he grinned. “They never bothered you before…”

“If you mean Sebastian —”

“Now why would you bring that up?”

“That is what happened, isn’t it?” she said, sounding a bit triumphant. She slammed the book shut, and it screamed. “Ominis!”

“What?” he said, turning around, his face serene. She definitely sounded excited, although whether it was in anger or joy, he couldn’t tell. He faced her impassively, although in his chest his heart was pounding.

“Are you responsible?”

His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. With his hands clasped together behind his back, wand held loosely in his right one, he felt his back straighten.

“What if I were?” he asked. “Would you mind?”

“N-no,” she said at length, her voice softening after the initial outburst. “I… I would understand.”

“Would you?”

He heard her leave the desk, stepping around the heavy old chair and cautiously approach him. Her little heels rang loudly in the library. He was surprised to feel her gentle grip on his elbow, but he stayed still.

“You never knew how much I wished I could help you whenever you were away for the summer… Steal you away, protect you.”

A muscle twitched in his eye at that. “I didn’t need protecting.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “Your problem required more drastic solutions, correct?”

Ominis tried not to smile. Whatever his fears were, her reaction did not substantiate them, and gradually he felt his heart settle, his blood cool, and his arm loosened in hers. She pulled it closer to hold his hand.

“Still,” said Ominis, “I appreciate the sentiment…”

“I won’t ask you what happened,” she said. “You will tell me if you wish to, and if that happens to be never, then —”

“It won’t be never. It might just take… some time.”

“Whatever happened, though — whatever happened — know that I will never judge you.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “so you won’t hold me to a higher standard than Sebastian, then? That’s a relief.”

“It doesn’t suit you to be jealous.”

“Who says I’m jealous?”

He didn’t hear a thing, but he could feel the incredulous squinting of her eyes.

“Alright,” she said. “Come on, let’s have dinner.”

She squeezed his fingers once before letting go and stepping back toward the desk.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I mean to take it upstairs with me — that is, if you don’t mind. I promise I won’t misplace it.”

“You’re using Magick Moste Evile as a bedtime read?”

“Yes, I am. And you should, too,” she smiled. “Never know when you need it.”

The air between them changed following that conversation. After nearly a week spent wondering how she felt about him, how she’d really feel if she knew what he had done, for Ominis, it was like letting out a breath that he had held all that time.

He smiled more, laughed more, spent more time alone leaving her to wander freely through the grounds, but also spent more time with her. They began a habit of reading together in the greenhouse, more of a conservatory where all manner of plants were arranged with no particular thought or care. They retreated there after lunch with a cup of tea — green for her, white for him — and that’s where they did most of their reading. She recommended him books on dark magic as she finished them, or named favourites she knew from Hogwarts when she spotted them in his library, and pointed out what she knew he might like.

They frequently stopped to discuss things, arguing between good and evil, between fairness and pragmatism, between glory and destiny, reaching no particular conclusions — but then, that wasn’t the point. Slowly, Ominis could feel himself catching up to how he might have been were it not for his family, and the distaste for the dark arts that grew in him because of them. He went through this rediscovery of himself slowly, anxiously, but guided by her hand.

One evening, in the mid of August roughly one month after he had killed his parents, a late summer storm washed over them. She could see the dark clouds nearing after lunch, and in less than one hour they were upon them. It was quite an experience to sit in the conservatory when the rain began to splash on the glass, to hear the whipping of the wind, and feel in the frail encasing the pressure of the air outside. Within their little enclosure, still warm and fragrant with tea, they felt like they were in another world.

“Oh I wish you could see how the water pours down the roof,” she told him as she held his hand. “It looks like a little waterfall.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” he chuckled. “I think I can hear it. It’s like a leaky faucet.”

“And the sky outside is dark, almost like it’s nighttime.”

“Yes, I can feel how much colder it is.”

“Do you want to go back inside?”

“We are inside,” he smiled. “But yes, we can sit in the drawing room instead. I’ll light a fire.”

They picked up their books and went to sit out the storm in the parlour. Ominis lit a fire, as he promised, with a carefully aimed spell, while she unpacked a box of biscuits the elves had bought the week before.

“I want more tea,” she said. “Do you?”

“Certainly,” said Ominis, still tending to the fire.

He heard her going out toward the kitchen, then coming back with the little clinking of porcelain on a tray and set it on the table in front of the fireplace.

“You have lovely tea sets,” she said pensively, “albeit some are a bit macabre.”

“How so?” he chuckled. “Do you mean the designs?”

“Yes,” she said from further back in the room. “Black pansies and bone piles, and oh my, this one has skulls,” she laughed. “And this is an interesting kettle. The cups fit along its side like mushrooms growing from a tree… Wonderful craftsmanship.”

Ominis frowned — he didn’t recall them having a tea set with skulls on it… The blood froze in his veins when he realised what it was.

“Well, you don’t want to use any of those,” he said as he quickly got up and walked toward her. “Let’s use the cups from earlier.”

“But I had green tea in mine, and now I want some oolong. The flavours wouldn’t mix.”

“Yes, but —”

“Oh, please, Ominis,” she said, and he could hear her pouting so sweetly, “I want to try them. I’ve never seen such fancy cups before.”

He frowned and clenched his jaw, but smiled. “Alright. Anything for you.”

“I won’t break them, I promise,” she grinned.

“Just don’t pick the —” He stopped when he heard that distinctive bony clank.

“The what?”

“Nothing.”

The storm still raged outside and thunder trembled through the walls. Ominis checked the kettle, then felt around the tray until he found one of the cups. With trembling hands, held the teapot and poured. The liquid hissed in its distinctive way until it nearly reached the rim, and then he filled the other.

“Milk? Honey?” she offered.

“None for me, thank you.”

“Well, I’ll have both.”

“Not sure there’s enough honey to sweeten up that cup,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” she laughed. “What was that?”

The fireplace hissed and flapped when a draft from down the chimney hit its fire. Another bout of thunder rolled its way across the distance and sounded through the room. Between the silence, the rain beat against the window in incessant little drops.

“I just… I really don’t like this set,” he finally said.

He made no effort to disguise how he was feeling this time. There was a frown between his brows that he couldn’t wipe away, and his lips were set in a firm line that refused to let him speak. His hands were braced on the edge of the table as if he might fall if he let go.

“Ominis,” she said after a few moments, “do you want me to drink from this?”

“I might,” he said with a sardonic smile. “I partially do.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity. Indifference. A touch of sadism.”

“And what about the other part?”

“The other part,” he sighed, “is sick.”

She got up — he hadn’t even noticed when she sat — and was right by his side, her warm hands uncoiling his from around the wood.

“It sounds to me as if both are sick,” she quietly said.

Ominis allowed his flesh to melt in her grasp, his bones losing their firmness and his blood its vigour. When she moved him to sit down, he followed without resistance.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” he said weakly, “about anything anymore.”

“Well, let’s start from somewhere… For instance, how do you feel about yourself?” she asked as she kneeled beside his chair, her hands still on his.

“Shame,” said Ominis. “I don’t even know why I just said that… But, shame, and humiliation.”

“Why?”

“Because I still don’t know how I should be. What I should like, what I should think, how I should react to things, and how I should behave. All parts of me were formed by evasion and as… as a reaction to something else, rather than coming from me. And…”

“Yes?”

“And I fear I’ve pushed myself down so low that I can not dig myself up again. An early grave,” he chuckled.

“Don’t be like that, Ominis,” she said, holding him more firmly. “You’re still here, and they’re the ones who are gone.”

“That hardly gives me much satisfaction.”

“And what would?”

“I don’t know. Burying them, I suppose, one way or another. Or… getting rid of them some other way.”

“How?”

“I haven’t decided,” he said, unthinkingly turning his head toward the teacups steaming with tea.

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked.

“You?” he said, turning toward her again. “I feel like… like I’ve lost you before I had a chance. And other times, I feel like I never had a chance to start with. So, I suppose I feel hopeless.”

“Well, luckily for you, all of those are wrong,” she said with a smile.

It was Ominis’ turn to hang on to her. His fingers curled around her hands and gripped onto her wrists like shackles.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I do.”

“So you don’t want to see Sebastian again?”

“I — well…”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ominis, I don’t need Sebastian to be happy,” she said archly. “Not any more than he needs me.”

The hint of resentment in her voice did not go unnoticed, but he chose not to address it, at least for now.

“What do you need to be happy?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“And why?”

“Because I happen to need you.”

#Ominis Gaunt #hl #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #Hogwarts Legacy imagine #Ominis Gaunt x Reader #Ominis Gaunt x MC #Hogwarts Legacy MC #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;a new family

[mopeyy]

Heavy Goodbyes

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora (SPOILERS!!!)

A quick lil one shot while waiting for the results of the poll

Nor x Na'vi! reader

Angst

"You can't just run off after stabbing alma Nor!"

"Leave y/n. I don't want to talk about it."

You shook your head. How could he act this way? How could he just run off after what happened? You decided to take a different approach, a softer one to try and calm him down.

"I know what she did was horrible but-"

He cut you off,

"Horrible? She betrayed us y/n. She betrayed all of us. To believe she was ever on our side," he scoffed, "What a traitor. As much as she wants to believe it she will never be one of us."

He was upset and it was easy to tell. His ears were pinned to his head and his brows were furrowed. He was pacing back in forth, clenching and unclenching his fist to sooth himself. Even though you agreed with his statement part of you was still upset.

"So does that give you the right to run away? We're all struggling Nor but that doesn't mean you can close yourself off and push everyone away."

When you said this he stopped his pacing and turned to face you. He walked towards you and you took a step back. He was really angry and in full honesty, seeing him like this scared you. He leaned in close and started to speak.

"I don't need the right. We are free now are we not? I can do what I please. Maybe I just don't want to be somewhere that constantly surrounds me with humans and their technology."

"But they are our allies Nor-"

"They are humans all the same. I don't care whose 'side' they're on. Before they were on our side they were with the RDA. If you want to trust them fine. But i'm leaving."

You're lips parted in shock. He was leaving?

"Nor, you can't be serious.."

All he gave you was a nod. Confirming that he was set on his plan.

You reached your hand out and placed a hand on his arm.

"You can't leave, we all need you here. Teylan has already left, we can't lose you too Nor. I can't lose you."

You pleaded with him. Your eyes started to gloss with tears and your grip on his arm tightened.

He stared at you with an unfamiliar look in his eye. He seemed hesitant for a moment before he placed his hand on top of yours.

"You don't have to lose me." he whispered.

You let a small smile pass over your face, a glint of hope in your eyes.

"Does this mean you'll stay?"

He softly shook his head and took a step closer, getting rid of all space between you two.

"No, y/n, I'm...I'm saying come with me."

Your eyes widened, "what?" You mumbled. How could he ask you to leave?

He placed his other hand on the side of your face, tracing the stripes on your cheek with his finger.

"Come with me. We can explore Pandora and be truly free. Please yawntutsyìp."

You paused. You didn't know what to say.

The weight of Nor's gaze was heavy, a mix of determination and a plea for understanding. You could see the wildness of Pandora reflected in his eyes, the untamed beauty that he yearned to return to. But the thought of leaving everything behind, the community you had helped to build, the allies you had fought alongside, it anchored you in place with a paralyzing indecision.

Nor's voice broke through your hesitation, softer now, "I know it's a lot to ask, y/n. But out there, it's just us and the world we were born to live in. No more wars and fighting, just... freedom." His words painted a picture of a life unburdened, a dream that you had both shared once upon a time.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words. "And what about the fight we've been a part of? The sacrifices? Can we just turn our backs on that?" Your voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of all the unspoken fears and responsibilities that tethered you.

He responded with a fierce intensity, "We've fought enough, y/n. We've earned the right to choose our own path. And I choose a life where I'm not defined by this conflict." Nor's hands were steady, his resolve clear, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his own inner turmoil.

The silence that followed was filled with the sounds of Pandora's wildlife, a reminder of the living, breathing world. It was a siren call, tempting and sweet, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the possibility of it all.

Finally, you spoke, "I... I can't go with you, Nor. We have to understand that this isn't about running away. It's about choosing our own battles, and mine needs to be fought here." The disappointment in his eyes was evident,

"Please just stay." You begged, desperate, asking him one last time.

By the look in his eyes, you already knew the answer.

He leaned forward and kissed you. It was bittersweet, a culmination of your shared history, a moment that acknowledged the depth of your bond and the divergence of your paths. As Nor reluctantly pulled away, his eyes searched yours for any sign of reconsideration, but you stood firm, your decision made.

Nor's expression hardened, the vulnerability that he had briefly shown now gone. "Then this is where our paths part," he said, his voice steady but low, carrying the weight of finality.

You nodded, the tears you had fought so hard to hold back now spilling freely.

He took a step back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared into the lush foliage of Pandora, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the life you had chosen to keep.

#avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora x reader #nor x reader #nor avatar frontier of pandora #nor #nor frontiers of pandora

[bubybubsters]

Love of My Life (Azriel x Reader)

a/n - This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic so please be patient with me. Please leave a suggestions. I’m sorry, the story might go a little slow at first. I’m not great at writing. Do you want part two? :)

⚠️- I don’t think they’re any, but please inform me if there are.

if you want to be added to my taglist. Masterlist part 2 part 3

You finished dressing just as your father swaggered in. He had a smirk on his face that you knew meant pain, in places nobody could see, would be inflicted on you very soon.

You braced yourself. Today you would meet your sister- even if she didn’t know it- and the court she loved so much. Despite the horrible stories you’d been told about them, you trusted your sisters judgement, even though you’d never met her.

“You’re looking good tonight y/n.” A punch to the stomach, a jab to the ribs. “Excited?” You didn’t answer. A slash with a knife to the upper thigh. “I asked you a question, I expect and answer.”

“No father, just wanted to look my best for you.” The answer you’d given him since you were old enough to know what a horrible male he was.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but put the knife away. “If you ever need to address me, do not under any circumstance, call me ‘father’. Especially in front of your sorry excuse for a sister. I am now ‘Keir’ or ‘steward’ to you. Am I understood?”

“Yes Keir.” He nodded his approval and soon left after leaving you with instructions.

You couldn’t wait, this was the first time Keir had allowed you to attend when the High Lord came.

*****

Fifteen minutes later, you were shaking as you felt the High Lord of the Night Court approach his rightful throne.

But then you saw her, walking before the High Lord, beautiful, a bored, uninterested expression on her face. Your sister. You froze as she locked eyes with you and despite the stories you’d been told, you could see the love and freedom shining behind the eyes. Eyes that looked exactly like yours, like your mothers. Morrigan, the light that occasionally graced this hateful, dark place.

The two of you broke eye contact as she passed you, but your eyes quickly met again as she turned to face the two-faced bitchy crowd your father called his court. Her mask of calm broke, disbelief showing for all of a second before the unfeeling face returned. You frowned about to try to enter her head with the gifts nobody knew about but were so similar to the High Lords.

But she turned away and sank into a graceful before as Rhysand and Feyre took their thrones. You and everyone else in the court followed.

“Rise. Go enjoy yourselves.” You mingled with the others but when you glanced back, you saw Morrigan making her way towards you. You shook your head slightly and tapped twice against the solid walls protecting her mind.

She just blinked at you in astonishment and returned to the High Lords side as she opened a sliver in her mental shields.

Hello Morrigan. My name is y/n. Nice to meet you.

You…you’re my sister. And to you, I am Mor.

Alright Mor. Indeed, I am your sister. May I show you some things?

At Mor’s slight nod of approval, you moved to a shadowy area near a pillar. You sent her memories of your life and in return she let you look through her. You learned the shadowy males name, Azriel. You repeated it in your head not realizing you were sending your thoughts to your sister. Azriel. Azriel. Azriel.

Don’t worry y/n, we’ll get you out of here and you can have those thoughts of Azriel as often as you wish.

Your connection was cut off as a sharp claw tapped on your shields. Rhysand, you could sense him. Hesitating, you let him in.

I’m going to send for you soon, come up and stick close to Azriel. We’ll take you back to our home if you wish. What would you like?

Thank you my lord, I would love to see your home.

Just Rhys please. He left your mind and beckoned for you with a hand. You went up and bowed, low. He and Feyre inclined their head and you were quickly introduced to their inner circle.

Mor looked like she wanted to hug you, but Rhys pointed you in the spymasters direction. You smiled at your high lord and locked eyes with Azriel.

You almost tripped as something in your chest uncoiled towards him. The mating bond stretched between the two of you. Azriel was your mate. He didn’t seem to notice the bond and when you reached him, he just made space for you to stand by his side.

But Mor, she saw something had happened, and you reached out to her when a sliver of her mind opened for you.

Azriel’s my mate. I don’t think he knows.

Before Mor could respond, Rhys called Keir over and said to him in a voice that let him know he would not take ‘no’ for an answer. “May I keep your daughter?”

“Of course my lord, you already have the Morrigan.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I am taking y/n for as long as I need a helping hand.”

Keir said nothing and Feyre dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She spoke inside your mind, slipping past your slightly open mental shields.

Mor told us what happened, everyone knows besides Azriel. I would suggest telling him but it is your choice, you will always have a choice here.

With that the High Lady retracted from your mind and your mental shields snapped up. You felt like you were dying, the male next to you was your mate, he didn’t know it, he seemed do be ignoring you but you could finally get out of this court and into the real world.

You weren’t sure you were ready for the real world. Mate. The word ricocheted through you, making the world you knew turn upside down and explode. Mate. Azriel was your mate.

part two anybody?

#acotar #sarah j. maas #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello I was wondering if you’d be able to write a Genloss Ranboo x Gender neutral reader, where the reader dies, and how Ranboo would react to that? :) (also would I be able to be 💠 anon please?)

ah yes of course!! ; and welcome to the family !!! hope you enjoy our very full and chaotic household

GENLOSS! RANBOO ; sun killer

summary ; your death

warnings ; death, language, talk about Ranboo pulling on the mask/kinda gore but not really, influence by spiritbox bc I love them

genre ; angst

word count ; 1.6k

masterlist

[I also recommend this song bc I love Linkin Park and I hold this and she couldn't dear to my heart]

You'd been trapped on the SAW carousel of death, alike many of the others you'd come to know a bit better, having been trapped for hours and hours here. You were surrounded by a large gate, trapped by a man who thought he was attractive, joined by two human sized rats who could speak English. Somehow, his wasn't the weirdest situation you'd ever gotten into.

Finally, Ranboo, your savior, enters the room.

He gets the carousel up and running, deciding to get a little imput on who to bring with him on his adventure, which would include lots of puzzles and thinking. Both of which you weren't good at.

You sit next to Niki, whom could apparently sob for hours on end. She wears a bright red outfit, paired with a bucket hat. It contrasted her split dyed hair, which looked very nice on her.

You were the next to try and convince Ranboo on why they should take you with them.

"Uh, hello, I'm Y/n. I'm not great at puzzles, but uhm... I'm good at being funny! And I think really deeply about things, and I mean, if there's a deeper meaning to things, then I can definitely solve your puzzles! I-I just wanna go home, I'm gonna be honest. I miss my family and my pets, and I wanna live. I really wanna live, I've barely gotten to experience life yet, please"

Ranboo looks at you solemly, looking over at the man in charge. He looked at you like he knew you, but you'd never seen the masked boy before. It was so weird, but you felt like something deep inside of you recognized them too. You just didn't know from where. It was like the scent of something familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You're left tied to the carousel once they leave with Nikki and Sneeg. You, Austin, Ethan, Vinny, and Frank sit in silence, pondering of when the three sticks of dynamite wrapped around your necks would explode. Frank would be the only survivor, but he's also a rotting corpse, so I mean... Eh.

But, they never exploded, surprisingly. Vinny was actually the next one to be able to leave, somehow. You strike a conversation with the New Jersian surfer bro Charlie, laying on a stretcher a few feet away.

"So, like, why were you eating non-edibles, and how'd you even shove them down your throat?"

"They just slid down, man. Like that one scene from Stand By Me, I ate a bunch of raw eggs right before that" He answers with a nod, "My eyeballs hurt"

You nod and mumble a "Same"

Austin and Ethan are next to be untied, traveling through some Coraline door tunnels, leaving you, Frank, and Charlie alone in the carousel room. You sit silently, hoping you'd be able to escape.

Maybe that's what the game was, a puzzle game to freedom.

Your hopes for freedom shot through the roof as you sit in silence, begging and pleading in your head for the rats to come back for you. Charlie seemed to be pretty dead at this point, considering all the... blood. Everywhere.

But, alas, came your time to shine. You were never the bright one of the group. You just kind of looked at things and reached way too far into it. I dunno, maybe being instructed to solve puzzles with dynamite around your neck wasn't the most chill environment where you'd be thinking level-headedly.

But, you powered through, trying to get your way out of the final door.

You were with Austin, Ran, and Sneeg, with no sign of Ethan, Vinny, or Niki. There was a target on one wall, a button with a large sign that read to not push the button, a TV covered by static, and random trinkets and games lining the shelves.

The first thing you all thought about was the target, considering apparently Jerma said that the challenge would be hard. Hitting the one hundred on the tiny target would've been hard, so he and Ranboo try their best to do it with no luck. At one point, Austin decides to just mimic the suction cup arrow hitting the one hundred, which did nothing, either because he cheated or it just wasn't the way out.

You and Sneeg look around while you try to think that maybe certain items had to be in certain places, leading to you frantically organizing all the trinkets and games. Ranboo looks at you with worry, seeing your face full of fear. It was like they almost knew what was coming next but didn't know how to help you.

Ranboo turns around and stares at the button while Austin and Sneeg almost discourage him, considering a couple sticks of dynamite lay right under it. It wouldn't make sense to use reverse psychology, but it also wouldn't make sense to put it there solely to kill whoever was near and damage the room.

The boy with the mask quickly presses the button, waiting for the explosion that never came. You turn to see the door opening across from you, and you look back at the tall boy with a light smile and thumbs up. You place the board game you were carrying across the room down, seeing that you didn't need it anymore.

A voice (The Puzzler) speaks over the loudspeaker, informing you only one could fit through the hole, which was just a lie? But only one of you was supposed to progress.

Austin tries to fight for the exit and Sneeg pulls him back while the floor slowly moves him through the hole. The lights turned off, and you didn't remember anything after that.

Or even before that.

You woke up a new person, streaming in your room until Ranboo, who you didn't even see for a solid minute, interrupts you by pulling your headphones off.

"Holy shit! Dude, I'm streaming" You speak, jumping out of your skin.

"We need to go, come on!" He exclaims, "You can get back to it later, but we need to go, now!"

You look around, seeing you were inside one of the malls food court shops behind the counter. Your setup was nearly the same, but behind you was a bunch of posters and meal menus. You quickly stand up, trusting the boy you called a friend, hopping over the counter.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask him and Charlie.

Charlie shrugs while Ranboo turns around.

"Do-Do you not remember the cabin thing? Th-The warehouse? It's all just been a show, I mean-"

He's cut off by silence as you approach a funeral/grave inside one of the shops nearby, the headstone reading 'RIP THE PUZZLER'.

"Okay, Ran, what's going on? What do you mean it's been a show? Who the fuck is The Puzzler?" You ask them, trying to make sense of your confusion.

"Wait, no, we aren't the only ones, are we?" Charlie asks, his hands on his head, "There's-There's Sneeg and- shit! There's Niki and Ethan, and, uhm, fuck! We- We have to find them! We need to help them!"

Ranboo tries their best to calm him down, but has to resort to the last option.

"There is no saving them! We have to go, now. We just have to get out of here, maybe we can find help, I dont know!"

The three of you try to progress towards the stairs but slowly back away after seeing some... person (?) standing in front of the doors, back faced towards you.

"What are those?"

"I-I don't know, back up"

"Please explain what those fucking things are"

"I-I've been told that they're human, I think! It's some type of facility, I don't know what's going on"

"What if we find one of those map things?" You suggest, "To find where we are and to find another exit."

"Good idea"

Ran quickly leads you two to a mall map, where Charlie finds the 'you are here' dot. The two try and find an exit while you do a little exploring into the dark, and notice some feet down to your right.

You slowly look down, being greeted by one of those guys from earlier, head banged into the back of the directory, blood dripping down the screen. You slowly progress forward, seeing a silhouette in the distance.

The two quickly notice your disappearance and see the dead guy, calling for you as they see whatever thing in the distance stand up and growl. You don't listen, like you couldn't hear them, and progress onwards.

"Y/n! Come on, we're leaving!" Charlie shouts as you fade into the darkness in silence.

You're thrown back by a compelling force, being thrown all the way back to the escalator past Ranboo and Charlie, hitting your head to knock you out. The two run to your aid, your eyes closed.

Ran quickly notices that most of your midsection was torn away, revealing your ribcage. He's only able to stare as Charlie quickly pulls him away, seeing the creature that hurt you was gaining on them.

They run as fast as they could.

👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤▓👁️⃤

Ranboo pulls at their mask, just wanting out.

He sits on his knees, pulling and pulling, feeling the wires pulling inside them.

"Get off of me!"

They cry, feeling their eyes roll back into their skull as they pull the mask further and further away from their face. Their hands grip at the top of the mask, trying to rip the back off of their neck.

They'd cut themselves over and over again on the metal, their hands bloody, staining the contraption that controlled them.

They didn't want to live. They wanted to die. Why didn't they let him die? Why did he have to live? He didn't want to be like this. He didn't want to do this! He didn't want to live like this!

They scream in agony, making one final pull on the mask before they drop to the floor. Wires tangle in their throat, the final backing piece of the mask snapping in two.

They lay on the cold, hard, floor, blood pouring out of any extremity possible. Wires hang about, halfway pulled out of their body.

"Just kill me already, damnit"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #ranboo x reader #genloss ranboo #genloss ranboo x reader #gl ranboo #gl ranboo x reader #mcyt x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

[mugentakeda]

"i think, if he falls to his wounds...we should at least keep it for bait," the doctor pipes up. "no sense in letting it go to waste."

long feng gazes down at the dragon of the west's son.

what were you doing outside my wall all alone, child? does your father not keep an eye on you?

he hadn't a clue on how the dragon of the west's younger brother's plan was going to pull off until it did. he didn't really care either, so long as general iroh retreated from his city. but now that the siege is finally over, and he has time to wonder what he's going to do with this living son left behind, he can ponder.

"you said that prince ozai's goon found prince lu ten a half mile around the wall, away from the main action," the doctor says. "and that he'd referred to the prince as a traitor when you and your men showed up to set the trap in motion."

"yes," long feng murmured. he vaguely recalls the cowardly man with sideburns dressed in black, shooting fire in every direction and bellowing nonsense. "but as far as i know, fire nationals use the term traitor rather loosely. their kind calls each other traitors where you and i would call each other sons of bitches. you never know with them."

the doctor snorts, and leans in closer to the unconscious young prince. "prince ozai claimed he's only twenty-three, but still the youngest lightning bender the fire nation has to offer yet. trained in a yari spear, too. we use yari spears here too, don't we?"

long feng rolls his unamused gaze over to the doctor, who was stroking his beard with a smile. "you can't be suggesting what i think you're suggesting."

"you said yourself that this city will need an iron fist to guide it in the right direction after we won," the doctor shrugs. "in my experience, control is the right way to get that done. i believe i have a few ideas- and our princeling here is the ideal test subject."

"did you not hear what you said yourself? the youngest lightning bender in fire nation history so far. even if i decide to keep the brat for possible future use, i'm keeping him locked up in the deepest cell i can find," the grand secretariat spits. the deal was that he kill the dragon of the west's boy for fire prince ozai in return for ba sing se's freedom. the plan worked, and the general took off with his tail between his legs. that's all it needs to be. an opportunistic transaction between two opportunistic men.

all of this is unnecessary future stress that long feng can prevent for himself right now by putting the boy out of his misery. even now, the crude stitches along his face have thick blood drops oozing out from in between. it wouldn't be hard.

"and you would be putting a most useful tool to waste," the doctor replies sagely. "it's not like we'd be doing him a kindness by keeping him alive. let me take him off your hands for the time being, while you sort things out with our young king and the people. i will return to you a shiny new subordinate that you can use however you see fit. i'll even let you come up with a name."

...he can see what the doctor wants to do here. he can see the possibilities, too, but....

its like he told himself before. snuffing the boys weak flame out wouldn't be hard, as it is now.

"so long as you promise to put him down as soon as things start to go sour, i don't give a damn. and don't get attached to him, because if the general takes the throne and decides to come back here, i will kill that boy without a second thought if it benefits me and my city. i'll string his innards along the outer wall if i have to."

the doctor just waves a hand at him and rolls his eyes. "yes, yes, i hear you- but it won't happen! have faith in this crazy old man. i have a vision."

long feng doesnt bother to watch the doctor and his little group of assistants drag the chained up prince out the door. the fire place crackles almost menacingly, as if the vile element knows how the grand secretariat is tormenting one of its vile children.

this will have to stay under wraps, he thinks. everything will stay under wraps if i can help it.

his doctor is high ranked in the dai li, doubling as one of long fengs advisors. he trusts him. its always good to have at least one sadist on your side that has no care for morals. if the fire nation gets to have a whole country of them, long feng can have one as a member of his secret police. he'll let the doctor do what he wants, and if it goes well, it goes well. if not, then he can just take out the trash. no skin off his back.

he's not too worried about the old general, even if he ends up taking the fire throne. he'll let the bastard think his son is dead by keeping prince lu ten on a short leash. he's stolen one of his own pieces right out from under his nose, and so long as he keeps a grip on it, prince iroh will keep away from his city. his precious son's life depends on it, after all.

--

"i came up with a name," long feng breathes.

the doctor hums at his side. even he seems to be in awe that his own experiment is working so well.

"when i was a boy, i had a pet ferret-puppy. i named him liuju. he liked to sit on my shoulder all the time. my father tried to give him away in exchange for rice flour, so i took liuju and ran away. thats how i came to this city."

"i see," the doctor hums. there's a soft smile in his voice. "a good name, sir."

the once half-dead prince looks monstorous and anew. like a lab experiment, definitely, with his arm gone and his face stitched together like a torn potato sack. his black hair is plastered to his forehead.

"the arm your other man took was amputated crudely, which i don't approve of, but it still healed alright, i suppose. his eye socket was messed up, but the eyeball made it. i don't think he'll be able to see out of it much, however, so you'll have to train him to use his right side."

"he probably already does," long feng replies. "its looked down upon to be left handed in the fire nation, i've heard. it'll just be the depth perception."

the doctor blinks at him. "you don't say?" he shakes his head in bafflement. "obviously he can't earthbend, and you're going to have to put bending suppressants in his food on a regular basis, but the methods you use for the joo lees should do the rest of the work. i'd say still keep him down under as far as you can to keep him away from the sun just for good measure- but do make his cell a bit cozy. he's your subordinate, not your prisoner, if you'll recall," the doctor sniffs and pulls the bed straps off the once-prince.

he's still out on heavy medication, and will stay like that until long feng gets the answers he wants from him during their sessions. only then will he be allowed to wake from his coma. however long it takes- the grand secretariat is a patient one.

"he can use that spear," long feng says, stroking his chin. he turns to the old doctor and folds his hands together in satisfaction.

"i won't even bother teaching him earth styles, doctor. it's a waste of my time. he's going to be my personal agent. he won't interact with anyone but us. he gets his own room. he gets his own missions. he'll have higher clearance and will answer to only me. he can fight how he pleases, so long as its effective. liuju will be special, and i will make sure he knows that."

#dai li lu ten #im gonna end up tagging all this stuff with a writing tag once my dumbass laptop charges lol #alicias writing stuff