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marierg · 5 months

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Biscuits and Beskar: 3

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Rating: PG-13 (just for the last little tense parts and the action)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, language, mentions of past traumas, SNAKE!, semi nakedness, naughty-ish thoughts, TENSION. No actual naughtiness or schmexy-ness but lots of thoughts running wild.

A/N: I apologize now, I know I'm not writing very fast but I hope what comes out is worth the wait. I wanted to give these two a few little moments but also I wanted the Pike incursion to be felt. I have given names to a few of the characters we know. The Gamorean guards are Ro and Weem and the Rancor handler is Vol (pronounced Val). Our girl Kaylee grew up on a star cruise liner (think Princess cruise) and I picture her having been around entertainers and dancers a lot as a kid. One of whom I picture as a very young Jimmy Buffet.

PS- Kaylee is a shit magnet (doesn't mean to find trouble, it just seems to find her) and a klutz. Lots of heart and spirit, but lots of boo boos. Lets just say I hope that the Daimyo's insurance is good.

Words: 4700ish

Song credit: Come Monday by the great Jimmy Buffet! (Don't tell me Margaritaville doesn't exist in Star Wars)

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“PAPA!”

You woke in a cold sweat, hands scrubbing the last of the horrible memory away. You could still see him, hear his last words.

“Free men built this galaxy and free men will have their day again.”

Celsus Manu had died as he lived, bravely standing for what he believed. How many souls had he smuggled on those cruises, how many had Papa saved from a fate worse than death? To be bound to a life of forced servitude until their very spirit extinguished even while their bodies remained.

Nothing could have saved him that day though. The shots ringing in your ears...

Heading down to the kitchen you pulled your robe tight. At each of the dormitory doors you paused to listen, just to be sure the sand scrappers slept well. Turbo was still recovering from the crash to catch that slug majordomo that was sleeping in the dungeon. And it was right where the slemo belonged. It had shaken you to see the boy hurt. The little motley crew was all that you had, and now you could count two hunters to that small group. The Daimyo had done something you couldn't, seeing the kids well cared for, it pleased you beyond words. Starting a kettle you heard Ratty boop and beep as he popped around the corner, following you like a shadow.

There was a balcony just off the hall between the throne room and your domain. It was peaceful there, with not but the wind off the dunes and canyons to break the silence. Sipping your tea there was another sound that came not from the vast wilderness, but the tower above. A shadowy figure moving in smooth, controlled motions. You couldn't help to wonder what specifically caused the Daimyo to be up at this hour?

Then again what wouldn't, given the mess at hand. Finishing your tea you rose, patting the little droid on the head. Glancing again to the tower above you went back to the kitchen and pulled out another mug, “Ratty would you be so kind as to deliver something for me?”

The gaffii's weight was a comfort in his hands as Boba moved about the floor. It was a steadfast and strong weapon, it served him well. The dreams had returned with a vengeance causing many a restless night. Practicing always acted as a bit of a balm. People say that time heals, Boba always thought it a foolish saying. No what healed was not simply time, it was affection, closeness, family. The Tuskins had taken him in, made him part of the tribe. They had given him much needed perspective after years of burying himself in hunting.

Years of running from his past... of ignoring the pain.

Boba was a different man than the one who had been swallowed by the Sarlacc. He had done his job and done it well, hoping to be as good a hunter as his father if not better. Jango had once told him that the more proficient he became the more he could pick and choose the jobs he took, but even Jango wouldn't have been able to avoid the Empire. Those hunts were never satisfying, the quarry rarely worth the price on their head.

Boba's philosophy was much like Jango's; he did the job, he got paid, end of contract. Even still Boba regretted parts of his past. He wondered sometimes what had happened to his daughter, if Ailyn ever thought of him. He had stayed away to keep her safe and maybe that was how it should stay. Hearing a tap at the door his attention shifted. He hadn't send for anyone, “Yes?"

Crossing the floor he opened the portal to find no one, just a tray with a cup of tea and a piece of flimsy. Cautiously picking up the mug Boba read the fine scrawl.

You should get some rest.

Seems he wasn't the only one awake. Taking a sip of the herbal tea he could faintly taste the black melon that was part of the brew. A faint smirk crossed his face. Boba sometimes wondered how you actually felt about him, good or bad. You were ever a puzzle, keeping well behind the curtain of formality yet still doing small kindnesses like this. Something a friend would do for another. Maybe you were waiting for him to seek you out? He hummed at that thought, sipping on the warm decoction. Whatever the case he still felt glad of your presence, even if it was from arms length. “Dral runi.”

“Skad aren't you all supposed to be patrolling?” You looked over the middle counter to where the young man was hovered over his breakfast.

Finishing a bite of hash the scamp nodded at you. “Jus' waiting on Nikita and that Gamorean, Ro, to get back.”

“And here we are,” Nikita strutted in followed by Ro, who grunts at you. The other Gamorean, Weem, was with Drash in the hangar taking a delivery.

Turning to the counter where dishes are drying you gesture to them. “Get some food you two and tell Vol to come eat too.”

Vol never came up until after he had seen to the Rancor. He was a quiet man, said only what was necessary, had a hard edge about him. He was considerate in his own way though, you'd seen him a few times help the kids here and there. But mostly he kept his own company and you respected that. As your thoughts wandered a favorite tune came over the speaker, a smile spread on your face as the old sweet song brought back happier times. Reaching over you raised the volume.

“Oh no,” Skad tried to make a run for it.

“Oh yes.” Grabbing the boy's hand you start to dance and sing. It was something you'd done with Papa in the kitchen growing up. For a moment when you moved across the floor you thought maybe he was there, laughing with you. Most of the kids would dance along when this would happen, knew which songs you loved.

Fennec had gotten back to the Palace when it was still dark, her head buzzing. Whether it was from Fwip's hospitality or the lovely female whose warm bed she had shared was undetermined. What a sweet distraction it had been though. Fennec stepped into the kitchen, an amused chuckle escaping her. You were twirling around and dancing with one of the Gamoreans, looking over to her with a puckish grin. “Don't even think it cookie.”

You rolled your eyes and instead went to the counter to retrieve a Bloody Mary. Handing the drink to the master assassin you continue singing.

“...Come Taungsday it'll be alright. Come Taungsday I'll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown Bespin haze and I just want you back by my side.”

Fennec took a sip of the drink and couldn't help smirking at your flirtations. “Sweetheart I would eat you alive.”

“Hmm but what a way to go...” Making a flirting face you swayed your hips to the music.

Bumping hips with Fennec you threw a towel over your shoulder to get back to work. The assassin had a wicked sense of humor you found. A sense of humor that struck in the form of your belt loop getting hooked to pull you to her side. Fennec tutted you like a naughty child, “Ah ah ah, the song's not over cookie.”

She tugged, guiding your movements while holding her drink in the other. You continued to sing and sway as the song hit the last chorus. Fennec tapped her fingers under your chin then stepped away as the final chords rang. You laughed and felt genuinely happy, feeling safe enough to let down your guard. Which was funny if you thought on it... feeling safe in the palace of the Daimyo of Tattoine. Looking at Fennec's smug face you couldn't help but be a little bit of a brat, “Such a tease Mistress Shand.”

Fennec smirked, glancing back at the hallway, “Oh, you have no idea...”

Boba had stepped back where you couldn't see him, still watching you. Observing as you joined his second in command at the table, making notes on your data pad. It annoyed him that Fennec would toy with you like some dancing girl. Walking into the kitchen he saw you look up at him with a small smile.

“Good morning.” Tracking as he moved to sit at the head of the table by Fennec. You take a fortifying breath, kark you were tired. “Omelet with bacon for the Daimyo or just toast and coffee like this one?”

“Careful cookie, remember who's in charge.” Fennec gives you a light warning. There's no real threat behind it, especially with how she saw Boba looking at you. What these two needed was a solid nudge, still now may not be the time. “By the by, Garsa was asking about you.”

“How's she doing?” You ask concerned. Moving to the buffet you started making up plates and readying the omelet pan.

“Just fine, the Sanctuary was booming last night.”

“And I bet Troy was the bartender,” You smirked at her expression as you passed her a plate of hash. “They have a heavy pour and always work race days, better tips.”

Boba watched as you bustled around making his plate. He was used to eating rations and quick meals on the fly, not often indulging in the slow enjoyment of a meal. It was something that he was still not used to. As you placed the plate and utensils down he glanced to where you sat, keeping his tone even, “You're not eating?”

“No.. I'm...” a flush rose in your cheeks as the man looked at you. Something in those eyes that saw too much. Swallowing thickly you tried to find your words again, “I'll eat later.”

“You should eat,” Boba tilted his head, suspecting that you had never returned to your quarters after making his tea. He gave a slight waive of his hand, “Please.”

“Yes Lord Fett,” Grabbing another plate you put an egg on a slice of toast and refilled your Kaf cup. His gaze was on you like a warm summer sun until you took that first bite. Glancing over you saw the man's lips turn up just slightly as he ate his meal. “I hope it's to your liking.”

“Quite good, thank you.” Boba could think of a few things he'd like to consume much better. Still he did not want to startle or distress, you always appeared flustered when he was near. There were more pressing matters that his mind needed to tend to, business always before pleasure. “Did the prisoner receive a meal.”

“Yes Lord Fett.” Rolling your eyes and giving a grunt, your tone was flatly annoyed.

Well that was a first he thought. “You don't much care for the majordomo?”

“Not particularly,” you bit out the words as though you had swallowed a bug.

Boba gave a huff of a laugh at that. So you had a temper.

“Anyone willing to deal with the Pikes is a damn fool,” Lips hovering on your mug you dared look the Daimyo in the eye, “But while also attempting to assassinate the new Daimyo... dead man walking.”

Boba couldn't help give a slight nod at that, even if his pride was a tad hurt. And foolish he had been, so distracted by his dealings with the syndicate so certain of the profits. All while his tribe was massacred by that speeder gang. But that was then, this was now. “At least he was smart enough to give me the information.”

You huffed, mind turning to more immediate concerns. The rotation on security had changed again, but most of all no audiences. “I didn't see anything on the schedule today.”

Boba didn't raise his head to reply, “Nothing worth mention.”

“Is that why you were awake?” You shouldn't poke the bear, you really shouldn't poke the bear.

Boba looked up from his omelet, seeing the softness of your eyes. You were concerned and curious. “Cleaning up messes.”

“Putting out fires,” You kept your tone easy as you pulled up your data pad to show a message from a friend in Mos Eisley. Partly about parts for your speeder and partly about an increase in unfriendly traffic. “Those fin heads are coming Lord Fett.”

Fennec watched you two dance around one another like a pair of tookas. She knew you had an edge to you, most did living on the outer rim. It did amuse her that you were finally relaxing around them enough to let your teeth show. “No need to worry your pretty head Cookie.”

“They're blood thirsty little piranhas.” You well remembered problems with them during the drought years. How ruthless they could be towards people who couldn't pay their protection.

“Yes but they can occasionally be dealt with,” Fennec kept a calm tone, watching you.

“Rather it ended quickly so that people could get back to living. But what do I know,” Tone low and sad you got up and headed to the sink, tone sharper than intended. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Cookie...” Fennec sighed taking a last drink. “I'm going to town, comm if you need anything.”

“Fennec, be careful.” You watched as she gave you a nod and left. Your thoughts were dark, grumbling in your throat you scrubbed harder at the last of the dishes. You hadn't meant to be moody, it was not like you at all. “I'm sorry...”

“For what?”

You jumped not realizing he had come up behind you. You were so startled that you dropped a glass. The shards sliced your finger, not badly but enough to be annoying. “Shit.”

“Here,” Boba started the faucet, placing your hand under it. “I didn't mean to...”

“No it's... I should be more careful.” Keeping your head down you weren't sure if you could meet his gaze. “I shouldn't have snapped.”

“I think Fennec will survive,” Boba could see your face flushing as he sprayed some bacta on your hand. His tone turning soft, a rarity, but you seemed to bring that out. “There, doesn't look bad.”

“Thank you,” You tried not to stammer as his hands held yours, strong and larger than your own. Glancing up to meet his gaze you almost froze, “Lord Fett.”

“Boba,” He smirked and raised your hand to his lips, giving a light brush of his lips to your knuckles. “My name is Boba.”

“Boba,” you nodded dumbly as he slowly released your hand.

“Kaylee,” Boba inclined his head to you.

Your heart thundered in your ears. Watching as he gestured for you to sit again. He nodded for you to at least finish your Kaf and so the two of you sat like that for a time. It was companionable, without the need to fill the silence.

Boba waited till you had relaxed again, speaking quietly so not to startle. “The tea last night, you put black melon milk in it.”

“Helps settle the nerves,” you shrugged sipping at your drink and not quite looking at Boba. It was such a short name for a man who cast such a large shadow. “and I didn't want to waste the melon on just my tea.”

Boba hummed at that. “And what is it that keeps you awake Kaylee?”

“Things better left in the past...”

“I over stepped...” then he felt your small hand take his own, just holding it lightly.

“S'alright. My Papa would say that honesty is good for the soul.” You sigh with a sad little smile, “Sometimes memories aren't always pleasant and come when we least want them.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

Patting his hand you study the inside of your mug, tone a little bitter sweet, “He was.”

Screaming and several squeals rang through the halls of the Palace, causing both of you to jump. Boba got to the throne room first. There was Ro, Weem, and Drash standing next to an ornate wood box on the floor. Nikita stood frozen several steps away, a dune sea asp staring her down. The large serpent baring its fangs at the girl.

“Don't move, be still.” Boba began to approach the viper his helmet display lighting up trying to target the creature. It was just too close, still in range to strike the girl before he could shoot.

“Fuck!” Drash could shoot herself for accepting the damn shipment, it was her fracking fault it should be her. “Nikita it's gonna be ok. I swear it'll be ok.”

Nikita cried silently, tears trailing her cheeks as she tried to remain still.

“Nikita cat, look at me sweetie.” Stars and maker help you, no please don't let this happen. Your heart was in your throat and you wanted to scream. But that wouldn't help any, “'Kita Cat, come on look at me, look at me.”

The young woman glanced at you finally getting her eyes off the snake.

“Good girl, just... you remember what we used to say? When you kids would hide,” you stepped just a bit closer holding out a hand as if to grasp hers, “Far and away we won't be afraid. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Far and away we won't be afraid. Far and away we won't be afraid...” the girl whispered the words over and over still looking at you.

“Good, keep her calm,” The snake was a message, a very clear one meant for him. Boba knew the asp could kill with its fangs as well as blind and maim by spitting its venom. If he could get the snake to go for him instead the armor would protect him.

“Mama Kay,” the high pitched terror in Nikita's voice ripped you in two, “I don't wanna die.”

“Kark it...” Swallowing hard you got ready to do something really stupid. You had given your word to protect the kids and that was one thing you would not break. Even if their parents were long dead, you had given your word. “Drash get to the drop switch.”

Boba's helmet turned to you, gut dropping to his boots. “What are you...”

Throwing a dish rag at the snake you ran between it and Nikita. The snake hissed furiously and slithered fast as lightning forward to strike at you. “Now Drash!”

“Haar'chak!” The floor went out, sending you to the rancor pit. Boba shot the viper, spraying it with the flame thrower for good measure after. His temper flared, how could you be so foolish? Looking over at Nikita she appeared no worse for wear, Drash had her well in hand. Angrily striding across the room he barked at the Gamoreans, “Clean up this mess! And find out where that came from.”

It was dark, barely any light came down from above. You could hear Drash though, sounding more like the scared girl you had first met and less the confident young woman you knew. “Mama Kay?!”

“I'm alright,” It was a huge lie. Your leg hurt, kark it hurt so bad. It had been a longer drop than you thought and you had heard crunch on landing. This job was getting more and more hazardous to your health. “Ahhhh!”

“Raaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

“Oh dank....” looking around the dark beady eyes of the Rancor met your own. The breath froze in your lungs, body throbbing in pain as the ground vibrated with its roar.

The beast uncurled from where it slept coming to a crouch over you. It's lumbering head turning this way and that studying the new visitor. One large clawed hand came to paw roughly at your hurt leg.

“Hrrgg...” You couldn't help grunting in pain, but the large animal didn't move to harm you further, just studying you. It's large head lowering to sniff and snort, drool falling from it's large fangs. Vol had said that Rancors could be quite sweet. Reaching up to stroke the big beasts muzzle, it huffed a high pitched sound and blinked at you. “You... you like that? Ok we can... we can do that.”

“Open the cage.” Boba kept his voice low, striding into the dark space carefully. While he was confident the beast would not harm him, he did not wish to place you in further danger by startling it. He could hear the deep grunts of the Rancor's breathing, but couldn't see you. “Kaylee?”

“Down here,” it came out pained. You continue stroking and cooing at the rancor, trying to keep calm. In all honesty if your leg weren't on fire this would be infinitely enjoyable “Whose the most fearsome rancor? Such a tough looking fella, just a big sweetie aren't you? Yes you are, yes you are! The best boy aren't you.”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest tilting his helmet to the side. He wasn't sure which outweighed the other, his anger at your reckless behavior or the amusement of seeing you treat the Rancor like a massif puppy. “Miss Manu, you are a hazard to yourself.”

“I'm in no position to disagree,” Glancing to the side and giving a weak grimace you could tell the man was steamed, voice turning sheepish, “It was dumb. I know it was dumb. Please don't fire me... Gaaahh!”

The Rancor accidentally brushed your leg again sending pain shooting. Nausea rose in your throat and your breathing came in little gasps. Oh it was definitely broke.

“Alright boy, easy now go to Vol.” Boba patted the beast and directed it to where the handler stood in the corner. The beast whined and lumbered off, giving him a clear look at the damage. Boba scooped you up easily, carrying you silently up the tower. Partially he was silent to let you stew a little, you deserved that a bit for scaring him. A deeper part of him though simply wanted to absorb the feeling of you in his arms again. The way your chest rose and fell as you breathed, the soft curves of your body in his hands. How you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and neck.

“I'm sorry.” He heard you whisper.

You were toast, so freaking toast. Closing your eyes as Boba walked with you up the stairs, head laying in the crook of his neck, tears fell. It had been nice while it lasted, shouldn't have gotten used to it anyway, maybe Garsa would let you moonlight again. At least Nikita was safe and the kids were cared for, Boba would see to them even if you weren't here. All the worst thoughts running through your mind. You didn't realize at first where the big man had placed you down.

“It's going to hurt when this boot comes off,” Boba's temper had eased seeing the tear stains on your cheeks, you wouldn't even look at him just keeping your eyes down. Taking his gloves off and placing them in his helmet to the side, Boba used just the tips of his fingers to raise your head. Your lip quivered and his face softened. Giving you a ghost of a smile he gently stroked your jaw. “Who would make me tea if you left, hmm? Just have to keep you around... though I may have to take away anything sharp from the kitchen.”

Snorting at the joke you let out a shuddering breath, relief flooded your body. Giving him a weak smile and wincing as he eased the boot off. “Thank you, Boba.”

“Lay back mesh'la, this is not going to be pleasant.”

“Pain I'm used too,” A droid came over and scanned you. Boba cut into your pants-leg exposing the area. The droid gave you a shot of medication and with a few quick movements reset the limb. Even with the drugs it hurt like a mother kriffer.

“Fuuuuuck!”

“Here drink this,” Handing you a glass of whiskey he watched as you downed the amber liquid without a flinch. The droid had suggested putting you in the tank, but Boba watched as you shook your head no. He assisted in the removal of your coveralls, you wore simple small clothes beneath. The droid placed bacta wraps on your leg and a splint, finally leaving you be. He couldn't help noticing you relax when it left. “Rest now Kaylee, you're safe here.”

It would be so easy to get lost in those tigers eyes of his, to forget your place. The man was dangerous... very, very dangerous to you. Because you trusted him so readily, believed when he told you it was safe. You had seen too many dancing girls fall for the crime lords, officers and tycoons on the cruiser growing up. Even here in Mos Espa, you knew that it was a fairy tale. As you continued to hold his gaze, your brain had finally registered where it was he had brought you. The silk sheets, the quiet wind off the dunes, the warm spicy scent.

The man had placed you in his own bed.

You should run to your room this instant, broken leg or no. You felt far too much for the man to begin with but now... The seductive feeling of the soft bed beneath you as he gazed down was just too much. The slide of the material against the bared skin of your body, the way you wanted his scent to linger. Stars he had barely touched you to help get your clothes off, but you never wanted his hands to leave.

Oh, there be danger here. Shaking your head you tried to get back to reality, “I should go...”

“No.”

Boba placed a finger to your lips pausing your words and giving you a stern look. His fingers eased down your lips to your neck, watching as you swallowed hard. A faint smile tugged at his lips as his fingers finally came to press against your collar bones to make you lay back. He didn't miss as the goose flesh rose, nor your pupils dilating.

It all made sense to him now. The way you shied away, the nervousness, the little smiles. You liked him, in some small way you felt something for him. Boba relished as part of this puzzle finally fit. He would let you lead this little chase of theirs, because in the end he knew he would win. First things first though, “Rest Kaylee.”

You shivered as he placed the blankets over you, methodical and deliberately keeping eye contact. As his hand slid down the material you took hold of it. He didn't pull away, simply letting you hold his hand. Calluses and scars from a lifetime of work, a strong and even lethal grace to their dexterity. All that you could tell from the touch of his hand. Your tone was a whisper and some small part of you knew you should still run. But your heart had ever been the foolish sort and there was something there in the gruffness, the controlled tone. A sadness in his eyes that called to you. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

“I don't frighten, cyar'ika.” He tilted his head, such a perceptive little thing. This woman so wise beyond her years. Soft yet strong, and so very sweet. A tough little cookie. He brushed his thumb affectionately over your palm before placing it on your stomach. “Close your eyes Kaylee, sleep.”

“Yes Boba.” The pain medication had been lulling you there already, but it was his deep tenor that made you obey the command. Your last thought before sleep took hold was how nicely your name fell from his lips.

Boba watched you, only for a moment to be sure that you were comfortable. Rangir, who was he trying to fool? He may as well admit that it pleased that hungry part him to see you laying in his bed. Seeing your soft body wrapped in his sheets as a faint smile curved those plush lips. Next time though it would be different, you would be here of your own choosing. Next time you would beg him to stay.

Rising he replaced his gloves and tucked his helmet under his arm. Pausing to glance down on you one more time. “Nuhoy jahaala Kaylee, jate vercopa.”

Translations:

Dral runi- Bright Soul

Cyar'ika- Sweetheart

Mesh'la- Beautiful

Haar'chak- Damn it!

Rangir- To hell with it

Nuhoy jahaala, jate vercopa- Sleep well, good dreams

Tags: @acatalystrising @pickleprickle @daimyosprincess @kimiheartblade

#Biscuits and Beskar #boba fett x oc #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett #the book of boba fett fanfiction #the book of boba fett #star wars tbobf #tbobf #sw tbobf #OC Kaylee Manu #Boba Fett X OC Kaylee Manu

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markantonys · 2 years

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towers of midnight chapter 17-29

juilin is leaving for tar valon with the 3 aes sedai 😭 as are egeanin and domon. so every single character in mat’s plotline who ever showed opposition and/or a backbone towards tuon/the seanchan are leaving in one fell swoop huh? perfectly allowing mat to bury his head even deeper in the sand now that none of the people who’ve been directly harmed by tuon/the seanchan (thera, the aes sedai, egeanin) will be around anymore to make him remember that his beloved wife is evil. not that their presence ever did much of that anyway.

also, i can’t believe my beloved rarepair thom/juilin is splitting up! devastating! the other week i was thinking about the series’ longest-running duo and came to the grim conclusion that it’s rand and min (books 6-14, since i assume they’ll STILL be together in 14 since min has nowhere else to go) with elayne and nynaeve in second (books 2-9), but Actually it’s thom and juilin (books 4-13)!

“‘highness,’ seta said, ‘is it true? you’re going to allow these to roam free of you?’ ‘best to be rid of them,’ mat said, wincing at her choice of titles for him.” oh there i was thinking he was going to be wincing at her referring to human beings (the aes sedai) as “these” but no

and he goes on and on about how sorry he feels for the sul’dam for finding out they can channel. the fucking sul’dam, they’re who he feels sorry for, not any one of the people they’ve enslaved, two of whom are standing right there with him. he shows the sul’dam more empathy here than he showed the aes sedai when tuon put collars on them in KOD.

“maybe someday you two can convince tuon of the truth [that she and other sul’dam can channel]. help me find a way to fix this without causing the empire to collapse.” WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MAT???? THIS IS THE EMPIRE WHO HAS INVADED YOUR HOMELAND AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT IT COLLAPSING???? the second half of the chapter is elayne fretting about the seanchan invading andor after tarmon gai’don, and mat going “i don’t want the truth about my evil wife to hurt her feelings or make her evil slave empire collapse uwu” is such a disgusting contrast. this is NOT my mat. my mat hates authority and imperialism and slavery and injustice and invaders and would jump at the chance to destabilize the seanchan empire (which was supposed to be the WHOLE POINT of the sul’dam secret and now you’re telling me that we hope they can handle that secret delicately in a way that won’t interfere with the empire going about its day?). and i can’t blame sanderson for it because rj already did this to mat and assassinated his character in COT and KOD. the great and good man who risked his own escape to free windfinders enslaved by the seanchan would be even more disgusted by the subsequent books’ mat than i am.

“learning that they could channel, worrying they might be a danger to everyone around them. that’s how rand felt, mat thought. poor fool.” normally i would be over the moon and crying my eyes out over mat showing so much empathy and understanding towards rand finding out he could channel (how far he’s come from his initial reaction in tgh!) but i’m too mad about the above bullet point, and the fact that mat is thinking about the sul’dam in this passage and how he feels sorry for them. you know what else rand has felt, mat? fear of being collared and enslaved by people like your beloved evil wife!

“[egeanin] did not like mat, for all he had done to save her skin. maybe it was because he had not let her take charge, or maybe because she had been forced to act like his lover.” or maybe because you’re constantly swooning over and simpering for the woman who stripped her of her name.

joline thanks mat for giving them horses and he’s all smug about it. it is so annoying how Those Ungrateful Women keep being forced by the narrative to be polite to mat, apologize to him, thank him for things etc. and he’s rarely made to do the same for them despite having always been just as bad if not worse in the rudeness and disrespect department (again, rj did this too - elayne and nynaeve have to apologize to mat for not thanking him for saving them in tear and elayne thanks him very sincerely after the gholam, but to my memory he never once has to apologize for being condescending and treating them like helpless children (i’m thinking more his attitude in LOC-ACOS bc in tear okay fair yeah they did actually need his help))

mat gives joline some nice pastries as a parting gift but it turns out that they’re pranked with something that’ll turn her mouth blue, so that’s very kind and mature of him

“he had a sinking feeling that the aes sedai had wrapped poor egwene up in their schemes so soundly that she would never escape. he had half a mind to ride up there himself and see if he could get her out. but he had other tasks. egwene would have to see to herself for now. she was a capable girl; she could probably handle it without him for a while.” 🙄🙄 mat’s hero complex was sooooomewhat amusing (and at times a little sweet) in the early books, but it has gone on FAR too long. especially when at this point in the series egwene has worked SO HARD and achieved SO MUCH yet still struggles to have others recognize her authority and competence because of how young she is - it’s incredibly frustrating to see people she cares about who SHOULD trust her also treat her like a child in over her head.

for this and the past couple of bullet points: mat has learned NOTHING. his attitudes towards women and towards aes sedai are WORSE than they were at the beginning of the series (once again, rj is responsible for this and sanderson just continued the trend he was given to work with). we have faile bending over backwards to think about how sorry she is for being so mean in the past, birgitte berating elayne for getting people killed because of her plan with the black ajah house (more on that in a bit), yet mat is allowed to continue all his shitty attitudes completely unchecked.

in conclusion, gofundme tuition money to enroll mat in a women’s studies course

“had that frightened wisp of a woman really been the panarch of tarabon? mat had seen mice that were less timid.” she was ENSLAVED and TRAUMATIZED by YOUR WIFE, MAT.

mat thinks oh so generously that maybe he can talk to tuon and get egeanin reinstated, because by now i guess he has fully bought into the seanchan hierarchy and believes that regaining/maintaining your proper place within it is desirable, rather than that the whole system is fucked and should be burned to the ground. “first you’ll need to convince tuon not to make you da’covale. he was half convinced she intended to see him as her servant, husband or not.” SLAVE, mat. da’covale are SLAVES. this just confirms our suspicions that the narrative has forgotten that channelers aren’t the only ones who get enslaved by the seanchan. didn’t you hear? da’covale are actually just servants!

now back to elayne thank GOD. that was definitely the worst mat section since KOD (at least his first chapter in TGS only had misogyny and not also pro-imperialism-and-slavery).

elayne is walking in the rooftop gardens which has a view of the lower gardens. “it was in those gardens that she had first met rand. she pressed a hand to her belly.” 🥺

now we have birgitte berating elayne for taking risks because apparently elayne can’t even take a fucking walk in her own garden? birgitte points out that elayne could lose a limb or get severe brain damage and still live to give birth to healthy children, which is fair enough, but then says, “and what about the people around you? give you no thought to the danger you could cause them?” “i feel bad for vandene and sareitha. and for those men who died to rescue me. don’t dare imply that i feel no responsibility for them! ...we discussed this, birgitte. we decided that there was no way i could have known that chesmal and the others would arrive as they did.” “we decided that there was no use arguing any further.” like ugh this exchange just feels like pandering to all the elayne haters who were so mad at her for having the audacity to get kidnapped after a genuinely well thought out plan - WHICH BIRGITTE WAS IN ON so why the fuck is she now acting like elayne just went haring off unsupervised - went unpredictably awry. to my memory birgitte didn’t at all blame elayne during KOD???? she was exasperated (yet also full of admiration) that elayne never once felt afraid during the whole ordeal, but i don’t believe she ever felt that it was elayne’s fault or anything like that. it just feels like an uncharacteristically low blow for birgitte to bring this up to guilt elayne into being more careful (yes, elayne’s the one who references the specific incident, but since they’ve clearly argued about it many times, birgitte likely knew what she was doing by saying “give you no thought to the danger you could cause the people around you”). can you imagine if a character used the deaths at dumai’s wells to guilt rand into being more careful? that would be an extremely shitty move, wouldn’t it? why the hell does elayne get victim blamed, both within the narrative and in the fandom, for her kidnapping but rand doesn’t? no, we all know why. like for real, if you asked WOT fans who was to blame for the deaths at dumai’s wells, everybody would say elaida or galina, yet if you asked who was to blame for the deaths after full moon street, a good chunk if not the majority would say elayne instead of chesmal and the other black sisters who, you know, were the ones actually kidnapping and killing people.

anyway. elayne wants the kin to be stationed in andor so that andor can offer/have access to traveling (which will be charged for) and healing (which will be free, elayne says very adamantly). clever clever! part of the reason is because she wants all the resources she can have at her disposal when the seanchan inevitably try to invade andor after the last battle. “she suspected that those who claimed to be artur hawkwing’s successors would never be satisfied until they held all that had once belonged to their ancestor.” glad to see that one (1) character is still considering the seanchan to be an enemy and serious threat. 2 because egwene does too.

but she also wants channelers who will fight in battles - she won’t force the kin to do that. “the only thing she could think of was the black tower. it was on andor’s soil...what would happen to them if rand died? dared she try to claim them? dared she wait for someone else to?” OOOOOOH this is an intriguing prospect!! and man, how much easier would it have been if rand had been in charge of the black tower all this time instead of going “i don’t trust taim at all. i think i will give him free rein over hundreds of dangerous male channelers and never check in on him.” then the black tower would be solidly behind him and he could just be like “everybody this is your new stepmom elayne, do whatever she wants” and all would be well.

“a careful trap using the asha’man and wise ones, and perrin could hit the Children so hard that they shattered. he could maybe even destroy them permanently as a group.” why do i feel like he’s going to decide not to do this for Moral Reasons and this is going to end up as another instance of “evil group is perfectly poised to be destroyed permanently but our protagonist intervenes to prevent it from happening”

“berelain pursed perfect lips. light, but the woman was beautiful! ...why had the creator made people as perfect as berelain?” faile? u good fam?

faile and berelain agree to pretend to be friends to put a stop to the rumors that berelain slept with perrin. WHAT was the goddamn POINT of this entire plotline? the fact that so many other characters have had min viewings/prophetic dreams/etc. foreshadowing all this epic shit and then perrin’s bird viewing was just that he was going to spend the majority of the series in a completely pointless love triangle that 2/3 of the involved parties did not want to be involved in and that ended up affecting absolutely no aspect of the story lmao i’m wondering if the show would even bother with this because a) removing it would affect nothing and b) with show!perrin’s extra trauma from killing laila the perrin/faile relationship will have plenty of obstacles already without needing to include the berelain love triangle.

MATLAYNE REUNION!!!!!!!!!!!! SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP!!!!!!!!!!! thankfully i read this a few days after the previous mat chapter so my annoyance at him had cooled and i could appreciate the reunion properly! we are diving into this chapter in extreme detail, let’s go.

mat shaves off his beard and is careful in his clothing selection before meeting with elayne 😌 although he picks out a respectable plain coat and then spends the rest of the chapter anxious and self-conscious and fretting that he should’ve picked a nicer coat to see elayne, baby boy! there is symbolism about the fact that mat was constantly wearing over-the-top lacy fancy clothes around tylin and tuon, but now he changes back into a normal coat to see elayne. because she sees and appreciates him for who he is and he doesn’t feel the need to add any false ornamentation or change himself around her! (altho she does kinda make fun of his coat later lmao)

“one of the holes had a bloodstain around it, but that had mostly been washed out. it was a nice coat.” literally “mat is even wearing his formal leather jacket” “it’s the one without any blood on it”

“just because a man marries someone doesn’t mean he suddenly becomes bloody nobility.” “mat, that’s actually exactly how it works.” kdjfg

mat wishes that his luck would for once see him, among other things, off somewhere with a pretty serving girl on his knee instead of, among other things, being married to a seanchan high lady. another one for the “mat is gonna cheat on tuon so fast” file folder

the band is getting attention in caemlyn because they’re the largest single group outside the walls, because they’re as organized and disciplined as a regular army, and also because they’re led by “a personal friend of the dragon reborn.” everyone in caemlyn knows mat is rand’s ~Personal Friend~ aka sugar baby (and mat’s men keep bragging about it and he wishes they wouldn’t jkfg)

guybon (random beautiful man who showed up out of nowhere with a huge army for elayne in the eleventh hour, aka the guy invented to fill the mat-and-the-band shaped hole in the story) meets mat to escort him. “too bad he had such a pretty face. a life in the military would probably end up wrecking that.” #BiMatRights

among the many rumors in caemlyn about mat, one is that he “won the dragon reborn the loyalty of the aiel” (by killing couladin), caemlyn is spinning out romantic tales about rand and mat’s devotion to each other!

talmanes is “crestfallen” that mat tells him to stay outside while he and thom go in to meet with elayne, and mat promises to introduce him to elayne later. talmanes really wants to meet his bff’s wife!

“mat stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath. he had fought in dozens of skirmishes and battles without growing nervous. now his hands were shaking.” he’s so nervous to finally see his crush again 🥺

“his eyes found elayne immediately...she looked radiant in a gown of deep red and gold. beautiful, full red lips that mat would not have minded kissing, if he had not been a married man. her red-gold hair seemed to shimmer in the hearthlight, and her cheeks were full of color.” THIS IS SO ROMANTIC AND FOR WHAT????? good GOD mat!!! he is straight up IN LOVE with her!! (also, another one for the “mat is gonna cheat on tuon so fast” file folder)

RADIANT!!! mat thinks elayne looks RADIANT!!! he’s never described TUON as radiant. also, conveniently placed light source to make a character’s hair shimmer my beloved

“‘thom, i’m so glad that you’re all right!’ elayne grabbed him in an embrace. ‘hello, dear one,’ thom said fondly. ‘i hear you’ve done well for yourself, and for andor.’” 🥺🥺

elayne is crying! she’s so happy to see them!! but we don’t get a matlayne hug even tho elayne hugs thom and birgitte hugs mat 😔

elayne thanks mat for all he’s done for her, and despite how sulky he was about not getting thanks and kisses from her sooner, now he just says “it really wasn’t anything, you know, elayne.” and when she apologizes for making him wait so long for a meeting he says “it’s nothing. you’re busy.” and when she offers to let the band move closer to the city and apologizes that there’s no room for them within the walls he says “that won’t be needed. letting us move closer is kind enough. thank you.” 1 page back with elayne and he’s already 10x better about being polite and respecting women! unlike when joline thanked him earlier, he doesn’t show or feel a hint of smugness about elayne thanking him now! she truly does bring out the best in him and i’ll always be bitter that he got punted off to a wife who turns him into the worst possible version of himself.

“‘burn me. you’re queen! how’s that feel?’ elayne laughed, finally releasing thom. ‘such a way with words you have, mat.’” they’re married!

mat says he’s not going to bow to elayne or bother with “your majesty” nonsense and elayne says she wouldn’t expect it, unless they’re in public because there she has to keep up appearances for the people. “‘i suppose that’s true,’ mat agreed. it did make sense.” he loves his wife so much and is now completely willing to bow to her in public and understands why it’s important that he do so! growth! trophy husband (complimentary) behavior! and, importantly, unlike with tuon, he does NOT intend to bow and scrape to elayne in private. literally a prime example of the “someone who will respect you in public but speak freely to you in private” ideal partner for a high-profile leader that egwene described to us previously!

MAT FINDS OUT ABOUT THE BABIES AAAAAAHHHH

“he looked accusingly at elayne. ‘does rand know about this?’” a bold attitude from someone who knows FULL WELL that rand has been fucking min for the past few months lmao i think sanderson’s mat forgot he had all those visions because he does not react in any way or think about rand and min at all or scratch his head wondering how rand has the time to fuck so many people. a common symptom of the series, whenever one of rand’s relationships is relevant to a scene, everybody present in that scene (including rand himself) forgets the other two exist.

“she laughed. ‘i should hope he isn’t too surprised.’ ‘burn me!’ mat said. ‘he’s the father!’” the fact that elayne’s been so secretive about the babydaddy’s identity but trusts mat enough to tell him straight off the bat 🥺 also, i will call bullshit if mat doesn’t say a word about this to rand when they see each other next book (tho at least “i should hope he isn’t too surprised” gives mat sooooome leeway in believing rand might already know)

okay let’s take inventory here

people who currently know elayne is pregnant with rand’s babies: elayne, mat, aviendha, min, nynaeve, egwene, thom, birgitte

people who currently do not know elayne is pregnant with rand’s babies: rand

like this POOR MAN lmao!! someone PLEASE tell him my god!

“how had becoming queen made elayne less high-and-mighty? had he missed something? she actually seemed agreeable now! well, that was unfair. there were times when she had been agreeable before. they had merely been mixed between times when she had been ordering mat around.” mat acknowledging that elayne was never that bad and he judged her too harshly! we love to see it!!

“he found himself smiling as thom related [the whole story since ebou dar]...mat almost thought himself a hero, listening to thom.” mat is smiling about getting to sit with elayne and catch up with her! elayne listening to the things he’s been through makes him feel like a hero!

“right before thom got to the part about tuon’s marriage words, however, mat coughed and cut in.” and he hastens thru the rest of the story and doesn’t mention the marriage LMAO he doesn’t want elayne to know he’s married. because he’s in love with her! “thom eyed mat with amusement.” and thom knows it!

“what trouble have you gotten yourself into, matrim cauthon?” “that’s not fair at all. i’m not the one who gets into trouble. if i-” “you’re not going to mention my getting captured in the stone of tear again, are you?” “of course not. that happened ages ago. i barely remember it.” THEY’RE MARRIED YOUR HONOR

“she laughed, the pretty sound ringing in the room. he felt himself blushing.” 🚨🚨🚨 ELAYNE MADE MAT BLUSH!!!!! 🚨🚨🚨 and he thinks her laugh is pretty!!!!!

like literally the way he thinks about elayne is SO MUCH MORE ROMANTIC than the way he thinks about tuon i can’t TAKE it!!!

“‘mat, i could kiss you,’ she declared. ‘this is exactly what i needed!’ mat blinked. what?” JSKDFHG AAAAAAAHHHHH and birgitte says “you’ll have to watch yourself, elayne. rand will be jealous.” BIRGITTE STRAIGHT UP CALLING OUT THE VIBES BETWEEN THEM LMAO but rest assured rand won’t be jealous if elayne kisses mat, birgitte! that would be his dream come true!

mat and elayne have some interesting negotiations about the use of the dragons! the final deal they settle on is: elayne will provide the money and resources to produce the dragons, 3/4 of them will go to andor and 1/4 to the band, elayne gets the band in a renewable 1-year contract but can’t force them to fight in any battle mat doesn’t want them to participate in, and elayne can have mat’s medallion for 3 days to study it.

“i don’t like having men who could leave me at any time.” “you know i won’t hold them back merely to spite you. i’ll do what’s right.” “what you see as being right.” “every man should have that option.” “few men use it wisely.” “we want it anyway. we demand it.” “you have it.” ❤️

but initially elayne wants the band to be part of andor and given a commission there permanently and to be officially backed by her, which i would’ve loved so much!!!! unfortunately, mat turns it down, in part because he doesn’t want the band beholden to anybody (which is fair), but not only for that reason. “it was actually tempting. just a little. but it did not matter. he did not think elayne would be happy to have him in her realm once she knew of his relationship with the seanchan. he meant to return to tuon eventually, somehow. if only to work out what she really felt about him.” SIGHHHHH. all tuon does is cut mat off from all his other loved ones. this passage implies that he’s pretty much turned fully traitor to the westlands and is aware that most of his friends will hate him for it, yet he still doesn’t manage to reach enough awareness to, you know, feel bad about it, or to have any guilt over the fact that tuon would collar elayne as soon as she met her (and swallow up her nation and people to boot).

but then mat does think that he has no intention of giving the seanchan access to the dragons, so that’s good! maybe not full traitor, then. like gawyn, he’s trying to straddle both sides at once lmao

“elayne raised an eyebrow at him. yes, she had become a queen. just like that.” ❤️❤️

“‘a serving man,’ mat said. ‘you know, to take care of my clothing. you’d do a better job of picking than i would.’ elayne looked at his coat, then up at his hair. ‘that,’ she said, ‘i’ll give you regardless of how the other negotiations go.’” “if you need to borrow money to buy a new coat, the crown can lend you some. considering your station, you really should dress more nicely.” and then elayne says she’ll see that mat gets a noble title. sugar mama elayne is out in full force!! god bless. all i want is for mat to be the sugar baby of both the queen of andor and the dragon reborn, it’s my greatest dream (and hey, there have been multiple instances where both rand and elayne have been mentioned as being able to cover mat’s expenses and give him noble titles so it’s all but canon anyway!)

mat tells elayne that the gholam is in caemlyn. we love to see characters sharing important information with each other about things that could be a danger to them!

elayne shares her plans to use the band to move on the sun throne, and mat is fine with it and even thinks it’s a good use for the band while he’s off rescuing moiraine! “i agree to that, but elayne, the band has to be free to fight in the last battle, however rand wants.” they said mat is a bad friend to rand and always runs away from him, i said bitch WHERE

elayne invites mat and thom to dinner later ❤️ and talmanes, at mat’s request. “taking dinner with you will have him dancing all the way back to the camp.” jkdfjgh

“thom spared a paternal kiss for her cheek before parting - good that it was paternal! mat had heard some things about those two that he did not want to believe. with thom old enough to be her grandfather, no less.” LMAO sanderson directly calling out whatever the fuck rj did with elayne and thom back in tfoh hjfkg i love it

“‘that went well,’ mat decided, hands on hips. ‘i worried she wouldn’t bite, but i think i reeled her in pretty well.’ thom laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘what?’ mat demanded. thom just chuckled.” mat is the “anything for you beyonce” vine for elayne and thom knows it!

“‘might i suggest you move the ring to the third finger of your left hand?’ ‘you may suggest it,’ nynaeve said, but did not move the ring.” djkfjg icon

we see nynaeve’s test with the 100 weaves and it’s a wonderful full circle moment from her accepted test! i see her point that it’s important that she care about the people she’s protecting more than her own status and whether or not she’s raised to the shawl, but i’m still fresh off my annoyance at rand’s “you’re better because you’re Not Like Other Aes Sedai” speech and so i also see the aes sedai’s point that it IS important to remain calm in a crisis and it IS important to know how to prioritize and focus on your main quest - sure going off on a sidequest to save people in need would be more important than the main quest of doing a silly little weave to complete a test, but those people aren’t actually real and thus the test IS more important (and in most of the scenes we saw, the weave she was supposed to perform did end up saving the situation anyway). i love that nynaeve wants to save everyone but i do think she needs to learn that she can’t (a lot of WOT characters need to learn that, notably mat). but it is an interesting contrast to the mentality of some other characters and really shows that she could never be a large-scale leader like rand, egwene, and elayne, who by now are practiced in placing the greater good above individuals. and aes sedai DO have to focus on the greater good as well, that’s kinda the whole point of their organization, so just because that’s not how nynaeve is, i don’t think it’s fair to say that she’s Better than the other aes sedai, only that it’s not the right career path for her lmao

but of course it was shitty of the testers to purposely make the visions so cruel and to test nynaeve more brutally than anybody else would be, and of course nynaeve is right to say “i wonder if we sometimes put the white tower - as an institution - before the people we serve. i wonder if we let it become a goal in itself, instead of a means to help us achieve greater goals.” but then the rest of the speech strays too close to “women who don’t get married and have families are inherently less empathetic than those who do” for my liking, so overall the jury’s out.

i will say, it’s interesting how nynaeve and gawyn both choose concern for individuals over concern for a greater cause, yet the narrative (or at the very least the fandom) seems to reward nynaeve for it and criticize gawyn. something something gender roles women are supposed to be caregivers in the private sphere and men leaders in the public sphere something

also, nynaeve used balefire! i’ve been wondering if she ever would again. every now and then i go, “hey, remember that time nynaeve used balefire in TDR and it was literally never mentioned again?” glad to finally see that loop closed haha also, it’s totally fair for her to get in trouble for using an extremely dangerous and illegal weave (again, i agree with her that she may have to use balefire in the last battle, but the dangers in the testing visions weren’t real) and honestly i’m surprised the other aes sedai let it go so easily, but not complaining because the last battle is coming and things have gotta move along.

nynaeve gets myrelle’s bond from lan!!!!! i genuinely wasn’t sure if that would happen since i was never spoiled about it, though i assumed it was a pretty safe bet that it would. “do not press me. in the morning, i swear the three oaths. i’m free of them for one more night.” JDKFJGHJ DAMN

oh also i forgot to say: a chunk of nynaeve’s braid got burned off and it’s now too short to tug! heartbreaking! rip to a legend! as far as rj’s overused turns of phrase go, i always loved the braid tugging bc it’s so specific to nynaeve and her personality (birgitte’s done it occasionally but the narrator will usually remark that it reminds them of nynaeve). but Smoothing Skirts as a universal thing that every woman in the world does as a sign of hidden anxiety or annoyance, on the other hand...........

“so elayne is queen. that must make rand happy.” thank you perrin for a randlayne crumb!

perrin at the prospect of fighting the whitecloaks: “he felt a strange reluctance. it seemed such a waste to kill so many who could fight against the shadow.” see? i knew he was gonna wuss out of destroying the whitecloaks once and for all. sigh. yeah yeah they need all the hands they can get in the last battle but still. sigh.

“several sources indicate that [rand] has sued [the seanchan’s] leader for peace.” “but what did he do to his hand?” perrin is so worried about rand and his hand 🥺

you know what? i think balwer has earned a place in my favorite tertiary character list. he’s so uptight yet sneaky i love him. seeing as my favorite tertiary character list consists of balwer, lini, essande, mistress harfor, and norry, i think my favorite genre of minor character is just “no-nonsense senior citizens” jdkfg (and verin! tho she’s a secondary character not tertiary)

morgase finally finds out gaebril was a forsaken and used compulsion on her!!!! 😭😭 she gives such a powerful speech about it, but it’s wasted on fucking tallanvor. literally morgase is like “so i just found out that i was mind controlled by a forsaken” and tallanvor’s only reaction is “so you didn’t actually love him? nice, that means i have a chance with you!” fuck OFF dude. what i wouldn’t give for this moment to have been between morgase and lini instead, would’ve been so much more powerful. (update: a few chapter later i realized that lini was among the group kidnapped by the whitecloaks, so she actually couldn’t have been present for this scene. but still.) the tallanvor/morgase romance is so unnecessary!! sure it’d be nice for morgase to finally have someone who loves her selflessly, but as we can see from his reaction here, tallanvor doesn’t, despite all his whining about how he’s so good at loving her from afar and not expecting anything from her. you’ve been hassling her to get her to admit she’s into you for multiple books!

“i think thom and gareth loved me, but as something to be held and cared for, then released. i didn’t think you’d ever let go.” “i won’t.” is that...........supposed to be romantic? i would way rather a partner who holds and cares for and then releases me lmao that sounds great!

speaking of partners who won’t ever let go: “other than things to do with egwene, what is it that you want?” “nothing. she’s everything.” jkjfg every WOT secondary character who’s the love interest of a more important character be like

and now bryne does elayne dirty and gives galad too much credit: “you always were the passionate one, gawyn. like your mother and your sister. impulsive, never calculating like your brother...perhaps i spoke wrong - galad may not be calculating, but he isn’t impulsive. to be impulsive is to act without careful thought; galad has given everything a great deal of thought.” it’s not like elayne has become a powerhouse politician and galad has gotten brainwashed by a cult or anything! throughout this book, there’s been such a narrative of elayne being impulsive and not thinking things through, but that’s completely not true - obviously she takes massive risks, but they’re ALWAYS calculated and planned out fairly carefully beforehand, even if things end up going unexpectedly awry once the plan is in motion (more on this in a bit)

“find out who you would be without egwene, and then figure out how to fit her into that.” i love this. now can somebody PLEASE give this advice to min?

mat lists some rumors from the current caemlyn rumor mill, one of which is that rand “visited women in their sleep, getting them with child” hjdkfhgj CRYING everybody wants rand carnally and assumes that everybody else has had rand carnally. also, feel like this implies people are totally suspecting he’s elayne’s babydaddy despite her efforts to the contrary. add “the entire population of caemlyn” to the list of people who suspect, at least, that elayne is pregnant with rand’s babies.

“mat had offered to come up with a backstory for his act, but thom had coughed and said that he already had one worked out.” and later, “mat? i don’t know what you mean, my good woman. my name is garard, a simple beggar who has a quite interesting past, if you care to listen to it” let mat share his dramatic backstories you bastards!!!

what’s the point of noal. i know that he’s jain farstrider, and i don’t dislike him (he does add a fun Weird Grandpa vibe to the group) but he’s just such a random addition to the party. especially to be given the important narrative place of one of moiraine’s 3 rescuers! she’s gonna see them and be like “thom! mat! and............some old guy i’ve never met before!”

“and what of rand? mat saw him sitting on a fine chair, staring down at the floor in front of himself in a dark room, a single lamp flickering. he looked worn and exhausted, his eyes wide, his expression grim. mat shook his head to dispel that image as well. poor rand.” 😭😭❤️❤️ mat loves and misses and worries about rand so much!! “mat is a bad friend to rand and abandons him and never shows him any empathy or understanding” WHOMST??? also, i will note that hilariously in the prior paragraph mat thought about perrin and only said that an image appeared and he banished it, he did not describe a single thing going on in that vision unlike the rand vision. mat is always so much more hung up on the rand visions than he is on the perrin visions or than perrin is on the rand visions.

“mat did not want to go back. there was no tuon back in the two rivers.” sweet, then i’m sprinting back to the two rivers. “light, well, he would have to figure out what to do with tuon. but he did not want to be rid of her. if she were still with him, he would let her call him toy without complaining.” 🙄🤮 like, every single thought mat ever has about tuon ALWAYS feels so jarringly out of character and nonsensical.

the phenomenon of plays (slash operas) has arrived in caemlyn! perfect for mat’s post-last-battle life as a playwright in caemlyn under sugar mama elayne’s patronage!

“the queen sat with a calm demeanor, watching the play. at times, birgitte felt more like a nursemaid than a bodyguard. how did you protect a woman who seemed, at times, so determined to see herself dead?” she’s literally just sitting in a chair watching a play birgitte fucking RELAX. the other characters’ overprotectiveness of elayne is FAR more annoying than her viewing-induced plot armor recklessness has ever been! birgitte complains about feeling like a nursemaid - well, maybe elayne would consult with you about her dangerous plans more if you treated her as an intelligent adult rather a foolhardy child! birgitte is not buttering my bread this book, i have to say.

she does redeem herself a bit a moment later tho: “and yet, elayne was also so very capable. like tonight; she’d somehow convinced her most bitter rival to attend this play...it whispered of a political maneuver by elayne that was thirteen steps more subtle than birgitte had a mind for. she shook her head. elayne was a queen. volatility and all. she’d be good for andor.” that’s my girl! ❤️❤️ (but also, elayne is not “volatile” lmao?? sure, she has her moments of letting out a single primal scream of frustration, but on the whole she’s very good at keeping an outwardly even temper when it’s important to do so.)

mat arrives to see birgitte, but birgitte’s first assumption is that he’s here to see elayne. she knows they’re married! “birgitte held up two fingers to order drinks - [the bartender] knew that she took milk these days” the mental image of the captain-general walking into bars and going “bartender, i want a glass of your best milk” is SENDING me jkfjgh

also, reason #783745 why mat should be elayne’s warder. can you imagine the act of love it would’ve been for mat to swear off drinking for 9 months because he worries it might have a negative effect on the babies thru the bond? 🥺

“one in a thousand is good odds. for me.” “bloody ashes. you’re as bad as elayne!” 1) mat and elayne are the same and they are married ❤️ 2) this is exactly what’s so infuriating about the narrative and the fandom punishing elayne for “recklessness” - because they reward mat for the very same thing. mat is just as bad if not worse when it comes to coming up with wild dangerous plans, yet his plot-mandated protagonist ta’veren luck plot armor means that they almost always work out, or that if they go wrong it’s in a way that still allows them to work out in the end (like the escape from ebou dar). elayne will have a very solid plan that goes awry due to unforeseen circumstances, while mat will just charge into something with half a plan cobbled together with duct tape and then it works out, with the result that everyone’s like “elayne is so stupid and reckless and gets people killed! i love when mat makes crazy plans that work out against all odds!”

“could she, perhaps, give one of the copies to mat? he’d never know, since he couldn’t channel himself...no, she thought, squashing that temptation before it could fly too high. she had promised to return mat’s medallion, and she would. not some copy that didn’t work as well.” ❤️

elayne disguises herself as a forsaken as a means of getting the black sisters to spill information to her. this is genuinely clever! and it works exactly as intended for quite some time until the impossible-to-foresee betrayal of the secretary! and even when things do go awry, elayne holds her own against 3 black ajah and 2 other darkfriends fantastically well! and she did 100% intend to tell birgitte about the plan, but birgitte was out drinking with mat, so why does the narrative later insist that elayne’s at fault for going behind birgitte’s back? she literally wasn’t there! granted, elayne does think “well on the plus side if birgitte’s not here then she can’t object to my plan!” rather than waiting to do the plan at a different time after birgitte comes back, but like maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to think that way if birgitte treated her like an intelligent adult rather than a foolhardy child.

elayne learns that darkfriends are hunting mat and is so worried!! ❤️ and also that the shadow is planning an invasion of andor, uh oh..........noooo andor is like the LAST place that hasn’t yet been invaded by either the shadow or the seanchan! caemlyn is my only Home Base in a series where all the characters are wandering around and making me feel adrift because i never did like travel-based fantasy series where there’s no Home Base! it’s gotta stay strong! it’s gotta!

mat comes charging in with birgitte after she sensed elayne was in danger! protective husband!!!

speaking of protective husbands, gawyn fends off an assassin from egwene’s room and goes to check on her and gets caught in the traps she’d laid to catch the assassin jdkfjg peak comedy. once again, i sympathize with both sides of the argument - gawyn’s interference let the assassins know that egwene’s onto them and cost her the element of surprise, but he wasn’t actively Trying to interfere, he just went to have a quick look in her corridor to reassure himself that all was well bc he was anxious and then unintentionally ended up fighting an assassin. i agree more with egwene, bc gawyn wasn’t even supposed to be in that corridor in the first place since he’d promised not to, but i do understand his being anxious and wanting to check on his beloved. (and i forget whether or not he was aware that egwene had set up traps in her room? if not, then his anxiety would be doubly understandable bc he’d think she was leaving her rooms completely unguarded and vulnerable with assassins walking the tower.)

“her cheeks were flushed with anger at him. that made her even more beautiful than usual.” gawyn’s just exposing his kinks to us huh jhdkfjg

gawyn goes to caemlyn!!! he’s gonna see elayne!!!! i’m gonna get my reunion!!!!!

“birgitte stood in the doorway, mat in the room beyond. he’d stepped out for melfane’s inspection, but otherwise he’d hovered near her almost as protectively as birgitte.” HUSBAND BEHAVIOR!!!! 😭😭😭 where is talmanes to tease mat for being husbandly when you need him?

“we don’t have time for much, these days. risks must be taken.” exactly! the last fucking battle is nigh, if you all hadn’t noticed! nigh, i tell you!! elayne can’t afford to just sit in a glass tower not taking any risks! fandom shits on elayne for unintentionally endangering others by risking her own life to accomplish necessary goals, yet they’d think just the same if she sent other people to take those risks in her stead. if elayne HADN’T gone into the black ajah house, it would be all “elayne’s such a coward sending other people to die in her place” like if you don’t want elayne to go up against the black ajah herself but would also criticize her for sending others to do it, what do you want her to do, just ignore the black ajah and let them get away with whatever?

“you made me your warder, but you won’t let me protect you! how can i be your bodyguard if you won’t tell me when you’re putting yourself in danger?” she TRIED to and you WEREN’T THERE, birgitte! and she DID tell you the whole plan for the black ajah house incident and you AGREED - reluctantly, but you did agree - to let her go in without you! i definitely feel like there’s an attempt to retroactively make the black ajah house incident be elayne’s fault in-narrative in a way that it wasn’t at all in KOD.

“at that moment, a scarf-wrapped head appeared in the doorway. mat had his eyes closed. ‘you covered up?’” see? mat is so much more respectful of women when he’s around elayne! doesn’t even consider trying to sneak a glance of her naked!

elayne warns mat that darkfriends are after him and tells him to be careful ❤️

“‘well,’ mat said, shrugging, ‘you’re alive, and three of them are dead. seems like a reasonably good outcome.’” fucking thank you mat for acknowledging that elayne accomplished something rather than getting on her case about taking risks! king!!

“‘mat,’ she said, taking off his medallion. ‘here, it’s time i gave this back. you should know that it probably saved my life tonight.’” ❤️❤️ this is now TWICE that mat’s medallion has saved elayne’s life (with the first being the gholam in ebou dar) this ship literally writes itself! [nynaeve voice] why aren’t they married!

of all my should-have-been ships, mat/elayne truly does feel like The One That Got Away. obviously rand/mat and elayne/avi would never ACTUALLY have happened canonically in the books (tho avilayne is a shoe-in for the show and i can’t wait!) but mat/elayne absolutely could have happened within the heteronormative confines of canon. and they spend more time together and have more relationship development than elayne has with her actual love interest, and elayne fills the same “everything he thought he hated” tropes as mat’s actual love interest but in a much better and more effective way and challenges his prejudices about channelers rather than enforces them.

i once put this whole canon matlayne scenario in the replies of a previous recap, but you’re gonna hear it again! SO they could’ve had their Big Damn Kiss and love confession post-gholam in acos and then fucked and then got tragically separated, and elayne having to leave mat behind in ebou dar for the sake of getting the kin away from the seanchan would’ve been a beautiful angsty heart vs. duty moment for her. then elayne finds out she’s pregnant, mat’s escape from ebou dar now has the concrete goal of wanting to get back to caemlyn and elayne, and then they finally reunite in this book and mat finds out he’s gonna be a dad and he realizes that the idea of commitment and kids doesn’t make him feel leashed anymore because he loves elayne and the twins and wants to have that family and knows that elayne would never deny him his freedom like tuon would and now mat has had actual positive and believable growth as a person and character! maybe he could even also become her warder for a “hates aes sedai -> warder to an aes sedai” arc, esp since he’s always been so obsessed with protecting elayne and there was so much foreshadowing of Warder Mat that went nowhere! and elayne gets her challenging-preconceptions-of-mat arc expanded and gets to actually have her babydaddy around for at least a few days of her pregnancy! i love randlayne with my whole heart, but if canon insisted on doing them so absolutely dirty, then i would’ve preferred a meaty matlayne storyline like this. (and again, rand/mat/elayne/avi is Actually the way, but i’m thinking specifically in terms of what would have been genuinely plausible for rj to write.)

anyway, back on topic. slayer wins the award for most pointless WOT villain. literally every single time he shows up i go “wow i completely forgot this guy existed” jfgk and he’s rand’s (and galad’s) presumed-dead uncle who is actually alive and has somehow become evil and somehow has TAR powers! that should’ve been interesting!

we see rand again, but again it’s from min’s pov. can i get some rand pov please? he feels like too MUCH of a jesus figure in this book, with us just seeing him perform miracles etc. from other people’s povs rather than actually getting to be in his head and see how HE’S feeling post-epiphany.

rand goes back to bandar eban intending to fix the starvation he shrugged at and ran away from in the previous book. min keeps simpering that it wasn’t his fault and that he isn’t responsible for the people he literally rules and, when a domani is rightfully angry with him, yells at the guy that rand is too busy and has had more important things to deal with, though rand cuts her off and accepts blame. she was always enabling him or avoiding him when he was at his worst, and now that the time has come to make amends for the bad things he did, she tries to coddle him and shield him from any blame or regret. whereas i just bet that elayne and aviendha would go “yes you did a bad thing but you’re a good person and you can fix it” because they understand leadership and responsibility and honor.

rand still refers to tam as “tam” instead of “my father”! even post-epiphany, even now that he’s reconnected with his humanity! smh!

rand to min: “you’re more vital than them all [the kings, aiel chiefs, aes sedai, asha’man, and ta’veren who follow him]. you remind me who i am.” FOOTAGE! NOT! FUCKING! FOUND!!!!! tam was the one who got him back in touch with himself! nynaeve, mat, perrin, egwene, and elayne were the ones rand was thinking about in the last book when missing his old life and hating how much he’s changed! min does not KNOW who he is because all she’s interested in is having sex with him and never wants to actually have meaningful conversations with him! she met the sheepherder fucking ONCE let’s not act like she’s the only one who can remind him of who he is!

“besides, you think more clearly than most of those who call themselves my counselors.” footage not found, she’s incapable of thinking about a single thing but rand and how hot she wants to look for him. “you could be a queen, if you wished it.” LMAO elayne has not been out here busting her ass for the past 6 books only for rand to claim that useless helpless skill-less min could be a queen! she would not last one HOUR in elayne’s shoes!

“all i wish for is you, stupid looby.” yeah, we know, min. we know.

and then rand’s like hey i wish you didn’t call me names so much and min’s like “well life’s tough isn’t it” what a supportive partner. not that mat/tuon hasn’t already clearly shown us that the narrative does not understand the difference between “cute nicknames to call your partner” and “continuing to call your partner nicknames they have told you they don’t like or want to be called”

min really does exist only to provide outsider pov of rand. the vast majority of her pov chapters since joining him could be summarized without having to even mention her hardly at all. because she never actually DOES anything, she just sits there watching other people do things and tells us about it. she’s a narrator, not a participant. in this scene, rand and the domani are hard at work getting the city back in order and min doesn’t even HELP she literally just sits on a crate and watches everyone else work! i hate her so much. elayne and aviendha would be rolling up their sleeves and going right into the thick of it!

“i have heard some of what these men in white have done in the wetlands. i think they wear white to hide what is dark inside of them.” go off edarra! “we shouldn’t be fighting them, not with the last battle coming. if we squabble among ourselves, we will lose to the dark one.” “i would like to have seen someone suggest that to you when [the shaido] still held your wife!” go OFF edarra!

and so perrin wusses out of killing the whitecloaks, as i predicted, however they’re gonna have a lil trial and that actually sounds fun, i’m excited! but that’s getting a little ahead, so back to earlier in the chapter.

GALAD AND BERELAIN ARE IMMEDIATELY SMITTEN WITH EACH OTHER JKFJG I’M HOLLERING hot people supremacy! the bisexual population of randland is shaking! literally the parks and rec “they would make the most beautiful super baby, but what if super baby became too powerful?” meme!

“‘elayne’s fine,’ perrin said gruffly. ‘last i heard - which was only a few days back - she’d secured her claim to the throne. i wouldn’t be surprised if she’s looking to marry rand by now. if she can pull him away from whatever realm he’s conquering.’” thank you perrin for another randlayne crumb but also i’m hollering again jdkfgj poor elayne has worked so hard to keep her relationship with rand under wraps and perrin is out here blabbing about it to two entire armies! perrin and min shaking hands meme on spilling every single detail of elayne’s personal life to half the continent

ok but like fuck man i would LOOOOVE to see randlayne go public now that elayne’s secured the throne and doesn’t have to worry as much about being seen as tdr’s puppet. they would be the power couple of randland!!! even moreso than berelain and galad!! crying over the wasted potential!! tho i guess making it known (or at least heavily suspected) that the babies are the dragon reborn’s kids is still definitely a concern since it would put targets on their backs. but if so many people already fucking know anyway then what is there to lose lmao

also, it makes me incredibly smug that pretty much every single one of rand’s friends would definitely be team randlayne over team rand/min if given a choice - elayne is mat, nynaeve, and egwene’s bestie, and perrin at least knows her from a few weeks in the stone as opposed to min whom he met for a day. egwene has no idea rand even has a relationship with min, and mat seems to have forgotten he saw them fucking and perrin doesn’t seem to have ever seen min and rand being romantic since he’s so confident rand’s going to marry elayne (which leads me to conclude that he thinks about rand way less than mat does and thus has way fewer visions of him)

“had aybara intended insult by indicating a relationship between elayne and the dragon reborn? unfortunately, galad knew his sister all too well. she was impulsive, and she had shown an unseemly fascination with young al’thor. ‘my sister may do as she wishes,’ galad said, surprised at how easily he contained his annoyance at both her and the dragon reborn.” oh i can’t wait for galad and gawyn to both show up at the palace and be like “elayne! what’s new?” and she goes “oh, this is my husband the dragon reborn and my husband the general of the dragon’s armies and my wife an aiel channeler, and also i’m pregnant with the dragon reborn’s twins!” and they just lose their shit

perrin’s like “the whitecloaks attacked me and killed my friend” “the woman who was with you?” “no, a wolf” kfgk cracking up over this (i should note that is an approximation of the conversation, not a transcription hjdkf)

“wolves hate shadowspawn” “and how do you know this” [silence] why is this entire conversation so funny!!

and then galad’s like “ok well i don’t think that killing a wolf is grounds for murder so........” he’s so tired, can’t help but sympathize with him a little in this convo jdkfjgh

“he glanced at [berelain] for a moment, and found her blushing as she regarded him. it was faint, but he was sure he saw it. he found himself blushing as well.” oh my god wholesome!!!! the 2 sexiest characters on the continent (objectively, anyway - in my heart i know it’s actually rand and elayne who hold those crowns) turning into shy blushing messes because of each other, i’m! 🥺

morgase-galad reunion!!!! “that was his stepmother. that red-gold hair he had tugged as a child. that face, so beautiful and strong. those eyes. those were her eyes.” “hesitantly, galad reached out and touched the apparition on the cheek. the skin was warm.” “she cut off as he seized her in an embrace.” 😭😭😭😭

galad HAS redeemed himself somewhat in this chapter, mostly because i am a sucker for his and morgase’s relationship (and also because his new thing with berelain is adorable). however, still thrilled to see morgase drag his ass a little bit: “i’m taking you back to my camp, mother. then we can discuss the way you were treated by [perrin].” “an order, galad? have i no say in the matter? ... i have more to fear from your...associates than from perrin aybara.” you tell him!

galad and perrin decide to have morgase be the judge in perrin’s trial. “both men turned to morgase. she stood in her simple yellow dress, looking more a queen by the moment.” ❤️❤️❤️ i do love morgase’s arc! i just wish it had been less trauma porn-y during the middle books, and also that tallanvor did not exist.

“[egwene] loathed [the seanchan] with a hatred that sometimes worried her.” you hold onto that hatred egwene! everybody else is going soft on them, you better hold onto that hatred!

scenes of egwene absolutely owning the hall my beloved! “‘i believe the hall acts in wisdom,’ egwene said, speaking very carefully. the sitters turned to her. some looked relieved. those who were more familiar with her, however, looked suspicious.” that’s my girl! ❤️❤️

the hall doesn’t want egwene having control over the war against the shadow, so they propose that they have sole control over the war and egwene have sole control over dealing with monarchs. but then SIKE the dragon reborn IS a monarch since he’s the king of illian, so egwene has sole control over dealing with him!! cackling and pumping my fist!

“he will need a firm, familiar hand” suddenly i am hoping that the show beefing up randgwene will result in some kinky Authority Issues and Asserting Dominance late-series fics for them jkfjg

egwene also gets a proposal passed that meetings of the hall can’t convene without every sitter and the amyrlin present (unless someone can’t be found or has sent word directly that they can’t attend), so no more secret meetings where some sitters can sneakily get things passed without their opponents there to prevent it (such as siuan’s deposition)

“the last battle is here. i will not withdraw my proposal. either you will stand now, or you will be known - through all time - as one of those who refused. at the dusk of an age, can you not stand for openness and light?” no one does inspirational and/or guilt-trip-y speeches like egwene! ❤️

i don’t caaaaare about ituralde. he was introduced way too late in the story for me to get invested. his plotlines should’ve gone to bashere instead, i care about bashere! bashere’s actually been super underused the past few books, now that i think about it. probably because a new great general was invented to get all these plotlines!

“[morgase] remembered her first impressions of [galad], long ago when she’d married his father. the young child had simply been part of the deal, and while morgase had adopted him, she had always worried that he felt less loved than his siblings.” 🥺

“[as a child, galad had been] quick to point out when someone did something wrong. but unlike other children - elayne especially - he had not used his knowledge as a weapon.” no need to do elayne like that wtf! she’s one of the most generous and empathetic characters in the series, not someone who weaponizes other people’s mistakes! the only person she does that to (besides her enemies ofc) is mat, but a) he usually starts it and b) egwene and nynaeve, who ARE judgmental in this way, influenced her attitude towards him, and even so she was always much fairer to him than nynaeve was.

“galad, listen to yourself. you name them witches? you went to train with them, perhaps to become a warder!” get his ass!

“what is the point of this, mother?” “to make you think, son. in ways that i should have encouraged before, rather than leaving you to your simple illusions. life is not so easy as the toss of a coin, one side or the other.” get his ass! “the Children like to speak of the light protecting them, of guiding their judgment and leading people to justice. that isn’t how it works, galad...sometimes a good man can do wrong. at times, it is appropriate to punish him. at other times, punishment serves nobody, and the best thing to do is to let him continue and learn.” get his ass! such a great convo, but i can’t believe that a 30-year-old adult needs this explained to him lmao galad’s Lawful Goodness really does stretch credibility at times.

tam tells perrin that aes sedai have summoned him to see rand, so we get a nice little timeline matchup milestone here

elayne is carried on a litter to the city walls to watch the dragon demonstration because she promised melfane that she’d stay off her feet but NOT that she’d stay in her bedroom jkjfg i love her!!! an icon!

“she spared a moment to feel guilty for making the poor men, in dress uniform, carry her through this early-summer heat. but these men would ride to battle in her name; they could stand a little warm weather. how often did guardsmen get the honor of carrying their queen, anyway?” this feels like the type of Spoiled Entitled Noble Caricature that mat thinks elayne is but that we have never seen elayne to be in her own pov (or in non-mat povs). i just keep getting the sense that sanderson doesn’t like elayne lmao or is exaggerating/criticizing her flaws in a way that doesn’t feel true to rj’s elayne.

the theme of this recap is: is sanderson actually being harder on elayne than rj was, or have i just by now seen so much elayne hate online that it makes me extra hypersensitive to even the tiniest perceived criticism of her?

“she had to find a way to seize the sun throne without mixing to much in the local House politics.” okay, so sounds like it would be a great time to have a randlayne reunion in cairhien so rand can publicly give her the sun throne and the cairhienin nobility won’t be able to say shit about it (since elayne has said earlier in this book that openly accepting THIS throne as a gift from rand is no problem at all, unlike the lion throne). i always love to see elayne shine on her own and am excited to find out how she snags the sun throne, don’t get me wrong, i’m just saying that throughout this series, so many things would get done so much faster and more easily if characters actually made use of Traveling/TAR to be in constant contact with each other so they can lend each other a hand sometimes! and if rand ever actually bothered to pop in and visit his own girlfriend from time to time!

“someone [on the next tower over] raised a hat into the air and waved at her. mat wanted to watch from the tower with the working dragon, it seemed. foolhardy man. what if the thing exploded like a nightflower?” mat waves at elayne! elayne is worried about mat being too close to the dragon!

“elayne focused on [the people in the other tower] with the glass. one carried a small torch. mat watched with a curious expression.” elayne i see you going “oh let me look through my little looking glass so i can see the dragon” and then just checking out mat instead

“mat was holding his ears and scowling, which gave elayne a smile. he really should have watched from her tower.” elayne wishes mat was in her tower with her 😌

and so cannons have been invented! i will end the recap with an ominous quote from birgitte on the nature of warfare: “the world just changed, elayne. it just changed in a very large way. i have a terrible feeling that it’s only the beginning.”

#wot #wot book spoilers

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beaniebeensbaby201 · 1 year

Text

FALLING FOREVER

John B x best friend/ex reader

Summary: you are falling in love with your ex boyfriend again and you're scared to love him after everything that's happened(not based on season 3).

You stared blankly into the fire. You couldn't help but think. I'm trying to figure out why you can't get John B out of your head. You haven't been together for almost a year, and he was happy in another relationship. Sarah was with Topper. You were, well, you were single. John B was in a happy relationship with a girl that you didn't want to know her name.

Dana was nice, of course John B would pick a nice girl. But for some reason, you couldn't help but think she acts and looks just like you. The flames began to dance in the night sky as they reached the glittery sky that was full of white stars. Your skin was beginning to feel hot as you got closer towards the flames that captivated you. Your hair was up by a bandana that was usually used as a decoration for your denim washed shorts. You were wearing a blue hood as it was chilly. John B sat across from you. Your heart aching as you heard his laugh, as you missed the way he'd laugh at your jokes, but he was laughing at hers.

Kie noticed your longing gaze on the brunette boy that was across from you. His skin glowed from the fire, you could see his freckles that littered across his face that reminds you of the white specks of stars in the sky.

Flashback...

You were with John B as you were cuddled on the hammock together. John B had one leg out as he swayed you slightly. You were facing him, as he had his arm on your hip.

"What?" He asks as he had a dopey smile on his lips. You trace delicate circles on his freckles.

"You're freckles reminds me of the sky." You whispered, John B noticed you were serious.

A curious look was on his face along with his signature smirk.

"Oh yea?" You hum in response. Your fingers lightly trace the one that was above his plumped lips, which caused a smile to etch his way across his skin.

"Yea. I love them." You kiss every freckle. Your bottom lip kisses his upper lip that had one dark freckle, his eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes tickling your cheeks.

His lips chase after yours as you let out a playful chuckle.

You look into his hazel eyes that are mixed with gold and blue.

"Your eyes remind me of the galaxy. The way they have many different types of blues and golds, and greens." Your lips move to kiss his now closed eyes once again. Your lips soft against his skin.

"I love you y/n, y/m/n, y/ln." You couldn't help the flutter in your chest. His hands that were on your waist were now on your hips as he leaned his head up to kiss you.

Flashback ends...

A few tears escape past your lips as your mouth is agape. Your mouth dry as you ran off.

"What the fuck?" You heard Kie exclaimed to the other boys.

"Fuck!" You kicked the sand that was buried deep into your toes.

You throw yourself onto your knees as you realize what you did to yourself. You were still holding onto him, as if you were his still. And you know you're not his. A loud sobs escape past your lips as you try to breathe. Large hands were quick to wrap around you, and you knew whose hands they were.

"No!" You quickly shoved his hand off of your shoulders.

"What the hell was that back there?" You didn't want to turn around. If you did, everything you had bottled up would come and explode.

"Go away, John B." Your voice cracked as you cringed. You wrap your arms around yourself to feel more secure. But you knew you wanted him. You've always belonged to him.

"God damn It y/n talk to me!" He screamed, as you were blocking yourself out again.

"No! Alright! I'm fine, now go back to your fucking girlfriend JB. I'm fine!" You lied again, and he coukd see right through you.

"I'm not fucking leaving until you tell me why the fuck you ran off crying like that!" Yoi walked away, but he would just follow you until you'd speak to him. You walked back into the chateau, a bad idea.

He was quick to wrap his arms around you again. He caged his body against yours. Your back pressed against his bedroom door. Your chest heaves as you tried to look away. Only for his hand to roughly grab your chin to look at him. You're eyes stare into his hazel ones. The ones that you told him reminded him of the galaxy.

"Talk to me. You keep shutting me out ever since we broke up three months ago. Talk to me." You shake your head once again, his calloused fingers rough against your cheek.

"We broke up. You don't need to worry about me anymore, JB." A scoff escapes his lips.

"What the fuck do you mean?" He leans his forehead against yours, as you push him back with your hand on his chest.

"I'm still in love with you. But you're happy now." John B froze, which gave you the chance to make your escape.

"Y/n!" He shouted as you ran towards your car, as Kie runs after you. She knew you were still in love with him, you tell him every day how much you miss him.

"Is she alrifht?" John B's girlfriend asks, worry laced in her voice as she saw you run away.

"I need to go to her." The girl understood what he meant.

"Go to her John B." He didn't waste another second and decided to dart towards the twinkie.

It didn't take long for you and kie to get to your house. You were in your bedroom as you sobbed.

"What's wrong with me kie! I was doing so good, I finally healed my heart and this happens? Fuck Kie I can't take this!" You shouted as you started to throw some things in your room.

"It's going to be okay y/n." She whispered not scared of your current situation. She knew how you were during your meltdowns.

"No, Kie, I can't. If he comes, please don't let him in. I can't see him right now. I saw him chase after me. I don't want another heartbreak. He shattered me, I shattered us. My heart hurts when I see him, and I am the one who dumped him because I was scared to love him." You were defeated as you sat at the edge of your bed.

"He's my best friend Kie, it was easier to break up instead of ruining our friendship." Kie didn't know what to say as John B was standing right outside the room.

"What makes you think he doesn't love you?" John B stayed where he was behind the otherside of the door.

"Look Y/N just speak to him! He's outside of this door right now." You shoved Kie out of your way. You pushed her out of the door as well, quickly shutting the door as she tried to fight her way to stay in. They begin to bang on the door, as you throw yourself into your bed.

"GET OUT! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" You screamed as you wanted it all to stop. You weren't his anymore, he wasn't yours.

"Go home, John B." You said you were defeated. It grew silent too fast, and you knew John B sent Kie home.

"No." You scoffed at his stubbornness. But at the same time you wanted him to chase after you, to profess his love for you until you caved.

"You can't keep pushing me away, Y/N!" He slammed his palm on the wall beside your head, causing you to look at his palm that was now caging your face.

You squirmed beneath him, as you tried to get away from his warmth. The warmth that you've missed, but you knew it wasn't a good idea to go back to him.

"I know you're scared, I mean, after everything that's happened, I would be too. We deserve to be happy, for fucks sakes it's our life!" He tilts his head down, his curls touching your chest as you pushed himself away from the wall. You still stood where you were, not wanting to move.

"John B-," you whispered but instantly closed your mouth as he turned around. His hazel eyes meet yours.

"Tell me that you don't love me, that you don't miss me. I'll walk away right now, just say those words to me and I'm gone." You shut your eyes tightly.

You heard the floor creaking as John B started to leave the room. You heard the front door slam, as you could hear him cursing. You weren't shocked that he brought JJ for moral support. You had Kie outside the door, who was listening in on the conversation.

You couldn't breathe. You felt the bile wanting to come up. Before you could even think you ran, Kie called your name but you ignored her shouts.

"John B!" You were desperate for him to turn around. You didn't care I'd you looked like an idiot, you wanted him back.

"John B!" You shouted, he paused in his steps.

You quickly rushed to him, and grabbed on the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.

"I love you. And I never stopped." You whispered, he leaned down to press his lips against yours. The kiss was full of passion, chapped yet soft lips meeting yours in a heated kiss.

The guys were cheering in the back as you two continued your making up.

"Finally!" Kie squeals out as she cat calls along with the other boys.

#Spotify #tumblr fyp #john b x ex reader #john b x angst? reader #john b x female reader #obx imagines #p4l #kooks

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toastess-with-the-mostess · 8 months

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Let's Rewind! Toast watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 12: Bad Birthday Party

Turns out watching cartoons for hours on end that adds to your isolation isn't good for your mental health, I'm back now though, so hopefully I can get through two episodes today

Oh a legitimate slavery episode, and it's about Zarkon's birthday I think I remember this episode a bit just from the characters I'm seeing

Apparently the prince of the planet is related to Zarkon, I guess that makes sense with Lotor also not looking anything like his dad minus the skin tone There's also a Zarkon statue which I thought was a watch tower but alright, his narcissism knows no bounds

Did they stop trying to make the doomite soldiers into robots for censorship, this one dude feels too much like a person with how he's trying to hog the credit for being a slave driver

Oh smart kid, I didn't catch his name, but he stole a ship from a nearby landing strip while the guards were busy preparing for Zarkon's visit I wonder how they know about Voltron through, maybe one of the guards was careless and told them about him

He crashed in the castle moat, still alive somehow but good for him, he made it The team found his ass floating in the water, again I'm not sure how he got out, but yea ok I'll accept that

Once again are these soldiers robots or people because this guy is acting too smart for his characterization because he's blackmailing the prince so Zarkon doesn't find out they fucked up

Too late, Zarkon already knows lol

Lance knows cultures from other planets apparently, he was spot on from where the kid was from

I think Jai is his name? Anyway the team is debating on helping him because Arus would be defenseless, but Jai limped to the control room to yell at the team for having to even think about it Which worked because now they're on their way lol

Why did Lance suddenly try to punch Keith LMAO, maybe I'll see that reused in a later episode because I swear it happened under different circumstances

Did they try a new preamble for forming Voltron, that did not sound good at all It's nice to see that they form the big guy before any robeast though, they're getting smarter lol

"[the meteor shower] is just another rock concert" Keith you nerd

I'm sorry they BURIED 100 slaves into the sand only to let some soldiers take a wack at their heads with SWORDS?? That's fucked up

The first thing the team does is break the giant statue of Zarkon, good for them

Oooh double robeasts today, their name is Twin Devil Robeasts Beyel and Zebub I laughed when I saw the name, I'm a sucker for puns lol

I forget that both the blue and yellow lions can still move around and use their jaws as support when fighting as Voltron Allura and Hunk just fucking bit the robeasts to throw them off their rhythm

The fight was fun this time around, they tagged teamed the fuck out of Voltron but were eventually taken down together from above lol

Nimon (the planet) is free now but iirc we'll see them again later, also this episode gives me more fodder to throw at Coran when we get to the episode I both hate and love the most

The closing statement from Keith makes me MAD, you'll know why but hhh

#Let's Rewind!#voltron #voltron dotu #voltron defender of the universe #80s voltron #toast talks #yeah no my mental health isn't the best right now #fuck it we ball

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hotelheartz · 1 year

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love suite event: room 610 [DAISUKE MURASAKI]

>> use the key on room 610!

Every time you come here, you must play the role of their "ideal." Like some sort of shared fantasy.

You’re... quite scared as to what goes inside Daisuke's head. What's his ideal fantasy like?

"Hey...”

He greeted you with his usual monotone attitude, running his black gloved hand through his hair. You squinted, as you nearly got a glimpse of....some sort of heterochromia? Why was his left eye much more vibrant and glowing?!

"D-Daisuke-?"

"Surprised about my eye? It's not like it's the first time you've seen me without my hair covering it," he explained curtly.

Ah? So....did you know Daisuke for a long time? Were you that close that he showed you something that seemed too personal?

"T-that's right....sorry, it still....shocks me. B-but not like anything is wrong with it! You still look very handsome, haha.." you reassured him, as if you were trying to play along with his fantasy. I mean...even someone as cynical as Daisuke would want assurance, right?

At least those were your thoughts before he sighed, tucking his sand colored locks behind his ear. His fringe was moved, making it so you saw both his eyes. One dull, dark blue. The other as bright as the morning sky with an animated light that shined.

"You don't have to act like you think it's cool. Well....it is how I won some tough billiard games. Then again, I'm still not proud of it. You know I only showed you it cause I just wanted to explain what happened to me since we were separated."

Separated? So....was this a long distance relationship? Was Daisuke your boyfriend or husband that was away from you for a long time?

He clicked his tongue, rubbing his left eye before turning to you again, as if your silence and absent minded attitude was annoying him

“You've always been a spacey one. I love you, but you're honestly pretty dense. No offense," he groaned, his stoic face turning into a frown, as you raised your brow in confusion.

"H-huh?! D-Daisuke, l'm sorry. But I really...am confused. We were away for a long time, no?" You asked him, trying to gain more information "Of course I'd be…..lost, yeah?"

Daisuke closed his eyes, nodding.

Letting out a long exhale, he thought for a moment. The silence between you made it seem like an eternity until he yanked you by your arm, pulling you into a hug

"D-Daisuke?! What-?"

What the hell was going on? He just called you dense and now he was hugging you?

"My apologies...I just had a lot going on in my life. And you did too, l'm sure of it. I feel like such a failure, ya know. I never wanted to be away from you." he said, barely above a whisper, as he kept his grip on you. It was tight, but not tight enough to hurt you. I can still feel so much compassion in the embrace.

Since when was Daisuke....gentle?

“Don't say that, Daisuke. You're not a failure. I....I love you too. You may not think you are, but lots of people think you're a nice person deep down. Me included,” you said, trying your best to look him in the eyes from your head nearly buried in his chest

“...Can I protect you properly this time?" He asked bluntly, albeit no rudeness was detected. In fact, you could've sworn you heard genuine feeling in his inquiry. As if he was about to fall apart any minute from the emotions he bottled up

"Protect me?"

He reluctantly let go of the hug, sitting down in the bed. He patted the space next to him, silently gesturing for you to sit by him. You obliged, taking your spot near the billiards player. He grabbed your hands in the same kind manner as the hug was.

"I..... I'm so sorry I left you when we were young. I promise, everything l've done was to protect you. You were all I had back then, and now... He started, squeezing your hands lightly

“I never meant for them to take me only. I wanted both of us to go. So I can be near you. So we could atleast have each other. Just like how siblings are supposed to be,"

"Daisuke.." you could only say his name, not knowing what came after it. Your voice trailed off, at a lost of how to even play along with this fantasy. It went down a dark path very quickly, you needed him to speak more

“Please…..you don't need to act like you missed me too. Or that you never stopped loving me. I'm not the older brother you grew up with. Just know....not a day passed by where I didn't think of you. I never stopped searching for you.“

“I dreamed of the day we would meet again. Be like regular siblings again. Be your big brother again...” He huffed, half in irritation, half in pessimism “It was so foolish of me. To think someone like me could have dreams like that.….”

It was foolish of you, thinking this was going to be a fantasy filled with sexual tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Daisuke's ideal was just…..someone he loved. Even if they didn't love him back, he just wanted to feel as if he could give love.

You tried to process what he described, racking your brain through his self deprecating. He finally found a sibling he was forcibly separated from? Why was he sad then? Shouldn't he be happy? This was his fantasy!

“Daisuke.....hey..." you smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes slightly widen, clearly not expecting the action.

He didn't brush it off or scowl in annoyance as you thought he would. It encouraged you to build his confidence with words of affirmation.

"I'm still here, yeah? We're together again. And I love you. I'm not saying it because it's what you want to here. I'm saying it cause it's true. Anyone would be so honored to have you as their big brother. You…...went through hell...just for them. You're amazing, Daisuke," you stated firmly, earning a stare from the blonde man. He gazed at you with slight shock and awe. He certainly didn't expect to be receiving a pep talk from his supposedly younger sibling

"I'm terribly sorry....it's supposed to be my job to try to lift your spirits. Not the other way around. Look, I really don't need any comfort. I just…..wanted to see you again. I appreciate the fact that you don't hate me, but I can't stop feeling so....shitty" He averted his eyes, looking anywhere but your face

“I can understand that, brother," Unbeknownst even to yourself, you called him big brother, making both of you stop in our track of thoughts. You quickly brushed it off, knowing it was your job to play along “I'm not asking you to change overnight. But I'm just asking...take baby steps, okay? We have so much to make up for. And..... would love to take that offer of you protecting me 'properly this time," I gave him a smile, earning a pink hue dusting upon his cheeks "Even though I think you're an awesome big bro, if it makes you feel more confident in yourself, you can protect me,

You weren’t sure if he noticed, but Daisuke had a bright smile on his face. One full of sincerity and optimism. Although it was a rare occurrence for the cold pool shark, it wasn't unsettling at all. It was...rather refreshing to see Daisuke genuinely happy

"You have no idea how much that means to me, [♡]. I never ever want to be apart from you again. I want to promise you this time. Not with something as silly as us reading stories or playing dress up. But....with the skills and experience I know have. I can finally prove l'm worthy of being your big brother."

Without even thinking, he engulfed you in another hug as you immediately sunk into his warmth. You wrapped your arms around his back, just staying like that for a while with him. Feeling safe in the arms of your big brother

#똑똑 ♡

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bucksfucks · 3 years

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𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃steve has always had his eyes on you, yours on him. catching you on the beach he finally gets a taste of what he’s missing.

pairing┃achilles!steve x f!reader

word count┃1,721 words

warnings┃beach sex, semi-public sex, a lot of nudity, oral, fingering, skinny dipping, soft smut, light degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃this is very loosely based off of the story of achilles, like...very loosely. the only similarity is the blonde hair and the fact that steve is a demi-god, other than that, it’s self-indulgent <3

He isn’t really sure when he first saw her.

All he knows is that he can’t keep his eyes off of her as she wanders through the cobbled street.

She’s dressed in a simple gown, slightly weathered with loose strands floating above her feet as she wanders through the bazar. There’s an airiness to her, light and free as he sees light emanating from her.

He’s perched on top of a thick tree branch that’s able to hold his weight. Legs swinging and hair blowing in the summer air as he crunches down on the last slice of his clementine.

He wonders if she’d be sweeter than the sweet juice coating his tongue.

“If you stare at her any longer you’ll burn holes through her skull,” he feels a nudge against his right shoulder, pushing him slightly forward as someone joins him on the large branch.

He ignores the remark, scoffing as the bitter peel falls from his hand and other the grass below where it would be hoarded by squirrels and chipmunks.

Bucky’s legs dangle with Steve’s, touching but not connected as he continues to admire the way she picks a few apples into her woven basket.

He pays no attention to Bucky, the sound of his voice outweighed by the thoughts of her.

“Steve?” It’s a question as he finally snaps out of his haze, “what’s gotten into you?” Bucky asks, a genuine sense of wonderment in his tone as the younger of the two sighs.

“I think I’ve been struck by cupid himself.” He says aloud and Bucky can’t help but roll his eyes, but the smirk displayed on his lips makes him happy, happy that Steve has finally taken a liking to anything other than the bronzed shield he wields.

“I hear she has no lover,” Bucky whispers cheekily, the words catching Steve by surprise as he feels his heart leap towards her.

“Who told you that?” Steve asks, bewildered, amused, and hungry for more information. Bucky just laughs, jumping from the branch effortlessly before craning his head up to look at the golden haired man.

“You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

The waves crashed against the shore, sand growing damp as you dug your toes into it. The sun was slowly fading, but still just as hot as you closed your eyes and let the sunshine was over you.

The beach was always a safe space, providing you with recluse when you wanted time with the most important person; yourself.

The woven basket you carried, now filled with fresh fruit and a jug of water, sat half buried in the tan sand, acting as a weight on the rag you lay for when you emerged from the water.

Shedding your clothes, you made your way beneath the waves, relishing in the cool water against your skin as your mind wandered back to the bazar. You saw him, perched atop a tree, lounging with his bow and arrow across his toned chest and back as he ate the sweet clementines you’d been trying to find.

Everyone knew of Steve, but vert few knew Steve.

He wasn’t like you or anyone else you knew, part God as his walked with a high head and a glimmer in his eye that made him shine.

When you made your way back onto the beach you were tired, taking you time to re-dress as you dig into the basket, an apple in hand before you’re biting down on it.

It’s sweet, quelling your hunger just enough, but it doesn’t satisfy you.

“Apples are sweet, but the summer is the season for clementines.” A sweet voice rings out from behind you, turning around to be met with none other than Steve.

He was barefoot, buried in the sand, his bow and arrow still slung across his back and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander across the vast expanse of his broad chest.

A smile stretches across your lips, tantalizing Steve as he takes a few steps closer until he’s at the edge of the rag you’re sat on.

“Perhaps I can entice you with one, instead?” He smirks, the orange fruit resting perfectly in the middle of his large hand as he sinks to his knees. You bite at your bottom lip, meeting his gaze.

“What is Steve, Son of Peleus doing talking to just a mere mortal?” You tease, craning your head slightly upward as Steve tosses the fruit upward, catching it with ease.

“Have you forgotten, my dear?” He muses, rolling the fruit towards you as you catch it in your own hand. “The sea is also my home, this is where I go when it calls me.”

His words are so soft, voice sweet like honey as it flows through the air and you feel the warm breeze surrounding you like a hug from Aeolus himself. You felt the familiar rush of butterflies you often felt when you thought about him, but here he was, in front of you with a beaming smile on his lips.

“Has it called you today?” You asked, a soft whisper and almost barely audible as he leans closer, “the sea amongst other things are calling me.”

Your heart is racing in your chest, he smells like lavender, almonds, and earth as he pulls back. He’s quick on his feet, marvelling at the muscles and strength he posses as he strips of the rest of his clothes.

It’s not hard to believe that he is part God, Adonis himself having competition as he flicks his eyes up at you.

“Join me,” he says gently, outstretching his hand before you’re stripping once again, clothes in a pile with his as you take his hand, submerging beneath the water.

He clearly belongs in the water, waves calming around him as he wraps his strong arms around you to bring you close to his warm body. You’re lost in the blue of his eyes, like the sky met the sea and you never want to look away.

“I have been dreaming of the day I can get my hands on you,” he admits faintly, your breath hitching in your throat as you can’t resist the urge to smile.

“The day that my lips get to meet yours,” your heart is now tumbling, core aching as you feel him stiffen against you.

“The day that I get to taste you.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes, mischievous, playful, and yearning as you tangle your fingers in the hair that rests at the nape of his neck.

Steve wastes no time in wrapping your legs around his waist before his lips are on yours, hungry and passionate as he steals the breath from your lungs until you’re dizzy.

Water sloshes around your bodies, breaths hot and heavy as wandering hands squeeze at your flesh and curves, Steve memorizing the way you feel.

Your eyes are closed, lips still on his as he carries you both onto the beach and onto the warm cloth lining the sand, gently setting you down. You take a moment to admire the way his wet hair hangs in front of you eyes, pieces of it seemingly glued down to his forehead.

“You are breathtaking, practically Aphrodite herself,” he mumbles against your neck, lips passing by your collarbone before he’s peeling the sweet fruit in front of your eyes.

“Open,” the command is gentle as you do so, parting your lips to welcome the fruit slice. You moan at the taste, relishing in the sweetness of it before Steve is running his thumb over your bottom lip.

His lips seal yours once again, body heavy on top of yours as you feel the weight of his cock between your thighs. It swells when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip.

“Mmm, so sweet, my dear,” he mumbles against your mouth, “but I can think of something sweeter.” He purrs, nose running between your breasts until he’s situated right above your hair decorated mound.

“Oh,” you gasp when he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as Steve laps at your folds.

You’ve never experienced pleasure like this, every part of your body feeling as if it’s on fire as he groans against you, “so sweet.” He praises your legs beginning to tighten around his head.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he pants, emerging with wet lips as his fingers are still focused on you. You can’t keep your eyes open, back arching as you lose yourself to the pleasure; waves crashing in the background.

“I need to feel you, sweet. Feel all of you.” He whispers, low and raspy as he holds himself over you on his forearms. He smells like you, tastes like the sweet orange juice, and you’re hypnotized.

“Steve,” you can only croak out his name before he’s filling you.

He’s thick and it stretches you like no other as his low groans and grunts fill your ears.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” the curse causes you to clench around him as he smirks.

“My sweet, sweet, sweet girl.” His voice is much lower this time around, tone slightly condescending as his hips rock against yours.

“Here I thought you were innocent,” he smirks, “but the sounds you’re makin’, oh they are anythin’ but innocent my filthy little girl.”

Steve’s words, combined with his deep thrusts have you digging your nails into his lightly tanned back, crescent shaped indents the only reminder of you.

“Be mine,” he gasps, your eyes shooting open as those words leave his mouth. His lips are wet and parted, ragged breaths leaving them as he trains his eyes on you.

“Be mine and I will show you the world,” he promises as his hips stutter inside of you. You nod your head, “yes, yes!”

Your words are a double edged sword, a promise and a plea as you feel the white hot pleasure seeping through your bones for the second time that night as your name leaves through his mouth.

By the time you open your eyes next the waves have calmed and the moon is now showing her face, stars littering the sky as Steve’s eyes are a muted cerulean shade.

“You are my Clementine, sweet like the summer breeze.”

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ellsbclls · 3 years

Text

White Winged Dove

warnings ➛ COUNTRY!TOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! smut, baby! (PLEASE do not interact if you are a minor), hurt/comfort, minor angst, happy ending: guaranteed!, a handful of swear words, and y/n has no choice but to have a country accent, i don’t make the rules here. extended warnings will be under the cut!

word count ➛ 9.5K

authors note ➛ i saw that gifset of tom taking a shower in cherry and my brain short circuited, so here! have a cupcake!

synopsis ➛ Tom feels like his world is falling apart, so he turns to you, the only person that reminds him of home.

extended warnings ➛ nsfw, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected f/m intercourse (please practice safe sex, kiddos! wrap it before you whack it!), a tiny tiny tiny sliver of blood!play if you squint with one eye closed.

You remember the night in waves, docile, fleeting waves that tease the rim of your consciousness before reeling back. Golden whiskey licks at the seam of your lips with each pass of the bottle, and the pond is glittering beneath the blinking trails of all the lightning bugs — tens of hundreds of fireflies, dancing in the night’s misty skyglow, rivaling the pale moonlight.

You remember the night in waves, but he is a mighty current.

You can’t scrub the memory of him from your mind, that bleak, hopeless expression that hollowed out his features. You remember how your heart split into a million little shards the second it appeared, and just when you thought there was nothing left to break, his fragile voice pleaded for you to take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was far.

By the time the sun spilled past your window pane, you were nothing but a drowsy amalgamation of lithe limbs, coated in morning glow as it spilled through the glass.

But behind your eyelids lives an imprint of the night before — a shimmering reflection of the night sky, and the moments that unraveled beneath its sweeping gaze.

9:17PM — You’re belting into your hairbrush, not a care in the world, and pouring your heart and soul out to a crowd of none. Somewhere between all of your clumsy twirls and impromptu choreography, you stumble over the shoebox that was poking out from under your bed, and a flurry of damp tresses and musical giggles fan across your comforter.

The walls in your house have always been notoriously thin, but what could you possibly expect from the weathered planks of wood paneling that lined your bedroom? You could hear your father’s creaky footsteps whenever he ransacked the fridge for leftovers in the dead of night, and the heavy thump of laundry that your mother would throw down to the basement, but once your radio crackles to life, and Stevie’s enchanting croon permeates the air, all those subtle nuances fades to a dull, lifeless roar.

With each passing note, the white winged dove becomes you, and you soar above endless miles of Mississippi wood. There’s not a soul that can drag you back to the outskirts of town, force you to confront what may become of you when you land, there’s no room for trepidation where you go. There, in your own little corner of the woods, it’s just you, Stevie Nicks, and the moon.

And, technically, Thomas.

Minutes have gone by, you still can’t find the strength, nor the energy, to lift yourself up, and as your downy blankets hug your tired frame, you remain blissfully ignorant of your peeping tom.

Thomas, affectionately penned Tommy, has been your best friend, your confidante, since the very first day of kindergarten. You had pulled a pack of scented markers from your tiny, pink barbie backpack during free time, and he had pulled out the empty seat beside you, plucking, sniffing, and ultimately discarding each and every pen until the box was empty. When you asked him which one was his favorite, he asked you the very same in response, just so you’d “coincidentally” have a shared affinity for coconuts. He was oddly endearing, which is a trait that’s always stuck with him. So, even at a young age, you never wondered if he was just using you for your nice possessions, or trying to take advantage of your courtesy — he always offered himself to you at face value, and you never stopped taking as much of him as you could get.

Had you been aware that your childhood friend was waiting expectantly at your window, you may have handled your alone time with a tad more discretion — but you weren’t, and each act of your private concert forces him into an even harder position. To what extent does he let you embarrass yourself before he makes his presence known, and for how long will you bury your head in the sand before the embarrassment mulls over? He sees your stage dive as a golden opportunity, and seizes it before you begin to stir.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three short, mild raps, uttered in quick succession, jostle you from your lavish daydreams like a bucket of ice water, and you have to squint just to make out his fair features amidst all the darkness shrouding them.

“Tommy?” A flash of his soft, earthy hues tame the wild drum of your heart, confirming your suspicions, and you fight the urge to chuckle when he innocently waves at you.

“Well don’t get all shy on me now. Come in.” You open the window just enough for him to slip through its frame, allowing your eyes to graze the sculpted plains of his back, and admire, albeit shamelessly, how his muscles ripple beneath his fitted t-shirt.

Yet, there’s something about him being in your room, towering over fixtures that once towered over him, that makes you feel uneasy. A part of you adores the way he instantly makes himself at home, but the remainder is doused in fear, fretting over his wandering hands and what they may discover, surveying little trinkets and souvenirs that decorate your desk.

“Hasn’t changed much since the last time I was in here, has it?” He notes, absentmindedly shaking the contents of a snowglobe your grandma brought you from New York, a miniature skyline of Manhattan continuously buried in a flurry of snow. Most of your playdates took place in his house, so as your friendship flourished past elementary school, and the time that spanned between your meetings grew shorter and shorter, you’d found yourselves frequenting his home for all of your endeavors. It was just easier that way.

That’s the sole reason you rarely visited your room. It surely wasn’t the suffocating atmosphere that plagued your home, or your hormonal, angst ridden brain convincing you that you’d scare him to the high heavens if he caught a glimpse of your relationship with your family — how dismal it is. How you build entire worlds, cycle through dozens of bountiful lives, in the luxury of your mind in hopes of retreating.

You’d be lying if you said the poster of Zac Efron, now lurking precariously behind his shoulder, wasn’t a glaring reason as well.

“Yeah, couple things here and there, but it’s pretty much the same.” You try to be discreet as you wander around your own room, Destination: Tiger Beat. Once you reach it, you rise up on your tiptoes to cover as much of the poster as humanly possible, but scramble for an excuse once you notice him turning. “You actually left something the last time you were here. It’s on the top shelf.”

RIP! The poster is crumpled in your grasp no sooner than his back turns to you. You’d have to give a formal apology to your wildcat once you were left to your own devices, but until then, he was banished to the most unsuspecting corner of your room.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” His thumb fondly strokes a small, yellowed testament to your friendship, a weathered page of loose leaf etched in awry plumes of ink that perfectly encapsulate his very essence — egregiously passionate, regardless of the outcome. He had written it when he was about seven, intending to give it to the “girl of his dreams” once he met her. You can still hear his sweet, little voice echo between your ears, endearingly mistaking his r’s for w’s. “You kept this?”

“Of course I did.“ Candor coats your tongue before you catch yourself, the tail end of your answer turning to dust as soon as it hits the air. You can’t bring yourself to admit just how many restless nights you’ve allowed yourself to clamber up that oak dresser, just to read that letter over, and over, and over again, praying that if you had stared at it for long enough, his messy scrawl would transform into the words you yearned for most — that it was meant for you, that he’s loved you from the very start. “Wasn’t sure if you were planning to repurpose it for some other lucky gal.”

You lock eyes with him for the first time since he appeared at your window, and stowed beneath his reservation are faint embers of warmth, kindling behind ebony curtains as you indulge in the hearth of his gaze. Lifetimes seemingly pass before his eyes are flickering back down to his hands, and it prompts you to offer him the note. “You can have it back.”

“No, you keep it.” Your brows pinch together, and a thousand questions collect on the tip of your tongue. You wonder if he recalls the same memory you do, if he remembers the significance buried in that little scrap of paper, but ultimately choose not to dwell on it. He knows just how much you love to collect memorabilia — keep cherished memories stowed away for safekeeping — he’s just being thoughtful. “Consider it undeniable proof that I know how to read and write.”

“Ain’t nothin’ in here about knowing how to read.” You tease, catching your tongue between your canines as a smirk conquers your lips.

“Ya got me,” He chuckles, smile reaching for, but never quite meeting, his faraway stare. You are so accustomed to his teasing quips, his usual flair for the dramatics, that this half-hearted attempt at replicating it fills you with discomfort. He tries to punctuate his words by tossing his arms to the sky, but they don’t reach high enough to convince you that he’s okay. Something is plaguing him, and you won’t settle for anything less than the truth.

“Tommy,” His name is sweet on your tongue, all honeyed vowels and soft, descant consonants that command his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“No, nothin’, I just-“ he’s avoiding your eyes, which is a clever strategy on his part. If eyes are the windows to the soul, then his are a stained glass mosaic, a vibrant display of all his emotions, and you — you are but an avid observer.

“Hey, look at me,” Two slender digits underline the curve of his jaw, and with a firm grasp of his chin, leave him no choice but to meet your gaze, tender and resolute all the same. “ You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready, but I can tell when someone’s been rode hard and put away wet.”

“I just, I need to get out of here, and I thought I’d ask my favorite distraction to accompany me.” He stumbles over his words, faltering over his messy façade, but you’d rather this over nothing at all.

“And where might we be goin’?” You query. You can tell that this is going to be a long night, but luckily for him, you don’t have any plans that can’t be rescheduled. Your adoring fans will just have to wait another night.

“Somewhere… Anywhere,” He murmurs hopefully, and your heart nearly sinks to the floor. You’ve never seen such a chasm of joy, not in those bright, amber orbs you study so adamantly. You’d almost deem it pain, whatever’s tugging at the frame of his optics, whatever’s depriving them of that usual, warm glow. “as long as it’s far from here.”

9:39PM — “Watch your step.”

“Can you help me?” You whine — one hand reaching out for his assistance, the other firmly clasped around a bottle of Jack Daniels. There is an awkward incline just below you, only a few inches off the ground, but tall enough to make you stumble, and he could already see you bumping your knees on the way down, so he offers his elbow as a point of leverage.

“Atta girl, you’ve got it.” He coos, reluctantly abandoning your grip once you’re safely on the ground.

Mystical, and buzzing with life, you introduce him to the farthest corner of the woodlands. Whenever the walls of your room become suffocating, your legs always give out right about here.

Your secret hideaway.

Where you let your most worrisome thoughts roam free, and when those thoughts seemingly wander into nothingness, you chalk it up to wishful thinking, and fail to realize that they haven’t disappeared, they just don’t belong to you anymore. They belong to the babbling brook, constantly replenishing itself and its inhabitants with fresh, spring water, belong to the frogs and crickets as they fill the night with their moonlit ballad, they belong to the night, and it’s reflection, as it wades across the face of the creek; dotted with lightning bugs or the cosmos themself, you weren’t sure. All you know is that you always returned, as if a piece of you was tethered to the very spot.

“Where are we?” He wonders aloud, raking his fingers through his downy, chestnut locks as he explores his surroundings.

“I don’t exactly know.” You confess, making yourself comfortable on the ground. Most nights, you slip off your shoes and sink your feet into the brook, but you know Tom like the back of your hand, know what kind of ideas might venture through that rascally mind of his when he spots you near the water. So, you play it safe, pulling your knees up to your chest as you peer up at him from a safe distance. “It’s nice, though. Quiet. Good place to let your thoughts wander.”

“You ever take a dip in here?” Predictable. You stifle the urge to laugh at his query, sinking ivory veneers into your pillowy bottom lip, and shake your head in response. “Hell, if I were you, with my own nature-made swimmin’ pool, I’d bring all the boys around.”

“You know I don’t waste my time with no silly boys.” You sigh, sending him a wistful glare.

“You sure about that?” He counters, mimicking your perked brow with eerie precision.

“Oh, I’m sure.” You huff. God doesn’t build boys the same way he built him, he took his time crafting that statuesque frame, implemented hawk-eyed precision for each and every beguiling detail you’ve come to adore. He is a man, tried and true, from his sharp, angular structure to the neverending bounds of his heart, but rather than inflate his ego moreso, you let him assume the worst. “You can take a dip if you want, though. I wouldn’t mind.”

You wonder if he can tell just how little you’d mind as a mischievous glint highlights his amber hues, but before he can even open his mouth, you’ve already pinpointed the source of his glower, already voicing your adamant refusal. “No, absolutely not. Not a chance, Tommy.”

“But why not?” He whines, bellowing over your feeble chant, conjuring the most convincing set of pleading eyes he can muster. “It’s dark, it’s humid, and ain’t no one around to tell us not to.”

“Sounds like all the more reason to not do that.” You scoff, scooting further away from him and the strength of his hopeful gaze.

“I hate to pull out the big guns, but... what if I told you that it’d make me feel so much better if you accompanied me?” You’re left to wonder what the big guns are supposed to be, if they aren’t the way he is encroaching on your personal space, crawling up the length of your legs until there is only a sliver of space between you.

“I’d remind you that there are much drier ways to make you feel better.” You could feel your warm breath fanning across his lips, distracting you with the scent of minty toothpaste and your vanilla chapstick, ultimately failing to notice his hands, and how they’re positioned just below your waist.

It would only take one swift move to reach the small of your back, two to scoop you up in his arms, and about six more to drag you into the pond — kicking and screaming, but successfully so.

And he doesn’t chance it.

SPLASH! You’re no sooner submerged in the brooks’ murky depths, reaching out for lily pads and cattails that fail to provide you leverage, and your screams bubble into thick, smothered embers of a once irate flame. He better pray you never emerge from usunder, because he’s merely a howl away from being swept up in the tide — the tide being your arms as they force him to the bottom of the crick.

“Y/N,” your name scrambles between the slosh of the water and the pounding in your ears, but you manage to break the surface and blink spare drops of water from your eyes.

“I was drowning!’ You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water as you kick, and splash, and writhe around in the stygian abyss.

“In two feet of water? I beg to differ.” You can barely make out his comeback over his fit of giggles, but a part of you would rather this bright, teasing version of himself that what you’ve been dreading beforehand. Taking his outstretched hand, you stumble to your feet and, much to your dismay, find yourself standing in about two feet of water (which, in your defense, is a far more daunting threat to someone your size as opposed to his). You cool his inflating ego with a cold splash of water, dispersing tiny droplets from your fingers as they wave in front of his face.

You splash around in the water for what feels like forever, transforming stray lily pads into makeshift hats, dressing to the nines in the latest collection of aquatic couture, and as the moon casts a pale spotlight on the babbling brook, you occupy it’s centre, huddled in one another’s embrace, swaying back and forth amidst the shallow pools.

10:02 — You're still wet.

Drenched, really.

You’ve resorted to wringing out your hair with your bare hands, twisting the dampened locks between your fists until water pours from the follicles. You’d never once pondered the benefits of freshwater landings, but you were about to find out. A glare threatened to slice through the air, but immediately wavered at the sight of him — desolate, void, so lost in his thoughts that you’d wondered if he were even there.

God, you’re worried sick. You’ve dealt with bouts of sadness, sprinkles of melancholy, but this was downright depressing. You wouldn’t even know what to do if you tried, and that’s what worried you the most.

Thomas, your best friend, your crush, your light — the best parts of you all wrapped up in a clumsy little package while the best parts of him threaten to snatch up your heart, as if it wasn’t already his.

“Tommy?” You break him out of his reverie, but press on, scooching closer to his form, dangerously standoffish, like an uncaged animal winding up to attack, until you cross the threshold into his personal space. With a sturdy hold on his bicep, he melts into the palm of your hand, practically leaning all of his weight into you, stealing a reprieve you didn’t know he needed. “You can talk to me, y’know. It’s just us.”

“She left, Y/N.” The evening air seems still, in perfect tandem with your breath as you fear what might come out once you finally exhale. You know he’d shove all of his feelings down if he caught you shedding a single tear, and this isn’t about you, it never has been. So you hold your breath, latching onto the heavy silence that follows his confession, and pray that your chest is strong enough to smother the sob bubbling beneath its surface.

Fortunately, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “The closet was empty, and all her cookbooks were gone. I looked downstairs and there was nothin’ there.” You don’t know if he’s finished, watching as he toys with a loose string on his jeans, but he breaks his own silence with a newfound waver in his voice. “I had a feelin’ she was ‘bout to leave, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. I thought I had a lil’ bit more time to say goodbye.”

Edie was a good mother, the best of mothers, and never had she drawn a line when it came to who she nurtured. When you were little kids, you’d race each other to his house once the school bell rang, tiny little bodies weaving through the stalks of corn that prefaced the farm. She would follow the shuffling crops with a heavy eye, leading you to the porch with her raspy, whimsical chime, and crouch down to envelop the both of you in a tight hug when you emerged. She was the best of mothers.

But she wasn’t the best of wives. You were both far too young to notice the signs — the nights where you found her sound asleep on the sofa by her own volition, the packed suitcase that hid underneath the stairwell to the basement, the hesitance that laced her tone when she said I love you to his father — and something tells you she wanted to keep it that way.

Her son didn’t need to worry about his parents, and how fast they were falling out of love, and whether they really loved each other in the first place. Her son just needed to be a kid, and that is a belief she devoted the best years of her life to.

But he isn’t a kid anymore.

That’s why she fled in the middle of night, leaving nothing but a ruby encrusted ring on his dresser — her class ring. The same one he’d snatch from her jewelry box whenever she wasn’t looking. The same one he used to propose to you at the wee age of four, promising you as much of the world as a toddler could imagine.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he recounts every detail, and every fiber of your being yearns to just schoop him up in your arms, hold all his broken pieces together with the strongest embrace you can muster. He doesn’t deserve that type of pain, shouldn’t have to relive it, and yet he takes it upon himself to tell you everything, to relive it for your own selfish gain.

You grow envious of the way the moon trails kisses down the slope of his nose, across the high rise of his cheeks, and over the swell of his bottom lip. There were times where you’d find traces of his mother in Tom’s features, lining the curve of his warm smile or, when the sun hit them just right, speckling his earthy hues with tiny rods of gold. Tonight, he is shrouded in a celestial spotlight, mesmerized by its waning body, and if you squint just enough, you’ll find her longing stare hidden beneath his own.

“And the worst part is that I ain’t even mad at her. Not even a lil’ bit.” He concludes, talking more to the sky than to you. “Not even at all.” When his gaze falls back to you, you can only try to cover up the betrayal, wipe the back of your arm across your tear-stained cheeks before he notices they’re even misty.

You inevitably fail, expelling a wistful sigh as he pulls you into his side, comfortingly running his hand over your bicep as he murmurs sweet nothings into the night.

“I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t want you to find out like this,” You furrow your brows, and wonder just how he would want to break the news to you. Would he let you find out for yourself, or would he bring you out to the plantation, and let you sink into the soil until the news began to blossom in the fields? Would they be cornstalks? And would they reach for the sky just like her? “I didn’t wanna make you cry, but... I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is a wash of dulcet tones, fingers soothingly raking through his damp tendrils in a silent bid to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can take it.” You’re quick to clamber to your knees, wrapping him up in an airtight embrace, keeping him from wallowing into a puddle of tears. “I’m right here, Tommy.”

“I know,” he sputters, with an edge of sorrow to his tone.

“I’m right here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” You promise.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, and shatters any trace of consolation looming over the encounter. Your brow furrows, your heart pounds against your chest, and for a fleeting second, you feel like you're caught in a lie. What if he knows? What if he can tell just how much you’d surrender to be with him? What if he doesn’t want it?

“Why not?” You’re near hysterics, praying that the intensity in your eyes makes up for the tremor in your voice. “Why not? I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean.”

“I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep, Y/N.” That sullen gaze resurfaces, chills the air with it’s haunting presence — that hollow stare which fosters the remnants of a bright, contagious joy, and carves a pit, just as empty, in the well of your stomach, one that aches to be satiated. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but his palm lingers against your cheek, trying to smooth out the heavy creases in your expression with the gentle stroke of his thumb. “Hell, I don’t want you to promise that in the first place. You deserve more than all this, you deserve the best this life has to offer you, and I’m not gonna keep you from all o’ that.”

You’ve lost track of your heart long ago, it’s dizzying tempo rivaling a hummingbird, nearly undetectable as it flitted uncontrollably, knocking against your ribs until its ultimate descent to the pit of your stomach.

You pray that he can one day see everything that you see in him, that loving himself is as easy for him as it is for you; you hope that there is a life where he never has to feel as small, or inconvenient, as he confessed, and you wish that this would eventually be that life.

You decide that it’s time to put an end to wishful thinking.

“Let me make something clear to you, Thomas.” You cup his jaw, firmly, and utter each word without a trace of uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly what I want from life yet. I don’t know if I wanna spend the rest of it in this little ol’ town, or just pack my things and go as far as the wind will take me. I couldn’t tell you if I tried, but… that’s okay.” Slowly but surely, your lips give way to a sheepish grin, feeling lighter, freer, the further into your declaration. “It’s okay, because there’s one thing that’s for certain, and it’s that I’m all yours. It don’t matter how far I go, I’m always gonna come home to you.”

The silence is deafening.

All your emotions hang in the air, crippling your air supply with insurmountable regret. But his gaze is what terrifies you the most; just as suffocating, but in a way that sweeps the air from your lungs. You knew that there would always come a time where all the unrequited feelings you’ve harbored would finally boil to the surface, fueled by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as one sided as you thought; but under the void of his empty gaze, you wonder if you’d made a huge mistake.

Or maybe there really is nothing — nothing to reciprocate, nothing to subdue you, nothing to salvage what little remained of your friendship after such a loaded confession — and so you scramble to assemble an apology convincing enough to overshadow your lapse in judgement.

But he doesn’t even spare you the chance, swallowing your half-hearted excuses with the firm press of his lips, pouring a lifetime of ardent desire, of longing, into the hollow of your mouth. It’s crystal clear that you’re his, the realization comes borderline cathartic. There has never been a day where your heart has not beat for him, and only him, forever threatening to spring from your chest and return to its rightful owner. The days, the months, the years of back and forth felt like a cruel jest from the fates, but now you were here, bundled in the warmth of his strong embrace, tongues curling against one another in an endless battle for dominance, and you would endure it all over again if this was where it lead

He searches for some sign of absolution, paws up and down your back in hopes of grounding himself, and you reverently provide, mustering what little strength you have left to crawl into his lap, brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans without a trace of subtlety, offering him the most sacred parts of you in hopes of bringing him home.

“Y/N,” he sighs raggedly, a half hearted attempt to gain your attention, one that proves unsuccessful as his pleas whittle into a frail, insipid shadow of what they could be. You’re too busy acquainting yourself with the plains of his body, embedding a trail of deep red marks into the column of his neck as your hands slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He’s built like a greek statue, you don’t even need to discard his shirt to indulge in the taut muscles tensing beneath your fingertips. “Y/N, darlin’, wait.” He interrupts your greedy ministrations by fastening his digits around your wrists. This is the point of no return, you can feel the fragile divide between friends and lovers, splintering beneath the weight of your heart, and yet you fail to concern yourself.

His digits are free to roam the high plains of your cheeks, pioneering the flushed expanse with beacons of soft, arching butterfly kisses until there’s no skin to cover, ultimately pressing his forehead against yours. ”You don’t- I don’t want you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Seems almost redundant, you muse, to wonder if you want him when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. You are a pillar of salt, and as he showers you in a knee buckling torrent of kisses, you melt into the palm of his hands. If the way you’re draped against his form isn’t evidence enough, then the wetness pooling between your thighs most certainly will be, he’ll come across that confirmation once he tends to the spot you need him most.

You trace the cleft of his chin in delicate pursuit, whining as he tears his lips from their languid path, and peer through your inky lashes to meet his gaze once more. “I want this, Tom. I want you.”

“You have me. I’m all yours.” He echoes your words back to you, reverently, delivering a sacred vow from the hearth of your soul, ove you have, and will continue to, dedicate your humble living to, and you seal that promise with a bruising kiss.

The weight of his palm melts into the small of your back, pulling your chest flush against his own as it sweeps up your spine, and you moan against his lips when your nipples press up against his sturdy chest, aching to be freed as they strain against their gossamer confines.

You’ve only had the pleasure of making out with Tom for less than five minutes, but you can already tell that it ranks high on your list of favorite pastimes. Soft, pink petals brush against your own like they’re a flourishing canvas, and he’s trying to even out the brushstrokes, but all he leaves is a scorching flush in his wake, and your clothing, despite being bathed in pond water, do little to ease the blistering heat. It’s suffocating you, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away so that you can rid yourself of the article.

Besides, the less fabric separating you from his anchoring, toned embrace, the better.

“I’m all dirty,” Your meek voice collapses into a fit of giggles, and your feeble attempt to wring out your clothes is thwarted by his hands, venturing up, up, up, and under the hem of your skirt at a teasing pace, savoring the feeling of your warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips. You can tell he’s as desperate as you are, confronted with acres of new terrain to explore, and only so little of his patience to spare.

“I know, I’m sorry angel.” His voice is soft, and soothing, and riddled with mischief. Even if there is even an ounce of truth in his apology, you can still make out the devilish grin that toys at the corner of his mouth. “May I, m’lady?” He croons teasingly, flashing those whiskey glazed hues in a way that you could never refuse.

“Proceed, good sir.” You counter in the most refined timbre you can dictate, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he bunches the hem of your dress in his palms, hoisting it over your head to expose the breathtaking contours and curves of your body. You can’t remember what compelled you to forego your bra, but the thought is soon pushed to the corner of your mind, making room for the warm, fuzzy feeling that conquers your insides when Tom lays his eyes on you, bared to him and only him. His gaze alone makes you feel like you are a spectacle to behold, the most enchanting vision to ever cross his line of sight. If there was even a speck of insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind, the sight of Tom’s eyes, blown wide with adoration as they worship every sinful inch of your skin, instantly quells those fears.

He struggles to find his words, to occupy this infinite silence with anything, everything, as his calloused palms caress the sides of your waist, but all he can manage is a husky growl. One that prefaces the reappearance of his tongue, and its feverish descent from the column of your neck to the tops of your breasts, bathing your skin with gluttonous, broad strokes, and coaxing pretty, little whines from the back of your throat.

There is something so unhinged in his actions, so carnal, it summons another wave of arousal to pool against your soiled panties, knowing you have such a strong clutch on his resolve. Though, another branch of your mind races at a mile a minute, consumed by the endless possibilities that come equipped with Tom’s skill.

You try not to dwell on the little flings that came before you, especially now, in the afterglow of your confession. The taunting, pitious gazes you shared with his hookups in the hallowed halls of your alma mater, toting a reminder that they could indulge in everything you yearned for, scorched you more than the thought of the act itself — but the rumors were just plain inescapable. If even a fraction of them hold a candle to the truth, then you are in for one hell of a night.

“You’re just as sweet as I imagined, angel.” Angel. The nickname sends sparks flying in the well of your stomach. “Can’t wait to taste that perfect little pussy. Just know it’s gonna be even sweeter when you cum all over my fingers.”

You whine softly at his words, but clench hard around nothing, aching to be filled by those unbearably long, slender digits. Nothing could have prepared you for the scene unraveling below you — his lips latched around the stiff peak of your nipple, a husky groan reverberating around the pebbled surface, and head slightly moving against the palm of your hand as your fingers tug at his chestnut locks. The long, covetous laps of his tongue mingling with the vibrations of his contented little hums make you desperate for more, arching, writhing, trembling against him in hopes of finding a semblance of relief for the ache between your thighs.

“Tommy, please.” You plead in the most convincing, fucked out tone you can muster, but he doesn’t budge, showering your other bud with a flurry of quick, relentless kitten licks. Even mother nature joins in his relentless teasing, making you squirm as the gentle breeze blows cool, summer air against the glistening bud.

This is torture, a blissful, euphoric form of torture that, despite your irritability, you would surrender to time and time again. But you fail to notice just how hard your canines puncture the swell of your bottom lip, too immersed in the stroke of his tongue, in the ghost of pleasure that stirs in the pit of your stomach each time you rut against his clothed cock. A sharp, metallic tang seeps into your mouth, hitting the tip of your tongue and forcing a trembling whimper to the front of your mouth.

The pitiful sound piques Tom’s interest, and before you can wipe the blood from your lip, your face is already cradled between his palms. “Fuck, Y/N, look at you,” His eye were wide with concern, and your heart sputters over the blistering scorch of need his compassion arises in you. “C’mere.” Dropping his forehead against your own, his tongue tentatively brushes the curve of your lips, lapping up every last drop of blood that is smeared against it. He applies pressure to the wound, cauterizes it with a searing dance of bloodstained brims, as his one hand weaves into your damp locks. You barely know how to respond, but your body compensates with an untapped sense of hunger, scraping your teeth against his lower lip as you desperately claw at the toned valley of his back.

“Please, Tommy, please. I’m dripping.” You mewl, teetering over the perilous edge of delusion, foraging between your stomachs in search of his free hand. Yet another wave of arousal pools between your thighs at the sight of him, with his puffy, saliva stained lips slightly parted, and his eyes blown wide with the insatiable need to indulge himself, to spoil you. Once your fingers circle around his wrist, you guide his hand to the apex of your thighs and urge him to feel for himself, applying the lightest of pressure against his fingers, urging him to caress your tender lips through the sodden barrier of your panties. To feel what he’s done to you. “You feel that? It’s all for you.”

“All for me,” he echoes back, mesmerized, cognac hues fading into obsidian orbs as he rubs deliberately teasing circles over your covered clit. “And you ask oh so pretty. Let me take care of you, my pretty girl.” Before you even get the chance to reply, he’s pushing your panties to the side, dipping the pad of his middle finger between your silky folds — feeling, exploring, acquainting himself with the tight ring of muscle that he plans on stretching open.

His hesitation is nothing more than a plight at this point, you are more than willing to take anything he has to offer, and he can gather that much from the wild gleam in your eyes, so he slowly works one finger into your snug, velvety walls and curses under his breath at how heavenly you feel. You’re unlike anything he’s had before, far exceeding the lengths of his imagination as you softly clench around his digit, and it only takes a few seconds to adjust to the lithe intrusion, your walls already twitching against his shallow, testing thrusts, before he adds another.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Love the way your pretty little cunt takes me.” A thin sheen of sweat coats your forehead as he rocks his digits at a leisurely pace. Tom is obsessed with the tiny frown forming between your brows, almost like you’re confused by the amount of pleasure building between your legs, struggling to keep your eyes open, your juices spilling past your opening to trickle down the palm of his hand. To say your experience is limited is a bit of an understatement — the whopping two men you’ve slept with prior were merely amateurs in comparison to your lover. Even if there was enough air in your lungs to articulate it, you don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve never been fingerfucked. Period. The embarrassment almost swallows you whole.

But even without anything to compare it to, you’re convinced that you’re receiving the upper echelon of experiences.

As his pace quickens, prodding against your pulsing walls with an onslaught of keen, ravaging thrusts, you’re too busy gasping for air to notice how he’s switched his angle. Now the heel of his hand is rubbing against your bundle of nerves with each stroke, applying just enough pressure to light a spark without ever setting you off, and as the pads of his fingers pound against your sweet spot, you are reduced to a limbless puddle in his hands, doused in an ethereal glow that only he could surface. “God, Y/N, you look like an angel. My pretty little angel— ‘bout to cum all over my fingers.” he panted, voice biting the air with a wolfish gleam, canines peaking past his thin lips.

“Tommy, I’m so close.” You aren’t sure if you can hold on for much longer, dangling on the coattails of insurmountable bliss, finding a new reason to fall apart with each lewd kiss or sharp thrust. Your orgasm is already creeping up, threatening to crash over you each time he plunges into your slick heat, but you know that you want to feel him — all of him — stretching you to unimaginable lengths as he sinks into your tight little hole for the first time. “I wanna feel you. I wanna- I need to cum on your cock.”

Tom’s brows meet in the middle, and you wonder if you’ve strewn too far, surrendered the remainder of your common sense to lust and her shameless palms. “Such a filthy little mouth for such a good girl.” He whispers, wondering aloud, his free hand abandoning the nape of your neck to cup your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to drag it down before letting it spring back to its pouty default. “You will, angel, you will, but I gotta get you ready first.” He reassures you, and you remember just how prominent his length is, straining against the denim cage of his jeans, and attribute his wavering tone to the sheer restraint he’s been exhibiting. But you have to admit — if his fingers are only a fraction of his length, then you are not sure just how much of him you’ll be able to handle. The thought sends you barrelling toward your climax, but not without the help of his thumb, pressing up to rub fervent, clumsy circles against your clit, his husky tenor cooing sweet words of encouragement into the space just below your ear. “I can feel you, angel, let go for me. I’ve got you.”

With one final thrust, he buries his fingers to the hilt, caressing your g-spot with a tentative come hither motion, until you are ridden with overwhelming waves of pleasure. All you can feel are your tender walls tightening around his fingers, and your thighs starting to tremble under the weight of your high. But he is spellbound, mesmerized by the swirling vision of you at your most content, eyelids hanging low over your blown out hues, your hips absentmindedly grinding against his hand, meeting his timid rhythm as he tries to work you through your aftershocks.

Emptiness soon replaces the stretch of his fingers once he slips them out, but a twitch of excitement follows the path of his slick hand, and you can’t stop from outright moaning at his shameless display.

“Just what I thought,” he murmurs. You are too captivated by the sight of his lips — pink, and kiss-weathered, and frankly obscene — opening wide to welcome his slick fingers, gracing his taste buds with your juices, and humming around them as they coat his tongue in an intoxicating elixir . “Open up, pretty girl,” You‘re torn from your trance by the pressure of his digits, knocking against your bottom lip, begging for entry. “Come taste how sweet you are.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you graciously welcome his fingers, putting on a show as you swirl your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly as the bittersweet taste that hits your tastebuds. You aren’t prepared for the shallow, tentative thrust of his digits, or how he starts up a slow, steady rhythm against the back of your tongue — but god do you welcome it, softly gagging with each steady downstroke, spit already dribbling down your chin as you try to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He offers you a ginger smile, one that makes the tears pooling in your eyes worth gagging for. “Good girl. Good, good girl. I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You try to reply over his digits, but your words are muffled and faint as they thud against the wall of your lips. Luckily, he’s coherent enough to notice that you’d like to speak — and who is he to stifle that sweet little voice of yours? “Thank you,” you pant, fluttering your tear-stained lashes up at him as you clamber to fill your lungs, disputing your feverish pleas as you wriggle away from the outline of his cock. The sensation of his waterlogged jeans rubbing against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you keening over him, pushing you further from his crotch, and closer to his embrace, back arched with a near-feline agility.

“Can I?” you ask, kneading your palms over his thighs, feigning innocence as you inch closer and closer to his zipper with each upstroke, and he nods, granting you permission to free him from his denim confines. In one fluid motion, your one hand unzips his fly as the other helps him kick off the remainder of his offending items, and you have to resist the urge to drool at the sight of his cock springing from his boxers, let alone his sinfully perfect, exposed form.

He’s a little bit larger than you expected — what he lacks in length, he makes up in girth, but there isn’t much to make up for in the first place. His shaft is decorated with pretty, ivory veins, ones that would no doubt twitch beneath the hot, heavy weight of your tongue, and the crown of his cock is flushed, glistening with a thin sheen of precum that makes your mouth feel conveniently dry. Your walls twitch at the disheartening reminder of your emptiness, but all out spasm as his fingers eclipse the circumference of his cock, using your juices to leisurely pump himself.

“You’re so pretty.” You sigh, a flurry of giggles floating beneath your words as you reach out to touch him, hovering just above the tip in order to send him a cautionary glance — one he hurriedly accepts, nodding his head fervently as he stutters into his grasp. A rosy hue blooms across the valley of your cheekbones as you encircle him, covering whatever he can’t as he all but bucks into your palm. His heart strains against his chest upon the realization that his hand easily dwarfs your own, watches your smaller fingers barely curl around his engorged shaft and fights the urge to cum right then and there.

No, he needs to feel you.

“Are you sure?” He asks once more, granting you a final chance to salvage what little scraps remain of your childhood friendship, but you are already committed, determined to devour every last, glorious piece of him, to prove that he is the rightful owner of you, all of you, every shimmering shade of you.The sentiment would be almost derisive if not so loving, so noble, and yet you dismiss it with three, chaste kisses upon the outline of his profile — against his forehead, the notch on the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, warm and inviting.

“I’m certain.” You promise, merely a breaths width away from his lips.

You have never been more certain of a decision in your life, desperate to feel him nestled deep inside you, to blur the line where he begins and you end. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, their pressure neither here nor there as they coax a hiss out of him, and you line him up with your entrance, tossing your head back as you waste no time breaching your needy hole with the bulbous head of his cock.

It’s blindingly clear that you have been given the reins, what with Tom’s finger’s seeking refuge in the soil beneath him, a low groan rumbling beneath his chest, his eyes rapt with an unspoken urgency as they survey the spot where you connect, and you relish in your paramount. Your knees dig deeper into the ground as you lower yourself onto him, and with little resistance, your walls steadily welcome inch after inch with a searing embrace, etching every delicious ridge and vein of his length to memory until he bottoms out, and you’re left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. There is a dull pain laced in the stretch of your opening, intermingling with the remnants of your last orgasm, and as you twitch and pulse around his girth, he appears like an dream before you, sifting through a thick haze of desire, wispy curls clinging to the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and eyes blown wide with ripples of pleasure, of lust, that long to be indulged.

Once you’ve adjusted to him, you test a few shallow, tentative rolls of your hips, lifting yourself off the tiniest bit before filling yourself up again. He just feels so perfect, like god spent a little extra time molding him just for you, rubbing against parts of you that have never known such ecstasy until now, and you struggle to find a rhythm amidst all these new, dizzying sensations. “Poor little thing, you’re so worked up, you barely know how to take my cock.” It’s funny, how he can make such degrading words sound so sympathetic, and regardless, your body responds long before your brain can register, wildly spasming around his cock. It doesn’t take long for his fingers to return, digging into the curve of your hips to assist you, working you over his length in long, plundering strokes that steal the air from your lungs. “That feel better, angel?”

“Mhmm,” you shakily nod your head, fingers finding purchase in the broad expanse of his shoulders as you dig your nails into the freckled expanse, flooding his senses with the weak little uh, uh, uh’s tumbling from your lips each time you’re impaled on his cock. If he could lap up every hitch of your breath, every wayward sigh, he’d be drunk off the height of your unbridled joy. Hell, he can barely sustain himself as is, ravenously lapping up the beads of sweat clinging to your temple, swirling his tongue around your earlobe in its descent. Yes, yes, he’s swept up in sultry waves of you, and as your pelvis kisses his, as the air is filled with the sounds of your hips snapping against his own, he’s less and less concerned about emerging from your enchanting depths. “You got another one for me, angel? I can feel you squeezing my cock, baby, I know you got another one.” He’s delirious, clawing at the altar of your hips, and nowhere near as close to finishing as you are, but god is he eager to tear another orgasm out of you.

You, on the other hand, are a furnace, taunting flames of embarrassment licking up your insides, pooling in the small of your back, racing up your cheeks, at such arduous lengths as to mix with the coil of pleasure tightening in your core. Tom seizes the opportunity to find some leverage, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of you, planting his feet on the ground so that he can thrust up into your sopping cunt at a punishing pace, and you both can already feel the tell-tale signs of your building pleasure. “It’s okay, Y/N, you can let go.” Nothing more than a faint whisper, you indulge in the way his cock massages your inner walls, how your name sounds so filthy, yet beguiling, as it slips from his slightly ajar lips, how it blends so well with the weak little moans of his own name rolling off your tongue. “Let go for me. I wanna feel that perfect little pussy cum all over me.” His hand dips between your sweat slick forms, firmly swiping his fingers over your hypersensitive bundle of nerves, turning circles into your favorite shape, and his change in position makes the crown of his cock curve into your g-spot each time he pounds into you — so your helpless to the crescendo of pleasure that washes over you.

A broken, startled shriek tears through your lungs, and you topple over his thighs, digging crescent shaped indents into his knees as you surrender to your climax, walls fluttering and contracting over his length as he works you over the edge.

“Oh, what a good girl.” He coos encouragingly, reaching his hand out to cup the weight of your breast, swiping his thumb over your peaked bud as his pace eases up, and it isn’t until now that you realize he’s leaning back, holding himself up by his forearms while he drinks in your pleasure-ridden form. “My sweet, sweet girl.” You can tell he’s holding back by the way his hips still stutter up into your overstimulated heat, how his cheeks, his forehead, all of his features are set with a heavy flush, how you aren’t filled to the brim with his cum — and you simply won’t allow that.

“It’s okay, Tommy.” You whisper, carefully lowering yourself until your chest is aligned with his own, sharply exhaling as you feel him push up against your tender core. Your eyes are soft, and dazed, and oh so pretty, glittering beneath a thin layer of unshed tears, but this is about him, it’s always been about him, and as his cock twitches amidst your spasming walls, you firmly believe that you can handle another orgasm if he can coax it from you. “Keep goin’, it’s okay. I want you to fill me up. I wanna feel all of you.”

“Y/N—” His voice is stern, but your lips are fierce, stealing whatever argument may have been building in the cavern of his mouth as you weakly tilt your hips downward, offering yourself to him once more. When he muscles up enough strength to tear himself away, he only finds a bounty of understanding, of devotion, of love, teeming at the brim of your eyes, and he needs no words to indulge himself, to yield to a mesmerising whirlpool of you, you, shimmering you.

Tom wraps one arm around your back, holding you close to his chest while you scatter soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder, smoothing his palm over your damp tresses as he hoists one leg over his hip, prying your legs even further apart so he can fuck up into you — impossibly tighter, and tormentingly more responsive as he slams into your overstimulated cunt. You can feel every square inch of him now, every long sweeping vein, the tiny sliver of skin hidden beneath his tip, it’s all crystal clear as he plunges into your weepy core, and you’re so cockdrunk, so fucked out of your mind, that you don’t even notice your hips slanting down to meet his thrusts. You’re just that greedy for another orgasm, hellbent on tumbling over yet again as he fills you to the brim.

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to that precipice once again, the coil in his stomach pulled taut with your whimpered chant of his name, with each strong pulse of your cunt tightening over him. He buries himself to the hilt one last time, stuttering into your hips with a loud, frenzied groan, and finally teeters off the edge, dragging you down with him as you sink your teeth into his shoulder blade, pumping his hot seed into you, coating your walls with hot spurts of cum as you milk him for every last drop, the crude sound of your arousal mixing with his own making you shudder.

You both lay there for a second, safe in each other’s warm embrace, basking in the aftermath of your fortuned affair, and you cowered beneath the sky and it’s constellation clad ceiling, feeling infinitesimal, but oh so contented, beneath its glorious gaze. There, wrapped up in one another, two splintered halves mending, healing, into the whole they were destined to become — the sky was but a star in comparison to your light, your bright, everlasting light.

How did we get here? You wonder. How, oh, how is he finally mine?

You follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way the moon lounges across his curly lashes in a silver chaise — you survey him at his most vulnerable — and determine that you have more than enough time to find the answer. As long as he’s here, by your side, you don’t plan to wander too far.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! PLEASE LIKE, OR LEAVE A COMMENT, IF YOU ENJOYED!

TAGLIST: @devotion @reawritesthings

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #I CAN NOT BELIEVE I ACTUALLY FUCKING FINISHED THIS #the way this magically climbed from 4.7 to 9.5k in one day will never cease to amaze me #and i hope that this spawns a new love and excitement for country boy tom because i love arvin but #BOY does that man scare me a lil bit #this is more like a . . hart of dixie type of country #more apple pie! less homicide!#I ALSO DONT KNOW WHA THAPPENED TO THE SMUT THIS IS LIKE 40% SMUT #anyway i really do hope yall enjoy #mine*

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

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hie!!! just read you're dragon warrior bakugo where he turn into a literal golden dragon, DUDE it was so dark and so poetic I loved it, pleeeaase part two?

I’ve actually had this in the works for some time but didn't think that many were interested hehe, thanks for proving me wrong<3

dragon warrior king ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: trauma, slavery, kidnapping, condescension, anxiety

PART ONE

MUTE AND NUDE - PART TWO

THE KING AND HIS NEW TOY

Floating, flying, dreaming. She felt reality tug at her every now and again, trying to pull her into consciousness, however she was pleasantly drifting with her eyes tightly locked. The smell of mountain daisies in the breeze, she could almost taste the salt of the sea that wafted up there, not entirely sure it was all in her mind. How she wished to see the sea up close once, and not just from afar. To feel the sand between her toes, to laugh nervously at the vastness of it all, all the secrets buried down there, sometimes washing up on the shore like treasure. Her vision trailed the stripe of sand she could spot from her village in the mountains, suddenly imagining herself down there, with a great shadow looming above, the water turning red and thick and boiling before catching fire, she heard screams, cries, the smell of metal and the taste of death, death, death.

She awoke abruptly. Flailing in the air like some knocked lantern. The pixies dodging her kicks and whips, holding onto the gems and paints midair. Currently hand sewing her customized dress, bejeweled with rhinestones and gold, cold smooth brushed lining her skin with art.

They knew the procedure, Bakugo had a new toy, and she were to be dressed accordingly; royally.

The pixies swung around her like bees around their beehive, small squeaky voices simmering about and buzzing in her ears. One caught her eye and her flailing subdued then, as the tiny brown-haired brown-eyed fairy blew sickly-sweet dust into her face, nerves somehow forcefully brought to their knees. “I’m sorry.” It seemed to her that the utterance had multiple meanings, as the look on the fairy’s face contorted into one of deep sorrow, as though in mourning for the unfortunate soul that had fallen into Bakugo’s greedy attention.

Not much dawned on poor girl after that, and if it did, she didn't seem to mind the foreign things happening around her. How she was fussed around with, spoiled even, with flowers and gems and fabrics, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Fitted to perfection and adorned with a small tiara made up of flowers, poppies if she were to guess with the limited knowledge she had through books, as the harsh environment of the mountain doesn't allow for such frail things to grow.

Her doe eyes; softly fluttering every now and again, barely even feeling it, when her feet hit the ground, still bare. Perhaps she didn’t even realize they belonged to her, seeing how they were robbed of their red mud and clay. More and more, steadily coming back to her senses, she remained calm under the pressure of her strange surroundings. Creatures she’d never known existed, colors she hadn’t ever laid eyes on, perfumes that stung her nose in a pioneering act. She remembered death, she remembered fire, and the burning cold of sharp, deadly eyes. She feared that it was those same red eyes she was being prepared for.

Her mouth remained shut. Her silence casting a confusing spell onto the guards, however unaffected the busy pixies swirling about her in a working frenzy. The sounding of a horn didn’t shake her either, however seemed to dismiss the ones nitpicking at her ensemble, as well as signal the guards.

They didn't touch her, but their eyes did well in escorting her to the havoc outside. She didn't see much except for fire and shadow. Yet, mismatched tones of gold seemed to unsettle her even more than the different shades of red.

She was guided to his side, gestured to sit down on the throne next to his. She didn't faze too much upon her surroundings, managing to keep somewhat of a respectable composure, even as girls and boys from her village caught her eye. They hadn’t murdered everyone it seemed, not the pretty ones at least. They were putting on a show, inexperienced in the art of dance, but no less amusing to the hooded ravagers, she guessed.

She held her tongue and assumed an aura of harmony, therefore not accepting anything given to her. Drink, food, trinkets, they were swarming her as if she were some shrine. She supposed she, more or less, was just that, which was more than what she had been before, but somehow less at the same time.

The nerves trembled beneath her skin, as she did her best to calm her frightened state. She searched the spread sprawled out before her, wanting to accommodate to the new scenery. However, it proved to be quite difficult, as she felt the intense stare of the boy on her right, his eyes singeing and freezing her all at once. Having not dared look to him yet, the pressure of meeting those eyes of his, too much of a scare.

Sharp jewels stuck into her skin, and although she was used to gravel, they still managed to achieve her discomfort. “Not enjoying yourself?”

She cleaned up nicely. He could see her complexion clearly now, soft and smooth glowing skin between what raked scratched and gashes marred it. He wanted to pull Kirishima’s teeth out as punishment for biting her arm so ruthlessly, but knew that would be foolish as neither of them could have known of her importance. It could very well have been him who had printed his fangs into her, yet it would more likely have fallen off then.

It took her longer than she’d like to admit before she understood the question was meant for her, and although she could speak, the thought of answering seemed so far out of reach. She didn’t know how he would want to be acknowledged either. What do you say to a King who massacres entire civilizations? What do you even call such a person? The title tyrant came to mind, but it seemed distasteful.

Even if her hesitance angered him, he didn’t let his temper prove it. And when her eyes flickered ever so slightly in his direction, his annoyance more or less faded away; replaced. “You’re thinking of what time will be the best to escape, aren’t you?”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose at once when she heard his voice again, realizing the moment to answer his previous question had passed, and how he, this time, was accusing her not of ingratitude, but of deserting.

“Wondering where you will go, where you even are?” She could spot the eerie smile from the corner of her eye. At least his teeth were wiped clean of gore this time, yet… they still managed to make her ears shift in discomfort. “Hmm...” He scoffed, then chuckled a laugh that somehow sounded like thunder, like barking. “Let me help you.”

He shifted in his seat, leaning in closer to her. His fingers grazing her forearm, causing her to lightly gasp. Claws ever so slightly digging into her skin.

“You could make a run for it through the foliage of the trees.” She felt the earnest, wanton pressure in his touch, furrowing her brows in both confusion upon his words and in a plead for mercy. “But I should warn you... the forest is much denser and darker and deadlier here, than it is in the mountain.” His voice; so very casual in its threats, the voice of a King. “Even if I felt so generous as to give you a head start, we would probably catch you before the night let up. It wouldn't be much a game for me, but you are welcome to give it a try if you want.” He was taunting, haughty, stroking her arm... almost lovingly. “Besides, any attempt at running in that dress will be a show.” His hot breaths hit the side of her neck in waves, as she felt the still foreign need to say something linger on her tongue, but she swallowed it. “What’s your name?” This was a question she needed to answer, yet… it was also the one question she had no answer to.

“I-”

That was the first time she’d ever spoken. Sure, she’d sung for him… but that wasn’t her, that was… something else… something inside her, her but not her at all at the same time.

She didn’t quite know the words, know them as in being comfortable with them. She’d heard them, she knew what they were supposed to sound like, but… they still seemed so foreign on her tongue as she rolled them around in her mouth, teeth grinding together.

To his surprise, to his complete shock, she turned her head to look at him, face wiped clean of… well… blood, and alongside what panic displayed on her features there was also a look of something he couldn’t quite place, but almost as though she was asking for his help, or his patience as she pieced together the words. He nearly gasped as she placed her small hand over the calloused knuckles of his where he was digging his fingers into her arm, the action so parallel to his intentions, looking up again to be met with her soft eyes as she spoke with even softer words. “I- I ha-ave no na-ame…” She looked awkward, as though she’d bitten her tongue and was preoccupied with the metallic taste of her own blood, looking at him, eyes asking if she were at all understandable.

“Right… no point in giving a mute a name.” His tone was brisk, without anger and it helped with establishing confidence in her as it also aided in answering her question if she was understood or not.

“Wh-” She started, this time seemingly a smidge more confident in her determination. “What do I call you?”

He would be lying if he said it didn't take him aback. And he wasn't one for telling lies.“You’re not like the others.” He announced, small quirk playing on his lips. “Katsuki.”

She was unsure whether she should give it a try or not, trying to mouth it under her breath so he not hear her. “Ka- katsu- ki.”

He gave a sound of acknowledgement, a grunt of some sorts, an eyebrow raised in suspicion at her, watching as her gaze shifted onto the ongoing festivities before the two of them, her chin slightly raising, eyes flittering to perceive things he was sure was for the first time. Her hand remained on his, velvet against sandpaper, as though she found comfort in it, a safety of some sort. He enjoyed the gesture as well as that thought; sinisterly so. Her chastity so desperate in need of corruption, in his eyes.

He made to stand, bored of the display before him. This girl posed more entertainment than anything the circus could give him. “The air is thinner in the mountains…”

He reached out a hand, gesturing for her to take it. Reluctantly, or rather anxiously, she agreed, wondering what purpose hid in his words.

“The change of climate will be overwhelming for you.”

Slightly provoked by his words of condescension, she made to stand her ground, but felt an overbearing weight nest in her mind.

“You’ll get migraines.”

She looked confused now, staring at him, a crinkle between her brows.

“Your body isn’t accumulated to this environment yet.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry, as she stumbled slightly. He locked her arm with his, helping her down from the podium.

“The effects will come soon. Blood pooling in your feet, weighing you down and dragging you to the ground, blood leaving your head, nausea and unbalance.”

He didn’t seem all that effected by what he was saying. Not exactly nonchalant, but amused.

“Could be you can’t even walk!” He grinned, chuckling when she whimpered, almost falling to her knees. “Your muscles, bones even, not strong enough to carry your own weight.”

Wincing as he pulled her to a carriage. She couldn’t remember if it were the same one she woke up it. But, something about the atmosphere told her it wasn’t, something about the invasive smell of burnt sugar.

“You’ll feel the ache in your limbs soon, gravity isn’t generous.”

Before she knew it, she was placed in a bed, his hand stroking her cold forehead.

“Especially when you’ve hardly ever felt the full might of its power.” He sounded sympathetic, and in her state she couldn’t tell if it were sincere or not. His hand traveled down her cheek, stroking a thumb over her lips. “There were more things I wanted to establish, but I underestimated the toll the descent would have on your health.” Scarred fingers stroked down her throat. “You’ll have to survive the sick before anything.” Tracing her collarbones. “If you’re strong, the fever will pass before we reach our destination.” Down her chest, as though holding back in savory, where if her eyes were able to focus she’d see him lick his lips. “But... the up and coming days will probably be hell for you.”

She didn’t feel much of anything after that, except for the foreign warmth accompanying her in her slumber, two large arms tightly locked around her midriff.

#yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsukibakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bnha #Katsuki Bakugō

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