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makenoplans · 7 months

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all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #bg3 party banter #party banter

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aliaology · 5 months

Text

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

summary: yn makes it to michigan with her friend sabrina, shockingly, reconnecting with old friends and also bumping into bad memories.

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you felt weird, the stares of others pouring heavily onto your body. you didn’t like it, the feeling, whatsoever. the crowd parted as you walked into the house. the memories from this house flooded through your mind, from running to your room away from jack, to even skinny dipping with him in the lake.

you watched cole leap up and made his way to you, leaving a very uncomfortable jack and trevor behind. "bells! you made it" he grinned.

the shorter boy threw his arms around you in happiness. "hey coley, i told you i'd be here" you smiled, hugging him back.

"i know but it's just, unreal! i haven't seen you in forever!" he smiled.

you frowned. "im sorry cole, ive been really busy in toronto and it doesn't help that i feel so out of place in michigan now.." you trailed off.

"dont sweat it, bells. im just glad you're here" he smiled at you. "how long are you staying here for?" he asked.

"well— sab leaves tomorrow, im staying to get my dorm situated back at umich" you told. cole nodded.

"get lunch with me tomorrow then? i want to catch up" you just nodded before hearing your name get called. looking behind you, you see some of jack's teammates.

jack's teammates, john marino and nico hischier always liked you. hell, you still talked to them to ask how games went and just how they were.

"ill talk to you later coley" you grinned.

cole nodded and went back to trevor and jack. trevor held a sour look on his face while jack looked pissed. you grabbed sab’s arm and brought her with you to john and nico.

"hi johnny, hi nico" you smiled at them, giving them each hugs once you got to them. "its been awhile." you added.

"seriously, a long time. have you been in toronto the entire time?" john asked.

you nodded. "yeah, i moved in with my brother. im with him for just two more weeks until i move into my new apartment." you smiled.

"really? where you moving to?" nico asked.

"new york, actually." you grinned. "maybe ill drive over to nj and pop in."

nico grinned, "i'd be careful with that one, y/n. i cant lie, jacks been in a little bit of a twist since your song came out." he spoke.

john nodded. "more standoff-ish, but he had it coming.”

you heard sab snort from behind you, causing you to grin along. "sorry its just— one of my songs ends with ‘he had it coming’ and it reminded me of that.” sabrina spoke.

"its okay— how have you both been?” nico asked. you looked at sabrina with a hesitation glint in your eyes. she just sent you a nod.

“ive been— okay? uhm, just a lot going on currently. very stressed i dont know— i just cant wait to get back to umich.” you explained.

“and i have to go back to LA tomorrow so i have to soak my time up with my girl.” sabrina grinned, tossing an arm around your neck.

"uh oh— warning, trevor is on his way over.” john said, bringing his cup to his mouth to quiet his words before taking a sip of whatever alcoholic drink he had.

you tensed up slightly, not turning your head, you kept close to sabrina.

"what up guys, how you enjoying the party? cole's wondering." trevor faked a smile.

"oh, very fun if i do say so myself." sabrina sarcastically spoke.

you nudged her slightly, elbowing her in the side. she sent you a glare, basically stating ‘cut the shit.’

trevor sarcastically smiled. "well isn't that just peachy? anyone here finding someone to go home with tonight? i know it shouldn't be too hard for some of you."

you grab nico's drink, sipping it yourself. "maybe— i heard that dixie girl is single, might ask her to go home with me.” you shrugged.

the four guys went completely silent. you coughed, "anyone up for another drink? i think i need to get drunk tonight." and you walked away.

“oh my god” sabrina laughed, immediately going after you.

“fucking bitch”

trevor scoffed, walking away in anger. john and nico looked at each other, wide eyes. "holy shit."

lol hey... this sucked but hey! tags: @honethatty12 , @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lovinbarzal , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @shadowsndaisies @lxnceclercs

#hockey #jack hughes #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #new jersey #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #trevor zegras #mitch marner #auston matthews #toronto maple leafs #now that we don't talk

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dulcesiabits · 2 years

Note

hiii so i loved your ive become the villain’s love interest story sm !! i was wondering if you had like an idea of how each “ending” in a sense for each character would be ? anyways feel free to ignore this and have a great day + make sure to drink lots of water !! <3

THANK YOU ANON I did drink some water upon reading this ^7^ you stay hydrated as well!!!

In general, no matter who you get with, all the other villains will accept your decision. They’ll stay friends with you, and will probably pop by once in a while to annoy your new lover.

For Riddle, if you accept his proposal at long last, he wouldn’t be able to process it at first. When he finally realizes this is real, that you want him as much as he wants you, then he immediately starts preparing for you to move in to his mansion, and orders a seven day feast to be cooked up, and sends invitations out, RSVP now-- it’s up to you if you want to stop him, take an active role in whatever party Riddle’s planning, or just to roll with the chaos. Either way, Riddle is so ridiculously happy in your presence, and so willing to do anything for you, that his visitors will always make a quick stop to flatter you and offer you gifts to get in good with Riddle.

Leona may have found something he wants desperately, but he didn’t think you would actually want him back. Even though his tail is swaying, he still warns you that he can’t give you a cushy life yet. He has plans to change the world, and if you stay with him, then you’re going to be put in danger. But if you chose to be with him regardless, just know that he’s going to be by yours forever. Just wait. Now it’s impossible to get rid of him (though why would you ever want to?) because he sticks to your side like glue… and he loves pushing work onto Ruggie and Jack so he can take naps with you.

Azul is nodding his head as you speak, flipping through his documents. Uh-huh, you like him, you want to spend the rest of your life with him, that makes sense. Can you pass him the ink jar— Wait a minute. As soon as your words sink in, Azul’s papers are scattering across the table, his expression frantic and face red. Congratulations, you’ve got him off guard! Be prepared for a clingy guild leader to spoil you with his riches, taking you out on extravagant dates on his free days. He’ll keep a picture of you in his wallet and take it out to brag to his unfortunate debtors and talk about how he hates making you wait for him to come home because they didn’t pay back their debts on time.

The only regrettable thing about your confession is how fast it spread around the manor. Jamil is ecstatic, of course, but before the two of you can get a chance to properly celebrate your mutual feelings, Kalim and the rest of the household are bringing out the party poppers, and the decorations, and the “congrats on finally getting together” cake. Once everyone else has had their fun, Jamil draws you outside, an unusually serious look. The truth is, he’s always thought about running away and seeing the world with his own two eyes. And if he were, would you come with him?

Vil was waiting for this day! Of course you wouldn’t be able to resist his charm for so long. He is (and this is a fact he keeps pointedly mentioning) the most eligible bachelor in high society. Your life with him continues on much the same way it did before; there’s hardly any difference between your fake and real dates, considering Vil still treats you like the most precious person in the world, acting smug over the fact you chose him over everyone else. However, he is much less forgiving of any pushy nobles, and anyone who dares to disrespect you will end up with their reputation in shambles before the day is out.

What? How? WHY? Idia knows he was the first to confess to you, but you reciprocating his feelings? He would have been happy to stay friends for the rest of his life as long as you were still in his life (Idia takes the longest to get with, just because he waits until he breaks his curse, and even then, he has to be absolutely sure it’s gone before he approaches you). He invites you to move in to the magic tower with him, and though all the other mages say he’s hard to deal with and scary when he’s angry, he’s putty in your hands. Okayyy, fine, he’ll go to the conference he’s been putting off, but... you’ll come too, right?

Congratulations on getting with the crown prince of the kingdom. Malleus is ready to force the entire world to bow to you, offer you ancient treasures passed down in his family and make your birthday a national holiday-- oh. You just want to stay in and cuddle? That’s fine too! As long as he can stay by your side, Malleus is content. The world is literally your oyster when you’re with him. Sure, you’re expected to attend political events and do some royal duties here and there, but if you wanted to just relax, it’s not like Malleus is going to complain. You can do no wrong in his eyes, and if the world says you’re wrong? Well, then he’ll just have to rewrite the laws of reality. He’s ready to dote on you!

#liya answers #manhwa au #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #sorry this got out a bit late hehe!#i was taking my time working on it

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part viii

summary: Wes is acting weird. Weirder than usual. Ghostface!Tara

warnings: (+18), ghostface!tara, possessive behaviors, murder of an established character.

word count: 4k

a/n: peep the murder warning for this one, thought we’d get stabby again ;) as always, thanks so much for the love and let me know what you want to see next!

Wes is acting weird. Weirder than usual.

You’ve felt it ever since the night of Amber’s party. He had always been one of Tara’s quieter friends. Shy, almost. But he was sweet, and he’d always had a lot in common with Tara. They both liked those awful, gory horror movies. Video-games. They had the same taste in food and in books. In fact, out of all of Tara’s friends, you think you liked Wes the most. He’d been the first to welcome you into the group when you’d started dating Tara, and he always went out of his way to make you feel like you belonged.

But over the past week he’d been acting even stranger.

It had started in the cafeteria on Monday, when you’d arrived late to lunch and climbed into your usual spot in Tara’s lap. He’d watched you close as you’d kissed her softly, fed her the last of your grapes. He was just lonely, you figured. He wanted a girlfriend of his own, maybe.

But then Tuesday he’d looked down at your entwined hands in the hall and made a face. Something you couldn’t quite place in his expression.

Wednesday he’d left the table the moment you and Tara sat down.

And Thursday he spent the entire biology lesson staring at the back of Tara’s head. And something clicked.

“Wes has a crush on you.” You tell Tara that night. She’s in the kitchen, one hand stirring the potatoes, the other minding the chicken. You’d been thinking about it all afternoon. Stewing about it all afternoon. The idea of him and her made your stomach writhe with hot, wanton jealousy.

Tara looks up at you for a moment. Then, she quirks her eyebrow and snorts.

“It’s not funny.” You tell her, smacking her arm gently.

“Why on earth would you think that?” She asks. She’s amused, you can tell by the sparkle in her eyes. You’re not laughing.

“I caught him staring at you today.” You say, “All through biology. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

She stirs the chicken, a smile playing on her lips.

“Maybe he was daydreaming.” She suggests, a little wry.

“Babe. He wasn’t daydreaming. He was staring. He has a crush on you.”

Tara puts down her spoon, reaches for you.

“Wes doesn’t have a crush on me,” Tara assures. She pulls you into her, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “He’s like my brother. You have nothing to worry about.”

She makes her point with a kiss. Strokes the hair out of your eyes.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You mumble. You feel hot, a little tingly. It had been hard for you at first to understand why Tara got so angry when she thought someone liked you. You think you understand it now. Anger burns under your skin. Anger towards him.

“Stop worrying.” She kisses you once more. Retracts to go back to her cooking, “Wes is harmless. And he doesn’t like me. I’ve known him forever.”

It feels unfair, the way she’s allowed to brush this off so easily. Your mind can’t help but wander. Dan. Sam. Sadie. Chase. Amber. All with one thing in common.

“If he had a crush on me, you’d have killed him by now.” You don’t often bring it up, the elephant in the room. It was unspoken between you. Like if you didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist.

Tara looks up at you. She isn’t smiling anymore.

“That’s different.” She says, quiet. Your lip twitches.

“How?”

“You know how.”

You do know how. She’d explained it, one night when you were entwined and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The Rage, she’d called it. She described the feeling. Hot, ever-present, like burning bright fury coursing through her veins.

“Well, maybe that’s how I’m feeling right now.”

It feels like a low blow, the moment the words leave your lips. If you were honest, you had no idea what The Rage felt like. This was something different. Something less. Insecurity, maybe. Jealousy. You didn’t want Wes thinking of your girlfriend the way only you were supposed to.

“So what are you saying?” Tara asks, “You want to kill him? You want me to kill him?”

You hesitate a moment.

“No. Of course not.”

“Good.” She says. There’s tension in her shoulders. She stirs the potatoes, a little more violently, “Because I won’t. He’s my friend.”

She points her spatula at you, accusingly, “And besides, you made me promise-”

“I know.” You cut her off. Rub your eyes, “I’m sorry. Forget it. I don’t know why I said that.”

You lean into her, press your forehead to her shoulder. She’s tense. You press your lips to the back of her neck, trying to soothe her. Trying to apologize.

“You’re right, he was probably daydreaming.” You say and she relaxes.

Wes isn’t in school the next day. It’s still there in the back of your mind, the idea that he wants your girlfriend. You try to shake it, the horrible feeling of suspicion that seeps into your bones. He has no chance with her even if he does like her, you tell yourself, She loves you. She wants you.

If nothing else you can believe that.

It’s Friday, date night, and Tara’s taking you out to a new place that opened up a couple of towns over. You want to wear something special, look nice for her, so you insist she drives you back to your house so you can grab your outfit after school. She parks in her usual spot, down a small side street so your dad doesn’t see her and switches off the engine.

“I’ll only be five minutes.” You tell her, leaning over the console of the car to kiss her, “Thanks, baby.”

And you exit the car and dash up to the house.

Your dad isn’t home, a small blessing, so you make your way upstairs and rifle through your closet, looking for the dress you want.

Not a minute later, someone is ringing your doorbell.

When you answer, it’s Wes standing at the door.

He looks terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. He’s jittery, nervous. He swallows when he sees you.

“YN.” His voice is serious, “Can I come in?”

This is it, you think as he plays with the can of soda you’ve offered him, he’s about to tell me he’s going to make a play for my girlfriend.

He’s refused your offer to sit down so you stand, watching as he paces back and forth through your kitchen.

Your stomach writhes, that familiar feeling of jealousy sinking in.

Tara will rebuff him.

It’s that voice in your head, trying to calm you.

But then again, what if she doesn’t?

Wes sits. Flattens his hands on the table. His knee is bouncing, nervous. He looks as though he might throw up.

“I have to tell you something.”

You blink back at him. Grit your teeth.

“Alright.”

You wait, but he takes a minute. Decent of him to pay you a visit, you think briefly, as decent as a person could be when he’s about to try and steal your girlfriend from you. Your mind flashes to all those times he’d been with her alone. Taking her to the cinema to watch whatever latest slasher was showing. Talking for hours with her about the importance of elevated horror over a plate of fries at the local diner. You wonder if that’s how he’d fallen for her. A beautiful girl talking animatedly with him about a bunch of teenagers who’d been carved up by a masked killer.

If only he knew.

“I don’t want you to freak out.” Wes says. His eyes are wide, earnest. “I’ve thought really long and hard about this and I wanted to come here first. You deserve the truth.”

He runs a hand through his bleached hair. He’s handsome, you suppose. You could see the appeal. They’d make an attractive couple. Your heart clenches painfully at the thought.

Tara loves you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara doesn’t want him.

The voice is back. You’re grateful for it. Wes could tell Tara he wanted her until he was blue in the face, it wouldn’t make a lick of a difference.

“Wes-” You say. You think for a moment, trying to pick your words carefully, “I know what you’re going to say. And-”

“You don’t.” Wes says. His leg is bouncing again, “Please, YN. I need to get this out now or I won’t be able to say it.”

You stare.

“Do you remember that party a few weeks back? The night Amber died?” His voice is shaky, uneven. You frown. That’s when Wes realized he was in love with Tara? The night one of his best friends was being murdered?

“Of course.” You say.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. You look down at it, see Tara’s name flash across the screen.

almost done babygirl? not getting any younger over here.

“Is that Tara? Don’t answer it.” Wes says, voice urgent. “Please.”

You put your phone on the counter.

“Wes, I have dinner reservations. Whatever you need to say-”

“My mom has this theory.” He interrupts, “I’ve overheard her talking about before. The attacks, they’re not random. They’re all connected.”

Something niggles at you in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m confused.” You say, “What are we talking about?”

“Amber made a pass at you that night.” Wes continues on as if he didn’t hear you, “In front of all of us, do you remember?”

Your stomach flips. Wes is staring at you, his eyes wild. Suddenly, you think you’ve got everything wrong.

“Yes.” You say, voice low, “So what?”

“Sadie was your ex-girlfriend. Chase was your best friend.” Wes says, “Everyone knew he liked you. Including Tara.”

The room’s getting smaller, closing in. You press your hand to the counter, suddenly wishing you’d sat down.

“The other two - I don’t know, maybe they liked you. Maybe you had a thing with one of them at some point.” He’s rambling but you can barely hear him. “I think they were killed because they liked you. Same with Sadie, same with Chase, same with Amber.”

The blood’s rushing to your head. You grip the counter so hard your fingers turn white.

Wes doesn’t seem to notice. He takes another shaky breath, looks you straight in the eyes.

“I think Ghostface is killing people who are connected to you.” He says. “YN, I think Tara is Ghostface.”

The room spins. The hair on the back of your neck rises tall. Every atom in your body courses thick, fast, in a mesh of panic and fear and confusion.

He knows.

His eyes are wide, desperate to convince you.

“Please don’t panic.” He says. He rises, reaches for you. His hands press hard around your forearms. Your face is white, he must see how you look as if you might pass out.

“I know it sounds crazy. I know it’s a shock. But I’m certain. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t certain.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. You have questions, so many questions. You want to know how he knows, what he knows. You want to know everything. You don’t know how to ask.

“Have you told anyone else?” The most pressing question spills from your mouth before you can stop it. His mom is the sheriff, god, his mom is the sheriff. If she knows it’s over. Tara will be in a cell by sunset.

He shakes his head, wildly, “No. I wanted to come to you first. I wanted to keep you away from her before she could hurt you too.”

You exhale. You can’t hide your relief. He catches it, his eyes knit tight in confusion.

“YN, do you understand what I just told you? Tara is Ghostface.”

You take a breath. Look him in the eye. Wes is sweet. He’s nice. And Tara is his friend. You can talk him down, you know you can.

“Wes, that’s-” You take a shaky breath, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

He stares at you, shakes his head.

“No, no it’s not. YN-”

“Tara is not Ghostface.” You tell him firmly, “She’s my girlfriend. She’s your friend.”

“It’s her, YN. I’m sure. Think about it. Where was she, that night that Amber died?” He’s staring at you, searchingly, desperate to convince you.

“She was with me.” You insist, “She drove me home. I stayed with her, in her bed. She was with me the whole night. If she had left, I would have known.”

Something flickers behind his eyes. His eyebrows knit tight in confusion.

“She didn’t drive you home.” He says, voice a little flat. “I saw Sam pick you up. I watched Tara put you in the car.”

Your heartbeat pounds. Idiot, you think, of course he saw you. why did you lie?

The look in your eyes is all he needs. His blue eyes blink back at you as he pieces it together. Hurt, confusion, realization.

“Oh my god.” He says, as it dawns on him, “You already know. You already know it’s her.”

Your fingers grip white on the countertop. You swallow hard.

“Wes. You’re confused. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He backs away from you slowly, runs his fingers through his bleach blonde hair.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this. Are you in on it with her?” He’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s scared.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Wes, calm down.” You reach for him but he jerks back away from you. “Wes.”

Your mind races. In all your effort to unravel his theory, you’d only confirmed it more. Tara flashes through your mind. Her sweet smile. Dark, chocolate-eske eyes. Freckle-kissed face.

You think of Wes driving madly to the police station, pointing the finger at her. You think of the Sheriff pulling up to Tara’s house in a squad car and dragging her away in handcuffs.

You think of Tara in a cell. Tara in an orange jumpsuit. The smack of the Judge’s gavel as he declares he guilty and locks her away for life. Far away from Woodsboro. Far away from you.

You’re thinking of her when you grab the knife.

It happens in a flash. Wes launches himself at the door, trying to make a break for it. Adrenaline rushes through you. The handle is cool around your palm as you wrap your fingers around it. You surge forward, grab the back of Wes’ shirt and tug him towards you. In a panicked, heavy swing, you thrust the knife forward and sink it into Wes’ back.

He cries out, stumbles forward onto the carpet. The knife is lodged deep between his shoulder blades. You don’t think, you act. Rush forward and take the handle between your fingertips. He yells out again as you pull the blade out. Thrust it forward once more, then twice, then three times until his whimpering is dying down and your hands are coated thick with his blood.

He falls limp beneath you, face down on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Your hands shake as the knife clatters to the fall.

Over the blood in your ears, you hear your phone buzzing.

You stumble backwards, grab it from the kitchen counter. It’s Tara, her smiling face looks back at you as you coat the phone bloody.

“Five minutes my ass.” Her voice is light, she’s teasing, “Maybe I need to buy you a watch.”

“Tara.” You whimper into the phone. Your hands are shaking. You stare down at Wes’ bloodied body.

He stares back at you, lifeless. Dead.

“Baby?” You hear the concern in her voice, “What’s wrong?”

“Tara,” You gasp into the phone. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out, “Tara, please you have to come, I’ve done something really bad. Tara-”

“Don’t move, I’ll be right there. Stay on the line with me, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

But you can’t, you don’t even know it yourself. It’s all a blur. The shake of Wes’ knee, his blue eyes earnest, worried. Fearful as he backed away from you. Glassy now as he stares back at you. Tears roll down your face as you sob into the phone.

By the time you hear the front door open, you’ve sunken down into the floor, wide-eyed, clutching the phone in your hands as you look at the sight in front of you.

When she enters, you watch as she freezes. Blood splattered across the floor. On the ceiling. All over you. Wes’ lifeless body at the center. Her eyes linger on him, wide and mournful.

“Baby. What have you done?”

“I had no choice.” You feel tears spill from your eyes. The awful metallic smell of blood permeates from your red hands. “He knew, Tara, he knew.”

She’s moving over to you, kneeling down to your level. You sob as you feel the warmth of her on you, her fingers on your face, brushing your blood soaked hair out of your eyes, on your shoulders, tugging you into her.

“He knew what, baby?”

She takes your hands, looking for something, inspecting. Cuts, maybe. There’s no point. It’s all his blood.

You choke back a sob. She pulls you in close.

“He knew you were Ghostface.” You say, tears are streaming thick and fast down your face now, “He came here to tell me. He didn’t know I knew.”

Your voice shakes, “He was going to go to the police, I had no choice-”

“Oh, honey.” She pulls you into her, nestles her hand in your hair. You choke back a sob. Press your face to her chest. Her scent, her arms around you soothe you instantly. But you don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve her comfort. You just killed somebody.

“Tara, what did I do?”

“Hey. It’s alright.” Her hands are either side of your face, cupping your cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.”

She presses a long kiss to your lips. Your lips quiver against hers.

“It’s all going to be okay.” She murmurs as she pulls back. You feel her take charge, “You’re going to go and get into the shower. Wash your hair. Scrub under your nails. Put the clothes you’re wearing in a plastic bag and wait for me upstairs, okay? I’m going to clean this up.”

A fresh wave of tears falls thick down your face.

“Tara-”

“Baby. I need you to be strong for me now. Okay? Tell me what you’re going to do.”

You swallow. Her voice is urgent, her eyes flitting between yours.

“Baby.”

“I’m going to shower. I’m going to wash my hair and scrub under my nails. And then I’m going to put my clothes in a plastic bag and wait for you upstairs.”

She kisses you.

“Good girl.” She murmurs against your lips, “That’s my good girl. It’s all going to be okay, sweetheart.”

You shudder as she retracts.

“Where’s your dad? What time will he be home?”

You didn’t even think about him. Panic swells in your chest, fills your eyes.

“I don’t know. God, Tara, if he comes home and sees this-”

Her hands grip firm around your shoulders.

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t panic. Just think. Where is he usually on a Friday? What time does he finish work?”

You blink, struggle as you think hard.

“Friday drinks.” You say, finally, “He goes to that bar on 2nd with his work friends. He’s not home until like eight.”

“Good.” Tara says. She presses a kiss to your forehead, “See? Everything will be fine. Now go upstairs, and do exactly what I said.”

You try not to think.

You shower, exactly like she said. Put your clothes in a bag and leave them on the bathroom floor.

Then you slip into one of Tara’s old hoodies and curl up into your duvet and press your eyes closed. Try not to think about how Wes had felt under you as you drove your knife into him. Try not to think about his screams.

She doesn’t come up for a while. You hear her down there, moving around. You can smell the bleach wafting up the staircase. Finally, after what seems like hours she’s moving into the bathroom and turning on the water.

She’s naked when she emerges, drops her towel and rifles through your wardrobe for an outfit. Slips on a pair of your sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“What did you do with him?” Is the first thing you say. Salt on your lips from the tears. You can still taste the metallic twang of his blood.

“Don’t worry about that. Come on sweetheart, we’re leaving.” She pulls you up out of bed, wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

The kitchen is immaculate. Scrubbed down, perfectly clean. Almost like it never happened. There’s a large suitcase by the door when you get down the stairs. You stop in your tracks. Your heart drops.

“Tara, is he in there?”

Her hands are strong on your back as she leads you forward.

“Yes he’s in there. It’s broad daylight, sweetheart. It was the only way.”

You didn’t even think about the logistics. The clean-up. The neighbors. The body. The body that was inside your Dad’s suitcase.

“What are you going to do with him?” Bile rises in your throat. Tara rubs your back, presses her lips to the side of your head.

“It’s better if you don’t know, babe. Come on, let’s get in the car.” She tries to pull you forward, but you resist.

“Tara. I want to know.”

She stares at you for a long moment.

“I’m going to wait until it’s really late and then I’m going to drive out to the river and dump him in it.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand. She doesn’t allow you a moment longer to think.

“Baby. Come on.”

The drive home feels like a dream. You stare out through the windshield, trying to blink back your tears. Her hand grips yours tight over the center console. The radio blares some pop song. Kids play in the street. Grief washes through you. Grief you caused yourself.

Tara helps you out of the car, half carries you upstairs to her bedroom. You can’t stop thinking about him. He’d been here only a couple of weeks ago, laughing and smiling and smoking weed in the living room. The lump in your throat aches at the thought.

You curl up under Tara’s covers. Breathe deep, trying to surround yourself in her scent. You feel her tuck herself into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, not an inch of space between you. Her lips ghost the back of your neck.

“Are you hungry?” She’s murmuring, “I’m going to order us some food.”

“We’ve missed our reservation.” You say, a million miles away. You could have been there by now. Sharing a plate of sushi and holding her hand over the table.

“We’ll go next week.” She promises, as if things are perfectly normal and there isn’t a body in a suitcase in the trunk of her car. As if it isn’t your fault he’s in there.

“His mom’s going to be so upset.” You can’t stop the tears from flooding over now. You’d met Wes’ mom once. Judy, the town sheriff. She was a hard ass. And she loved her son with everything she had. Tara squeezes you tight.

“Don’t think about that, honey.”

“I’m an awful person.” You whimper.

“No you’re not. You did what you had to do.” Her voice is firm, “You were protecting me. The way I protect you.”

She kisses your neck. You close your eyes, try not to think. Feel the beat of her heart, the warmth of her body pressed against you. The sweet smell of her shampoo. Coconut, you think, coconut and vanilla.

“If you didn’t do what you did, I’d be gone now. I’d be locked away. They’d take me far away from you.”

At that, you turn in her arms. Lean up to kiss her, fierce.

“Nobody’s taking you from me.” You say. You lock your hands around her neck, brush your nose against hers. “Nobody.”

Not Wes, and certainly not Judy. You’d die without her. You’d kill to keep them from her. She’s yours. She belongs with you.

Your heartbeat steadies, slightly. You take a shaky breath as you look into the warm brown of her eyes. Brush your fingertips over the spatter of freckles across her nose. She’s everything to you. She’s more important than anyone else. Anything else.

“Nobody.” She affirms.

Next part

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #wednesday #mine #ah #fanfiction

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utterdrip · 3 months

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so since im sick ive just been laying in bed and trimming my videos and i got to my ascended astarion patch and i have a Lot of feelings lets get it

ascendant astarion gets so upset when he offers to be together forever and ur like “lol nah i just wanted some fun”

like this honestly shows that he does have some sort of affection still for the player—however’s been twisted by the ritual. but he still sees their relationship as something transactional and that’s his argument to the player: i can give you anything—so youre not going to reject me, right?

and i also found this clip at the epilogue party fascinating

because no matter the dialogue tree, it is all very shallow conversation. its him bragging about his connections, friends that want to kill him, being a puppet master, being better than cazador, and being this mix of fond and condescension towards the player

i think what he means here is that he told the player he missed them—either bc they talk back to him, they had “unique views” of the world, or they saw the bigger picture(all possible reasons he states lol) and that is his bout of sentimentality and earlier he has a hard time calling the companions his “friends” (he thinks he’s better than everyone now lol)

and honestly. its sad. its sad to see this man enforce transactional relationships with people as his means of worth—he will NEVER. never have anyone close enough to him to care. and he will never care about anyone—he will only care about what they want from him

ascended astarion i hate u but man do i feel sorry for you. but youre an idiot who brought this on urself so. nvm im not sorry anymore

#frankie posts #bg3 spoilers #all my OPINION OBVIOUSLY #long post /#frankie rambles

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feral-ballad · 7 months

Note

true love is the small stuff that isn’t small. and being silly. always being silly. i never remember the disagreements we have after we’ve talked them through, but i remember all the times we’ve gotten stoned & danced together in our underwear before the shower. i remember all the times he’s pulled me back into his arms to keep me from walking into a spider web. (this has happened like 4 times somehow, i think spiders just love the guy.) i think about all the times we’ve washed each others hair & done each others nails. the time we spend doing day to day stuff together- cleaning, cooking, moving hay, planning for the future, how nothing ever seems hard when i’m with him. and all the fun stuff too, going on walks looking for bones & going out to eat or to parties or concerts or camping with our friends. the nights that we get drunk & giggly & cuddle in bed telling each other secrets & stories about how things used to be. how much better i sleep with him crammed into my twin bed, or listening to him snore on the phone. the long car rides listening to music & talking & sharing cigarettes. i think about the time that i was inconsolably upset & he read me alice in wonderland (his favorite book) until i stopped crying & fell asleep. how natural it is. how safe it is. my first relationship was when i was really young & it was very abusive, so love was always fucked up for me. i was with people that i cared about, that i loved in some way, but it never felt the way people described, it never made my heart pound or my skin feel electric, i could barely be touched, i never felt safe or at home, i never felt like i could be myself, i was never sure, there was always a level of doubt & uncertainty & discomfort. i thought that was just how it was. it’s different with him, in a way i thought i’d never get. there’s never been a moment of doubt with him. i never really believed in love at first sight but i swear the moment i met him everything in me screamed that he was the one, that if i didn’t stop being so scared & go in headfirst i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i fall in love with him more every single day, ive never felt like this before. and the truly crazy part to me is that i know he loves me too. i believe it. even when i’m triggered or having an episode i never doubt that he loves me, he shows me in so many different ways every day that he loves me & that i can trust him. sometimes i just get so overwhelmed with love that i have to kiss every single inch of his face. i want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with him, but even if we don’t get that, if we only get a few years, a few more months, or even if it were to end tomorrow, i will never regret meeting him, falling in love with him, letting myself trust him like this. he changed me & my perception of love for the better in so many ways & also brought back a lot of things about myself that i abandoned a long time ago. i’ll love him forever, and i’ll always be grateful to him for showing me what love is actually supposed to be. (sorry this got so long haha, i just lovee talking about him & i get a lil weepy when i think about how different my life is now)

oh god… tears in my eyes….

#this particularly hurts bec it speaks to me #you’re so lovely anon #i hope you end up together in every lifetime #on love

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cyberkitty1 · 9 months

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E!42 miles x thick/chubby black reader Part 2

Part 1

warnings: lowercase intended, mean family members

she walkes up eyeing miles like he was a prey and she was hunting him down, not before looking st you with utter disgust. “ not sure how ou could pull someone like this” she days looking at miles smiling “ and eho are you?” she says sweetly, way to sweetly.

“ miles” he says plainly “ no need to be salty! you can come with me so your not as sad, how bout it?” something inside you snapped, why was she always picking on you? its not like she looked any better, she looked like wendy williams post rehab.

“ no he wouldn’t sorry” she looks over at you “ i dont think i was talking to you?” “yea just like he dosent want to talk to you, if you dont mind, or even if you do could you leave?” she scoffs “ and who do you think your talking to miss piggy? why dont YOU leave? i thought you’d be gone by now!” she laughs as if you havnt heard it before.

“ oh you want me to leave? sure ill leave just like your 4 baby daddies that dont even pay child support might i add” the whole party was looking at you guys now, music turned down

“ you know its crazy how ive sat here all these years getting bullied by you but atleast i can keep a man! girl you get pregnant every year! arnt you on baby number 6? that baby bump is more visible than that volcano on your face” miles looked at you in utter shock “ how old are you again? 25?! have you ever heard of condoms or birth control?” at this rate she might as well left because everyone was snikering and laughing “ and dont even get me started on your lifted lace and chunky make up, i may not be skinny but atleast i know my shade, you walk in here lookin like that one james charles meme DONT play with me today”

everyone goes silent she just looks at you dumbfounded “if you have anything else to say, say it now or forever hold your peace” you say one last time before she scoffs rolls her eyes and walks off.

everyone kind of goes back to normal and miles just looks at you “ ive never seen you like this before” he says looking you in your eyes “ yea, sorry i just got fed up-“ “ hey you don’t have to apologize it was actually kinda hot” you laugh a little “ thank you miles” before you can bask in the radiant feeling your aunt, your cousins mom walks up to you

“ now who do you think you are talking to my baby like that?” you look at her dumb founded “ are you kidding me? you guys only talk down on me and now you have the utter audacity to walk up to me and ask why i’m treating your daughter how her and you have been treating me for YEARS?” you pause

“ you know there is absolutely nothing stopping me form dragging you too, you’re built like your constantly taking a big breath, you got the worst camel toes i have ever seen in my ENTIRE life and now i know where your daughter gets the “have a ton of baby daddies to the point where you dont know who the father is “attitude. that reminds me arnt you pregnant with your 10th child? and your 9th baby daddy? thats a world record somehow. you should call Nick Canon up here, y’all would make great friends.”

“ don’t ever talk down on me again or there will be consequences” you say finally before grabbing miles hand and leaving the party. miles stands next to his car looking at you absolutely dumbfounded “ what?” you ask confused “ you just dragged yo auntie in front of everyone! what do you mean what? ive never seen you stand up for yourself like this i’m proud of you” he says giving you a kiss on the cheek.

i just imagine you doing that like ugly giggle he loves lmao

🏷️ @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf @be3_Fl0w3er @piopio @hoodypunpurri @hiyoo-o @enchanting-violet @inluvwithneteyam

if y’all think this is cringe lmk so i can remake it lmao

#miles morales #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #fluff #across the spiderverse #cyberkitty1 #bad bitty #thick reader #chubby reader #black reader #memes lmao #dragged #lifted lace #miles g morales

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humanpurposes · 11 months

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My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part iv, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // For fear that you'll find out, how I'm imagining you

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, cursed dinner party, toxic family dynamics, Targaryen men being the worst

Words: 5700

A/n: Also available to read on AO3. And I made a Series Playlist :)

Over the last two months, finishing her thesis, taking exams, sending off masters applications and keeping track of a boyfriend has left little room in her mind for Aemond Targaryen.

For the last month or so she’s hardly even seen him. On the weekdays she gets up early and spends all day in the library. On the weekends she goes to Cregan’s place in central. He goes to the gym with Jace on Saturday morning and on Sundays he usually has a rugby match. Between that they watch movies in his room, go for drinks with his friends and sometimes she drags him around her favourite museums.

The sex is good. For a bulky guy with a nose piercing and sleeve tattoos of wolves and weirwood trees, Cregan is surprisingly gentle. He makes her cum on his tongue, then he leans over to fuck her with his hands pressed into the mattress, looking between her eyes and the space where their bodies meet. He doesn’t say much, a few strained “oh Gods” and a grunted “fuck” when he comes. When they’re done he falls into the bed beside her, throwing an arm around her while he rambles about whatever happens to be on his mind, exams, internships, summer plans…

She’s happy to rest her head against him, listening to the humming of his chest as he speaks, letting it lull her as she slips into her own mind. Sometimes she still feels a little empty when it’s over and doesn’t have the energy to go for another round. She puts it down to stress. Or hormones. Or something.

Now, being on the other side of everything she realises time is passing too quickly for her liking.

Joan Jett blasts through the car speakers while Alys and Cregan go on about the season finale of some drama series she’s not kept up with.

Alys loves Cregan. Everyone loves Cregan because he’s a people person. He speaks to everyone he meets like they’re already lifelong friends and he has a remarkable talent for finding common interests. If she were cynical she would say he’s palatable.

The weather has been perfect so far, bright and sunny but with enough of a breeze that the heat isn’t unbearable. Ideal for the graduation ceremony.

She looks through the recent photos in her phone. She took a few nice ones of the Sept, the nave lined with columns and towering statues of the Seven watching over the cohort of students in red and black robes. She keeps swiping through photos of her and some of her classmates on the front steps tossing their hats in the air, a few of her and Joanna, one of her and Cregan, and one of her and Alys.

Sometimes she thinks she looks nothing like her mother, but when they smile they look strikingly similar.

Everything had paid off in the end, the study dates with Joanna, the all-nighters, the last minute breakdowns crying over the kitchen counter with Alys. But she’s proud that she did it all on her own. Especially given how helpful Aemond had been last year. Just thinking about it makes her heart sink.

He’d been living with them for a few months by then. They were comfortable with each other, existing in the same spaces, eating dinner and watching movies together when Alys was out or working late.

Sometimes he’d put his arm around the back of the sofa, letting her lean into him while they watched 90s thrillers, leaning into her every so often to make a joke or a profound observation. They could analyse movies forever, staying up late until their eyes were tired, leaning in closer and closer and never really realising it.

And then when exams came around, the stress just got to her. “It’s half the suffering,” Alys insisted, “you’re not doing yourself any favours, so don’t do it.” Easier said than done.

There was one particular module on Conflicts in the Modern Era that was chipping away at her sanity. It was her last exam of the year and every time she went over her notes she just felt hopeless.

Aemond offered to help her study. He had loads of notes and old assignments on his laptop from his undergrad and his masters. They spent hours in the dining room, going over readings and practice questions.

He would sit next to her, leaning over every so often to read through what she was working on. Every hand on her shoulder, every reassuring “hmm,” or utterance of “good girl,” when she got something right sent shivers down her spine.

She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t exactly want it to stop.

The exam ended up going a lot better than she anticipated. She opened the paper and instantly saw that, by some miracle, there were a few questions similar to the ones she had done with Aemond.

She came home ecstatic. Alys was at work but Aemond was home, loitering in the kitchen. She practically leapt into his arms when she saw him, telling him every detail she could think of with a huge smile on her face.

Aemond’s hands settled on her waist. He leaned into her until all she could see were his bright, blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you baby,” he said in a voice that made her breathless.

He leaned in further until his lips were on hers, soft and warm, kissing her tentatively. She thought it might be over quickly, until she reached up, teasing her fingertips over the nape of his neck while his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper.

When they pulled away, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against her and smiled. She smiled back.

But she snaps out of that trance when she realises they’re pulling into the driveway.

She looks across at Alys for a moment, laughing at something Cregan just said.

Her chest feels like it might crush under the weight of it all, but time presses on and things seem to be moving forward for the better. She’s happy with Cregan. Who wouldn’t be? He’s funny, smart, maybe a little over confident at times but she can forgive that. And she’s got the whole summer before she starts her masters. With Cregan in the picture she figured she might as well stay at KLU. He’s been trying to convince her to move in the flat with him. There’s no reason not to, it’s close to campus, his flatmates are nice and they seem to keep the place clean. She keeps saying she’ll think about it.

He reaches for her hand as Alys leads them through the front door.

The house looks immaculate and it fills her with dread.

Alys has decided to use her graduation as an opportunity to host a family dinner. Maybe she’s intending it to be a grand offering of peace, maybe she just wants to show off, or maybe she’s just lost her mind because putting two halves of a warring family in the same room seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Not to mention she’ll have to introduce everyone to Cregan.

The dreamy rhythm of a Mazzy Star song drifts from the kitchen. Aemond is leaning over the counter, in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, prepping a rack of lamb. She tries not to look at his hands as he takes pinches of salt, pepper and spices between his fingers.

Alys heads straight for the vodka, offering a round of martinis before the dreaded guests arrive.

She and Cregan both decline politely, and when Alys turns to Aemond he purses his lips. “I don’t drink vodka martinis.”

Alys rolls her eyes. “Thinks he’s so sophisticated,” she says to Cregan.

Cregan chuckles and plants a light kiss to her cheek, muttering about taking a shower and disappears down the hall.

Her eyes meet Aemond’s for a moment. He smiles sincerely. He’s playing one of her favourite songs.

She tells her mother she’s going to get dressed, and feels Aemond’s eyes following her as she heads upstairs.

When she gets to her room she puts her graduation robes on a hanger and lies on the bed in the black slip dress she wore underneath. Something’s pressing awkwardly into her back, Cregan’s jeans and t-shirt. She tosses them across the room and falls back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling and listening to the hum of the shower.

Is it unfair to hate someone for listening to a song? Did he remember it was her favourite or was it a lucky guess? Maybe he was trying to tease her, or else it could have just been a coincidence, but that doesn’t seem like him. Aemond rarely does anything accidentally.

Cregan saunters in with a towel around his hips. He looks down at his clothes on the floor in front of the door. “Not where I left them,” he mutters.

She pretends not to hear him.

He gets dressed quickly, all he has to do is put on his jeans and clean white shirt.

“How many people are coming tonight?” He asks, spraying some perfume on his pulse points.

She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. “Viserys, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Baela, Aegon and Helaena.” Luke and Rhaena were going to stay home with Joffrey, and Daeron would still be in Sunspear until the end of the month. Just as well, there would already be too many people to keep track of.

“I hear some of the family stuff from Jace,” Cregan says, “sounds like a mess.”

She hums to herself. “Oh, you have no idea.”

She takes her hair out of its low bun and fixes it into a more casual look, leaving it mostly loose but out of her face. Her makeup has managed to survive the day pretty well. She touches up her blush and wipes away her lipstick, applying a sweet tasting cherry lipbalm instead.

When they reappear in the kitchen Alys is nowhere to be found but Aegon and Helaena have already arrived.

Aegon and Cregan pair up nicely, swigging bottles of beer while Aemond pours out three gin and tonics.

She compliments Helaena’s patterned skirt and red boots. In return she admires her dress. “You two are matching,” she says, as Aemond hands them both their drinks.

He raises his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth are tight. “Happy coincidence.”

“Black’s not exactly a fashion statement,” she adds, taking a sip.

Aemond hums in agreement.

She takes a breath to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asks Helaena, “didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Helaena’s doing a PhD in Etymology at Highgarden, between that and her various art projects she seems happy, but something’s off. She’s never exactly been outgoing but she seems particularly timid, wide eyes darting constantly to Aemond and Aegon. She’s nervous, but in all fairness they all are. Or they should be.

While Helaena goes on about species of butterflies, she finds her attention almost completely on Aemond, his hand gripping his glass in the corner of her eye, the sound of his breath, those well timed hums and the smell of his aftershave. She takes another sip of her drink to steady her nerves, hoping neither of them notice her hand trembling as she brings the glass to her lips.

Eventually Alys waltzes in with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Baela and Jace following behind her. That seems like a good opportunity to escape. She goes to hug Jace and Baela, and follows them when they go to stand with Aegon and Cregan.

The tension is palpable, Alys having a stiff conversation with Rhaenyra, Daemon lurking at the edge of the room with a glass of whisky, and Jace stealing glances over her shoulder, at Aemond and Helaena.

She catches whispers of their conversation but nothing tangible.

“What’s your problem?” Baela hisses to Jace.

He tuts. “He’s staring daggers at me, fuck’s sake.”

Aegon’s lips thin. He excuses himself curtly and joins his siblings by the glass doors to the garden.

Their little group falls to an uneasy silence.

“Well done, dickhead,” Baela says, rolling her eyes.

Cregan gives her a confused look. She puts her hand on his shoulder and comes onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’ll show you the powerpoint presentation later.”

Somehow the mood only gets colder when Viserys and Alicent walk through the door. It’s almost pitiful, watching Rhaenyra and Daemon trying to win his attention while Alicent keeps her hand on her husband’s shoulder, muttering into his ear whenever she can.

Not speaking to Aemond has meant she’s mostly been out of the loop, but she can guess they’ve not moved past the dispute over Viserys’ will.

Helaena and Aegon both go to greet their parents. It’s cordial at best, light hugs and pecks on the cheek, and Viserys shakes Aegon’s hand like this is the first time they’ve met. Aemond doesn’t go near them.

The lack of warmth is only more noticeable when Viserys greets Jace and Baela with open arms and a pleasant smile. He hugs her too, congratulating her— after all that is why they’re here— and shakes Cregan’s hand firmly.

She catches Aegon’s eye over his father’s shoulder. He frowns, almost comically and goes to find another bottle of beer.

Before long Alys ushers them all into the dining room.

Alys and Viserys sit at the two heads of the table and the others fill in around them. When they see Alicent has taken the seat to Viserys’ right, Rhaenyra and Daemon move to the other end of the table. Helaena sits next to her dad and they both smile vaguely. Aemond, rather diplomatically, takes a central seat between Aegon and Rhaenyra.

In an attempt to avoid sitting across from either of his uncles, Jace settles next to Alys, and once Cregan sits next to him, the only free seat is directly opposite Aemond. She sits down without a fuss.

Once everyone is a bit more settled, Aemond and Alys go back to the kitchen to bring in small plates of salad and seared tuna.

It starts off with smalltalk. Cregan and Jace are muttering to each other on her left, while Baela and Helaena have a friendly catch up to her right, leaving her to prod at her starter, waiting for an appetite to appear.

She doesn’t dare to look up past the space in front of her plate, or the pair of eyes she can feel burning into her.

Once they’re finished, the plates are whisked away and Aemond presents them with lamb chops, fondant potatoes and summer greens, while Alys pours out glasses of red wine.

Viserys’ knife scratches against his plate as he carves into the meat. “Really excellent lamb, Alys.”

“Aemond did the food,” she says.

He pauses, looks down at his plate and carries on eating.

She hears Jace whispering something into Cregan’s ear and they both grunt in amusement.

“Something funny?” Aegon asks sharply, reaching for his glass.

She finally looks across the table. Aegon’s face is a dangerous mix of anger and anticipation.

“Just admiring Aemond’s culinary skills,” Jace muses, spearing a cut of lamb on his fork, “didn’t realise he’d gone domestic.”

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra hisses.

Aegon huffs but keeps his mouth shut with a stern look from Aemond.

Viserys’ attention suddenly latches onto his grandson. The rest of the table falls quiet while he asks Jace about his exam results. 65 average. Just a few marks off a first.

Aegon nudges his brother but Aemond doesn’t react.

Their father seems to notice. “Jacaerys is shadowing me for the summer,” he says pointedly.

Aegon finishes off his glass and immediately refills it.

“Not coming to Dragonstone, then?” Helaena pipes up in a brighter tone, leaning to look at Jace.

The ancestral home of the Targaryen family, a beautiful estate along the coast outside the city. It’s more of a castle than a house really, passed down the generations over centuries. They use it as a holiday home now.

She went with the Strongs one summer. Ten weeks of beach trips, reading by the pool and fresh seafood for dinner every evening. It was the first time she really remembers meeting the Targaryen siblings. Aemond seemed so quiet then, always with his nose in a book. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Cregan’s voice in her ear takes her by surprise. “You alright?” He asks, stroking his hand along the silky black fabric on her thigh. “You looked a bit lost there for a moment.”

She can see Aemond looking at her in the corner of her eye. “I’m fine,” she says, pushing Cregan’s hand away.

“We’re just a little busy at the moment,” Rhaenyra says, “work is… hectic.”

Alicent visibly bristles.

“Might make it down for a few weeks, if the boss lets me off,” Jace says.

“I’m excited to have you,” Viserys says, “good to get him used to the order of things nice and early.”

“Yeah, amazing what you can do when you have everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter,” Aegon says, casually taking a long draw from his glass.

Alicent and Rhaenyra look horrified. Daemon and Viserys are both clenching their fists.

“He says as if Otto Hightower didn’t have to buy him a place at KLU,” Jace retorts.

Aegon shrugs. “So what if he did? Got the degree, didn’t I?”

“And what have you done with it?” Viserys says in a scathing voice, “bought a flat with my money. Drank and screwed your way through life with no concern for your career or your family.”

Aegon tuts. “The fuck does that mean, family?”

“Leave it,” Aemond mutters and the table settles into an uncomfortable quiet.

“At least Jace has some direction,” Viserys says, breaking the silence. For a moment his eyes dart to his wife.

Alicent’s brown eyes are wide and glassy. “And my children don’t?”

She watches Aemond’s lips flicker into a sneer before he composes himself and goes back to staring vacantly at his untouched glass.

“That’s not what I meant, love–”

Daemon chuckles quietly. “And yet…”

Alicent slams her knife against the table with a jarring clatter. “Maybe they would have amounted to something more if you had shown even the slightest bit of interest in your own children!”

A chair scrapes against the floor and Helaena’s silver hair billows behind her as she leaves the dining room.

Baela grabs her wrist and pulls her to stand. “Excuse us,” she says sweetly. Not that anyone will hear her over the shouting match brewing between Alicent and Daemon.

They find Helaena in the lounge, on the sofa, picking at her nails.

“Hey,” Baela whispers, coming to hold her hands so she stops.

Helaena looks up at them with glistening blue eyes and a trembling lip. It’s the first time she’s really seen the resemblance between her and Alicent.

Raised voices echo from down the hall. By the sounds of things Aegon and Viserys have joined in too.

Helaena releases her hands from Baela’s and presses her palms to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking a few shallow gasps. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Baela hums in agreement.

Tears start to trickle from her eyes. “I used to love hanging out with you and Jace and everyone. I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”

She isn’t sure what to do. She feels so helpless just watching Helaena as she starts to cry. Baela sits next to her and puts her arm around her shoulders.

And while the arguing persists, Helaena eventually starts to calm down a little, wiping her tears on her sleeve and leaning into Baela. “We missed dessert,” she sighs.

“We have ice-cream in the freezer,” she says, “strawberry or vanilla?”

And just like that her face lights up. “Both.”

“Noted. Baela?”

Baela smiles sympathetically. “Strawberry please.”

She catches fragments of the insults being thrown around the dining room as she walks past. “Hightower leech”, “spoiled cunt”.

She sees a figure in a black shirt through the frosted glass door to the kitchen. She holds her breath as she opens the door.

Aemond is leaning over the counter, fiddling with a packet of cigarettes. He looks up as soon as he hears the door. She lets it close behind her and leans against it.

He stares at her with a tight jaw, a sad little pout on his lips and a slight scrunch in his nose. Despite everything she can’t help but feel sorry for him.

She tuts to herself and goes to place two bowls and two spoons on the counter, avoiding Aemond’s gaze.

Not my problem.

She goes towards the freezer and hears Aemond sigh heavily behind her. She hovers her hand over the handle.

Not my problem. Not my problem. Not my problem.

“Is it stupid of me to ask if you’re alright?” She asks, turning to fave him.

One of his wide plams is pressed against the counter, his legs crossed casually at the ankle. “No.”

“And are you alright?”

His nostrils flare as he takes a slow breath. “I told her this would be a bad idea,” he says, tapping the box against the counter. “But what do I know, it’s only my fucking family.”

The way the light shines on his face makes the scar over his left eye seem like a shadow. She’s never asked about the details of what happened, but then he doesn’t like to talk about it.

Two months ago she would have held his hand or pulled him into her arms when he was this anxious.

But things have changed now.

“Aemond, I–”

“Babe?”

She whips her head round to see Cregan and Jace standing in the doorway. Guilt twinges in her chest and she doesn’t know why. A conversation is nothing to be ashamed of, surely? She hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Baela and Helaena are in the lounge, right?” Cregan asks.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They both glare at Aemond before they leave. When she turns to face him, he’s looking back with a cold indifference.

“He seems nice,” Aemond says once they're gone. “Palatable.”

She starts to drag her teeth over her bottom lip but stops herself. Aemond’s eyes are so intense, glaring from across the room with a dangerous look of fury and sadness. That’s exactly how he looked at her, the night of the wedding, when they were in her hotel room. When he asked her about Cregan then she liked how it made him jealous.

Her blood starts to simmer, a feeling that cuts deeper and hurts more than hate. “Is this it then?” She says.

His brows scrunch into a frown, but his wide eyes seem more bewildered than anything. “What do you mean?”

It’s like a switch clicks in her brain and something in her heart dies. These last few weeks, even with things going so well with Cregan, she’s carried Aemond with her, hoping that one day she’d wake up and things would have worked out differently. It’s what she’s been doing for the last year anyway, she just never managed to break the habit.

It has to end somewhere, the lying, the guilt, and the naivety that she meant something more to him than a pretty face and a convenient fuck.

She needs to let go and she’s known that for a long time.

“Forget it. You’ve made your side of things clear,” she says, her voice starting to tremble. “This was never going to end well and I should have thought about that before I led myself on.”

She takes a step towards the door but he’s in front of her, keeping her between the freezer and the counter.

“Do you love him?” Aemond mutters, quickly and quietly.

She can feel her heart beating in her throat.

“Do I… what?”

He takes advantage of her hesitation. His hand clamps around her wrist as he moves to the door. It takes a few moments to realise he’s dragging her with him.

The door to the lounge is shut. She hears Cregan’s booming laugh on the other side as Aemond leads her further along the hallway.

And suddenly they’re in the downstairs bathroom. She stands in front of the sink, staring at her own reflection as the lock clicks.

She watches Aemond in the mirror. The room is small and narrow, even when he’s standing by the door he’s close. Then he starts to close the distance between them with slow, taunting steps until he’s standing over her.

She can feel him and smell his aftershave, the bitterness of gin and the sweetness of red wine.

There’s that dark look in his eye again, determined, and hungry.

“Did you really think I’d let you keep up this pathetic little act?” He murmurs, eyes fixed on hers through the glass.

“What act?”

She lets out a little gasp when he places a hand on her hip and pushes his hips against her, grinding a growing hardness against her so subtly he might not be moving at all.

He leans into her but no part of him makes contact with her skin. She shudders at the heat of his breath running over her ear, neck and shoulders. “I said you were needy, didn’t I?”

Her shoulders flinch when a single fingertip touches the nape of her neck. He draws it gradually along her spine as she desperately resists the urge to cry out at the tingling sensation it brings, arching against him because her body has nowhere else to go.

“And so sensitive,” he says and stops just as he reaches her lower back. “It was all for me, wasn’t it? The crop tops, the staring, even Stark, you just wanted a reaction.”

She’s always been a good liar but when she opens her mouth to reply she finds she just can’t do it. She doesn’t want to, not when he places his hand on her side and traces over the curves of her waist, her hips, the pouch of her stomach and her thighs. It’s been so long since they’ve been this close, and it’s not close enough.

“You stopped wanting me,” she breathes.

“Stupid little slut,” he says, leaning his chin over her shoulder. He starts dragging both hands down her thighs, taking the hem of her dress with him as he moves back up. “How could I ever stop wanting you?” His voice is harsh and hypnotic all at once. Cold and unforgiving. It sets her skin alight and leaves her wanting more.

But it doesn’t make sense. He was the one who left the hotel room.

“I don’t understand… this isn’t fair.”

“But you and I both know you don’t like to play fair,” he rasps, tracing circles over the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing over the hem of her panties.“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

She bites down on her lip to stop herself whimpering at his touch.

He groans as his head falls against her neck, hands still pawing at her legs and the dress hitched around her waist. “Let me fuck you,” he utters in that low voice that means it’s taking every ounce of effort to hold himself back. “I know what you need. Just be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Anticipation floods her body. She can feel her self-control slipping. She can’t think straight, can’t think past him or a world beyond this moment.

She wants it too much to feel guilty, for now at least.

“Please,” she utters.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Suddenly his soft touches are gone and he yanks her panties down to her knees. One hand slides between her legs, prying them open enough so he can circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. The other snakes up her body and takes a gentle hold of her throat.

He finally brings his lips to her cheek. They graze over her skin as he mutters, “you said something to me, that night. What was it?”

She scoffs. “You’re such a cunt.” She can hear how weak her voice is as she says it.

“Mouth on you, baby,” he coos, “come on, I know you remember.”

She shakes her head fervently, hoping she can focus on the movements of his fingers, the pleasure building and building inside her.

“I want to hear you say it, baby.”

She lets herself melt against him, clinging desperately on his arms, breathless but defiant as she meets his eyes in the mirror.

With a short huff he withdraws his hand, but keeps her against him by her neck. He easily undoes the buckle on his belt, bringing his trousers down just enough to free his cock.

She bucks her hips on instinct as he slides the tip through her folds, gathering her wetness, and smiling when he realises responsive she is to him.

“Have you always been this restless? Or have you just missed me?”

Her head hangs slightly as he teases between her entrance and her clit. She can feel how thick his cock is, how hard he is and she already knows it’s going to make her feel so fucking good.

The grip on her neck becomes firmer, demanding her attention back to the mirror. He holds her gaze as he slides into her tight, slick cunt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “look at how well you take that.”

He’s right. The sight of her pleading face and parted lips as he holds her and pushes deeper inside of her only adds to her arousal.

He fucks her slowly, precisely, placing a hand on her stomach and pressing into her while the impact of his thrusts are muffled by fabric.

“Can you feel that?” He whispers, “can you feel how tight you are? Can you feel how deep that is?”

“Ah— fuck, yes…” she chokes, savouring the burn and the stretch of his cock as he drags through her walls and hits her sweet spot. When his fingers come back to circle her clit it all becomes so light and perfect and deliciously overwhelming.

“I knew you still wanted me,” he pants between the gentle kisses to her cheek. “Say it.”

“No,” she manages to whimper.

“Say it.”

Her orgasm comes as a sudden burst of warmth and Aemond isn’t far behind, suppressing a grunt as his hips still and his cock throbs inside her.

A few moments pass and he turns her head towards him, keeping his eyes on her lips. He leans in to kiss her and she twists her head to the other side.

“Fucking brat.”

Suddenly he brings her to face him fully, effortlessly lifting her by her thighs to rest her against the edge of the sink.

There’s no teasing this time, no pretence, just need. He pushes himself into her in one cruel snap of his hips.

He’s too impatient to give her time to adjust before he starts to fuck her, fiercely and without mercy, hands digging into the flesh of her rear, pulling her in over and over again. He brings his forehead against hers, glaring into her eyes like he hates her.

But like this she can wrap her arms around his neck, hold him even closer and lose herself in just him.

“All you need to remember is you’re mine. You’re fucking mine and you know it.”

Tears well in her eyes and she can only take what he gives her. “Fuck… Aemond...”

Her climax builds until it’s almost excruciating, and then it tears through her, a release unlike anything she’s known for months. She keeps her arms tight around him, burying her face into his neck as her thighs shake and her whole body tenses and trembles.

Aemond doesn’t stop, fucking her through it until she’s writhing with the overstimulation.

“Too much,” she whines, “fuck it’s too much!”

He clasps a hand over her mouth to muffle her protest, dangerously echoing on the tiled walls and floors. He comes again, gnawing at his lip to keep himself quiet and spilling deep inside her as tears stream from her cheeks.

He admires the mess they’ve made as he pulls out, her cream on his cock and his cum leaking from her quivering cunt. His eyes flicker back to her face, his expression softening and his lips curling into a half smile.

Dazed and still desperate she leans into him, but her lips barely get to graze his before he pulls away.

“Oh now you want to kiss me?”

She frowns, which only seems to amuse him.

By the way he grabs her jaw she doesn’t need to be told what to do. She offers him her tongue and swallows when he spits into her mouth.

A satisfied groan rumbles in his chest and her belly flutters in anticipation, as if he hasn’t just made her come twice, as if she can’t feel his spend starting to drip down her thighs.

He slips her off the sink and kneels down to pull her panties up her legs. Then he fixes her skirt, smoothing down the fabric with his palms.

“You’re going to be civil,” he murmurs, one of his hands coming to fix her hair. “You’re going to go back out there, kiss your boyfriend on the cheek, but I want you to think about me. Think about how good I make you feel. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words, baby,” he says as his hand comes to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says softly, leaning in to plant an almost chaste kiss to her lips.

She tries for more but he steps away, eyes roaming over her to make sure she’s presentable.

With a vague “hmm,” he carefully unlocks the door and slowly steps out. He shoots her a quick wink before he closes the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway back towards the kitchen.

Her legs almost give out underneath her and she clutches the sink to keep herself standing.

That certainly wasn’t how she was expecting this evening to go.

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to show her face and go about pretending like nothing’s happened in front of their families. Maybe she’ll rediscover her ability to lie, kiss Cregan on the cheek and play the part of the sweet girlfriend, but what kind of person will that make her?

She looks at her reflection, at the glimmer of blissful tears and sweat on her face.

A familiar laugh drifts down the hall.

How is she ever going to look her mother in the eye again?

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #modern!aemond #modern au #house of the dragon fanfiction #stepdad!aemond #my heart belongs to daddy

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shadowbriar · 10 months

Text

Regulus Black - Supermassive Black Hole IV

Pairing : Regulus Black x (she/her) Selwyn!Reader Word Count : 4.2k Warning : Food. Height. Fluff. Synopsis : A simple arrangement turned into an everlasting one as two naïve children try to figure out their heart. Notes : I'm sorry it's taking forever for me to post this, I had a change of heart of how the plot should go and tbh I still dk how to end this story so bear with me please. If you'd like to be tagged for the next chapters, please comment or reblog so I can add you to the tag list. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Taglist: strikethrough means I could not tag you. @lostarc24 @hogwartshouse @milivanili99 @stelleduarte @40rimm @lilmaymayy @mischiefmanagers

↞ Part III

Regulus rolled over to the other side of the bed for the millionth time now. His eyes were staring at the clock by the bedside table, watching as its hands moved and ticks with every second passed. He knew that he had to get up, sooner or later, be it from the knock on his door or the unbearable hunger in his stomach. He barely ate last night. His head was spinning, heavy from the unpleasant memories and regret of his once again apathetic gesture towards her.

It must’ve been her worst birthday party. He spoiled it all the moment he walked in on her and Rosier. Perhaps he should have minded his own business. She has all the right to kiss Rosier if she wanted to, it’s the least bit of freedom he could give to her, but Regulus couldn’t help but feel a little bit triumphant when she seemed to be uninterested in him. That she too finds the idea of kissing Rosier to be baffling.

A loud groan escapes his lips when the next memory floods in. Regret beyond imagination is sticking to his skin like a muck. He wonders what would happen if he did what she asked him, if he would just lean in and kiss her. Would that be a great gift he could’ve given to her? Or would it’ve been a one way ticket to hell for him?

Reaching for his jumper, Regulus finally stood up and walked out of the room. He figures it would be worse to have her knocking on his door than to face her willingly. He could perhaps piece some words to meet her with a cool head than to have him caught red handed.

“Morning,” He greets her as he reaches the dining table.

She looks up to see him, her shoulders slightly tense and it makes Regulus bite his inner cheek a little harder, “Morning.”

Regulus kept his lips in a tight line. He took a seat opposite of her. His fingers locked to each other, an attempt to soothe himself as his brain tries to make some coherent explanation. It proves to be a harder task to do each day whenever she is in the equation.

“Listen, about last night—”

“You’re right,” She cuts in “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying so if we could just.. Forget about what I said, I think that would be best for us all.”

Regulus opens his mouth, wanting to argue with her but finds himself nodding and turning silent, trying to ignore the loud cracking of his heart. Her words twisted a knife in his heart. Somehow he hoped that his words were lies, that she was sober and she really wanted him to kiss her. It wasn’t like he saw her drink anything, anyway. But who was he kidding? There would be no chance in this universe that she would want him to kiss her. No chance. None.

She flashes him a small smile before looking back down to her toasts.

Now what? Regulus thought. Where does it leave them at? He knew that he still owes her an explanation. About the Greengrass, about Rosier, about everything, but is right now the best time to bring it up? And what could he say about it? The truth? Would that do them better or worse?

“Do you have any plans for the day?” Regulus finds himself asking.

She pinched her brows, shaking her head, “I don’t think so, no.”

He hums in acknowledgement.

“Well actually, there’s this theme park I wanted to go to with Sirius.”

Regulus nods, finding himself to be more heartbroken, “Right.”

“But if you’d like to come—,”

“Yes.” He says, a little bit too excited for his liking.

“—I can cancel on Sirius.”

Regulus clears his throat, attempting to conceal his embarrassment as her brows rise. His excitement was surely out of character. Something the reserved, quiet, and collected Regulus never does. But then again, he could never be his usual apathetic self whenever it comes to her now, could he?

He wonders what her pinched brows and confused eyes mean. Was it really that appalling that he wanted to go to the theme park with her? Was it wrong of him to show excitement for her offer?

She blinks. Seemingly taken aback to his agreement but her smile slowly blooms. A sight that would be replayed in his head repeatedly before he sleeps tonight, “Alright.”

—-

She finds her teeth slightly chattering from the cold. The weather was playing with her. It was bright and hot when they first came out of the house, but now that the sun is slowly retreating, the wind blows stronger and colder. She was never good with coldness in the first place but she certainly didn’t think it would be this cold tonight. Her thin layer of flannel did not help to preserve warmth and she knew she was pretty much screwed for the rest of the night.

Her knuckles were turning white, body shuddering as she tried to gain some warmth. She could see Regulus glancing at her every once in a while but he never said a word. She knew that he could tell that she was freezing. Hands burrowed deep into the pocket of his coat, Regulus is warm and cosy under his thick layer of wool coat and it's surely shredding all of her dignity to say it but Regulus was right, she should’ve brought a coat.

“Quite the gentleman, you are.” She remarks between her chatter.

“One warm gentleman, indeed.” He says, snuggling into his coat as he sighs “The weather is so nice tonight.”

She glares, certainly not appreciating his sarcasm.

“I’ve told you to bring a coat,” He says as a matter of factly “I’m not going to give you mine, just because you’re cold now. Even if you’re freezing yourself to death and begging me for it.”

“Oh just how chivalrous of a man you are, Regulus.”

He shrugs, buttoning his coat and snuggling deeper to it.

“I am not cold and I most certainly will not ask for your coat.” She replies, her anger giving her the slight raise of temperature “Don’t worry your infuriating little mind about me, Reg.”

Regulus smiles jubilantly, nodding.

She turns to look away, finding herself conflicted once again with his charms. On one side she wanted to slap that enchanting little smirk off of his face but a bigger part of her wanted to take a picture of him and keep it in her pocket.

Regulus has been smiling a lot today, so she noticed. He was beautiful. More beautiful than she remembered him. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she could stare on his face straight on instead of stealing glances like she used to or perhaps Regulus has just simply been enjoying their time, she couldn’t really tell. All she knew is that he looks beautiful this way and she hoped he would show this side more to her.

Now they’re standing in line, waiting for their turn to try on the rollercoaster. Regulus notes lazily that it wouldn’t be much worse than flying for quidditch. He’s played some of the most brutal games as a Slytherin quidditch player, but James said that rollercoasters are worse than flying and she told him exactly that.

“You can hold my hand if it’s too scary for you.” Regulus said as they put on their seatbelt.

If he didn’t have that mocking smirk on his face she would have let herself blush and enjoy the butterflies in her stomach, but instead she rolled her eyes, “You wish.”

But boy, how right James is.

Regulus seemed to be having the time of his life through the loops of the track as she screamed her lungs and clung onto him for dear life. He was laughing, happy cheers escaping his lips. If she wasn’t fighting for her life she would’ve been hypnotised by the happy scream Regulus was shouting. Funny how the one time Regulus truly enjoys their shared moment is when she’s trying her best to not shat her pants.

When the cart stopped, Regulus turned to see how tightly she’s been holding his hand. He smiled at the sight but bit it down and turned the other way before she could see it. She was still panting from the adrenaline but a bright smile was evident on her face. She too seemed to be enjoying the ride.

“Shall we go for another round?”

“I’d love to, but I’m not a big fan of the queueing line.” She says, peeking out “It seems to be longer than before.”

“Well, that’s why we’ve got wands, isn’t it?” Regulus says as he takes out his wand from his coat pocket.

“Regulus, what are you doing?”

Before he could utter the spell, she hurriedly pushed his wand away, widening her eyes in disapproval as Regulus kept his nonchalant self, “What?”

“You can’t use magic in the presence of muggles.” She scolds “What on Earth were you thinking?”

“You said you didn’t want to queue. We could just do a little confundus charm and they wouldn’t know a thing.”

Her jaw dropped, completely horrified at his mischief.

“Just relax.”

“No,” She said before he could take out his wand again “You’re not going to use your magic here.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Why not?”

“Will you two get off? We have a long queue.”

Regulus' glare was certainly terrifying that it made the operator step back, looking intimidated. The boy didn’t look much older than them which made her feel even more sympathetic that she pulled Regulus' arm, dragging him out of the cart with angry steps.

He followed her, a small smile was still tugged on his lips as he watched her. She was evidently seething, for whatever reason he couldn’t understand. He only wanted to make her happy. She said she wanted to go for another round and didn’t want to queue, so what exactly is the issue with doing a little confundus charm? It’s not like anyone would know.

“Alright, ground rule for the rest of the night.” She says as they stopped, turning to face him “No magic. No matter how simple the spell is, or how insignificant it is in your eyes, no magic is allowed.”

“Why?”

She widens her eyes, appalled, “You know why!”

Regulus couldn’t contain his laughter now. Her reaction warms his heart. He finds it adorable how she’s so worked up over little mischief he’s sure no one would bat an eye for. It fascinates him how for once he’s finally the troublemaker instead of the voice of reason. Being in a trio with Rosier and Crouch, Regulus has always been the moral police instead of the third rascal.

“Fine,” He says, messing her hair “No magic for the rest of the night.”

She was stupefied then. His beautiful smile, the tender noise and his gentle gesture, it feels like the Regulus she’s always dreamed of is finally hers. Her cheeks were turning rosy, flustered by the enchanting side he’s showing at the moment.

“Don’t do that,” She says, slapping his hand away from her head “No messing my hair either.”

“You’re blushing.” He remarks with a satisfied smile.

“I most certainly am not.” She argues “It’s from the cold air.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re cold now?”

She glares, not saying a word.

“I’m still not giving you my coat.” He says.

“I did not say I was cold nor was I asking for it.” She spat with evident vexation “Has anyone ever told you just how much of a pain you are, Regulus?”

He shrugs, “Only on my good days.”

She rolled her eyes, taking steps away from him.

Regulus was toying with her, she knew it, and as much as she tries not to give the reaction he’s craving for, she couldn’t help but to give it. He was always right, always so perfect for her to ever be truly angry. The fact that he’s being so lovely tonight makes it impossible for her to hold a grudge longer than three seconds.

“So where to next?” He asked, matching his pace with her.

“We’ve ridden all of the rides,” She says, looking around the park “But one.”

The rogue on her cheeks turn darker as she stares at the Ferris wheel. The stories of her muggleborn friends about how romantic Ferris wheel rides are, echo in her head. She didn’t understand what was so special about the ride. They could certainly just get on their broom to go up and see the city lights but muggles seem to romanticise the ride a lot and she couldn’t help but to hope to feel such romantism with him.

“Alright, shall we go then?”

She turns to meet eyes with him, nodding.

Now they find themselves sitting in one of the cabins. She couldn’t find it in her to see his face because she knew she would be blushing hard once again. The excitement is building up, making her giddy and skittish. She could only hope that the tapping of her feet wasn’t that obvious for him to notice.

“You alright?”

She nods, not facing him, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

Regulus finds it odd how she’s suddenly looking away, not sparing a second to see him ever since they headed to this ride. Was she still angry about him taking out his wand? Was it about him messing her hair? Or was it about something else?

“It’s nice up here,” He comments, trying to break the ice.

She hums.

“Reckon we can see your house from up here?”

“Maybe.”

Regulus frowns. Her sudden coldness was something he didn’t expect to see. Everything was brilliant just a minute ago. He enjoyed their time, feeling as if it was a proper first date for them to have, and he thought that she felt it too. Now he wasn’t so sure.

His finger taps on the metal cart, biting his lower lip as he thinks of the moment things went downhill. She still had that smile when they began walking. It only disappeared when she pointed at this ride, a ride that doesn’t look half as interesting as the others. Compared to the rollercoaster, Regulus would argue that this ride is dull and dreary. Is that really the cause of her sudden change of demeanour? That she didn’t really want to go up this ride?

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, suddenly facing him.

Regulus nods.

“Do you have any muggleborn friends, Regulus?”

He frowns, shaking his head, “No, not really.”

“Right,” She nods, muttering to herself “That makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“Nothing,” She lies “I just remembered that I’ve only ever seen you with Rosier and Crouch.”

Regulus clenches his jaw. Is that it? Is that why she’s suddenly distant now? That she’s thinking of Rosier?

And he thought she was having fun with him. Apparently not.

“Is there something you wanted to know about?” He asked, digging his grave deeper “Do you want to know about my friends?”

“If you want to talk about them, I’m listening.”

Regulus bites the inner of his cheek. It hurts to know that she wanted to know about his friends better, that she was even thinking about them, when they’re literally on a date. Well, she didn’t say it was one but it should certainly be called as. What else would you call this? This certainly goes beyond what a friendly hang out is.

At least in his dictionary.

“You gave a rule earlier, so can I give one too?”

She nods, her brows furrowing a little at his question.

“Can we not talk about anything else but ourselves for the rest of the night?” He asked “I know I owe you a lot but I really hope we could finish the night with just the two of us.”

Her expression changed. There was a hint of tenderness Regulus couldn’t really put a word on. As if she was touched over his words. Like she didn’t expect him to want to spend the rest of the night with just the two of them.

She smiles, nodding, “Alright.”

They turned silent once more. But the air is certainly different now. Tension and awkwardness no longer linger around them, only comfort and mutual understanding that they both wanted to bask in this moment while it lasts. It fills both of their hearts to know that they’re enjoying their time spent together. If only they would say it aloud, they would’ve amplified their happiness by tenfold.

But after a couple minutes of silence, as their cabin got to the peak, the wheel suddenly stopped. The sudden halt was making her panic, squealing in fear as Regulus put his arm protectively around her. The engine stopped.

“Looks like we’re stuck here,” Regulus said, looking down to see people trying to work the machine “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” She said, still clinging on his arm “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

Regulus shrugs, “How should I know? I’ve never been to these kinds of parks before.”

She frowns but remains quiet.

Regulus closed his eyes, feeling the light breeze of the wind as he relaxed his feet. It was refreshing up here. Quiet, calming, serene. It reminds him of his night flies around the castle whenever he needed to get some peace of mind and tranquillity. Perhaps he could go and find more of these rides some time.

One of the things he loved most about this moment is how she’s still holding his arm tightly. He smiles at the thought, how much more comfortable they are with each other over this date. Perhaps he should’ve done this years ago.

“This is nice.” He comments, still with his eyes closed.

Silence.

Regulus opened his eyes, turning to see her who has her head now resting on his shoulder, “Hey, you alright?”

“Do you think it’s still gonna be long until the engine comes back on?”

“I don’t know,” He says truthfully, pulling away to see her better “Are you okay? Should we just disapparate?”

“No,” She says fast, finally looking up to him “No magic, remember?”

“Well you don’t seem to be enjoying this ride.” He points out “Surely we can make an exception.”

“It’s not the ride that’s the problem,” She says, her teeth chattering a little “I’m cold.”

Regulus bites his smile. He wanted to rub it on her face, how he’s right from the beginning and she was just too stubborn to admit it, but the tormented look on her face made him think twice. She seemed to be really bothered by the coldness that to be fair, was nothing for Regulus, but still, he wouldn’t give his coat.

Instead, Regulus unbuttoned his coat and took off one side of it, gesturing to her to come closer.

“We both can’t fit inside, Regulus.” She notes.

“Well, I told you I’m not giving you my coat, so either we squeeze in or you freeze yourself to death.” He says with a nonchalant shrug “Your choice.”

She looks at him with disbelief. As if she couldn’t believe that the man sitting in front of him, acting cheeky and playful, was Regulus Black. Everything about him today just doesn’t make sense. From the moment he volunteered to come to the theme park, to asking her to snuggle close to him to share his coat now. Whatever happened to the apathetic Regulus Arcturus Black?

But she knew better than to complain about it. She enjoys every passing moment of the day. Every bicker, every annoyed remark, every feigned anger. She wouldn’t wish for any other way to spend the day.

And so she snuggled closer to him, encircling her arms around his body like a koala to a tree. His body warmth was comforting, along with the smell of his perfume. Regulus put the other part of his coat around her, trying to cover her as best as he could.

“Is this okay?” He asks. She could hear his heartbeat from the close proximity.

“Yeah,” She whispers, not looking up cause she knew her cheeks must be as red as tomatoes “Is this okay for you?”

Regulus hums, resting his chin to the top of her head.

“This is nice,” She says “I might actually fall asleep on you.”

He smiles, “Just don’t drool on my shirt.”

“No promises.”

—-

Regulus couldn’t recall the last time he woke up with such a light heart. The memory from last night still intoxicates him. How they spent hours waiting for the wheel to finally turn, to get them to the ground, yet neither of them were complaining. Matter of fact, he hoped that it would’ve lasted longer. He wouldn’t mind spending forever stuck in that cabin with her.

When he came down to the dinning hall though, a frown bloomed on his face. She was absent. Her plate was empty, cup cleaned as if she hadn't even used it. Only Sirius was present with a stack of toasts on his plate.

“Where is she?” Regulus asked.

“Resting,” His brother said “Where the hell did you go last night? Why did you come back so late?”

Regulus sniffled, taking a seat and fixing himself a cup of tea, “We just hung out, went to the park in the city.”

“Why did you come back so late then? There’s not much of a ride there.”

“We got stuck on the Ferris wheel for hours.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Why didn’t you just disapparate?”

“She wouldn’t let us use magic. I don’t know, ask her.” He said, defensive “Why is she still resting? Isn’t it late already for her?”

“She’s sick, that’s why.”

“Sick? What do you mean she’s sick?” Regulu asked, feeling guilt to seep in “She was just fine last night.”

“She caught a cold. Fever and all,” Sirius said as he put a toast in his mouth, standing to leave for his room “Next time you go out with her, tell her to bring a coat, will you?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, “You think I didn’t tell her that?”

Regulus’ words were met by silence as Sirius entered his room. He begins to wonder if his banter of not giving her his coat was wrong, if their play stubborn was too far that it made her fall ill. It might just be one of those light colds, sure, but Regulus has never made anyone sick nor has he ever taken care of anyone unwell.

Should he even be taking care of her? Supposedly, yeah, seeing that he is her husband and the kind gesture she did the other week when she brought him his breakfast, but such action is strange for him. Where does he even start? How does he even do it?

—-

It was noon now and Regulus sprinted out of his room the moment he heard some noises in the kitchen. He saw Sirius left for whatever business he has so the only cause of such commotion would be her. He skipped down the stairs, feeling relieved to see her that is now enveloped under layers of blankets.

“You look awful,” He comments.

“Wow, thank you,” She retorts, sniffling “What a pleasant compliment, Regulus.”

Regulus bites down a smile, taking a seat opposite her, “Have you taken any meds?”

“Yeah, not much of a help so far, though.”

“Well, at least now you’ll remember to bring a coat whenever you go out.”

She glares at him, “You’re a prick, Regulus, do you know that?”

Regulus grins.

He watches as she fixes herself a cup of tea. One and a half teaspoon of sugar, no milk. He finds himself noting the small details of hers he didn’t know before. Like how she leans more on sweet kinds of breakfast instead of savoury ones, or how her brows are more often pinched than not whenever she’s thinking, or how the scent of rose from her was not from her perfume but her hand cream— her perfume was patchouli based.

“Do you not have any plans today?”

“No,” Regulus shakes his head “I prefer to stay in and read. I don’t normally go out.”

She hums in acknowledgement.

“Did you have plans for today?” He asked in return.

“Not really,”

Regulus nods, turning silent.

The only noise between them now was her sniffling. She taps on her cup, looking as if she has something she wanted to say but is still debating to utter it. Another thing Regulus takes note of— she fidgets quite a lot.

“Will you read for me?”

“No.” Regulus answers firmly.

“Oh come on, that’s the least you could do!” She whines “You got me sick!”

“You got sick because you’re too stubborn to listen to me.”

She huffs, “I wouldn’t be sick if you had given me your coat.”

“But then I’d get sick if I did.”

“Yes, but I’ll make you soup and read you a book, so you owe it to me.”

“You will not make me soup,” Regulus snorts, mocking “I doubt you even know how to turn on the cooker.”

Her mouth agape, offended, “That is beside the point, alright!”

“You don’t look sick enough for me to owe you a reading,” Regulus remarks, standing up from his seat “Feel better soon though. You look ghastly.”

“You—,” She said, throwing him a ball of tissue “And whose fault is that?!”

“Yours.”

“Regulus!”

Regulus chuckles, turning and heading back to his room. At least her anger is still intact. He could lose the bigger weight of guilt he’s feeling over her cold from the knowledge. Another thing to note, bring her coat for her the next time they go out.

↠ Part V

#regulus black #regulus black angst #regulus black fluff #regulus black fanfic #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black scenario #regulus black scenarios #regulus black imagine #regulus black imagines #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x oc

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commander-rahrah · 3 months

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part VI

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~4800 Warnings: slightly suggestive, swearing, blood, non-con touching (Cazador touching reader), some borrowed in game dialogue, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here

Summary: Set in Act III, after you arrive in Baldur's Gate and have met some of Astarion's siblings but not yet confronted Cazador. Astarion struggles with inner turmoil as he is suddenly thrusted back into the clutches of his old master's influence.

Notes: Long time no update! Long story short December was the month where everything was bad and everything hurt - ER hospital visits and many, many days laying in bed and on the couch very unmotivated and just wanting to feel better! I am very grateful to be feeling better and up to writing as my fics is one of my favorite creative outlets! So thank you for being patient between updates! I really appreciate it and any kind of interaction like a reblog, like or comment truly makes my friggin' day!

So this update and the next chapter will be focused on confronting Cazador! I have had these thoughts and ideas to add more to the in-game scenes since the very first time I played it! I was doing a multiplayer save with my fiancé and the second we finished Astarion's quest (I sobbed the entire time btw) I stayed up all night writing all my thoughts onto my notes app. I didn't even intend to write into a fic back then, I just wanted the outlet of writing it all down to help with how emotional I was feeling about it all! And now a few months later, I have a fic with over 30k words. Aha... whoops!

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this update and the slight changes and add-ons I've added to this final part of Astarion's quest. I honestly teared up writing parts of it, because Astarion and his and my Tav's story means so much to me, I couldn't help it. ALSO, I don't plan on these being the last updates since it is the "end" of Astarion's quests. I still have plans for this Tav/Reader and Astarion yet. Not enough kissing and happiness had happened yet!! Just some angst and pain has to happen first.

As always, reblogs and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

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You had wandered the streets of Baldur’s Gate before. Long before the nautiloid, in your time living in the city you had explored as much of the exciting city as you could. But never like this.

Your party had taken every cobblestone street, every back alley and shortcut. Astarion lead the way for most of them, pointing things out and sharing antidotes with you.

But you noticed how his smile strained at times, that he was wearing down the stitches on his leather pants from his fingers picking them nervously. At night when you slept side by side you’d wake to him trembling and muttering through a nightmare, which had become more frequent since you stepped into the city boundaries.

The vampire has been so sure of the next step in the Shadowlands and Wyrm’s Crossing. But now anytime you neared the streets leading to Cazador’s castle, he was turning on his heel and looking at one of your companions to ask what they needed to do instead.

Meeting his siblings days ago had been eye-opening. You thought you understood what he had gone through, that the memories he had described to you, and even shown you through the tadpoles, was enough. But after seeing how controlled and manipulated Petras and Dalyria had been… What they were being forced to do…You couldn’t bring yourself to picture Astarion like that.

You couldn’t imagine the turmoil and anguish going through your lover — seeing his siblings, being in the city again in a way he never thought he would, being so close to seizing power that could change his fate forever. You hadn’t voiced that every time he mentioned taking the ritual for himself fear stabbed in your belly. You knew what was motivating him to even consider the choice — outright fear and the call of power that was easily addicting. But too many things in his life has been decided for him… so you didn’t voice that to him, instead insisting that you only needed for him to be safe and happy. You trusted him to make the right choice.

You did trust him. You loved him.

And you showed him as such — throughout the day as you laced your fingers through his, as you rolled your neck for him to feed, as you curled into each other to sleep.

And he had been returning that trust and love back.

He had continued to expand his boundaries with you, slowly but surely as the days went on. Your quiet time together after a long day, you were a reprieve he sought out over and over. You whispered and giggled with each other between kisses in your shared bed in the Elfsong Tavern — tucked into the corner and hidden behind privacy screens. Privacy screens that Karlach had loudly dragged over before giving you both a very unsubtle wink. Then she did the same for her and Shadowheart.

The teasing had been relentless.

You still hadn’t taken those final steps, and you were in no rush too. Astarion’s happiness and agency was the most important to you, always. Yet, you couldn’t help the way your heart thundered and breath got higher as he slowly explored any kind of touch and intimacy with you again.

You were laid together now, draped across each other — you only in your night clothes and Astarion in very thin linen pants. You were pressed gently on top of him, your voice and lips whispering across his pale skin as he pointed his fingertip to various parts of his body. His new game he had started that night — seemingly convinced that he would find a part of himself that you did not love.

Utterly impossible — but you indulged him anyways.

“Even this? You like this?” He pointed to his knobby elbow.

"Hmm,” You hummed approvingly, pressing a gentle peck to the bare, taut skin of his bent joint.

His low laughter rumbled through both of you, shaking you slightly. “I’m running out of ideas.”

You eyed him greedily, “I’m not. You’ve missed some of your best parts.”

“Have I?” He cocked a brow, a smirk spreading across his face. “Alright, go on then.”

“I can—?”

“Mhmm,” He nodded his head against the silk pillow, settling himself deeper into the mattress under your weight.

Swallowing, you took him in underneath you and felt your mind start whirring. Slow, patient, soft — you reminded yourself. You gently touched his jawline, the tip of your finger following the strong line. “Here.”

Then your forefinger and thumb rubbed the cartilage on the tops of his ears, “Here.” His mouth fell open deliciously with that one.

“Here,” You caressed the mole on his cheek with a swipe of your thumb.

You continued your movements, so drawn into him that you didn’t notice his red eyes blazing as they flickered between watching your hand and watching your face.

Your fingers gracefully dragged across him. His Adam’s apple. His knuckles. Collarbone. Inner wrist.

“I told you, there is no part of you that I do not like. Every inch of you I want to—“ You cut yourself off. Perhaps that was too much. This was a fun, teasing game — exploratory and gentle. You hadn’t meant to make it about your own desire and arousal.

He swallowed, his mouth hanging open slightly, “You want to what?”

You let out a fake cough, lifting yourself off of him slightly with a blush crossing your cheeks. “Well, I—“

A grin spread across his face, “Oh, I love it when you get all coy.” He purred, pulling you back before you could fully get away. “Tell me, please.” He whispered.

“There isn’t an inch of you that I don’t wish to kiss. To taste.” You admitted huskily, the heat on your face spreading to your neck.

The groan that escaped him made the fire in your belly sputter even hotter.

“Show me?” He asked softly, but his tone was slightly more sultry than before.

“Sho—show you?”

He nodded before fidgeting under you to display himself more — stretching out his neck, spreading his arms out.

“May I—“

“Darling,” He said the pet name a tad exasperated as his slowly closing eyes snapped to yours. “This was my idea. You don’t have to ask every time.”

“Yes, I do.” You insisted.

He rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his soft curls, “Really—“

But you cut him off. “Astarion, I do. I will continue to. It’s important to me. I never want you to do something you don’t want. I never want to make you feel like that with me.”

“You haven’t. I know you wouldn’t.” He trailed his pale fingers through the hair hanging in front of your face as you hovered over him. He tucked it behind your ear.

“I know it seems like a silly question, especially between us but I want you to know you can—“

It was his turn to cut you off, silencing you with a reassuring kiss. He was looking at you with astonishment when you finally opened your eyes from the deep kiss. “What ever did I do to deserve you my lovely moon?”

You smiled tenderly down at him, “Perhaps it was fate.”

“Hmm," His red eyes blinked slowly, "I used to despise that sentiment.”

“And now?”

Astarion gave you one of the most tender smiles you'd ever seen. “I think you might be right.” He ran his fingers gently down your cheek before letting out a dramatic puff. “Now, stop turning me into a sappy lovesick fool and kiss me already.” He growled playfully.

"As you wish, love." You mumbled as you pressed your lips to his.

• • •

You woke with a stir, the weight of the mattress shifting suddenly and then the sound of scuffling feet. Astarion was standing in front of the bed — in front of you defensively, still only in his night pants with his bare chest rising and falling quickly. A dagger was closed in his fist, aimed in front of him of threateningly. “Stop right where you are.” His voice was commanding like it had never been before, but you could still hear a twinge of uncertainty in it.

“You know why we’re here, brother.” A low, masculine voice said — seemingly coming from the dark shadows in the corners of the large suite.

Astarion's stance grew wider, his grip on his dagger tightening until his already pale knuckles turned white. “Come any closer to us and it will be the last thing you do.”

Peering over your lover's figure, you found four pairs of glowing red eyes studying you intently. The hairs on the back of your neck and arms started to stand up.

"I mean it - get the hells away from us!" Astarion growled again, his hand blinding reaching back for you. You laced your fingers through his and a protection spell was on your lips seconds later, muttered quietly until you felt the magical aura surround him.

The rest of your companions were up on their feet after Astarion's shout, pushing in towards your bed, edging around it in a protective semi-circle. Most of them were scantily clad in only undergarments and nightclothes - but all of them had their hands glowing with magic or weapons drawn. Fury was etched on every one of their faces from the intrusion and threat.

One of the female vampires eyed the rest of your group, counting and calculating. Then she raised her hands up, "We come in peace, brother."

"You call this peace, Aurelia?" He frowned at her. Your grip on him tightened as you stood up and tried to go to his side, but he stepped in front of you protectively once again.

A male stepped forward slightly, his mouth and eyes ruby red with deep scars carved over his skin, trailing down his chin. It was a terrifying sight. But his voice did not match his appearance, and instead was laced with desperation and hope. "The master needs all seven us for the ceremony. Come with us and be reborn. We'll live again."

The suite remained deadly silent. Like you all were waiting to see who would make the first move, who would let loose a spell or swing a blade first.

But it was your meek voice that broke the silence, "How did you find us?"

Their red eyes snapped instantly to you, but it was one of his sister's who spoke. "Master Cazador has known where Astarion was this entire time — where both of you were. He has been watching carefully since you arrived in the city."

"You know what our master will do to them.” His scarred brother warned, nodding his head towards you. His eyes almost looked... sad.

“He won’t get the chance, Leon.” Astarion snarled back.

Leon raised his hands defensively, "We aren't here for them. We are here about the rite. The master needs you. You must attend."

Astarion scoffed, "Oh, I am well aware of what the master needs. But don't we all deserve better?" His features were contorted in a strange mixture of emotion. "After these centuries of torment, I know what you all want. More then power. More than to walk in the sun. You want to see him dead."

The desire for revenge, for Cazador's death, did not surprise you. He had said as much, and bluntly too. You had agreed that Cazador deserved such a fate after the years of abuse and exploitation he had forced upon Astarion.

"If you think I will be a willing sacrifice for him and his deranged ritual, you really are stupidly blinded by him."

"Sacrifice?" Aurelia stepped forward, shaking her head. "No, this is our way to cheat undeath."

"Is that the lie he told you?" He sneered.

"I-"

Astarion's lips curled up, "You're all fools. You think he cares about us? You think he will grant us such power? We are nothing but pawns to be slaughtered for the king — one final, grand maneuver so he can win the game."

His four siblings shook with disbelief. "The master doesn't need to lie to us. He controls us, fully. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope..."

Leon got there first, his face crumbling. "Because its more cruel... shit."

The vampires exchanged a look — a look between siblings that you knew well. One that you had shared with your own brother many times. A silent conversation had happened between them in an instant.

"That manipulative bastard." The other female finally spoke, her words a hiss between her fanged teeth.

"How did we not see this?"

Leon squared his shoulders, moving his red eyes to look back at his free brother. "Astarion is right... because we are blind fools."

"We must go before he compels us too— agghhh." Aurelia grabbed her head, her expression one of excruciating pain. "Aggghhhhh!"

"Take her." Leon commanded the other siblings who looped their arms around her, dragging her away as she fought them. But he lingered behind them for a moment, stopping to look over his shoulder and study the pair of you. To look at the rest of your companions surrounding you defensively. "Help us, brother." His voice was a whispered plea, his terrifying, red eyes wide and shining. Then with a loud crack and a sudden puff of red, they were gone.

A collective sigh escaped your party as they disappeared, spells extinguished and weapons dropped down to their sides before they turned to face both of you.

Astarion’s shoulders sagged as he realized his family had indeed left. He all but collapsed into your side, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you held him back. Really, as you held him up.

You stroked his hair as he murmured into your shoulder, “Tomorrow. This ends tomorrow.”

“Okay, my love. We’ll be with you the whole way.” You whispered into his pointed ear, returning the concerned expression of your companions watching as your hold on Astarion tightened a bit more.

• • •

Whatever you do... I just don't want to die down here.

Sebastian’s voice was echoing in his ears, his mind, and creeping down into parts of him he had just barely started to recognize again. Parts of him that a few months ago he had deemed long dead. He had to force his pink lips into a firm line just to stop them from trembling.

This place, his so-called home was his personal hell. Every step through the fading carpets and ostentatiously decorated rooms had gotten harder and harder — until he had started to feel physically ill. Bile was rising in his throat, his back and palms of his hands turning clammy. And now, standing in the secret, buried crypt beneath — it felt like the castle above him was pressing down, screaming at him of what a luxury it had been that he was a prisoner up there and not down here. That voice in his head, that ringing, echoing voice. Gods, he wished it would stop.

And you... you had been so uncommonly quiet. You who had lent him your strength since the moment he met you, you and your presence a steady reassurance that he had come to depend on. But his little moon who was usually so chatty and poetic, was so quiet. Your eyes were wide as you followed him through Cazador’s castle, your steps clumsy and dazed like he wasn't the only one walking through this twisted nightmare. Perhaps it was for you — realizing the realities of what he had been through.

When Astarion's composure had really started to shake, you snapped back to reality and were with him in an instant. Your warm fingers threading through his icy ones. Your voice, your soft, hushed voice using the smallest amount of words to try and put his cruel mind at ease. The words you had used were choice, but powerful. You insisted that all of this was Cazador's cruelty — not his.

But how could he believe that as he stood in front of the cells filled with people he had brought his master? How could he deny the role he played in all of this when he could stare into the eyes of all of those victims — the stupid, innocent fools who in a fleeting moment fell for him.

Especially when he realized how fortunate, how damn lucky, it was that he never stumbled on you on the streets of Baldur’s Gate the past year you'd lived in the city.

Astarion stood before the precipice of Cazador’s ritual room. The grand doors that would lead to these final moments just a few steps away from him.

The fine outfit he picked for himself suddenly felt unbearably tight and itchy. The lacy neck scratching and digging into his skin, his leather shoes too restricting. He had wanted to use the clothes as a symbol to his old master — look how well I’ve done without you, look who I’ve become without you. His hands became fists at his sides, his knuckles white and half moons appearing on the soft skin of his palms as he squeezed tighter and tighter. The only way to stop them from trembling — with both fear and rage.

“I'm here for you, love.” You whispered gently, your warm fingers ghosting the sides of his wrists as you stepped in beside him. His fists unclenched slightly as he breathed in your familiar scent, as he savored the soft caress of your skin on his. He pushed down the building sob climbing up through his chest, the urgency of the cry growing as he felt your presence surround him. "Just... remember who you are, Astarion."

Who was he? It felt even blurrier in this sadistic crypt under the castle he used to call home. Though it never was one. A prison, that's what it was.

And what version of him did you see? Could he really be what you thought you saw? What you thought he could be?

Astarion had left Baldur's Gate against his will — a tormented, violent, broken thing. A puppet. A slave. He thought he had returned to this city anew — a free male, softer around the edges but no longer a thing to be used. His own person.

Yet the second he felt the influence of Cazador's control, the moment he felt that familiar threat he felt as if he was falling backwards. Being backed into a corner, corralled into the cage and slapped into chains that he had rotted away in for two hundred years.

He would not go back.

A shudder went through him as he tried to compose himself once more, taking a deep breath that he knew he did not truly need. Looking sideways at you, he gave you a final nod. "I'm ready for this to be over."

Something flashed in your eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. You nodded, before following him through the grand doors with the rest of your companions trailing behind.

The descent down those stairs was brutal. Time seemed to drag to such a slow that it was almost like the scene before them was frozen in time. Astarion could recognize the familiar silhouette of his master anywhere. It had haunted him long enough that he had memorized every harsh line and angle. He loosed a breath as he counted six figures bound and hovering by some form of magic — a seventh spot on the top center left open and waiting.

For him.

"Could it be?!" The voice that plagued his thoughts, his nightmares and memories echoed throughout the large chamber. It sent hundreds of different feelings throughout his body, his flesh getting goosebumps and steps faltering for a moment on the stone stairs.

"Our prodigal son returned to us!" Cazador's voice was jovial, but there was no mistaking why. The final piece to his game had just delivered themselves to him, the sacrificial lamb for slaughter had seemingly come with no ill intent.

Astarion would make the vampire bastard regret underestimating him.

He could hear you just steps behind him, the pads of your feet, the familiar thrum of your heart increasing as you both stepped closer and closer to Cazador's place on the central dais. He gritted his teeth, his back molars clenching down so hard he swore he heard a crunch in the back of his mouth. He lowered his head, looking up at the monster that had ruined him through his eyebrows.

"Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?" Cazador snapped, waving his hand dismissively at him. "Look at you, crawling back after abandoning your family. You should be begging for our forgiveness."

"I will do no crawling, nor begging." Astarion snarled, baring his teeth slightly. "And forgiveness? Really? You have never forgiven anything. Every mistake, every slip was punished."

The bastard had the audacity to roll his red eyes, "I strove for perfection in all things — even those as imperfect as you. A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts."

"No!!" He roared, stepping forward once more as he pointed his finger. "No, fuck you and fuck everything you've ever done to me!"

Cazador raised a single dark brow before letting out a humorless laugh, "You stupid, little boy."

"You son of a bitch!" Astarion couldn't stop the explosion of anger that coursed through him and he charged forward. His pale hand formed a fist as he launched himself at Cazador but a flare of red magic suddenly froze him in place. His body stopped completely, caught mid-lunge with his fingers still curled in a punch.

He heard a strangled whimper from behind him. It was you, the sound one he had rarely heard — one of you paralyzed from fear.

But the master mercifully ignored you, only having eyes for his spawn. He smirked as he surveyed Astarion trapped in the swell of magic, "Tut, tut." He clicked his tongue, "Did you think it would be that easy?"

Astarion let out a groan of pain as he tried to resist the red binding power that started to form around him. Tears began to prickle in the corners of his eyes as they began to squeeze and cut into his skin, seeping into him slowly like a dreadful poison.

"Astarion!!" His name ripped out of you at his pained cries, stepping forward onto the dais to intervene. The agony in your voice was more unbearable then what he was currently suffering.

He was a fool to bring you here, to ask you to help him. He had served them all to Cazador on a silver platter.

“Oh?" The ancient vampire's voice had a hint of wicked glee in it as he turned on his heel and set his eyes on you, with the rest of your companions lingering just behind you. Like he had just finally bothered to notice your presence. "And who do we have here? Your little pet, Astarion?”

You froze in place, but stood up slightly taller. He watched as you jutted your chin forward, setting your shoulders back as you refused to cower in front of him. Even if he could scent your fear from here. Then the old master slinked around you, his chest almost brushing your back as he inspected you head to toe. Your jaw set as he circled behind you where you could not see, but you did your best to keep your face neutral. “And what’s this?” Cazador asked with a flicker of false humor.

Astarion hissed as the vampire stepped even closer, bending down to eye his puncture marks that had scarred on your neck. “You finally gained enough courage to feed from a being capable of thought? Congratulations, spawn.” Then he took in a large inhale, “And quite an appetizing pick too, they smell absolutely delicious."

His glowing red eyes snapped back to Astarion as he remained behind you, looming over your shoulder. He was gauging every reaction from both of you, he knew.

Studying. Calculating. Deducing.

Like any manipulative vampire would.

"But it seems my dear boy, you’ve been double dipping with this one haven’t you?” He made to grab your silver hair and Astarion felt his mind go berserk. “DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM!” He roared, pulling hard enough on the magical red tethers around him that they flared and flickered for a moment.

An evil grin contorted his master's fingers as he still put his long fingers through your hair and pushed it behind your ear. The action revealed even more of your neck so he pressed his prominent nose against your pulse point, inhaling deeply. “Your scent is all over them.” You shuddered involuntarily, your face wincing and flinching away at his cold touch.

Astarion growled, his fangs barring and snapping at his old master. “Oh, so upset. They are your favorite little pet aren’t they?" A long finger nail dragged down your jaw. Astarion's eyes were glued to yours, your body seemingly immobilized from fear — for both yourself and him. Cazador cocked his head as he watched the pair of you before letting out a scoff. "You fool, you fell for your snack instead. What a pity... for once I was almost proud of you.”

He finally let you go, wiping the fingers that touched you off on his jacket like you were a worm he had picked up from the dirt. He licked his lips as he approached his spawn again, still frozen with his scarlet magic that buzzed and echoed with authority throughout the entire chamber. “Well, I can give you one last comfort, since I am such a generous master." He whispered into Astarion's ear, both of their eyes locked onto your worried expression. "Once you and all your siblings are nothing but pulp... I’ll treat your special love extra carefully. I’ll be so lonely since the rest of you will all be gone. But this one… they will make for a delectable companion."

Another growl escaped from deep in his chest, but the sound was caught as Cazador wrapped his long fingers around his pale throat. “It’s a pity I have to lose you. So much work, so much time... gone. But my new companion will do a much better job than you, with a pretty face like that no one would resist? I mean, even you didn’t.” He hissed in his ear.

"ENOUGH!” You barked, stepping forward closer to him with your mouth and brow set in a hardline. "Release him, Cazador, at once."

The bastard only smirked and snapped around to meet you, "Ha. Or what?"

"This all ends here. You end here." You did not stutter or stumble. Your voice was strong and carried across the chamber. Your companions stepped up behind you, hands moving at their sides as they readied their weapons and spells at your word.

"Is that so? You are willing to risk death for him? A wasted, mistake of a spawn? A stupid, little boy?"

Your nostrils flared, your eyes shining with familiar power that was now coming off of you in waves, "I would do anything for him."

"Stupid mortal." Cazador barked, his lips curling in disgust. "I forgot how foolish you can be when you fall in "love". But not to worry... I'll train that right out of you." He twirled back around dramatically, looking at Astarion as he held onto his staff tighter. The red magic swirled and brightened around Astarion, squeezing him so tightly he felt as if may be crushed from the inside out. "You truly forgot my power, Astarion. You truly thought our bond as creator and creation was all that stopped you from killing me. You are weak, my child. You are a small, pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything. But today, you will finally do something worthwhile. You will burn, and I will ascend."

The vampire master flicked his wrist, and Astarion was soaring across the room — completing the final spot in the ritual circle. The entire chamber room suddenly lit up with the red light, a enormous sigils swirling underneath Astarion and the rest of his siblings as they hovered in mid air. Their tops suddenly shredded from the force of the spell as their naked, scared torsos were revealed — the scars littered across them glowing the same scarlet as the patterns beneath them.

"ASTARION!" His name was a roar from your lips again as you surged forward, hands outstretched for him across the ritual floor.

"Witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendant! Ecce dominus!" Cazador's staff slammed down onto the marked stone floor.

And pain like nothing Astarion had ever felt went through every part of him.

Read the next chapter: here

#bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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The Archer | Chapter V: This Is Me Trying

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: A vision Neteyam sees at the Spirit Tree puts a strain on your relationship and leaves more questions than answers. Another RDA atrocity leaves the Metkayina reeling and sets in motion events whose consequences will haunt you forever.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11.6k words

Warnings/notes: smut(18+, minors DNI!), angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: This is it, the chapter where it all goes to shit! I am very excited to explore the second half of the movie and put my own little spin on it. I hope you enjoy where the story is going and are as excited as I am for what's in store. The song the reader sings to Tuk is important for the story, as are all the lyrics I put in it, and if you replace the river with Eywa, it all fitsss! Why am I seeing Eywa in Frozen 2 we'll never know, but here we are. Also, whilst the beginning quote usually speaks to the reader's feelings, this one I felt fit all of the three POV characters in the particular hardships each of them are going through. Ok I'll stop rambling enjoy thank you for asking to be tagged and liking and reblogging and replying ily byee

I've been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you

You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

The next day, the tension between Lo’ak and Ao’nung seemed to dissipate, and you knew whatever happened after Lo’ak took off was enough to mend a relationship you thought was too broken to ever recover. Boys, you rolled your eyes. They would almost kill each other, and it would all be forgotten the next day. You and the rest of the Sullys, as well as Rot’xo, Tsireya and Ao’nung were hanging out by the beach, as Lo’ak recounted his encounter with the tulkun that saved his life.

“I wish I’d been there. The ocean blessed you with a gift, brother.”

“The tulkun have not returned yet. And anyway, no tulkun is ever alone.”

“This one was. It had a…a missing fin, like a stump on the left side.” Lo’ak was looking only at Tsireya when he spoke, like she was the only one there. She was also enraptured by his presence, and fear flashed across her features as the realisation hit.

“Payakan. It’s Payakan.”

“Who’s Payakan?” Kiri asks, a concerned look on her face.

“A young bull who went rogue. He’s outcast, alone. And he has a missing fin.”

“They say he is a killer.” Tsireya looked at your brother almost in pain, pleading Lo’ak to hear her.

“He killed Na’vi, and other tulkun…not here, but far to the South.”

You and Neteyam exchanged a look, worried for your baby brother who was in such proximity with an apparent monster.

“No, he’s no killer.”

Tsireya reached for Lo’ak’s arm, and you watched as he wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding her intimately.

“Lo’ak… you are lucky to be alive.”

“I’m telling you guys, he saved my life. He’s my friend.”

You saw your mate get up from his spot to place his hands on his brother’s shoulder, a desperate attempt to defuse an increasingly tense situation.

“My baby bro, the mighty warrior who faced the killer tulkun, and lived to tell about it.”

Lo’ak pushed himself away from Neteyam’s grasp, evident annoyance and frustration emanating from his whole body.

“You guys aren’t listening.”

Tuk, who was nestled in your lap, spoke in the cute voice that made you melt on the spot.“Lo’ak, I’m listening…”

“Lo’ak, come back…” you tried to call after him, but it was too late.

“You skxawng.” You heard Kiri say as your brother walked away.

You gently removed Tuk from your lap and got up, determined to not leave him alone. He was alone far too often, and you wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this by himself. Neteyam gave you a look, and you knew he felt hurt that you were leaving him for his brother, and hurt that he knew Lo’ak would much rather prefer your presence to his. He always had, ever since you were all children.

You ran across the beach and caught him right as he was getting in the water.

“Wait up, you irk.” He didn’t stop until he hit the water, and you had to physically arrest him with your hand around his arm.

“Lo’ak!”

“Why does nobody ever believe me? Why doesn’t she believe me?”

Of course this was about Tsireya. You smiled a little at your oblivious baby brother.

“She does believe you, you skxawng, she’s just worried about you.”

He turned instantly in his spot.

“You think?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed a frustrated exhale. You called for an ilu and motioned for him to get on his own.

“Come, I want to meet this Payakan.”

You could tell Lo’ak was annoyed he had to wait for you, as you were not as fast or experienced in the water as he was, and needed to come up for air a lot more, but he didn’t complain. As you reached Three Brothers Rocks, he called loudly for Payakan, and you felt like an earthquake engulfed you as the massive creature surfaced. You were still a little scared by the tulkun, holding on tightly to your ilu, but you believed your brother - you trusted him, and you wanted him to know that.

Lo’ak immediately jumped from his ilu and onto the fin of the tulkun, which could comfortably fit a few Na’vi on it. He closed up on Payakan’s eye, and spoke looking closely into it.

“It’s good to see you.” Through sign language, Lo’ak continued speaking to his new friend. “Why are you outcast? What happened?”

You heard Payakan make a trilling sound you couldn’t understand, but you knew from the Metkayina they had their own complex language that you hoped in time you could master somehow.

“I trust you. You can trust me.”

The tulkun gave another trill that sounded quite content, and you smiled at the real connection that blossomed between these two. You saw Lo’ak smile a gummy, wide, genuine smile, and you couldn’t remember the last time you last saw it. The thought made you sad, but you pushed it aside.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” Your brother motioned for you to dismount your ilu and follow him, which you did cautiously.

As you reached his eye, you brought you fingers to your forehead and signalled an “I see you” to the mighty creature and smiled as it pushed its massive head a little closer to you.

“This is my sister.” You saw Lo’ak signal. You were both hanging on the fin when you felt it being lowered, and your brother told you to take a deep breath and hold on.

The next few hours were some of the most spectacular of your life, as you allowed Payakan to carry you around on his massive fin, feeling similar to how you did when flying at high speeds on top of your beautiful ikran. You mostly watched though, feeling as though Lo’ak deserves this moment for himself, deserves this connection that is his and his alone.

Eventually, they returned and you both got on top of him, sunbathing on his back while he floated away peacefully.

“So… Tsireya, huh?”

You smiled as Lo’ak turned purple.

“It’s ok, Lo’ak. You can talk to me.”

“I feel weird talking about this with you.”

“Oh…” you felt a little hurt at the comment, but decided not to push. “You don’t have to, I just thought you might like to. I don’t want you to feel alone, or like you can’t tell me things.”

“I would like to, it’s just, I have loved you my whole life, and for so long I thought that there was a chance that you and I might…” he shook his head, like he was trying to push the idea out of his mind, before continuing.

“It was weird between us, for a while, it was hard for me to watch you with my brother, knowing you were just one more thing he got that I didn’t… just one more thing he beat me at.”

“I’m not a prize you win at a carnival, you know?” You raised your eyebrow in his direction, a little indignant at his comments.

“I know… what I’m saying is that it is just a little strange for me, in light of everything we have been through. But I want to talk to you, if you want to listen.”

Neteyam decided there was no point in dwelling on his brother, or on you, both of whom were adults, and able to make your own decisions - and if that decision meant abandoning him and the rest of them on the day you were all supposed to go see the Cove of the Ancestors for the first time, then so be it.

With a small sigh, he got up from the ground and helped his sister up. Kiri eyed him intently, trying to gauge how bad his mood was, and right now, he couldn’t tell. He just knew he wanted to go, and calm down before he even thought about it further.

“Let’s go, it will be eclipse soon and I think you will really like it.”

He was excited to see the spirit tree, excited to see how it would differ from Vitraya Ramunong. He was excited to see what Eywa had to show him, what vision or dream he would be transported to this time. He tried not to dwell on the last time, the one he saw Auntie Jo and how she told him you were almost dead, tried not to dwell on the memories of seeing you in that room, a small and frail human, tubes protruding in and out of you like a nightmare he couldn’t wait wake up from.

They all got on their own ilu, except from Tuk who got on Kiri’s, and when they were all ready, they left. Neteyam was still amazed at the underwater beauty of this world, so unlike his own, but just as mesmerising, and he wondered if he would ever get used to it - ever not have his heart pick up speed in his chest at all the colours and the fish, at the coral and the reflections of the sun on the surface of the water, on his skin. When they resurfaced, Neteyam saw floating islands, that brought him back home a little, to the miracle of the Hallelujah mountains, although these were a little different, much smaller and flatter, and he thought with a swell of pride that although the beauty of this corner of the world was unparalleled, there still was nothing to top his own.

He took it all in, feeling all the resentment and anger melt away at the sight, arcades reaching peaks he could barely see, and the shift in the air reminded him a lot of the Tree of Souls - he felt Eywa in it, knew she was here, with them, right now. His thoughts lingered on you, on the fact you were missing this, that his brother was missing this, and how much he knows you would have enjoyed it. He imagined your face, glowing in surprise and awe, mouth agape and eyes wide, your ears flickering animatedly and freckles glowing stronger than usual, and he felt the pang of jealousy and hurt return in full force, fighting with his conscious mind that was telling him to let it go.

“This is the Cove of the Ancestors. Our most sacred place.“

Neteyam felt blinded by the sun as eclipse was starting to set in. He put a hand in front of his face to relieve some of the discomfort, and when he removed it, he was once again in unadulterated shock at the seascape beneath him. Bioluminescent glow brought light to the entire cove, purple and pink and blue.

“This is it. This is the Spirit Tree.”

The tree was resting on the ocean floor, and unlike their own, it was adorned with enormous leaves, reminiscent of delicate sea anemone. They dove in, each of them choosing their own, and he reached for his queue, gently bringing it forward to form the Tsaheylu. He felt air fill his lungs as the tree was providing a way to maintain the bond for longer underwater, and he was grateful as he always was, for Eywa and the way this planet worked together to maintain balance and a sense of communion among all its inhabitants.

He felt it instantly, being transported through space and time, through dimensions into a higher one, higher than his own, higher than he’ll ever know until his death.

He woke up outside of the clearing, your clearing, back in the forest, and his heart constricted at the sight. The smell of the wood and wet ground, the moisture in the air from the morning dew, the constant buzzing and humming of life all around him, the feel of the grass on his feet that he wiggled, trying to memorise the sensations it evoked in him.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a guitar, and a song he has never heard before playing, muffled voice breaking through the rest of the quiet sounds. He rushed to it, excited to see you, even in this universe, parallel to his own, you were still the only light guiding him. He was going to call for you, when the voice caught in his throat and his mouth remained agape, too surprised to remember to close it. It was you, but not as he has known you for a year now. It was human you, sick you, pale and skinny, wet from unshed rain, hair clinging to your bony back. You didn’t turn to face him, continuing to play the song that rang painful in his ears now, like it didn’t belong - like you didn’t belong.

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly this summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

“Atan?”

You stopped playing and finally turned to him, and he hated seeing you like this, brittle and frail, so unlike the you he knows and loves, so unlike your soul, which shone brightly and stood tall. A kaleidoscope of emotions crossed your features as you took him in, a mix of fear, and happiness, wonder and anguish, all fighting for supremacy on your face.

“How are you here?”

“How am I here, how are you here, Atan? What is going on?”

“It’s good to see you. I missed you.”

Neteyam was so confused, his mind was mush trying to understand what was going on. He saw you slowly wander towards him, a soft smile on your face as you seemed to make up your mind about which feelings plagued you seeing him in front of you.

As you approached him, he tried to not focus on your ghastly features that he still had nightmares thinking about at night before bed, and he thanked Eywa for bringing you back to him, healthy and strong again.

You reached a hand for his face, that you stroke gently, and he couldn’t help lean into your touch, still familiar and necessary, even in this strange world, in this uneasy scenario.

“You shouldn’t be here, Neteyam. I am so happy to see you again, but you need to go.”

You were as tall as him, he mused. Even in your human body, you were as tall as you were in your Na’vi form, top of head reaching his chin, and he took you in his arms and into a hug, that he needed desperately.

“I don’t understand, Atan. What is happening?”

You hugged him back, as tightly as you could in this body that was falling apart in front of him, and pulled back, resting a hand above his heart, a soft tear falling down your cheek.

“Neteyam, I don’t have a lot of time.” You looked panicked around you, and he knew your time together was quickly coming to an end.

“Your life is fast approaching a crossroad and when it reaches, you will have a choice to make. Please, please choose right. And please, don’t think about me again, or about this. You can’t think of me again and you can’t tell anyone about this, you can’t tell me about this, do you understand?”

Neteyam couldn’t speak, couldn’t process what was happening in front of him. He didn’t have to, though, as you brought your face to his and kissed him, salty tears falling all over your face and into the kiss, that he felt staining the taste of you, that he loved so much. The last thing he saw was you walking away, your hand that you were resting on his body dripping in red liquid down your arm and onto the ground, that he recognised faintly as blood.

“I love you so much. I hope we never see each other again.”

He was violently pulled out of his dream by a hand shaking him awake, and the world came bluntly into view once more, commotion happening all around him. He turned to face the cause, and almost drowned as he saw his baby sister shaking aggressively, the freckles all over her body flashing concurrently.

He immediately rushed to her side and pulled her out of the water, by which time she had completely lost consciousness, and called for an ilu. He didn’t even have time to think about his own stirring experience, as every thought was screaming in terror and fear for his sister, who was not responsive at all, and whose previously bright markings were now completely dim.

Neteyam had to clear his mind and think. He’s seen seizures before, as they sometimes appeared in people who had the disease you helped cure. Kiri inhaled a lot of water as she was seizing, and her absent breath brought his own laboured one forward. He knew what to do.Thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths. As he continued the CPR, he saw with relief flooding his being that his baby sister gasped for air, now breathing on her own.

“Get her to the village. Hurry.” He thinks that was Tsireya, he was too focused on Kiri to care.

“Let’s go, let’s move.” He didn’t stop to see if any of them were following him, hurrying as much as he could to get her to safety.

You were happy you came with Lo’ak, although guilt was starting to gnaw at you when you thought about Neteyam’s hurt expression as you took off. You blew him and the rest of your family off on one of the most important days here, the day you were supposed to see the Tree of Souls. You knew that, but you knew it in your heart that Lo’ak needed someone to talk to, outside of his new mammalian friend, someone to show him he’s not as alone as he feels every day. Unlike the rest of them, you knew all too well the deep ache that came with feeling all alone, and you couldn’t bear the thought of your baby brother going trough that. You smiled a little to yourself at your conversation, and your now better understanding of his feelings towards the kind Metakyina girl, and you were grateful you were able to overcome a barrier you felt has plagued your relationship for a while.

It was a little past eclipse as you returned to the village and you saw with some surprise commotion happening outside of your tent. Your ilu took you right there in no time, and you jumped onto the platform, where your family was, alongside the Metkayina kids.

You hurried towards the entrance, where you saw Neteyam, and you gasped loudly when you looked inside and you saw Kiri laying on the floor, unconscious, Neytiri huddled on top of her, screaming for her to wake up.

“What the hell happened?”

Neteyam shot you a dirty look, which you recoiled at. Neteyam never looked at you that way, and you knew then he was a lot more upset about you leaving than you thought he would be.

“Kiri had a seizure at the Tree of Souls. She hasn’t woken up since.”

You ran inside and quickly got your medical bag out of hiding. “What have you guys done about it?”

“I gave her CPR because she inhaled a lot of water and she wasn’t breathing. She started breathing on her own, but that was it, she hasn’t woken up.”

“When was this?”

“Maybe 20 minutes ago?”

“Shit. If it was a seizure, she should have woken up by now. This is serious. She shouldn’t still be unconscious.”

“Can you do anything?” You heard Jake say, concern dripping from every word, tension thick in the air that was now hard to breathe.

“I can give her some IV fluids, but I’m not sure, Jake. She might be in status epilepticus, which is when a person seizes for longer than 5 minutes, but I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not trained for this. She needs EEG scans, which I don’t have, and she might need to be put in a medically induced coma so her brain doesn’t get damaged.”

“A coma?” He looked at you like you grew another head.

“I’m not sure, Jake, this is just a guess. I don’t have the equipment to run these kinds of tests. You need to call Norm and Max.”

“It’s dangerous, they are watching the air space, they could find us.”

“If they can help her, we have to try.” Neytiri stood up and came to you, taking your hands in hers. “Please help her!”

“I will, sa’nok. It will all be alright.”

Neteyam was painfully aware of everything happening around him, aware of people going in and out, aware of your presence back in his, making his heart race and breath labour. He was mad at you, mad at Lo’ak, mad that you both were selfish and left them, mad that if you had stayed, with him, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened - maybe Kiri would have been fine. On top of everything, his own experience at the Tree of Souls left so many questions, so much lingering in his mind. Why were you there? What did you all mean? What crossroads? Why couldn’t he think of you? How was he supposed to know which choice was the right one?Why couldn’t he tell you? You were his best friend, the person he told everything to, and most importantly, the smartest person he knows. If anyone would have an answer for this whole surreal experience, it would be you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Neteyam turned his head to see you standing there, looking up at him, a tired and pleading look in your eyes. He felt his anger melt, if only slightly, when looking in those eyes that still shone as brightly as the sun, and his mind flashed to your human eyes, that he saw for the first time in a year. He felt a little guilty for thinking of another pair of eyes than the ones currently staring at him, even if they were still your own.

“How is she?”

You sighed and turned towards Kiri’s unconscious form in the tent. “I don’t know. We won’t know until the morning, when Norm and Max get here.”

Neteyam scowled, not looking at you, but at the tiny flickers of bioluminescent light coming from the water, where fish were peacefully swimming near the surface. Maybe if you had been there…

“Neteyam… there’s nothing I could have done either way. There’s nothing I could have done differently, even if I was there.” Neteyam’s scowl deepened, but mostly cause he was unnerved by your continuous ability to see through him.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I didn’t think I had a choice.”

Neteyam let out a mocking laugh. “You did have a choice.”

“I didn’t, Neteyam. Lo’ak needed me.”

“I needed you. You’re never around anymore, you’re doing the exact same thing as you did when you were young. Pushing me away, isolating yourself in this marui while everyone else is trying their fucking best to adapt. Everyone but you.”

Neteyam knew he was being harsh, but his emotions were running high in light of the clusterfuck of a day he had, of frustrations that had built in him for months, that were coming out to the surface now, even if he tried to stop them.

“Stop… you can’t do this. I know you are hurt that I left, and I know you feel annoyed at me, but I am trying my best. I’m sorry if it’s not good enough for you, but it’s the most I can handle right now. I am sorry about Kiri, Neteyam. I will do my best to help her, but right now, there is nothing else I can do. I am sorry about Lo’ak, but you guys always give him shit and you don’t take him seriously and I don’t want him to be alone. I know what it’s like to be alone, courtesy of my abandoning parents and you. You don’t get to blame me for not wanting someone, my brother, to go through what you put me through. I’m sorry I am not out as much as you guys, but unlike you, I didn’t grow up swimming and I am struggling, and I feel like a burden, and I feel like everyone is abandoning me for Tsireya, and I just need some time to deal, I need some time to figure out who I am now, in this new place, in this - yet again - new life, another one in a year. And a little bit of fucking understanding would be nice.”

He was still angry, probably even angrier than he was, at you and at Lo’ak, at your knee-jerk reflex to bring back his leaving whenever you were hurt. But he also felt guilty, because in truth, he didn’t try to see things from your perspective, and understand how hard this must all be on you. Neteyam watched as you turned your back to him and went back into the tent, kneeling over Kiri. That could have gone better, Neteyam thought with a deep sigh.

It was the morning when you heard the unmistakable sounds of a helicopter approaching, and you knew then that Norm and Max have arrived. You felt happy to see them and relieved they were here, as you felt completely out of your depth in this situation where your sister was involved. You didn’t sleep a wink last night, monitoring her vitals and making sure she was getting all the nutrients through the IV. You haven’t talked to Neteyam since then, his harsh words still fresh in your mind.

A swell of happiness enveloped you at the sight of the two men entering the tent, and you jumped up and hugged them, trying not to crush Max’s tiny body in the process. Norm was teary eyed when taking you in, and you found it hard letting go.

“Good to see you, Ace.”

You didn’t realise how much you missed that voice and that nickname until now, like a constant noise you don't realise is giving you a headache until it stops ringing in your ears.

“We missed you, guys. Sorry this is not under better circumstances.”

You watched as the men took out equipment you didn’t have with you, such as a portable EEG, and looked at her brain activity.

“I gave her 5mg/ml of propofol every 3 hours to maintain the coma, but I stopped a few hours before you arrived so you could do this. I’ve been keeping her on IV fluids to maintain hydration and nutrient intake.”

“Good job, Ace.”

You looked alongside the scientists at the scans of her brain.

“There’s no bleed, there’s no fracture. No effects of hypoxia. Her brain looks good.”

“You still have this interictal activity right here in her prefrontal.”

“She’s definitely had a seizure.”

You went outside to discuss this further, while the Sully children and their mother looked over Kiri.

“Look, I don’t think it was a seizure.”

“Ace, it was definitely a seizure. There’s nothing else it could have been.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Maybe it was a seizure, but I don’t think it’s epilepsy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, guys. It happened while she was plugged into the Tree of Souls.”

“I think the kid is right. I talked to her a couple nights ago. She says she could feel Eywa, she could hear her heartbeat.”

“That is classic frontal lobe epilepsy.”

“Epilepsy?” Jake looked out of his mind with concern, and you shook your head quietly, disagreeing with Norm, but not wanting to interrupt him.

“Yeah.. you see visions, you get states of religious ecstasy, like the kind she’s described. Plugging into the spirit tree is some sort of a trigger. You definitely can’t let her do that anymore.”

“What…? Ever?”

Max interjected softly, trying to be as understanding as empathetic as he could, given the situation at hand. "Jake… if she seizes underwater again, it could kill her.”

Jake turns to look at you, pleading, begging for you to disagree, to give him some sort of hope that this wasn’t as dire as it seemed.

“What do you think, baby girl?”

“I think Norm and Max are understandably looking at this the science, biological, human way… no offence.”

“I think everything you guys are saying makes sense, if you decide to forget who Kiri is. Kiri is not just anybody. She’s special, she is connected with Eywa in a way none of us can imagine. We have discussed about her parentage before and everyone has their theories, but mine is a little different. I think Kiri is Eywa’s child, as much as she was Grace’s. I think Eywa communicates through her, I think Eywa has bigger plans for her than any of us know. When I died, I saw my mother.” At the shocked expressions all around you, you withdrew into yourself a little. You didn’t want to talk about this, but it was necessary. “She was there, in Eywa. Has been with her, in this higher plane, ever since she died. She’s been watching over me. She told me that Kiri was the answer to the virus, that she would know. And she did. She has gifts, guys. I agree that her plugging into the spirit tree is a trigger, but not the one that can be measured by an EEG or treated by some Carbamazepine.”

“I think in order to wake up, she needs the Tsahik.”

You saw Neytiri thinking ahead of you, as she usually did, and closely behind her Ronal was making her way to your tent. You got up from next to the men, and all of you tracked back where Kiri was, and you watched as Ronal performed rituals you had no understanding of, but were fascinated by. Your gaze was fixated on Kiri’s face, as was the rest of your family’s, and all of you gasped loudly as you saw your sister’s eyes open slowly.

“Oh, thank God!” Jake was almost in tears, but couldn’t hold a candle to Tuk, whose face was littered by them.

“Kiri, you’re awake!”

Neytiri took her daughter’s hand in both of hers, bringing it affectionately to her face, as her and Kiri’s pained cries filled the muffled sounds in the room.

“Oh, Kiri, my sweet child. Oh, my sweet daughter.”

You were so happy, so relieved, and you couldn’t help gaze over to your mate, whose eyes were already on you. It was tense, the situation between you, and you wondered if it could be solved with one discussion, if this was really only about you leaving with Lo’ak. Your head moved minutely in the direction of the entrance to the tent, and he nodded at you, understanding instantly.

You left quietly, so as to not disturb the jubilant reunion, and sat on the edge of the platform, dipping your feet in the warm, clear blue water.

He sat next to you, and his body was turned towards yours, his thigh touching yours, his eyes staring down at the side of your face, that refused to look at him.

“Atan…”

“I’m sorry for what I said. It was hypocritical of me to hold your going after Lo’ak against you, when I have been doing that my whole life and getting injured as a result and coming close to dying a couple of times. I’m sorry for saying you are not trying. You obviously are, and I’m sorry I didn’t try to look at this from your perspective. You are doing amazing, you have had to overcome so much and you always come out stronger than you were, and every time I don’t understand how that’s even possible. I need you to know, that nobody is abandoning you. Tuk is still your biggest fan and she talks about you all the time when we are swimming. I think she chewed Tsireya’s ear off about you, and she misses you being around in the water with her. And Kiri, well, she just finds comfort in nature, and you know this, and right now the nature is… well, where you aren’t. You have nothing to be worried about.”

Your eyes lifted to meet his and you saw he looked… off, although he was being earnest in his apology. You couldn’t place what was wrong with him, what happened to him in the last couple of days, and it worried you, doubt eating at you mercilessly.

“I’m sorry for bringing up the fact you left. It was unfair of me.”

“Friends?” You smiled a little, still unconvinced that the situation was resolved, but cooing to yourself quietly when his hand caressed your cheek in the way that made you melt into him.

“Friends.”

Gideon stood behind as everyone was flying peacefully above the forest. He watched them all attentively, all of them, trying to think of everything he knew about them, everything he could use. He needed to figure out weaknesses, possible liabilities. He needed a plan to find you, talk to you on your own. He needed to know all the things he’s missed, needed you to know he would do anything in his power to protect you. This time, at least, he’d make sure he wasn’t too late. His mind flooded uncontrollably with images of his first daughter, Sarah, and how hard she had fought that cancer, how tiny she was, how he wasn’t even there when she died. He gave up everything, his integrity, and power, and life, his future, his family, his peace of mind, to come here and be paid the money that would save her life, but it was too late. It haunted him at night, the knowledge that she died alone. That her own dad wasn’t there to hold her as she gave her last breath. Further guilt brought shame deep in his soul as he realised he also abandoned you - willingly or not, you had to grow up alone. You were alone since you were ten, Spider mentioned, orphaned as a child. You were surrounded by Jake Sully’s kids, so he was hopeful that your life didn’t turn out as miserable as his nightmares painted it. You looked protective over them, they all thought you were all siblings. You had a family, one that he had no part in. It hurt him, the thought, it killed him like poison daggers, slowly, agonisingly. He hoped he could still see you, at least once. Could at least hear your voice, look into your eyes and apologise for all the mistake that lead to this, for all the time he has not loved and protected you the way he should have.

“Boss, long range patrol picked up a radar hit. A rogue gunship.”

“Where?”

“Eastern Sea, 400 klicks North.”

Turns out he was gonna get to see you sooner than he thought, and turns out he wouldn’t be alone. Fuck.

Everybody was really happy that Kiri was awake, except herself, it seemed. Neteyam noted with concern that she ate much less that she normally did, and didn’t want to come swimming with everyone else, which used to be her favourite thing to do in this village. It was early morning when the whole Sully family was up and about, most of them already gone. Later in the day, you would go deepwater hunting and scavenging with the rest of the Metkayina, but for now, you had a free morning. Neteyam peered over at you, hunched over the fire, chatting with Kiri and preparing food for her, determined to get her to eat. You sensed his eyes on you, as you always did, and you looked up, eyebrows raised in the direction of the exit. As Kiri was absentmindedly turned around, in her own little world, you signed to him in the language you now knew fluently. Go. I want to chat to her. Go find your brother. He needs you.

He did as he was told, walking through the village saying hello to all the people he has come to know in the past couple of months. The Metkayina were nice, he concluded. A little strange, but good, kind people once they got past his family’s… unique circumstances. It helped, he thought, that his dad was Toruk Makto, and he saw every day how people treated him almost like a deity, like a king among men. It was hard to think of his dad that way - he’s heard the stories, he’s seen the outcome of his war with the Aliens, he met other clans who he brought together during the time of Great Sorrow, but to him, he was just his dad. A little rough around the edges sometimes, particularly since the RDA came back, but still, just his dad, that used to carry him places and make him fly in his arms as a child, who carved wooden toys for them and taught him how to use a bow in a river near the village.

He found Lo’ak on the beach, deep in thought as he looked somewhere in the distance. Neteyam traced his brother’s gaze to a few girls, having fun in the water, enjoying the sunny day. He smirked when he saw the girl that seemed to take most of his baby brother’s attention recently. A four-fingered hand on Lo’ak shoulder startled him, and the oldest Sully laughed a little at how focused the boy must have been on Tsireya to not even notice his brother approaching at all.

“Bro, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I can see. Poor Tsireya’s ears are going to flame up with the amount you are staring at her.”

Lo’ak’s own ears turned purple and twitched in chagrin. Neteyam took a seat next to his brother.

“Lo’ak, I wanted to apologise.”

That got his baby brother’s attention, who rose an eyebrow expectantly. You and Lo’ak and your fucking eyebrows.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you that Payakan is good. And that I got jealous after you left.”

“You got jealous? Why?”

“Because she followed you. Because you got to stay, a whole year I couldn’t. Because you were there to watch her grow up, look after her when I wasn’t. Because your presence in her life was always positive and filled with laughter and human things I can’t understand, but you seem to, things you like. I think I’ve held a grudge for a long time, and I shouldn’t have. Because it wasn’t your fault. And I am grateful you were there for her, and that she had you. You have a connection with her I never will, and while it pained me watching you give her the Avatar, ask her to be your mate, none of it was on you, and I shouldn’t have let it come between us. I am sorry, Ma’tsmukan (brother).”

Lo’ak was speechless and Neteyam revelled a little at the sight, which was as rare as a new Toruk Makto. He should have done this a long time ago. There were plenty more things Neteyam had to apologise to his baby brother for, but he didn’t want to overwhelm his already disheveled demeanour.

“Bro, you’re going to make me emotional in front of the girl I like.” Neteyam laughed a little and opened his arms for his brother, who more than happily closed the gap and hugged him, just like they did when they were young.

They lay on the soft sand, bathing in the warm sun rays that provided a welcome respite from the constant state of moisture they usually found themselves in.

“Neteyam…?”

“Mmm?”

“How did you know?…”

Neteyam propped himself up on his elbows to look at his brother, that was sitting again, staring again.

“How did you know you were in love?

It was Neteyam’s turn to be speechless. In love? He knew Lo’ak had a crush, but didn’t realise how deep it ran. He thought about it for a long while, mind wandering to you, to your currently messy situation.

“Hmm… that’s a heavy question, brother. It might be a little different for me than for you. You see, I have loved her my whole life. Loving her has always been as easy as the air I breathed - as necessary, too. I don’t actually know the moment I fell in love with her, because it was not sudden. Back when we were younger, every once in a while, she would say something, or look at me a certain way, and my breath hitched in my throat… she’d laugh or smile up and her eyes gleamed in a way I only saw the night stars do, and my mind went blank. But over time, it happened more and more, until one day every touch, every glance, every moment gave me the same sensation, until I couldn’t be around her without turning into a mess of musings and feelings. There was one moment, the first moment, when I remember thinking ‘Shit, I am in love with her, what I am going to do?’. I think we were about 16 at the time, and I had sneaked out of our tent to go spend the night with her. We used to do this a lot, but that night, she fell asleep earlier than she normally does, and she fell asleep on my chest. I could feel her ribcage go up and down every time she took a breath. I think she had a cold, because her nose was blocked and she was snoring a little, and I just watched her. And I had never been happier, than in that moment, just holding her in my arms, and feeling her sleeping on me… and then she said my name. She was dreaming, and she said my name. And it was with love, with yearning, and my whole heart just stopped. And I knew then, that I could no longer hide, I could no longer pretend that what I felt for her was anything less than everything. That I would give her everything I have, that I am, for as long as there is still breath in my lungs.”

“Lo’ak, when you are in love, you will know. And if you are, then I am happy for you, little brother. Because despite the hurt, and the pain and the fights, there is no better feeling in the world. And if she’s the one, then she’s lucky to have someone like you.”

You finish grilling some fresh fish on the fire pit in your Marui to feed Kiri, and if you could actually get her to eat it, you were going to celebrate. You couldn’t blame her, having been in her position one too many times. In fact, if anyone could understand what she was going through, it was you.

“Please talk to me? I know you may not want to, but it’s me… you used to tell me everything. And whatever it is, we can work through it together. We always have, no? It’s always been you and me, the two girls with scientist human mothers and no dads? The two girls who used to watch endless hours of video logs and read through encyclopaedias, the girls who used to theorise about who our dads were, what they liked, what traits we got from them? I’m still the same person… just a little bluer, and a little taller, but still me.”

“I saw my mum… you know? The same way you did.”

Your mouth fell agape, but you tried to focus on being calm, so as to not startle her into silence once again.

“Did she say anything?”

“We hugged… it was so nice. It felt like home. We were back in the forest. I asked… I asked her why am I different. I asked her who my father was. But she didn’t answer. She was just taken from me, pulled from my arms and into the abyss. That’s all I remember.” Her eyes were leaking soft tears, and you went to her side and hugged her. She reciprocated, holding you close. “It was so scary…”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“You said you had a whole conversation with your mother. Why did the Great Mother not allow me to do the same?”

You thought about it for a second, needing to choose your words carefully.

“I think the Great Mother is very careful as to what escapes her, because the knowledge that our ancestors, the people who have reached that plane have is beyond us. It’s beyond what we’re supposed to know. I think when Grace was about to share something that could potentially change the course of your life, your future, Eywa stopped her. Because I don’t think we’re supposed to know, we are supposed to live our lives with no outside interference.”

“But what could she have told me about my dad that was so dangerous, so monumental that Eywa had to stop it?”

You bit the inside of you lip aggressively and wondered if the Great Mother would strike you down if you opened your mouth in that moment. To be fair, all you had were theories, so maybe you should keep them to yourself.

“I don’t know, Kiri… All I know is that you are special. And that’s something to be celebrated, not hidden.”

A couple of hours later, you were ready to go diving, and a smile broke through as you watched Neteyam and Lo’ak walk back to your tent, laughing and pushing each other playfully. It was good to see them together again, it was good to see them be brothers again, like they used to be when you were all young. Neteyam’s face split in a dazzling smile, that took your breath away, when he spotted you, and your heartbeat rose as you took him in, those beaded braids flinging from side to side, his imposing yet boyish walk that you found so attractive, those piercing eyes and that beautiful smile, all there to make your tail swish furiously, a dead giveaway for your emotions. He didn’t say anything as he approached you, but took your face in his hands and kissed you, like nobody was there or watching, like the whole world was a mere void around you, like it was the first time. You were surprised and a little shy, knowing Lo’ak and Kiri were right there, but you reciprocated, melting into him, as you always did, and appreciating the very rare public display of affection. You were dizzy when he let you go, pressing his lips to yours gently one more time, and you laughed at the peculiarity of the act.

“What was that for?”

“I just really really love you. And I am very grateful to have you. And sometimes I feel I take for granted what we have, this meteor-strike, one-of-a-kind love that somehow beat all odds. I forget how you have been the only constant in my whole life, how you are the only one I have ever seen, in this whole world. I let frustrations get the best of me, and I am bad at communicating, and I am so so sorry.”

You looked at him incredulously, and then at Lo’ak. “What did you do to my mate?”

“Nothing, Angel. He got there all on his own, if you can believe that.”

You had no answer to that, as a loud horn was met with excited yelps and scream from all around you in the marui adjacent to yours. I think, whatever this was, it was safe to assume the deep water scavenging was cancelled.

You saw Tsireya on her ilu, waving her hand with a big smile on her face, as every villager around her dove in and got on their own.

“The tulkun have returned! Everybody, our brothers and sisters have returned!”

You eyes locked with Neteyam’s, and a wave of enthusiasm washed over you, and you took his hand and called one of your new little aquatic friends, wishing secretly it was Neyn instead, so you could share this moment with her. You both got in the water and on top of the same ilu, hurrying towards the spot everyone else was. You felt his hand slide up your thigh to hold you better in place, and as you wrapped your arms around his abdomen and placed your hands flush against his abs, you knew you had more than one thing to celebrate tonight.

The return of the tulkun was a spectacle few words can do justice. The mammoth beings played and breached and barrel rolled in the water, and you watched as their Metkayina brothers and sisters joined them, talking and catching up, sharing secrets and anecdotes gathered in their time apart. Both you and your mate were in awe at the events unfolding all around you, smiling from ear to ear and holding your hands tightly together. This was love, and you knew it too well, you felt it around you and within you, you felt it in him.

This amazing rare encounter marked a time for celebration among the tribe, and festivities would be underway soon and last for a couple of days. Tsireya said it is the best time of the year, with dancing, and singing and communal dinners and communion with Eywa to give thanks for the safe return of their spiritual brothers and sisters.

It was everything she promised and more, and once again you found yourself reminded of the beautiful customs of the Omatikaya, and how much all the celebrations nuzzled their way deep into your heart, to never be forgotten, to always be yearned for. It was unlike anything else, the feeling of community as you all danced together, girls courting their prospective mates, boys watching entranced at the beauty and grace of it all. The drums that beat in sync with your heart, and how your voice filled the void with music from your home planet that the people accepted and encouraged, and then later on, began joining in for. You wondered if these would also start feeling the same in time, the more the forest began feeling like a long forgotten dream.

You and Neteyam slipped by unnoticed in the midst of the seemingly unending celebration. You were chuckling as he was chasing you, tugging playfully at your tail and soon enough, you reached a deserted plot of land, hidden behind some shrubbery. You laid down on the hard surface of a big flat rock, and you both sighed as you positioned your head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat and settling breath. You had your fights, and being with him was frustrating sometimes, as you were sure it was for him too, but damn, nothing in the world could ever measure up to this feeling. The feeling of his hand slowly caressing your bare back was sending shivers down your spine, and you raised a leg on top of his, getting closer to being so intertwined no would would be able to untangle you. He turned his body to the side, facing you now, and smiled softly at you, a look of melancholy pushing his eyebrows together. You brought your hand to his forehead and smoothed it out, caressing his cheek when you were done, action met with a quiet, low purr.

“Atan… I need you, so much.”

You kissed him, slowly at first, but as desire quickly overcame your senses, you were putty in the kiss, giving in to him as he deepened it, rolling you both until he was on top of you, one leg in between your own.

Neteyam moaned, overwhelmed as his consciousness was flooded by your scent, your taste, your body. His mind was in shambles as it was trying to understand the intensity of all the emotions coursing through his veins, from the arousal and need for you, to the formidable love his heart was barely able to contain in his chest, to the fear and confusion of the vision of you he was met with at the spirit tree and finally the deep seeded hurt at the unresolved conflicts still plaguing you both, still plaguing his dreams, feeding his insecurities.

As you were hurriedly tugging at his loincloth, trying to untie it without breaking the kiss, one emotion won by a landslide. His cock sprung free as you finally succeeded, slapping messily on your abdomen. Neteyam bent the leg that was in between yours, until it reached your core, and he felt a patch of wetness stain your cloth. You couldn’t help grinding on his leg, and the sight of you writhing underneath him, trying to get yourself off on him drove him mad. Whatever ounce of self-restraint went straight out the window, and he ripped your clothes swiftly away, plunging two digits into your wet core, twitching at your whimpering noises.

“I need you. Fuck, I need you so bad, Atan.”

You reached for your queue, begging to feel him, for some reassurance that you, what you had was alright, that despite all the mess you both made of each other, he was still him, and you were still you, forever intertwined, forever one. He looked at you, slight panic displayed all over his features, but eventually he brings his forth and the connection makes you knees wobbly and your mind fuzzy. It pains you, feeling him, feeling all the contradicting emotions taking over his soul, feelings the hurt and pain, the dread and affection, need and yearning, and trying to make sense of them all. What was on his mind? What could possibly be plaguing him to such an unnerving extent? It couldn’t all come from the past couple days, could it? You hoped your emotions would put his at ease, at least a little. Sure, you were a little upset, and somewhat worried for him, but that always paled in comparison to the ever-growing love and desire that nested deep in you, that started years ago, that will never falter.

You looked at his face, furrowed and pained, and you brought your hand up, caressing it slowly.

“Neteyam… what is wrong?”

He kissed you, forcefully, taking your jaw and holding you in one place, and you were scared of him, for him, you weren’t sure.

“Hey… stop.”

You pushed him away and he rolled over with a frustrated growl. You straddled him and lowered your body until you were face to face. “What is eating at you, Yawne (beloved)?”

He brought an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from you. You waited, knowing better than to push him. Eventually he removed his arm and you saw tears falling down the side of his face and onto the ground. Your heart broke at the sight, at the sight of your mate who was going through something you couldn’t understand, that he didn’t share with you.

“I feel like I’m losing you, like I’m going to lose you.”

The feelings of confusion and fear were perfectly clear on your face that was contorting to accommodate the emotions electrifying your being, but you tried your best to remain calm, as to not hurt him further.

“Neteyam… why would you say that? What happened at the Spirit Tree?”

You were met with silence, deep, unsettling silence, that rang more painfully in your ears than all the music that has been loudly enveloping the village for hours at this point.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me.” Eventually he did as he was told, and with blow after blow, you felt exhausted at his despairing look, that was mirroring the deep-seeded sadness in his soul, that you could feel through your still-intact bond.

You took his hands by the wrists and directed them to your body, on both sides of your abdomen.

“I’m here.”

You kissed him, softly and intensely, pouring your whole heart in it.

“I’m here.”

You took him, his whole impressive length in your hands and started pumping him, slowly, firmly, until he was moaning loudly beneath you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever again. Let me show you, that I am here, that I love you, that whatever this is, we will work through it, like we always do.”

You never got to do this - be in control. You never felt the need for it, you loved being his, being owned, wholly and completely, but you needed this now, he needed this now.

You continued pumping him and his look - parted lips, flushed cheeks, eyes tightly shot, ears pushed back, quick breaths and heart racing - drove you wild and the power you felt made liquid pool as you started grinding on him, looking for your own release. It felt good - too good, and sensing his worries melt away slowly only intensified it, and without being able to withstand it any longer, you got up and lined his cock to your sopping entrance and lowered yourself on him slowly, feeling every inch of him, allowing him to do the same. You both moaned in unison, and he got up, aligning your faces, looking deep into your eyes as you bottomed out, wobbly at how deep in you he was, at the maddening stretch that was almost too much to bear.

“I’m here. Do you feel this, feel me? Do you feel what you do to me, how you make me feel? I love you, I will always love you, it’s just you and me. Just you and me, forever.”

“Forever?”

You smiled and threw you head back, overwhelmed by all the sensations you were experiencing.

“Forever.”

You moaned, eyes tightly shut, hair tickling your lower back, that he grabbed and pulled on. You started moving, an agonising pace that didn’t last long as he grabbed your hips forcefully and lifted you off his dick and back on it, over and over, over and over, a ruthless back and forth that made you mewl and whimper, hysterical over how good it felt, how you knew this orgasm was going to rush over you like volcanic fire, leaving nothing in its wake but the ash of your trembling body. He knew you were close when you squeezed around him, and he increased the pace at which he was rutting upwards into you, animalistic desire overtaking his every conscious thought.

“I need you to come in me. I need to feel you in me, feel you filling me up, please.”

You were barely coherent, but he understood you amongst the moans and pleasured cries.

“Come for me, Atan. Let me feel you.”

You did just as you were told, as you always did - his words holding such power over you, and you felt your orgasm prolonging as thick spurts of his cum shot into you, filling you up and sliding down your ass. It was a holy experience, this feeling, this time with him, unlike anything else you have ever experienced, and you were happy to make out only positive emotions in his mind for now. You didn’t want to move, didn’t want this to end, and you stood like this, looking in each other’s eyes, kissing softly, filled to the brim, just like you loved to be.

You came back from your outing and left for the tent, spent and in need of respite. You left Neteyam with his family, and you were surprised to see little Tuk still up. She got on her feet when she saw you and jumped in your arms, which you were happy about, having felt a little disconnected from her recently.

“Hi, cutie, what are you still doing up?”

“I cannot sleep when everybody is away. I want to be dancing, too!”

“Oh, sweetie, you danced all night! It’s past your bedtime, you need to sleep a lot so you can get stronger. You want to be strong like your mummy and daddy, no?”

“I want to be strong like you!”

You let out a small cry at the words, a mantle of surprise engulfing you like a shroud. You needed this, you realise, needed her, needed to know you were still loved, you still had a family that would choose you, despite your many shortcomings, despite being different, despite being nothing new.

“I’m not that strong, baby. I need you to be stronger than me.”

Tuk crossed her arms around her chest in a defying motion, shaking her head furiously, a small pout gracing her beautiful features.

“No. You are strong. The strongest. You are smart, and kind and good with a bow, and a gun. You stand up to daddy even when Lo’ak and Neteyam don’t, and you’re the best ikran rider in the village!”

You laughed loudly at her unbridled praise, and found it funny how unreliable of a judge she was, but appreciative and grateful to know how she saw you, in spite of all your insecurities.

“Don’t say that in front of Neteyam!”

“So you don’t love Tsireya more than me?”

She gasped and circled your neck in a tight hug.

“Never. You’re my second mummy, you always will be.”

“That’s good to hear, baby.”

“Can you sing me to sleep?”

“Of course. Come on, scooch in.” Tuk made a temporary home in your lap, head propped in a comfortable position and legs sprawled all over her woven sleeping mat. You removed her hair out of her face and continued caressing her forehead in a calming motion, the same way your mum used to do for you when you were her age. You remembered a song from a movie you loved from back then, and you decided you needed to show it to Tuk one day, but for now, your singing would have to do.

Where the North wind meets the sea, there's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound, for in this river, all is found

Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear, and in her song, all magic flows

But can you brave what you most fear, can you face what the river knows?

Come, my darling, homeward bound

When all is lost, then all is found

Gideon stood and watched as Quaritch was burning yet another village in his quest to find Jake Sully. He was sick to his stomach at the damage this was doing to these innocent people. Gideon had no problem with murder. He had no problem with intimidation, or hurting people, but at least back on Earth, it was to protect his country. It was against people who were a threat to the security of everyone who lived in it, a potential threat to his family, to his daughter. He could justify it, the atrocious acts, and it would help him sleep at night. But this, all the things he has done since coming to Pandora, no matter how badly he knew he did it to save his daughter, that he had no choice, it still haunted him, giving him nightmare after nightmare he would never outlive.

“IT’S TORUK MAKTO! HAS HE BEEN HERE?” He winced as the rest of the crew was tasing villagers, as Quaritch pulled roughly on the queue of the Olo’eyktan, that he now knew how painful and connected to the rest of his being it was. He didn’t say anything - he couldn’t. Any intervention would be a risk he couldn’t take, not when his plan would warrant him instant death, not when he was so close to seeing you, to meeting you.

Quaritch came close to him and pulled him to the side.

“This shit ain’t working.”

“No,” Gideon said. “They’re stone-walling us.”

“If we turn up the heat, he’s just gonna keep running. We got to draw him out.”

Gideon looked back from Ikran at the burning village, and felt his own self-hatred eat at him, like a parasite, like a virus that would kill him slowly, driven mad by his inaction, by the feeling is his gut that what he was doing was just as bad, if not worse. The Recoms reached the ship that has been doubling as a home for a while, while they navigated the Eastern Sea and this seemingly never-ending archipelago. Scoresby, the captain of this ship and a grade A asshole was waiting on the deck of the ship, a furious look on his face.

“I’m over it. I’ve got quotas to meet.”

“You want to hunt? Let’s hunt.”

Everyone turned, shocked at the words coming out the colonel’s mouth. Even Scoresby, that psycho, couldn’t believe his ears.

“What? Here? Not here, there’s too many villages.”

“No, no no no.” the scientist, Dr. Ian Garvin interrupted, then hated himself for it, as dread clearly filled his eyes looking at the 10 foot tall solider in front of him. Gideon felt for the man, with whom he had a little more in common than he was willing to admit. A broken man, an alcoholic who came to Pandora with dreams and good intentions, his love for the planet and the science fueling his fire, a fire which was promptly snuffed out when he realised the never-ending depths of the depravity that surrounded this whole company that he was now working for. A marine biologist who had to watch as the beings he adulated were murdered brutally in front of him for profit, and he watched, like a coward, like Gideon.

“Respectfully, sir, you do not understand the kinship bonds between the Tulkun and the Ocean Na’vi. It would be like murdering a member of their family.”

“If we start hunting here, the hostiles will come after us.”

“Exactly. One hostile in particular.”

Gideon prayed Jake Sully was smarter than to fall for this, and he prayed for whatever little remained of his soul after this whole endeavour.

You woke up the next day sandwiched between your mate, who was snug behind you, snoring lightly in your ear, leg in between yours, and Tuk, whom you were keeping close to you, and whose hands you have been holding all night. You felt content, even despite the craziness of the past couple of days, and grateful for the people you were sharing a tent with. Things finally seemed to be looking up, you thought, as your swimming improved, and your relationship with Lo’ak mended, and your insecurities about Kiri and Tuk melted away a little. You were worried about Neteyam, but you hoped he would open up about whatever was eating at him soon, and you hoped you eased his mind a little last night.

You had a pleasant family day, laughing and chatting idly by the fire, enjoying the calming sounds of the rain falling all around you and hitting the water right outside your home. It was a short-lived comfort, however, as Tonowari towered at the entrance, dark haunted look marring his features. You all quieted taking him in, and your mum and dad, as well as you and Neteyam went to check on whatever it was that made him this way.

You were barely holding in tears as you neared the dreaded sight, the dead tulkun and her calf, both of them floating aimlessly, held up by orange floating bags with the RDA logo on it. You felt yourself hanging on tighter to your mate, squeezing your arms around his abdomen and letting out quiet sobs that were drowned out by Ronal’s. You watched as she dismounted her Tsurak and approached the departed pair, climbing so she could look in its now empty eyes. You look to your left at Jake and Neytiri, who had similar expressions to yours, and reached your hand for Neytiri’s, who squeezed it, both needing the comfort and the feeling of companionship in these trying times.

Pained wails escaped Ronal’s mouth as she took in the dead calf accompanying the mother.

“Her name is Ro’a.”

“She was my spirit sister. She was a composer of songs - much revered. We would sing together. She waited many breeding cycles to have this calf. The clan was so happy for her. What is this, Tonowari?”

“WHAT IS THIS?”

“What is this?” Tonowari barked. “Why is she marked?”

You were confused, but tapped Neteyam on the shoulder to take the ilu to where the chieftain was.

“It is probably just a way to distinguish them. A cruel way, but that’s humanity for you.”

You finally reached the other side of the tulkun, and looked at what everybody was appalled at. There was big, red, blinking rod, impaled deeply in her skin. Next to it, there was writing on the underside of the fin, carved with a knife. It was red, from the dry blood that spilled as it was drawn, and scarred slightly, meaning it wasn’t fresh. There wasn’t a lot of blood, or any drippings as gravity pushed it down, so you concluded it was done after the tulkun was killed.

“Can you understand it?” Ronal said in a scathing voice, more a snarl than actual words.

“No, it’s not English.”

You looked at it, and stupor overcame you, but you tried your best to maintain your composure. Breathe… breathe… breathe.

To Jake this might mean nothing, but to you it did. It was a language you didn’t know well, but you knew enough to understand. Your mum taught you some of it when you were a baby, telling you it was the language her and your dad spoke to each other when they wanted to not be heard, when they wanted something for themselves.

“Tonight. Midnight.

10 km E of village, deserted island.

Come alone.”

“Kid, can you understand it? You’re the smartest one here.”

“No, Jake, I can’t. Sorry.”

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